#and he's supposed to be a sheriff deputy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readingcoco · 10 months ago

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Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,”

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?”

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.

“So which is it, Deputy?”

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.”

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”

“Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?”

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”

“A bit.”

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?”

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far.

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?”

“Will you show me your drawings?”

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.

“I’ll behave.”

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.

“Hands behind your back.”

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-”

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!”

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #painted red

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 10 months ago

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Badge Bunny Meet Ugly

Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Badge Bunny AU - This can be read as a stand alone. Read more of their series here.

Summary: You're new to town. It's only supposed to be temporary. A handsome Deputy catches your eye, then seemingly ruins his chances as soon as he opens his mouth. This is not your fairytale.

18+ Only! MDNI!

Word Count: 14.5K

Warnings: Slow burn. Porn, with plot. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Toxic relationship (let's be honest here). Oral (m & f receiving). Choking. Semi-public sex. Degradation. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie.

Telling yourself you needed a fresh start, North Dakota hadn’t been your first choice but it became your last when things seemingly had started spiraling out of your control.

Your car had broken down just inside of Stark County, leaving you stranded in the middle of literal nowhere.

“No, no, no. Please. Come on!” Trying the ignition over and over to no avail. You reached for your phone, thankfully it had a signal, googling the nearest mechanic shop; only showing one in a 20-mile radius.

It’s as if the universe was playing some cruel tricks on you.

The night before, you left the sleazy hotel where you had been staying when you realized someone had taken the last bit of money you had left. Internally cursing yourself for trying to hide it in the toilet tank like a fucking cliche idiot.

It was another 30 minutes before the tow truck and owner of “Frank’s Body Shop” pulled in beside you. An older, gruff looking man with gray hair, a little wiry, sticking up from his head. You suspected you might have woken him when you called.

It was a quiet, awkward drive back to his shop.

Once he’d gotten your car into the bay you’d asked where the nearest motel might be.

“Oh, there’s one about a mile down the road on the right. Can’t miss it.” Frank said without looking up from his paperwork.

“Any chance you could drive me over? I’m new to t….”

“Do I look like a taxi service to you?” He spat. “I already got out of bed to come get ya’.”

“Alright then, at least point me in the right direction?”

“Out the front to the left. Midway Motel. Only one this side of town.” He pointed.

“Yeah, thanks.” You didn’t wait for him to respond as you headed outside. If this was what they considered hospitality in Lehigh, you didn't want to stay here a second longer than what was absolutely necessary.

Your jacket did little to shield you from the blustery cold wind. You wrapped your arms around yourself, heading off in the direction to find somewhere to lay your head for the night, leaving the light of the only streetlamp you could see in the foreseeable distance.

It was dark but the moon was unusually bright, reflecting the glint of the fresh snow fall from earlier in the day.

You hadn't made it very far down the road when you heard a rumble of an engine and headlights cut out ahead of you. You didn't bother looking up, expecting God knows what this hour of night.

The vehicle slowed as it got closer, you held your backpack strap a little tighter to your chest and wrapped your hand around the pocketknife tucked into your jacket, expecting the worst.

You finally turned on your heel to be met with an older model blazer with Stark County Sheriff's Office on the side of the door. Some of the anxiety slipped away but you kept your guard up. You'd never had any good run-ins with cops.

The driver's window slowly rolled down, an older man was behind the wheel, you couldn't make out his features in the low light, but he was wearing a cowboy hat.

“Evening, miss. Little late to be wandering the highway alone. Could be dangerous for a lady such as yourself.” His tone made you feel uneasy.

Great, another smart-ass hick, you thought.

“Evening, Officer…”

“Sheriff Tillman,” he interrupted.

“Right, Sheriff Tillman. My car broke down and I was trying to find the Midway Motel?” It came out to be more of a question than you intended.

“The Midway? It's kind of a rough place, there's a Holiday Inn on the other side of…”

“With all due respect, Sheriff, I'm just looking for somewhere for tonight and I don't exactly have enough cash to be spending it in on something like a Holiday Inn.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “Hop in, it's on the way.”

You looked down the highway once more, biting your lip. It was going to be a trek you dreaded, and you were already tired from the events over the last couple of days. You rolled a gravel under your shoe before finally relenting.

“Yeah, okay.” Crossing in front to open the door, removing your backpack and climbing into the passenger seat. “Thanks.”

He didn't say anything or look your way as he threw the vehicle back into drive once the door was shut.

You were able to get a better look at the Sheriff. Older, rough around the edges. An air about him that dripped with arrogance.

Sitting beside him didn't make that uneasy feeling any better, only intensifying it. Something felt off.

You were grateful for the warmth the heater provided. Rubbing your hands together in your lap.

“So, what brings you to Lehigh Miss…?” He asked.

“Uh, Y/N, and just passing through. Like I said, my car broke down, so here I am.”

“Y/N,” he said, as he mulled it over. Letting it sit on his tongue. You didn't like the way your name rolled out of his mouth.

He nodded as he kept his gaze on the road ahead. Nothing else said between the two of you in the short drive.

The Midway was, as expected, a dump. Neons lit Vacancy above you, missing a few letters with a sign out front broadcasting, “$129 weekly rates”.

“Well, this is it.” He shifts into park outside the small office, as the older woman behind the counter straightening up in her chair at the sight of the Sheriff's car.

"Well, thank you Sheriff Till…" As you reached for the door.

"Roy. And I know you're new to town, so I thought I'd extend an invitation to our church. You can come and sit with my family so you wouldn't be by yourself. I've got a son that seems about your age.”

"Uh, thanks, Sheriff. But I'm hoping my car will be done in a day or two. I don't plan on staying that long." Sliding out and gathering your bag over your shoulder. "Thanks again for the ride.”

"Anytime. Enjoy your stay,” tipping his hat, as you closed the door.

You could feel his eyes trail after you as you walked into the office before he finally drove away.

The older lady stood, “Uh hi, I just need a room for the night, I hope.”

“Sure honey, we only got a double bed.” She eyed you warily. “You know the Sheriff?”

“Huh?” Barely registering what she had said as you were digging for your wallet.

“Sheriff Tillman? You know him?”

“No. He just offered me a ride…” you trailed off. “Why?”

“Don't trust that man. That whole family is a den of vipers. Son gaining a reputation just as bad. I'd steer clear if I were you.”

“I'll take that into consideration,” you took the key from her. “Thanks.”

The room was just as inviting. Cramped space with a small double bed and a flowery duvet. An older style TV sits in the corner making it feel like the place was stuck in the 90s.

No coffee maker or mini fridge. The small bathroom at least looked clean upon inspection though you weren't sure it could be trusted.

The bed provided little comfort. The mattress was lumpy, and the pillows were flat.

Well, at least it's for one night. You tried to shut your eyes and get some rest.

“What do you mean, a couple of weeks?” You whined.

“What I just said, I can't get the part right now. Be a couple weeks.” Frank huffed. “I had to order it, so do you want it fixed or not?”

“Of course I want it fixed. Just let me know when it's done.”

Stomping your way out the garage, you shouldn't have expected anything else really. Not with the way your luck had been going.

You’d walked back to the motel, paying another week in advance and asking the lady at the front desk, Maggie, where you might find some decent work as it looked like you might be here for a while longer.

“Pretty girl like you, could always go over to the Tender Trap, you'd be out of this dump in no time,” as she proceeded to tell you the sort of place it was.

“I think I'd prefer to keep my clothes on.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged, pulling her cigarette to her lips. Puffs of smoke curled up as she exhaled. “Lucky Lizard across the way might be lookin’ for another waitress. Henry said last week his girl quit.”

“Here,” she pulled out a pad and pen, writing a name and number down for you.

“Thanks Maggie.”

You'd met with Henry the owner and resident bartender that afternoon. You'd been upfront about it only being temporary, but he liked your spunkiness and hired you on the spot.

He tried to warn you what you were getting into with the weekend crowd, but nothing would quite compare to seeing it in person.

Your shift started at 4. It started off easy enough. The early crowd were mostly blue-collared guys, interested in a couple of beers before heading home for the night.

Saturday's host karaoke night. The usual crowd is replaced by the rowdy 20 and 30 somethings of Lehigh looking for a good time when there is nothing else to do in nowhere USA.

Drinks flowing, the crowd loving the various renditions of their favorite songs echoing through the building.

The fight broke out before you realized what was going on.

You hadn't seen the beginning, but you were caught off guard when someone shoved you from behind, knocking the tray you held off balance. Bottles of beer went flying across the floor.

Henry called the Sheriff's department as soon as it got out of control and told you to get behind the bar until they arrived.

He had a shotgun there, pulled it out and told everyone to exit the bar. They eventually did.

“This happen often?” You asked him.

“Not usually,” he gave you a weary half smile.

You were beginning to think bad luck was following you at this point.

It didn't take long for a couple of deputies to walk through the door.

One caught your eye in particular. He waltzed in, dick first, like he owned the place. He rested his hand on the gun that was tucked away in his snug thigh holster, slung tight over his camo pants as your eyes trailed up the rest of his frame.

He was wearing the usual kevlar, adorned with a gold star badge on top of a snug long-sleeved T-shirt. You could tell the way it hugged his arms he was fit.

His head was covered with a hat that read Stark County Sheriff. It was shielding some of your view of his face at this angle, but you could make out his sharp jawline and aquiline nose.

Your eyes drank in every detail that was available as his eyes searched the crowd, turning his head slowly finally landing on you. His deep set, hazel eyes caught yours.

You felt pinned the longer he stared. He gave you a lopsided grin before lifting his hand, tipping his hat toward you. You smiled in return.

Then the moment was over, as he caught Henry's attention and beckoned him over.

You started busying yourself with cleaning up the mess the brawlers had left behind. As soon as they heard the cops were called the stragglers hightailed it out of there, along with a lot of the good paying customers.

With no one to pin it on, the cops weren't going to stay long. Statements and descriptions of the men were all they could get, along with some grainy video footage.

You were cleaning up a high top in the corner when he started to approach. You spotted him from the corner or your eye, because you hadn't stopped watching him since he entered.

Heavy boots made their way closer as you wiped down the sticky tabletop.

He cleared his throat before he spoke, gaining your attention as you were finally able to get a better look at him. He was handsome, clean cut. Not something you were expecting in a small-town Sheriff's department.

“Uh, don't believe we've met. Deputy Tillman, uh Gator.”

So, this was who Maggie had warned you about.

“Gator Tillman, huh? I've heard all about you and your daddy.” You shot back.

He smirked, but his eyebrows knit together with confusion.

“So, how is it you know all about me, but I've never seen you before. And trust me, I'd remember a pretty face like yours.” His eyes trailed slightly downward catching the top of your cleavage before moving back up.

You couldn't contain your eyes from rolling. Men were so easy. All the same. Simple creatures with only one thing on their minds.

You smiled and arched a brow, as his gaze set on your face once more.

“If you don't mind, I've got to get back to work. In case you didn't notice, this place is a mess.” You said, turning back to the table.

“I'm here on official business, need your statement. Miss…?” He paused, grabbing a pen, as if he was actually going to write any of this shit down.

You had him pegged from the moment he walked in here.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He spoke. And as you expected, just stared at you. “You're not from around here, are ya’?”

“Nope and don't plan on sticking around either.”

“Yeah, Henry said you're over at the Midway? That place is rough, ya’ could…”

“Yeah, yeah I've already heard. You Tillmans have a savior complex or something?” you huffed out.

“Scuse me?” He furrowed his brows.

“Look, I don't need some hot shot, knight in shining kevlar to save me. I'm not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.” You looked him straight in the eye, not backing down.

“You're cute, y’know that?” he smiled, and let out a small humorless chuckle.

You watched as he produced a vape from his pocket, placing it between his pouty lips before sucking, as his cheeks hollowed just a bit. The fruity scented cloud billowed out, as he blew it hitting you square in the face.

“Seriously?” You coughed, hand waving it quickly away.

“Sorry,” he smirked again, not meaning his apology in the slightest.

“Sorry? For blowing that rancid shit right in my face? Your mama never teach you any fucking manners?” You huffed, grabbing the towel off the table and quickly walking away leaving him to stare after you.

He took another hit from his vape, letting his eyes trail your curves, watching the way your hips swayed with each step before he was knocked from his trance.

“Gator,” Andy, the other deputy, caught his attention. “Let's go.”

He nodded and bid Henry a goodbye.

He was intrigued. He could usually bat his eyes, puff his chest out a little and any girl would fall over him. Not you.

You were a little spitfire who didn't back down. He kind of liked it.

Gator was never the kind to chase tail, it fell in his lap with ease. You were different and something in the back of his mind wanted to see how far he had to push to see you give in.

You'd all but forgotten about Deputy Tillman in the following days. However, he couldn't seem to get you off his mind.

The way you had spoken so blatantly like you didn't care who he was, or what kind of weight the Tillman name carried in this county. He couldn't deny the way it kind of turned him on. Every other girl in this town was either scared of him or immediately fell at his feet.

You were different, not to mention easy on the eyes with curves that seemed to go for days easily getting any man to eat out of the palm of your hand.

He pulled into the bar, telling himself he was just doing a routine check, on the lookout for drunks.

Deep down, he wanted to catch another glimpse to see if you were truly as pretty as he remembers. Maybe he could sweet talk you into a night of fun. Let him take you back to that trashy motel and have his way with you.

He settled back into the seat, checking the time on his watch, a quarter past 2 AM. The bar had just closed for the night, so he suspected you’d be in until at least another 30 minutes tidying up the place and kicking out the stragglers.

He pulled his phone out playing Candy Crush to pass the time. Placing his vape between his lips every few minutes, getting a little more anxious with each passing second.

He jumped at the sound of someone banging on his window, dropping his vape and almost doing the same with his phone.

He looked over to see you standing there, arms crossed giving him a glare that would rival the devil himself.

It had been a long day. You were about to head back to the Midway after picking up a double shift. You headed out the back, surveying the lot.

The first thing you noticed is a black truck parked off to itself. You grumbled as soon as you saw the Stark County Sheriff logo on the side.

Instead of making the trek back to the motel, you decided to have a little fun, suspecting immediately who it might be.

Your boots stomped their way over to the driver's side door as you placed your hands on your hips. He made no attempt to roll the window down. You could see the glow of that stupid vape lit within. You wanted to yank it out of his mouth.

Growing more impatient by the second, you finally gave in using your fist to bang on the window.

You realized he hadn’t even noticed you walk up when his vape went flying out of his hand. You held in your laugh. Instead opting to hold a stern gaze, forcing your lips together and crossing your arms over your chest.

The window finally rolled down as he came into view. He wasn’t wearing a hat like the last time you’d seen him. His hair was slicked back, shorter on the sides revealing his face even more to you. Damnit, he was handsome.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He spat. Oh, this is going to be fun, you thought.

“Deputy Tillman, is that any way to speak to a lady?” You purred. “And what the hell are you doing out here? Besides looking like a creep?”

He scoffed, “My job. What the fuck does it look like?”

“Your job? You skulk around bars for your job?” You smirked. Each insult slowly getting under his skin.

“I'm watching for drunks. But I don't have to explain myself to you.” He sounded like a child. You couldn't tell in the low light but were sure his face was reddened from how strained his voice sounds.

“Right, well, good night Deputy.” You turned away from him, smirking as you went. His eyes trailing after you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called. “Need a lift?”

“No thanks! You just stay here and watch for those drunks.” Yelling back and laughing out, the sound traveling across the parking lot back to his ears.

He shook his head and watched you go.

“Shit,” he hissed out, his head dropping back onto the headrest with a thud. Why'd he have to open his big mouth like that?

The following week he seemed to be everywhere.

He was at the gas station as you paid for your soda and nachos, trying to take a break from the motel when the walls felt like they were closing in around you.

A couple of days later, he was at the diner grabbing lunch as you were just finishing yours. He stared at you from over the top of the menu as you left some cash on the table and headed out. If he was trying to be discreet about it, he was failing miserably.

The next day, you bumped into him at the grocery store a couple of blocks away from where you were staying.

You turned the corner with your small cart, bumping into someone.

“Oh, I am so sor…” the words died as soon as you looked up to see him standing there. He grinned, pulling a box of cereal from the shelf and putting it into his own cart.

He looked good. Camo thermal under a black leather jacket with matching black cargo pants; thigh holster in place. His hair was slicked back just like you had seen it in the prior days.

You cocked a brow, “Deputy Tillman, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me.”

“Stalking you? Maybe it's the other way ‘round. Huh, sweet thing?” He moved to lean his elbow on the shelf as he looked you over, missing the edge by only a few centimeters.

He slipped, correcting himself almost immediately, straightening back up and throwing the shelf an accusatory look.

“Woah there, big fella.” You snorted. “You okay there?”

“Fine,” he sniffed, looking down his nose at you once he was back at his full height.

“What are you doing on this side of town anyway? Isn't there a nicer grocery store you could shop at?”

“Well, yeah but I like this one.” Shrugging a shoulder as he spoke.

You eye him suspiciously. So, he did choose to come here. You knew there was another store on the other side of town. It was bigger and newer with all the bells and whistles.

As if he was reading your mind he quickly tacked on, “it's more quiet here. Less crowded.”

You nodded. Slowly moving your cart to finally skirt around him.

“Well, Deputy, enjoy your shopping trip.” Moving past him.

“Hey y/n, how about you let me take you out sometime?” He blurted out before you got too far out of earshot.

“Out?” You turned back around. “Like a date?”

“I mean,” he stepped closer, leaning his elbow on the shelf successfully this time, as he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, we can call it a date. I was thinkin’ more along the lines of grabbing a bite to eat then you could invite me back to your room…” his eyes slowly trailed down your body as he spoke.

“How romantic.” You batted your lashes up at him before huffing a laugh. “I guess I should be flattered you actually offered dinner first.”

“So?” He cocked his head expectantly, completely ignoring the words that had just come out of your mouth.

“So, no. I told you I'm not sticking around.”

“Who said it had to be serious? I'm just talkin’ about gettin’ some ass s’all. Havin’ some fun while you're stuck here.” His lips curled up. Maybe he expected you to be taken aback by his bluntness, but you weren't. It just spurred you further.

“Oh, is that all? And how do you know I'm not getting’ dicked down on the daily by someone else? Hmmm?” You smirked when his eyes grew darker. Did you just make him mad? Jealous?

“Oh, sweet thing, I don't believe that for a second.” He chuckled. The air between you seemed to grow a little tense as he shifted on his feet a little.

He stepped a little closer, trying to close the gap between you.

“If that were true, you wouldn't be walkin' ‘round here with that stick up your ass.” He paused, looking you straight in the eye, “I think what ya’ need is someone to fuck this bratty attitude right out of ya’.”

You inched forward, letting your fingers graze his chest as you let them tip toe up.

“And you think you're just the man for the job?”

“Sure am.” He grinned, cocky, thinking he had you.

Your fingers moved up, up until you moved them away, only to boop his nose before completely pulling away and taking a step back.

“You're cute, you know that?” Using his own words that he'd thrown at you that night at the bar.

His mouth hung open slightly, as you turned to leave him there.

“Have a good night, Deputy.”

You faintly heard a “fuck” being muttered as you made your way over to the next aisle.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since your car broke down. Two weeks you’d been sleeping in a roach infested dump. Two weeks of sitting in said dump staring at the same four walls. Two weeks of reluctantly being the newest resident of Stark County.

Frank gave you another half-assed excuse as to why your damn car wasn’t finished this morning. You didn’t know whether he was telling the truth or blowing smoke up your ass for the hell of it. Either way, you were about to tear your hair out.

You volunteered for another double shift just to take your mind off of everything, telling Henry all of your woes for the 100th time, but he listened with a sympathetic ear as usual.

“Hey, not to pile anything on you, but do you think you could close up by yourself tonight? I’ve got to head out early.” He asked, hoping it wouldn’t get your panties even more twisted.

“I don’t mind. It’s not like anything is going on.” You held up your hands, looking around the desolate space. “And I would like to avoid going back to the room for as long as possible.” You felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought of sleeping there another night, though you knew it was inevitable.

He finished up what he was doing and slipped out the back.

It wasn’t unusual to be dead through the week, but this was almost unbearable. The last customer left about 30 minutes before Henry, leaving you alone with your thoughts weighing heavily once more.

It was currently a little past midnight, which meant you had two more hours before clocking out.

Most of the closing duties were done, now it was just you against the clock, hoping no one decided to stumble in here tonight keeping you any longer.

Your back was to the door, wiping down some newly washed glasses. As you put away another on the shelf, the front door flew open, startling you. When you jolted, you nearly dropped the glass but regained your composure.

Heavy footsteps were coming toward the bar as you turned around.

Shocked to see none other than Gator Tillman sliding into the stool directly in front of you. He looked disheveled. His usually perfectly slick hair mussed to the point it was falling in and around his face.

“Gator?” You asked hesitantly.

His eyes darted up to you, big and glossy, a little blood shot at the edges. His cheeks were flushed. Had he already been drinking before he got here?

“Oh, so you do know my name?” He huffed out. “And here I thought I was just Deputy Tillman.” It came out a little slurred.

His usual cheeky demeanor was gone. Replaced with this sarcastic asshole before you now; not an ounce of playfulness to be found. He seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” It seemed dumb to ask, but you couldn't help yourself.

“I'm fine Y/N. Just came here to blow off a little stream, s’all. Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Um sure… Gator, have you been drinking?”

He laughed out loud, lips curling into an unnatural smile. “I might’ve had a few. Might’ve run out. S’why I'm here, I need some more.”

“No, I think you need a cheeseburger and some water.” Placing a glass before him, sliding it into his view since he was staring at the bar top instead of you.

“Give me a Jack. No ice.” He said, without looking up.

“No. I'm not serving you.” Standing your ground could end up with a very pissed off Gator but at least your conscience would be clear. You were already thinking of how you could get his keys.

“Where's Henry? He'll give me what I ask for with no lip.” Finally cutting his eyes up. They were dark and intense. That usual flicker of light within now dim as if the alcohol had taken every semblance of the guy you’ve come to know.

“Not here. It's only me and I'm not serving you whiskey. I'll go make you a burger. Drink that damn water.”

He stared at the glass before him as if it would somehow magically turn into the Jack he'd asked for. Reluctantly, he finally picked it up and raised it to his lips, chugging the contents down within a few seconds.

He dropped it back to the bar top with a thud, still gripped in his hand.

“There, now give me a damn whiskey.”

“Gator, for the last time I'm not fucking serving you whiskey.” You had an idea. Your eyes flickered with delight at the prospect. And if he would cooperate, you'd both get what you needed.

He made to get up, staggering just a little, taking his keys from his pocket. This was your chance.

He looked away for a split second, he held his keys in his fist as he stood once more and turned slightly toward the door.

There was a key ring your fingers grabbed onto and firmly wanked them from his grasp.

He realized too late what was happening. His movements are slower than normal, trying but failing to reach back out for them.

“What the fuck. Give ‘em back.” He held out his hand expectantly.

“Hell no. You aren't going anywhere like this. You trying to kill yourself?” You raised your voice.

There was some look that passed over his features you couldn't quite read. He looked defeated at this moment.

“Look, just sit down. I'll make us both some burgers. We can, uh, have that meal you asked me to.”

That seemed to pique his interest, as his eyebrows edged upward. He nodded slightly and planted his ass back down on the stool as you breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Ok, just stay there. I'm going to lock the door and I'll make you the best damn burger you've ever had.” He didn't respond but you put another glass of water on the bar. “And drink that. I'll be back.”

You left him to it, locking the front door and clicking off the neon “Open” sign. You were sure no one would bother coming by this late and if Henry found out you'd just tell him the truth.

Henry usually cooked but had taught you the ins and outs of the kitchen as well. As the patties cooked on the grill top, you checked through the swinging door to make sure he was still there.

You panicked just a bit when he wasn't at the bar, but he had just moved across the room to one of the booths instead. And much to your surprise had brought the water with him. He wasn't thinking clearly but at least he could still follow directions.

You placed the plate in front of him as his eyes lit up.

“Don't say I never did anything nice for you.” You laughed and took the seat across from him.

He immediately started shoveling fries into his mouth. He wasn't much for manners, but you didn't fault him. He was eating like a man starved.

He hummed around the first bite of his burger as you smiled. You ate in silence, hoping a decent meal would sober him up for what you were about to suggest.

He finished his meal, wiping his mouth with his exposed sleeve and chugged the remaining water.

“Thanks, I need that.” He mumbled.

“Feel better?” You genuinely asked.

“Mmhmm… yeah actually. I uh…” he started.

“Nope, let's not do this ok. Don't start a sappy apology. I uh… may have had some ulterior motives here anyway.” You grinned as he finally lifted his head, furrowing his brows as his lips were set in a slight pout as if he were trying to decipher what you had just said.

“What? What are you…”

“I'm saying that I got you sober enough that at least I'm not taking advantage of you. I'd like to take you up on your offer.”

The realization hit, as he silently replied, “oh.”

He sat quietly for another moment.

“No. I don't need a goddamn pity fuck.”

You were taken aback by his brashness. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

“I wasn't trying to give you a pity fuck you jackass. It just seemed like we could both use a distraction. But if you're not interested, never mind.” You started to ease out of the booth.

“Wait, wait.” He grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. His touch setting your skin ablaze.

He looked up at you with pleading, puppy dog eyes that pulled at your chest.

“Look, I am a jackass, ok. But I am interested. You've made it very clear you didn't want anything to do with me. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“What does it matter? We're both obviously dealing with some shit… like I said we could use a distraction.” You shrugged, pulling free from his grasp. Taking both of your plates as you slid from the seat.

He watched you disappear into the back of the bar.

Ok, she's giving me a chance. Don't fuck this up. I'm a winner. Come on. He tried to pump himself up.

It took a few minutes to wash up the dishes and put them away. Emerging from the back, he was still sitting in the booth.

“Listen,” you spoke up. “I've got a few more things to do before I can head out. You wanna just meet me at my room in about an hour?”

He stood, no stagger this time and in a few large strides he crossed the room stopping directly in front of you.

He took you by surprise, grabbing your hips, pulling you completely flush to his.

You let out a little squeak that his lips quickly cut off when they met yours.

He wasn't gentle, fingertips digging in where they met you through your shirt. You didn't need or want gentle. He was doing exactly what you hoped he would.

His lips were slightly chapped but glided against your cherry glossed ones with ease. You wrapped one hand around the base of his neck, nails raking through his hair as your other finds his bicep.

He was guiding you, fingers finding the hem of your shirt, skirting upwards, uncovering the supple flesh beneath.

His touch sent goosebumps across your bare skin. It was then his tongue danced along your bottom lip, begging for entry.

Your lips parted, his tongue immediately finding the opening, moving against yours so naturally.

You suddenly needed more, pulling him even closer, easing yourself upward to meet him on the tips of your toes.

It was suddenly a clash of teeth and tongue. Your hand glided from his bicep to his waist pulling him in.

He broke your kiss with a groan. It gave you both a moment to catch your breath. Pants being shared between you.

You took the opportunity, running your hand lower, palming his now very prominent bulge. You were surprised he was actually backing that cocky attitude.

“Fuck,” he hissed out, breath fanning your cheek.

“You're getting ahead of yourself big boy. I still need to close up.” You nipped at his neck, inching yourself backward.

“No, let me make you feel good. Let me taste you. Fuck, I need to taste you.” His voice raspy, whiny with need.

His words went straight to your core. Not sure what you were expecting, but him offering to go down on you wasn't one of them. Gator seemed very selfish, not someone who would so willingly give.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Willing yourself to answer as you nodded. But then it hit you. Where the fuck would you go in here?

As if he already knew what you were thinking, he grabbed your hand leading you over to the pool table.

He let go to shed his jacket into the nearest booth, as you slid up onto the felt lining, easing your ass over the lip.

You'd worn a skirt today, now thanking yourself for the easy access, as you spread your thighs to accommodate his frame.

He turned back to you. Eyes trailing up. You were like prey caught by the big, bad wolf as he licks his lips ready to devour you.

You leaned back, spreading your legs a little further, skirt rucking up, soaked panties on display.

He came to slot himself between your thighs, pulling your hips toward the edge to meet his hard cock coming to rest against your clothed core.

You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself as you gasped out.

“What's wrong, sweet thing?” He smirked, as he brought his hand up to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair tugging the roots making you meet his gaze.

“I…” smug bastard had the audacity to roll his hips when you tried to speak, nudging your clit slightly, pulling a small moan from you.

“Yeah, that's it. Let me hear those pretty sounds, yeah?”

This wasn't you. Letting a man reduce you to putty in his hands. You decided to throw him off, taking your legs and locking them firmly around his waist, and rolling your hips into his.

“Look at you, like a little whore in heat.” He lowered his head, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “I fucking knew you wanted me.”

You gasped out again when he brought his broad palms against your thighs pushing them back against the table. His thumbs rubbing higher, up under the fabric of your skirt making you shudder.

He pulled back slightly to look down at you.

“Now, be a good girl and sit still f’me.”

His fingertips traveled up, hooking into the fabric so he could pull them down, lifting your ass so he could remove them.

Once he had you bare, he tucked them into his pocket for safe keeping.

His eyes darkened, breath hitching slightly once he caught sight of your bare cunt.

You were positively soaked, glistening before him.

Feeling a little brazen, you spoke up “Are you going to put your money where your mouth is or just stare at me all night like you've never seen a pussy before? ” Wiggling your ass closer to the edge as you spoke.

He didn't respond, you watched as he licked at his bottom lip and began lowering himself to the floor. Once he knelt in front of you, face to face with you, he finally spoke.

“Look at that sweet little pussy, already drooling f’me.” He slid his hands under your ass, pulling you closer to the edge, closer to his waiting mouth.

He pushed your left thigh up over his shoulder, scooting closer still, using his arm to force your other leg further open to accommodate him. His hand delicately moves your skirt further up your hips giving him full access.

You jolt when he lightly runs a fingertip up your slit. Not enough to penetrate but shooting embers through your core.

“I bet she tastes so good, huh?” Placing a kiss to your inner thigh, then another and another. Working his way toward where you needed him most.

“Please…” it's as if the word left on its own accord as it hung in the air between you. It was so breathy you'd hoped he'd mistake it for another moan.

“What's that sweet thing?” No such luck.

You look down at him, he's grinning over your mound with this mischievous glint to his eyes. You know what he's about to say before it even tumbles from his lips.

“Please what baby?”

You roll your eyes letting your head thump back against the tabletop.

“Please Gator, quit teasing. I ne… want you to fuck me.” You quickly huffed out.

He chuckled lightly, letting his finger and thumb part your lips, while his breath fanned over your sticky folds.

He hummed as he looked down, catching a glance once more before he brought his tongue down. Flattening it against your core, licking a fat stripe from your leaking entrance as he let the tip finally catch your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned out. Relief. It flooded through your veins and much as it ignited you further.

He didn't stop, moving his tongue down and back up to expertly swirl it against your puffy clit.

Your back arched, pushing your pussy further into his face. His eyes flicked up to you, relishing the way he was already making you come undone.

He moved his hand from around your ass to wrap it around your leg, making sure you couldn't squirm away as his lips came to wrap around your bundle of nerves. Sucking harshly, then soothing it again with a soft lick.

You fisted your hands at your sides, fighting the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

You felt his thick finger tease your entrance as his lips remained sealed to you.

“Mmmm… yes, please. I need more.” You tried to grind your hips, but he had you firmly pinned.

He slowly inserted his finger, pushing into your velvety walls with ease, as another wanton moan left your lips.

He pulled out, only to insert a second upon re-entry. His fingers alone were filling you up in such a way your own never could.

Your cunt pulsed around him, as he hummed into you, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure.

It had been a long time since you'd been touched by anyone but yourself and your orgasm was creeping up at an embarrassingly fast rate.

He curved his digits upward with every drag, as he was hit that sweet, spongy spot within you. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.

“Gator don't stop. Right there!” He was happy to oblige, keeping his current pace but applied more pressure to your clit, working his tongue back and forth.

Your hands finally found purchase, tugging at his hair. He hummed again, filing that mental note away for later.

“It feels so good, don't… mmmm… don't fucking stop!”

Those embers were fully formed flames, licking up your spine, igniting every nerve within your core.

The pressure kept building, as you were teetering along the edge, ready to let go.

Your orgasm hit with blinding force, your legs began to shake around him as sparks soared behind your eyes, with a cry of his name he worked you through your high.

He unattached his lips, “that's it sweet thing, cum on my fingers. Yeah, you look so goddamn pretty like this, and I haven't even fucked you yet.”

Your cunt clenched around him once more with his words, as you tried to pull away from him, starting to feel oversensitive. He pulled his fingers from you, only to wrap his lips around them sucking them clean of any remnants of your arousal.

“Mmmm… so fucking sweet. I knew you'd taste good.”

He watches the way your chest is still heaving, trying to catch your breath. He takes the opportunity to raise himself up, pushing himself back between your thighs.

His cock is fucking aching and rock hard. He'd fuck you right here and now if you'd let him.

He leans slightly back over you, his cock nudging your cunt, as you whimper and finally open your eyes in time to see his shit eating grin, as he wipes the rest of your arousal from his face with the back of his hand.

“You good?” He finally asks.

There was something in his eyes that told you that you were in for a long night.

You nod pathetically, as you attempt to sit up, but your bones feel like jello.

He closes the distance, caging you in, hands splayed out on either side of you, as he speaks close to your ear, breath fanning your cheek.

“Yeah? You want me t’bend you over right here or are we going back t’your room? Your choice sweet thing, but either way I'm fuckin’ ya’ now.”

He pulls back slightly to gauge your response. You look up at him, soft doe eyes and pouty kiss-bitten lips. He's fucked. He knows it right then and there.

“Fuck, Gator. We can't fuck here. Let me grab my purse.” You push at his chest to give you some space.

He takes a few steps back, as you hop down from the pool table on wobbly legs and straighten your skirt back down.

“You aren't closin’ up?” He chuckled.

“Fuck it,” waving your hand dismissively as you walk to the back. “I work morning shift; I'll do it then.”

You quickly gathered your belongings, throwing your coat over your shoulders, shutting off the lights as you head back up front. You knew you'd be kicking yourself in the few hours you'd have to be back in for your shift but at this moment you couldn't find it within yourself to care.

You shot through the double doors, as his hands reached out and grabbed you from behind, pulling you in as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“I can't keep my hands off of you. You're so fuckin’ hot.”

You giggle, feeling like a horny teen. It was new, exciting and as you reminded yourself just for tonight.

“Gator, come on. Let's go.” He grabbed a handful of your ass before reluctantly letting you go.

He followed you closely out the door, as you turned to lock up, he stayed there, head on a swivel, surveying the parking lot void of any life this time of night.

“Okay.” You said, pushing your hands into your pockets, suddenly realizing you still had his keys.

“Oh shit, here.” You dug them out from your purse and handed them over.

“Thanks, sweet thing, come on.” He went ahead of you and jumped into the driver's seat, turning the ignition just as quickly. You pulled yourself up, taking the opportunity to scoot right in next to him, thigh pressed tightly into his.

He stiffens as you place your hand high on his thigh, sliding it slowly, close to where his cock rests, still straining against his confines just begging to be released.

At the same time, you press your face close to his jaw, placing small kisses up, nibbling his ear lobe. You continued sliding your hand further up, finally rubbing him through his pants, causing his breath to hitch.

“Fuck, ok, ok. Let me just get us across the road.”

You giggled out, as you sat back in the seat. He seemed just as eager as you were.

“Ok big boy, let's go.”

The Midway was almost directly across the road from the Lucky Lizard, making it a quick trip.

“Which room is it?” He asked, eyes cutting to you for a moment.

“203, just up there.” Pointing in the general direction, as he slowed when he got close.

“I'll let you out, I've got to park ‘round back.” He stopped directly in front of the door.

“Yeah, sure.” You understood but it didn't hurt any less. You knew it was a dump, home to more than a couple of drug addicts but you also knew his job. It would be an embarrassment to be seen here.

You let it roll off you, as you swung the door open and stepped inside. It gave you a few minutes to freshen up and spritz a little perfume to your pulse points, as he knocked on the door.

You crossed the small space, opening the door wide, bidding him in quickly.

“I know it's not much,” you began.

“S’fine.” He said, looking around the desolate space. The only hint that you lived here was the large suitcase in the corner overflowing with your clothes and shoes.

He let his jacket fall from his shoulders, placing it on top of the dresser, toeing his boots off there as well. You had already removed your outerwear leaving you in your skirt and short sleeved shirt you'd worn all day.

He didn't look your way as he sat on the end of the bed, letting out a large sigh as the springs groaned under his weight.

For a moment he seemed distracted, with this faraway look in his eye that had you second guessing yourself, as his hand scrubbed down the side of his face.

As if he felt the weight of your stare, he looked up, “C’mere sweet thing,” patting his thighs. In normal circumstances something like that would piss you off but at this point you'd let it slide.

You crossed the small distance between you. As soon as you were close enough, he grabbed your hips once more, but you were ready this time as you steadied yourself.

Your fingertips hooked under his chin lifting lightly so he would have to look at you. His eyes were half lidded, from lust or the late hour you weren't sure, but his gaze was soft, pupils blown wide.

“Hey handsome, how about I return the favor?” You purred, as his hand roamed the expanse of your thighs, finding your ass and pulling you further into him.

You trailed a fingertip across his jaw, nail catching on stubble that was trying to form as you watched his Adam's apple bob.

Trailing it lower, down his broad chest as you began to sink to the floor between his thighs, knees pressing into the rough carpeting.

Your hands came to rest in either of his thighs, as he eagerly undid his belt and unsnapped the button of his pants. That's when you stopped him.

“Let me,” your voice was sticky sweet, as you batted his hands away, replacing them with your own, taking the zipper and slowly lowering it.

You palmed at his still clothed erection, eliciting a soft hiss from him.

He groaned, as your fingers trailed to his waistband, he aided you by lifting his hips letting you pull his pants and boxers down his hairy thighs.

His cock sprang free, the head landing just at his navel. You knew he was big, but you hadn't expected this much. You were staring at a goddamn python.

He was long, but also thick. His fat mushroom tip was flushed, a prominent vein travels down the underside of his shaft. The thought of him between your legs made your thighs involuntary clench.

“Fuck,” it was just a whisper, but he still heard it as he smirked.

“What's the matter, sweet thing? Never seen a cock before?” That teasing tone was back but you rolled your eyes in response, wrapping your hand around as much of his base that you could.

You angled him more toward you, leaning down spitting on the tip, as his hips bucked up slightly.

“Fuck, you're a dirty girl.” He grunted, the women he usually fucks were all to timid to take charge or even offer a blow job.

You ran your hand up his length, reaching the top, smearing the mixture of your saliva and his precum expertly. Taking the time to run your thumb across his slit and ruddy head at an agonizingly slow pace before finally stroking back down, as you began pumping lightly.

His breath hitched as he watched you, you were focused solely on him and the task at hand.

You brought your mouth closer, lips sticky with newly reapplied gloss as you placed a soft kiss to the tip, before flicking your tongue to the same spot. Getting the response you were after when you heard him whimper.

You grinned against him, ready to destroy this man.

You wrapped your lips around him, sucking lightly before flattening your tongue, taking as much of him as your mouth and throat would allow.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned out, as if you’d taken him by surprise. His face screwed up with pleasure as he closed his eyes. You wondered if it had been a while since he'd felt a woman's soft touch, so used to his calloused hands providing his own relief.

As the salty tang of him hit your tongue you moaned around him. The vibrations made him shudder, relaxing your throat to take him further as you continued to stroke his length.

You began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks applying more pressure to his member.

“Goddamn sweet thing,” he breathed out, daring to glance down. You were a vision with his dick between your lips. When you looked up at him there were unshed tears along your lash line. It was enough to make him cum right then and there.

It was then you decided to pick up your pace, seeing his fucked-out expression spurred you on.

“Fuck,” he hissed out, gripping the back of your hair, tugging you back until you pulled off with a wet pop.

“You keep doing that, I'm gonna cum. I need to fuck you.” You nodded, as those words went straight to your core, pussy clenching around nothing.

“You uh, you got a condom? I didn't really come prepared.”

“Gator, I just had my mouth around your cock, if I was worried about that I wouldn't have gone down on you. I'm on birth control.” You shrugged.

“Fuck, yeah ok.” He nodded.

You quickly rose to your feet, slotting your thighs on either side of his, sinking down as his cock met your bare cunt, gliding easily through your folds bumping your clit on the way.

You moaned out in unison, as he found the hem of your shirt pulling it over your head. His lips immediately finding the tender flesh of your neck, just below your jaw sucking a small bruise there before soothing it with his tongue.

His hands palm your tits through your bra, before quickly finding the clasp at the back. He's undoing it with expertise, as the straps begin to slide down your shoulders.

He wastes no time, he pushes the cups down as his large palms engulf your breasts. His calloused hands are a little rough against your nipples, causing another moan to escape you.

You pull away slightly to capture his lips into a heated kiss. He wraps his arms around you, only to lift you off the bed with him, moving to lay you onto your back.

You let out a small squeak of surprise but he's immediately back between your thighs, gliding his cock between through your soaked folds.

“Mmmm… Gator, please don't tease me anymore.” You huffed out.

He chuckled lightly in response, but sat up to remove his shirt, kicking his pants the rest of the way off his legs. You followed his lead, lifting your hips and sliding your skirt down your plush thighs.

“Fuck, look at you.” He said, lowering himself back down.

He brought two fingers up to your lips, as he barked out “open.” Sliding them in, letting them close around his large digits and letting your tongue swirl against the rough pads.

“Good girl,” he brought them straight to your aching clit, rubbing tight circles against you.

“Mmmm… fuck.” You moaned out, keening into his touch.

He bent down, laving his tongue between your breasts. His mouth was hot, as he sucked your hardened bud between his lips. Your hands flew to his hair, pushing it back from his face tugging harshly at the roots.

He didn't let up, as he moved off your clit to pinch the other between his thumb and finger.

The sensation has you crying out. You weren't in the mood for any more teasing. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable.

You were surprised at his patience this far. Half expecting him to start railing you as soon as he entered the room.

You pulled his face up to yours, giving him no choice but to crawl up your body, meeting you lips once more. You firmly locked your legs around his waist and rolled your hips.

You swallowed each other's moans, as you repeated the motion, his tip catching your clit at just the right angle.

“No more teasing. Let's see if you know how to use that thing or if that cocky attitude is all you have.” Wiggling your hips against him as you spoke.

His eyes darkened, as he looked up at you as if it ignited something within him.

“I know how to use it, just wonderin’ if that tight pussy can handle it.” He reached between you, lining himself up with your entrance as you spread your legs further apart.

His fat tip breaches, as he pushes in slightly with a groan.

“Oh fuck,” throwing your head back, already feeling the stretch.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he hisses, watching himself as he sinks a little deeper.

Your brow starts to scrunch, closing your eyes as your mouth goes slack, a silent moan trying to escape but it feels caught in your throat.

He starts to move again, inch by inch, he slowly splits you open. You're trying not to think about the smug look he's surely got on his face. If you had opened your eyes, you would have seen he was just as fucked out as you were.

Your nails dig crescents where they rest, fingers gripping his shoulders tighter the deeper he goes.

He finally pushes to the hilt, as you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, coming out as a whimper.

He looks down at you then, the almost pained expression on your face pulls him out of his own stuper.

“Hey, you ok?” The softness of his tone grabbed your attention the most. You looked back up to see his eyes worrying over your features.

You nodded, “mhmm… I just need a minute. It's been a while and, not to inflate your already huge ego, but you're not exactly average.”

His lips curled up into that crooked smile like the first time you'd seen him at the bar. It genuinely made you smile back.

The pinch slowly started to subside, as you asked him to move.

He slowly pulled back, almost removing himself completely, immediately sinking back in. He was taking his time, not at all what you expected. You’d wanted rough, for him to fuck your goddamn brains out.

“Gator, I need more. Harder.” Your heels pressed into his ass to get your point across.

“You sure?”

“Yes, goddamnit! Fuck me!”

He shoved himself back, pulling out of you completely.

“What are you…?”

“Y’want it rough, flip over. Ass up.” When you didn't immediately move, he added “c’mon sweet thing. Up.”

You did as you were told, rolling over and arching your ass up. You looked over your shoulder, as he grabbed onto your hip lining himself up with your dripping entrance.

“You asked for it, whore.” He breathed out as he pushed back in hard enough to punch the air from your lungs.

He wasn't soft this time, didn't bother to ask if you were okay.

You whined out with each pump, as he started to set a brutal pace. He began to pull your hips back in time to meet each thrust.

“That it, huh? This what y’wanted?”

You didn't answer, nodding as best you could with your cheek pressed into the mattress.

His hand came down hard across your ass cheek that sent you lurching forward.

“I asked you a question. This what y'wanted? Huh?”

“Yeah, yes. It's… it's what I… mmmm… wanted.” Panting out as he continued to rail you.

He leaned over, reaching his arm under your chest placing his hand around your throat. Squeezing lightly, as if he were testing the waters.

When your pussy fluttered and another moan fell from your lips when he applied more pressure it gave him all the go ahead he needed.

He hauled you up with him; your back pressed tightly to his sweaty chest with his hand still wrapped around your throat as you gripped his wrist and forearm.

He slowed his motions, only to put his lips close to your ear, “You know what they call whores who like to fuck cops? They're badge bunnies. Y’wanna be my little bunny since y’like bouncing on this cock?”

“Fuck, Gator.” You wailed out.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

He releases your neck, letting you fall forward against the mattress, holding your hip with one hand as he brings the other up between your legs as he quickly finds your clit.

You grip the sheets, as he begins rubbing harsh circles there, his length continuously stimulating that sweet spot within you with every drag against your velvety walls. It had you clenching around him as that coil within you tightened.

“You close bunny?” A little bunny, trapped by the big bad wolf. Ensnared. Nowhere to run.

“Ughhh, fuck, yeah.” All coherent thoughts pushed from your mind.

He was working you toward the edge, tighter and tighter your lower belly wound.

“Please, don't stop! Don't stop!”

He didn't let up, working your clit with the same, unrelenting pace as his cock split you open again and again in the best possible way.

“I'm not sweet thing. Can I… fuck… can I cum in this pussy?” He grunted out, trying to stave off his own. He wanted to feel you cum around his cock.

“Yes! Cum in me!”

“Fuck, I need you to cum all over my dick. C’mon baby. Need to feel you. Give it to me.”

His words only encouraged your orgasm, that coil wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

You came with a shout of his name followed by “oh God, oh God, oh God” as those fireworks flew behind your eyes. It was the best orgasm anyone had ever given you. You were fucking ruined.

He continued to work you through it until you whimpered into the sheets below.

He grabbed your hips with both hands, surely to leave bruises in their wake, pulling you back to meet his punishing thrusts.

Your senses were overwhelmed and your pussy was starting to ache from overuse.

“Gator, please…” you weren't sure what you were begging for.

“Yeah, Bunny? Yeah? I'm gonna fuckin’ ruin this pussy for anyone else. Gonna be all mine from now on.” He started blabbering.

His hips stuttered, thrusts becoming a little erratic, as he started to spill inside of you. He pulled your hips flush to his, as he painted your walls with his thick ropes of cum.

“Fuckfuckfuck… that's it, that's fuckin' it.”

He stilled leaning over your back, as your legs began to give out, releasing the grip on you as he finally pulled out.

He rolled off of you, lying there beside you as you both caught your breath.

“Care if I take a nap here? I'm up in a few hours back on patrol. Don't feel like drivin’ all the way across town.”

It caught you off guard. You hadn't actually had someone sleep beside you after sex in years, but it was just one night. He'd most likely be gone before the sunrise.

“Uh, sure. I'm going to shower.” Getting up without turning back to him, you heard him mumble something under his breath as he made himself more comfortable throwing the covers over his waist.

You showered quickly just to scrub the day from yourself. The hot water heater didn't last more than 10 minutes in this damn place.

When you were finished, Gator was laying on his stomach. Arms stretched under his pillows, hair strewn in his face as soft snores escaped him.

Your eyes drank him in. Curves and plains of his strong back, moles and freckles scattered like a constellation. The sheet just barely covers his ass. You softly roll your eyes when you notice his boxers on the floor by the bed.

Your gaze flicked up, noticing a tattoo on his bicep. Snorting to yourself when you realized what it was. It was hideous but very much on brand. Making a mental note to make sure to give him hell for it later.

The bed was small, but he had scooted as far to the right that he could, giving you room to lay down beside him. Thoughtful, again he surprised you.

You threw on a tank and some clean panties, easing yourself in beside him under the sheets. He shifted just a bit, mumbling to himself before settling back in.

You turned over on your side away from him, making sure to keep a little distance between you before finally drifting off.

Gator woke a couple of hours later, turning slightly to see your sleeping form beside him. It was still dark out, a sliver of light coming in through the slit in the curtains just enough to illuminate you.

He tried to be quiet as he gathered his clothes from around the room easing them back on his body.

He checked his phone. More than a few missed calls and one single text from Roy.

Where the fuck are you?

He knew he'd get more shit as soon as he got home. After their blowout last night he's surprised no one came looking for him but that would actually mean Roy cared about his well-being.

He sat back down on the bed as softly as he could, trying not to disturb you. He watched a cockroach crawl across the toe of his boot as he laced it. His lip curled up in disgust at the thought of you living here.

Maybe he could help you out if you decided to stay but he knew that was wishful thinking. You'd also made it clear last night was a one time thing but maybe he could change your mind.

He used his phone as a light to find a small notepad and pen on your nightstand. Jotting down his number, with a simple just in case scrawled out.

He took one more look at you sleeping peacefully, slowly letting his fingers trace the curve of your cheek, moving the hair from your face.

He finally understood what his dad had always warned him about. He felt weak with this overwhelming urge to protect you. He didn't really understand it. But deep down he was hoping you'd somehow feel the same.

You woke up with a stretch and a groan. You'd slept cramped, pushed to the edge, careful not to touch the man beside you.

You turned over to a cold spot, suddenly wondering when he'd left.

Sitting up, you reached for your water at your bedside, raising it to your lips but stopped, noticing a note left there.

You gingerly picked it up. He'd left his number.

You thought about tossing it but instead grabbed your phone and input the info, quickly moving screens and typing out a text then erasing it.

You chewed the skin on your thumb, as you looked at the blank message, typing it out again.

Thanks. You took my mind off shit for a while.

Hitting send before chickening out, immediately slamming the phone down on the bed.

One time. It was supposed to be a one time thing.

He had responded to your text later that day with:

Sure bunny. you free tonite?

You had thoroughly ignored it for 2 hours before you texted him back, telling him what time he could swing by the motel after a customer had pissed you off.

It had been like that most nights since.

There were also those nights when he'd pick you up from work, always making sure to come in before close.

Taking the same seat at the bar, you'd happily grab him his usual Jack Daniels over ice. It was small talk at first but gradually became a little more.

You would laugh at his stupid jokes or tell him that he should tell his dad off after he had yet another blow out with him. He left out a lot of the details but you had inferred enough to know he was a piece of shit.

And after close, he'd slip his tongue past your lips as soon as you walked out the door, kissing you hard enough to melt the rest of the day away. His hands were all over you until you managed to get him into the truck to make that small drive across the road.

You’d fucked on just about every surface of that motel room, including some sketchy shower sex that almost landed you both in the hospital when you’d lost your footing.

He couldn’t take you back to his dad’s house, so a week later, he’s got you in the cab of his truck bouncing on his cock like your life depended on it.

The windows were fogged up, anyone passing by could easily tell what was currently playing out. He’d parked in a clearing off a gravel road, close to his ranch but far enough away that no one would bother the two of you.

His cock was kissing your cervix each time your hips met his, at this angle it felt like he was in your guts. It was on the verge of being too much but that familiar ache in your lower belly told you to keep going. You were almost to the finish line.

He currently held his hand against your throat, after he'd figured out you liked it, he started taking it a little further each time.

“I feel her gripping me, your close Bunny. Keep fuckin’ goi…” He was interrupted when a banging on the glass startled you both.

Your movements halted, both looking like deer in headlights.

“Gator, c’mon out son. Need a moment.” Roy's voice rang out against the silence.

“Fuck,” he hissed, through gritted teeth, throwing his head back onto the headrest as you quickly moved off of him, pulling down your skirt and straightening your hair sitting up in the passenger seat.

He shoved his now softening cock back into his pants, zipping them up and jumping out of the truck, slamming it shut.

You picked up your panties from the dirty floor, and shoved them into your purse. From this vantage point you couldn't hear much of what was being said, but it was mostly Roy’s muffled voice coming through.

The more you learned about their relationship the more it turned your stomach. It was one-sided, Roy asking him to jump and Gator immediately asking how high.

You had made up your mind about Roy after that first meeting. The way he treated Gator was disgusting.

After a few more agonizing minutes, the truck door finally opened back up to reveal a very crestfallen Gator.

He hopped in without saying a word, turning the ignition and throwing it into drive. He punched the gas, throwing you back into the seat.

“What the fuck, Gator?!” You yelled, gripping the door as he peeled onto the gravel road.

“Daddy really put you in a bad mood, huh?” It slipped out with a patronizing tone.

“Fuck you!” He spat, pulling his vape from his pocket, letting it hit his lips expelling that sickly sweet smelling fruit that you've come to loathe.

“I mean, we tried that before we were so rudely interrupted back there.” You laughed to yourself.

“Goddamnit,” he hit the steering wheel with his fist, “Just shut the fuck up!”

“Fine. Just take me back to the Midway and don't bother texting me later when you get bored. Fuck you, asshole!” You huffed, crossing your arms and sinking a little deeper into the seat before staring out the window.

Regret started to pool within you. It was bound to happen. It always ended like this. You could never hold your tongue, letting insults roll off so easily.

It felt like the longest ride back across town. He'd pulled up to the curb not even bothering to put the truck in park as you hopped out slamming the door behind you.

A few days passed successfully avoiding him all together. You'd contemplated deleting his number, your thumb hovering over the button each time, then slamming your phone back down.

It was just sex. You could cut ties now and let it be. Once that damn car is done, skipping town would be easy.

It was another gloomy, snowy day in Lehigh. And yet another excuse from Frank.

The heat in your room quit working, so you'd spent the morning moving your stuff down to another room that Maggie had gotten ready for you.

You'd hoped a shower might clear your head, relax you for a bit. It seemed to only make things worse. You were tired.

Checking your phone you were met with a text you'd been dreading.

You still in town?

Ignoring it, you laid down hoping a nap would do you some good.

Waking a couple hours later, you had a few missed calls and more texts from Gator.

Can we talk?

I came by the motel. Your room was empty. Did you leave?

Hello?

You groaned, sitting up.

Finally relenting and typing out a reply.

You almost sound worried, big boy. I'm fine. You can kindly fuck off now.

It began to buzz in your hand as you hit ignore. It continued off and on most of the day. A few more missed calls and messages, later that afternoon it finally stopped.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, curling back under the covers shutting the world out. Just how you preferred it.

You dozed in and out of consciousness. The TV provides soothing background noise keeping you snoozing all afternoon.

You were wrenched from your slumber when someone began to pound on the door. Dazed for a few seconds, before the pounding started again.

“Fuck, give me a second!” You yelled across the room, stumbling from the bed uncaring how you looked, sleep shorts and thin tank top with your hair askew.

Immediately jerking the door open, you’re face to face with a very agitated looking Gator. He must have been working today, dressed in his vest and gloves.

“Fuck no.” You said, and started to close the door. He was quicker, placing his boot clad foot in the way preventing you from pushing it shut.

“Move Gator.” You hissed.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“No shit. I told you not to bother. I should have blocked your ass. Now, move!” You shoved a little harder to no avail.

“What the fuck are you mad for, huh? You didn't get to cum that day, that it? There's a lot of things you don't understand. A lot of shit I can't talk about.”

You swung the door open, as you locked eyes with his.

“Oh, no I get it. I see it. You let daddy tell you what to do. You've been sneaking around with a whore and finally got caught, right?” He looked away, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Bingo.

Nodding your head as he finally looked back up to you.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. It's fine.”

“No, it's not fine.” He finally spoke up. “Can I come in? Just for a few minutes.”

“Why, Gator? We both know what this was. Just some fun, nothing serious. Remember? You don't owe me an explanation. You don't owe me anything.” You laughed, but it died out once you noticed the look on his face.

If it was nothing serious, why did he look at you like you'd just knocked the wind out him? Big, glossy puppy dog eyes just like that first night you'd hooked up.

If it was nothing serious, why did your chest ache at the thought of hurting him?

“Gator, I…” You couldn't finish that sentence, he moved so quickly and in your groggy state before you could register what was happening, he placed one hand on your hip as he brought the other up to cradle the back of your head.

He kissed you so deeply, yet it had you yearning for more. You surprised him when you kissed him back, sucking his bottom lip between yours before letting go to look back up at him.

“Fuck, Y/N. I've… I've fuckin' missed you.” It came out quickly. A rushed confession you'd been expecting but to hear him say it out loud, only solidified what you'd been feeling. The reason you'd been so depressed the last couple of days missing his company.

You'd been on your own for so long, you'd forgotten what it actually meant to miss someone. For someone to miss you. It wasn't just about the sex anymore.

“It's only been a couple days.” You grinned, pushing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“I know, I just thought you'd left and…”

You brought a finger to his lips.

“It's ok. I'm here.” For now.

“Yeah, you are Bunny. And I'm not letting you get away so easily.”

You didn't want to put a label on this or did you? Would that be so bad?

You started moving quickly, helping him out of his jacket, his shirt flying over his head in a flurry. He walked you back, letting your knees hit the edge of the mattress, laying you back slowly.

His lips sealed to yours with a searing kiss. You were needy. Tongue and teeth. Pushing and pulling at each other.

Your hands flew to his buckle, undoing it with ease. Taking him in your palm as he moaned into your mouth.

He palmed your breast through your shirt as his thumb grazed over your nipple. Your body arched into him, already craving more as he began peppering kisses along your jaw.

“I fuck… Gator… I need you. Now.”

“I've got to get you warmed up sweet thing.” He chided.

“No, now. Please.” You whimpered.

He moved his hand lower, sliding your sleep shorts to the side, immediately his fingers trailed to your entrance already dripping arousal.

“Fuck, so wet.”

“I told you, I need you. Don't make me beg.” You pleaded.

He moved his digits up, swirling them around your clit, eliciting those sweet sounds he was looking for.

Removing his hand from you, he lifted himself up so he could push his boxers past his hips. He brought his palm up to your mouth, “Spit. Yeah, good girl.”

Bringing his hand to his cock, smearing a mixture of your spit and his precum down his length.

He slid your sleep shorts back over with one hand and guided himself to your entrance.

You had to will yourself to breathe as his tip began to stretch your inner walls. It was too much and not enough.

He slowly filled your aching pussy, as you wrapped your legs around him, eager to have him pressed into you.

“How are you always so goddamn tight?” He said, as you whimpered out, his cock pushing in to the hilt.

Immediately, he pulls out, only to push back in feeling deeper than before. The force of his hips pushing you further up the mattress with each thrust.

The pretty noises he drew from you only made him double his efforts. Picking up his pace, but rolling his hips a little upward each time. The wiry curls at the base of his cock nudging your clit each time his hips meet yours.

“Gator, I'm… mmmm… I'm close.”

“Yeah, bunny? Gonna strangle my cock? Gonna let me have it?”

You nodded as your eyes rolled back, it was closer than you thought.

Your orgasm hit with a scream of his name, as your pussy clamped down like a vice around him.

“Oh, fuck.” He tried to work you through it, but with your cunt pulsing around him he was done. He spilled his thick ropes inside your velvety walls as you milked everything from him.

“Fuckfuckfuck, filling this pussy full baby.”

He finally stilled, collapsing onto you, nearly crushing you in the best possible way.

He moved his arms up under your back pressing his face into your chest, mumbling something you couldn't quite hear as you brushed the hair from his face.

“What, baby?” You whispered down to him.

Baby. Baby. Baby. The first time you'd called him by a pet name. He grinned from his spot on your chest.

“Nothing, sweet thing. Just talkin’ to myself.”

You hummed absentmindedly, raking your fingers through his hair.

“How'd you know where I was?” Suddenly remembering all of those desperate texts and calls.

He pulled his head up to look at you, resting his chin on your sternum.

“Well, I asked that lady at the front desk. Tough old broad to crack.” You giggled, Maggie would never rat you out. “So, I started bangin’ on all the doors until I found yours.”

“Gator! You're crazy.” You laughed out.

“Crazy for you.” He mumbled pulling you on for a slow kiss.

“Wanna shower and stay the night?” You asked when he pulled away.

“Of course Bunny.” The nickname was unfortunately sticking around but you didn't mind.

You'd showered together, he didn't care that he'd go back home to Roy in the morning smelling like your vanilla body wash or rose scented shampoo. He'd made up his mind you were worth the shit he'd hear from him. That's all it was, shit.

He pulled you into his chest as you curled up into the sheets. Neither of you were very tired so you watched some TV and talked long into the night until your eyes grew heavy.

He'd be there when you woke up this time, groggy smiles and giggles between the sheets as he fucked you slow, taking you to breakfast afterwards.

It was the first time you hadn't felt like you were hidden away.

After that last night, things began to shift between you. The lingering looks, soft touches and post orgasmic bliss of tangling your limbs together while falling asleep wasn't something you shared with someone you didn't care about.

The secrets shared in the dark, confessions from you both crumbling that wall you had built up so high you were sure nothing would bring it down, especially someone like Gator Tillman.

He's arrogant, disgusting and rude. But somehow exactly what you need because he'd do anything to show you he's there for you.

You know it wasn't a coincidence your car was fixed the day after mentioning it to him. Frank had been jerking you around, thinking he could get more money out of you.

He was sporting a newly broken nose and wrist when he handed over the keys with a frown etched to his face.

The car was fixed. The one thing holding you back from leaving Lehigh for good.

As you pulled up to the Midway, he was parked there waiting for you, leaned against the truck, his favorite green cap on backwards with a cloud of smoke exiting his lips, slipping his vape back into his pocket when he spotted you.

You got out, your heart hammering in your chest. Neither of you ever had questioned what might come next.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as you came to stand in front of him.

“So?” He tilted his head, looking down at you.

“So…” You looked at the keys held in your fist. That voice in the back of your head kept warning you. Time to run, little bunny. Make your escape while you still can.

“Your car's fixed. You uh… plannin’ on leavin’?”

“I haven't thought about it.”

He snorted, “Yeah, that's bullshit.”

He moved, as you watched him walk around to the front of the truck.

“Hop in. I wanna show ya’ somethin’.”

He drove you across town, and winding down a few back roads.

“If you wanted to go parking, you could’ve just said so, handsome.” You laughed.

He rolled his eyes, “It's not that. Just trust me.”

Trust. Such a powerful word. Something the two of you built over the last month. You did trust him.

You reached over to intertwine your fingers through his, as he smiles back at you.

He pulled up to a house off to itself, on the smaller side but it was quaint and charming.

“What're we doing?” You asked as he parked.

“You'll see. C'mon.”

You followed behind as he led you to the front door, producing a key and opening it for you.

“Whose house is this?”

“God Bunny, you ask too many damn questions. Get your ass in there.” He nods, leaning on the doorframe as you walk past.

It's a two bedroom, one bath home. Nicely kept. Clean. But you were still confused as to why you were standing here.

“She's yours if you wan’ it.” He finally said, as you whirled back around to face him.

“What're you talking about?” Your brows furrow, confused by the sudden statement.

“Well, I mean, if you wanted to stay here in Lehigh. It's a rental.” He shrugged. “And, no girl of mine is stayin’ in that roach infested dump another day.”

You felt heat creep up your cheeks, but shook your head. “Gator, I can't afford this place.”

“Sure you can sweet thing. It's a steal at $500 a month.” Placing his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into him.

"$500? That's cheaper than the motel.” You squinted up at him, moving from his grasp. “What did you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything!” Gesturing to himself. “What makes you think I did somethin’?” He finished the sentence with a not so subtle grin.

"This place is easily worth double that. So, Gator Tillman, I'll ask you again. What did you do?”

"I didn't do anything. Just know someone owes me a favor s'all." You eyed him suspiciously, still wondering if it was a half truth.

"Well, I'm sure I’ll still need the deposit, so it'll be at least another month."

"No Bunny, like I said, someone owes me.”

You mulled it over for a moment, chewing your bottom lip.

“I can't.” You watched his face fall, but you quickly put your arms around his waist, pulling him in. “Not unless you stay here with me.”

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head.

“So, you stayin’?” He mumbles into your hair.

“For now. Until you piss me off.” You smiled from where your face was pressed into his chest.

No more running, that urge was quelled with him. You finally felt at home.

Home was never a place to you, so it made sense that it ended up being a person.

#gator tillman #🐊#gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x reader #gator x fem!reader #gator smut #gator tillman fic #gator tillman fargo s5 #gator x reader #joe keery fargo #fargo season 5 #badge bunny series #gator x badge bunny #gator x bunny #gator x you

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sugarplumprincess2003 · 3 months ago

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I think as Derek fans we have done a disservice in choosing the perfect profession for him - like yeah, he'd be great at sports, fine being a deputy, and all, but like Derek as a fireman has so much potential! I have read only few fanfics where he has been a firefighter, and I want moreeee! Like being a fireman is perfect for him in any au - his family died in fire, he fights trauma, becomes a firefighter in NY, and yada yada. Hale family is alive! well, no problem - he was a jock in high school, he grows up, decides he wants to be the saving kinda guy, becomes a firefighter in Beacon Hills.

There is so much potential here. And ofc Sterek being the relationship would be the icing on the cake what with him either being a paramedic, EMT, or like whatever profession.

SO, this is a humble request to Sterek fanfic writers - please, please, write few fics with Derek as a firefighter.

Reason for my Firefighter Derek Hale obsession is this fic that I have read a million times and keep going back to - Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] (17698 words) by owlpostagain (couldn't find their tumblr blog link) Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Laura Hale, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Danny Māhealani, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Sheriff Stilinski, Talia Hale Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Underage Drinking, Misuse of Fire Alarms, Negative Zero Knowledge of Pie, This Was Only Supposed to be a Drabble, Fluff, Abuse of Italics and Parenthetical Asides, oblivious!Stiles, Oblivious!Derek, Lots of Oblivious!Trope, fireman derek, Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Stiles Summary: “He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible." Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant. "Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy." "Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

You can also check out the tag - Firefighter Derek Hale

#sterek #derek hale #firefighter #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #ao3 #sterek ao3 #firefighter derek hale #I just want Derek Hale to be strong and powerful and just scramble the brains of those he saves #I am also obviously a 9-1-1 fan and love Oliver Stark and his rep as Buck #now I just want to read Derek as a firefighter with a sprinkle of Sterek and satisfy myself

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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Second Best 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"You're so boring. Vanilla," Greta teases as you push through the grocery store door to the sidewalk.

"Simple but tasty," you roll your eyes, "as if Rocky Road is so exciting."

"Whatever," she follows you to the picnic table just outside the store.

You sit as she swipes her tongue around the heaping scoops and you take tiny licks of your own. You pull the napkin closer to the top to catch the melting drip. She presses her lips to the ice cream before popping them off and licking them clean. You frown at her but she's looking past you.

You crane to look over your shoulder. Sheriff Bodecker stands by his cruiser, sunglasses on as he stares in your direction. He wears a crooked grin as he leans his weight on one heel, emphasizing the pudge around his middle.

You turn back to hide your disgust.

"He's a bit old for you," you chide.

"Old and rich. Single now, too," she continues to fellate the cone as you try not to hurl up vanilla.

"Charming," you muse.

"Loosen up," she hisses, "not all of us are pure little virgins.

"Shut up," you exclaim, "am not."

She arches a brow in challenge and you try to shrug her off. Your cheeks burn and you try to cool off with another lick of the cone. She's your best friend but she can sure be cruel.

A shadow approaches and blocks out the sun. You glance over from the corner of your eye and see the silhouette of the Sheriff's broad hat brim. Greta tugs on a strand of her hair and leans forward so her tank top slumps down her chest.

"How are you doing, sheriff?" She purrs.

"Fine day out," he drawls, "I'm doing just good. You girls enjoying the sunshine. Stayin' outta trouble."

"Trouble? I wouldn't know anything about that now," she flirts with a wink. You smother your sarcasm with the dessert.

"Oh, you don't?" He puts a hand on the table and leans, "I didn't see you down at The Horn last Saturday?"

"Did you? You didn't say hi," she intones.

"Suppose I was feelin' shy," he chuckles.

"Gret, come on," you shift the cone as you try to sop up the melting ice cream, "let's find some shade."

"You can go," she dismisses with a flick of her fingers.

You huff and look between her and the sheriff. He glances down at you and grins.

"Sorry, sweetie, I'm not meaning to shoulder ya out," he turns and stands straight, crossing his arms over his stomach, "you know, I'm not a selfish man. I can handle both of ya."

The airs knocked out of you at his suggestion. You're not a prude by any means. Maybe not experienced but you're open-minded. He just isn't your type and you shouldn't be his.

"Um," you swallow and stand, "I... I'm going to grab more napkins."

He scoffs as you step over the bench and you quickly skirt away. If he didn't have a badge, you would tell him where to go. You're so tired of Greta doing this. It's exactly why you don't go to the bar with her.

You go inside and stride back up to the ice cream bar. You grab napkins and send Oskar a smile over the top. He chuckles at the mess trickling down your hand.

You decide to wander the aisles and give Greta a chance to sow her endless wild oats. Ugh. The sheriff? Really? Word is he left the new librarian for a waitress his deputy was dating. Then they didn't last more than a week.

It's gross how the old women gossip and say the librarian didn't do enough for him, that she never gave him a child. The man needs a legacy and you can't blame him for finding someone who can deliver it. Ew. This place is so backwards.

You finish the cone and go into the bathroom to rinse off the stickiness on your fingers. You head back out, hoping it's enough time for the sheriff to get a call. As you emerge, you see Greta walking with him to his cruiser.

"Really? You're just going to ditch me?" You snip as you approach.

"Now, darlin', you're welcome to join us," The sheriff turns with a wink.

"Um, no thanks," you say curtly and the corner of his lips twitches, "I'm good. Greta--"

"I don't feel like sitting around doing nothing," she snorts, "if you don't wanna have fun, go home."

You scowl and look away. It's not the first time, it won't be the last.

"Fine," you jut out your chin at her, "have fun."

"Don't be jealous?"

"Trust me, I'm not," you snarl, "next time you call, I won't answer."

"You will," she snickers, "I'm your only fucking friend."

You wave her off and twist on your heel. As you do, you notice the sheriff watching you. You quickly avert your eyes and stomp away.

You can't help but quake with anger. As shitty as Greta can be, she's right. She is your only friend. You hate this town.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #second best

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auspicioustidings · 2 months ago

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Hm. Westworld AU. You're the engineer trying to figure out why these asshole robots are going off script. I mean ffs, MacTavish is supposed to be a brothel whore, he isn't supposed to join up with outlaw Ghost. And sheriff Price certainly isn't supposed to be fucking his deputy Garrick behind the jailhouse while Garrick recounts his night with whore MacTavish in filthy detail.

The thing you are most certain of as you find all four of them waiting for you is that they're not supposed to ignore your commands to shut down. And they really, really aren't supposed to be telling you they'll fuck the answers they need out of you.

#mhairidrabbles

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petew21-blog · 3 months ago

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Teen Wolf - Alpha needs his pack, Pt. 4

Sheriff Stilinski had to be late at work. Again. Sheriff can't have too much free time. Maybe that's why he chose to do the job years ago.

The events at Beacon Hill recently started to take an unexpected turn. Yeah there was crime before, but now mutilated bodies were turning up in random places. Sheriff's departement prohibited the inhabitants to leave their homes late at night for their safety and got back up colleagues from another town.

His colleague deputy Parrish was along his side for most of the time. Sheriff trusted him. After all, they both went through some seriously weird stuff in this town and could rely on each other.

They were working late at night, staring into a computer, reviewing their case. Trying to find a good lead.

Parrish:"I feel that the person or group who's doing this is trying to confuse us and leasing us elsewhere"

Sheriff;"Yeah, but we won't figure that out until we go into the wrong direction."

Parrish:"Precisely. Now, look these bodies..." they both turned their heads to the side. They would have sworn that the glove next to them had moved. "Did you see it move too?"

Sheriff shrugged it off:'"You know what. It's late. We're tired. We're seeing things. Let's go home and figure it out tommorow. What do you think?"

Parrish "Yes, sir. Good idea"

They left the building. Now standing next to their cars.

Sheriff couldn't help it but notice how much bigger Parrish's body has become. "You're working out again?"

Parrish:"Yeah, thought I could get more into it and maintain that routine. I don't wanna beckme one of those cops who feel tired all the time and have medium/bad bodies"

Sheriff felt a bit offended

Parrish:"Oh not you, sir. You look good. Actually really good for your age"

Sheriff:"Parrish, stop talking"

Parrish mid sentence:"Yes, sir"

Sheriff looked him up and down. It was true unfortunately. He didn't feel as good as he did before. He now felt too tired to do sports. He would love to work out, but it's different when you're young. Man, if only He were as young and as good looking as Parrish again.

Someone screamed in the woods. Both men instincively grabbed their gun and headed toward that direction.

When they arrived to that place, they found another body. But what was strange was the fact that it must have been dead for some time now.

A dark mist filled the place. It was so dark they didn't see each other

Sheriff:"Parrish? Are you here? Parrish can you hear me?"

Parrish:"Sheriff? Sir, where are you? Sir, this is Parrish. Can you here me over the coms, over."

Sheriff:"Yes I can hear you. What is that suppose to be again? Over"

The could feel a force fighting it's way inside of them. The mist entered their bodies.

Their eyes were dark for a second and suddenly normal again. But as if hypnotised, they got up and went back to their homes as if nothing happened. Not speaking to each other. Not doing anything. Just driving back home.

Sheriff woke up first. He was in a bed. How did he get there? And whose bed is this?

He looked around. The bedroom was nice and cosy. But he didn't recognise it. He got up. "Wow. That was way easier then I'm used to"

He looked down and found himself in grey sweatpants. Also, a very ripped body now instead of his own

"What the hell?" a young voice came out.

"Is anybody here? Hello?" he looked around and left to the living room where he found a mirror.

"Parrish, there you are. What happ..."

He stopped. His reflection did the same things as he did. How is that possible?

He tried to wave and so did Parrish

"I must be dreaming" he pinched himself on his new biceps and it hurt like he'll

He slapped his face and it did hurt again.

"Parrish, why am I you? This shouldn't be possible."

He got closer to inspect his face. His different eyes. His teeth. His jawline. His hair. Everything was different

He flexed his biceps. "Nice one, Parrish. That working out is paying off". He patted his abs and wanted to continue to explore a bit, but stopped

"Jesus, Noah. What the hell are you doing? You would invade someone's privacy like that? No, I can't do that. I have to find my body"

A call came to his new phone. It was his number

Sheriff:"Hello?"

Parrish:"Is that you, sir? Ehm ehm. Sorry I'm still getting used to your voice"

Sheriff:"Parrish? Are you at my place?"

Parrish:"Yes, sir. Your bedroom in your house"

Sheriff:"Ok, then wait there. I'm coming. I think this might be the direction to distract us from the case" he turned off the call

As he looked at himself in the mirror he found out that while he was calling with his body, he unknowingly took his left hand and held now his new dick. He thought about it for a sec.

"Ah what the hell. It's not like this will happen ever again. Might as well enjoy it. He'll wait a bit for me"

Sheriff wanted to respect his privacy still so he thought he wouldn't look at first. But you just can't not check out your colleagues dick when you have their body. Can you?

It was really nice. Shorter than his, but thicker. Slightly hairy, but trimmed.

Sheriff:"That's quite a package, son. You are a grower and I love that."

He was now edging on the bed. Wanting that amazing feeling to never stop. His old body isn't that sensitive anymore to touch. But damn. This cock felt nice

He didn't cum yet, when suddenly a woman entered the room:"Need some help with that? Stud"

Sheriff:"Oh, boy"

Maria got close to him and began sucking on his dick. He was really close so he shot the load almost immediately

She laughed. Sheriff:"I'm so sorry, I was really close before and then you just..."

Marie:"Finished you. And didn't have to work for it"

Sheriff smiled nervously remembering that he was suppose to leave already

Maria:"I think you should repay me now" and started throwing her clothes on the floor

Sheriff still on the ned:"Look I told sheriff I would leave. I really gotta go"

Maria:"Sure. And that why you were jerking off by yourself"

She got on top off him. Already naked. And horny.

Maria:"Since you're all dry now, you gotta use some other muscle, you big boy"

She sat on top of his face, not giving him a choice but to start licking. Sheriff was hesitant, but thought to himself:"Ahhh what the hell. Gotta enjoy being young"

Yet another anonymous request to continue our Teen Wolf story 😁

Could you do a story where Sheriff Stilinski swaps bodies with Deputy Parrish? Maybe the sheriff being jealous of the deputy’s muscles and youth.

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #accidental body swap #teen wold body swap #teen wolf body swap #Teen wolf parrish #Teen wolf sheriff stilinski

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quixoticall · 4 months ago

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To Hell I Go—Masterlist

Summary: He was supposed to be dead and you were supposed to be married off to some new money oil tycoon in Carlsbad. Instead, you and Steve Harrington end up on the opposite ends of a pistol duel—you as the outlaw that he’s been tasked with bringing to justice and him as the Sheriff’s Deputy come back from the grave. Or the Wild West!AU.

Pairings: s.h. x f!reader

Warning: Friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, Western!Au Outlaw!AU Deputy!Steve, angst, Outlaw!Reader, violence, smut, 18+

Prologue: Look in My Eyes and You Might Remember

Part 1: Cold-Blooded Killer If You Ask

Part 2: Is There a Chance You’re Thinking of Me?

Part 3:

Part 4:

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #steve Harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #Cowboy!Steve Harrington #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington image #stranger things imagine #outlaw!reader #Steve Harrington Smut

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hellomynameisghostface · 9 months ago

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Defending Amber Freeman!!

Hello, fellow "Scream" fans. I would like to take a moment to defend Ghostface #8, Amber Freeman because people in the fandom LOVE to shit on her. They're always finding a reason to say she was a terrible Ghostface (some go as far as saying the worst.) While she does have her flaws (they all do) she is far from the worst and she's actually quite a decent Ghostface, in my opinion.

So let's start at the beginning. Something that always irritates me in this fandom is when people call Amber stupid for using her own phone to make the Ghostface calls but it's actually so smart on many levels. First of all, she's not using her own phone. She actually cloned her own phone and here's how I know. When Ghostface calls Sam in the hospital it comes from Amber's phone, however, in the next scene after the attack we learn that Amber was at the sheriff's station being questioned. Even if she wasn't being questioned at that very moment she would have had to sneak away from Judy and her friends to make the call, causing suspicion. I feel like that's something Judy would have caught. Therefore, this had to be Richie making the call. So he was just using her phone, right? Not quite. In the same scene we see Judy checking out Amber's phone and hands it back to her. When would Richie have had the time to give it back to her? It's actually a lot better plan when you realize they actually cloned her phone to make it authentic. On top of all that...it works! Maybe not for the know it all viewers but from within the movie, no one suspects she actually made the calls herself. Besides, Roman does a similar thing with his voice changer and no one say a damn thing. When talking to Sarah he uses his own voice and we, as an audience, are suppose to believe in that moment it's a voice changer because there's no way they already revealed Ghostface's identity.

Next, let's talk about Dewey. People are mad that this tiny little girl could take him out but did you not see the epic fight scene where she very clearly could not overpower him? Even with all his injuries from the past movies and him just being old and tired he still overpowered her, a young and healthy energetic teenager. It wasn't until she played dead possum and attacked him while his guard was down that she could get a stab in.

And no, she did not lift him off the ground. Please pay attention to detail before you start crying about shit. She pulled the knife up and Dewey's body's first initial response was to go up on his toes with the knifes to try and prevent it from happening as much as possible. In fact, they both had to go on their tippy toes.

Another reason people love to hate on Amber is because her kills on Tara and Chad failed. Meanwhile Billy failed to kill Dewey, Randy and Gale. Nancy failed to kill Dewey. Roman failed to kill Mark. Charlie failed to kill Kirby. Richie failed to kill Mindy. Quinn failed to kill Gale and Mindy. Ethan and Quinn both failed to kill Chad. Wayne and Ethan both failed to kill Kirby. On top of all that, they all failed to kill Sidney, Sam and Tara in their respective movies. Amber letting a few kills slip is fine. She was still smart and a brutal attacker, especially when she knew she had a stronger opponent and needed to go for a fatal attack. In the end she killed the sheriff, ex-sheriff and a deputy.

"Amber was so obvious..." as if that's an excuse. You know who was the MOST obvious Ghostface killer to ever exsist? The very first who this whole damn fandom holds up on a pedestal: Billy Loomis. I mean, my Grandmother who can hardly comprehend the movies or simple basic things anymore knew it was him. Mickey was also super obvious. I've watched so many reaction videos and everyone susses Billy and Mickey so fast so please come up with a better excuse if you're going to trash Amber. I had the movie partially ruined for me (I looked away from the spoiler as fast as I could but I knew it was a young girl with long hair so there was few options of who it could be) so I can't really give my full opinion on how obvious she was but quite honestly I didn't see much evidence that led to her.

Just as a bonus: she has the most epic reveal (fight me.) Even if you suspected her you couldn't have suspected the reveal at that very moment. The way she abruptly pulled out the gun had me shook! "Welcome to act three" = iconic. As much as I love Jill if I see one person say how iconic her reveal was I'll lose it. It might have been shocking and unexpected it was her but her reveal was just her taking off her mask and saying "hello, Sidney. Surprised?" It was just a knock off of Mickey's reveal.

Now this is another that grinds my gears. When Amber faces off Sidney and Gale in the kitchen she cries, begs and pleads for her life. People take this for weakness and consider it another reason she's a terrible Ghostface because "she's the only one to do so." Here's my take on it: the first time Amber pleads for her life immediately after, she provokes Gale by claiming Dewey "died like a pussy." Now if she was truly scared and begging for her life, why would she fuck it up so quickly? She switched up SO fast. It was clearly a tactic to distract them long enough to figure out her next move and it worked. She tried it a second time but it obviously didn't work but I have no doubt in my mind that if it had she would have just attacked them again. She wasn't sorry and had no intentions of ever backing down. Meanwhile, the same people who complain about this are Stu fans and he cries like a little bitch when Sidney tells him she called the cops because his mommy and daddy are going to find out. 🥺 (I love Stu, by the way. I know that sounded aggressive but it's his toxic fans that really irritate me.)

On top of all that, she killed everyone in "Scream V." In my opinion, from the way I analyzed the film, she killed everyone and the only people Richie attacked were Sam in the hospital and Mindy in Amber's living room. You can view my first post to go more in depth, if you're interested.

At the end of the day, if you don't like her then whatever. That's fine. It's your opinion and it's probably not going to change but just say you don't like her and move on. Everything you hate on her for has been done by past Ghostfaces already so go hate on them. Amber was a great Ghostface and Mikey Madison did absolutely amazing in this role. Her going absolutely unhinged at the end is what won me over and made Amber my favorite Ghostface.

#Scream V #Scream 5 #2022 #Mikey Madison #Melissa Barrera #Jenna Ortega #Marley Shelton #David Arquette #Amber Freeman #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #Judy Hicks #Dewey Riley #Ghostface

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twola · 1 year ago

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Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fandom #rdr2 #twolafic #tumblr prompt #red dead smut #arthur morgan x reader #voluptatem

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deansapplepie · 1 year ago

Text

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 1

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story. I’m not good with synopses, so sorry about that.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister, when the world ended she had Lori, Carl and Shane. But did she really have them? Her brother was dead, her sister-in-law was sleeping with her brother’s best friend and her nephew was just a small kid. She had him, Daryl Dixon was no knight in a shining armor and she was no damsel in distress, but maybe they were exactly what each other needed.

*gif is not mine, credits on the gif.

Chapter 1: Vulnerable

Summary: Y/N sees something she wasn’t supposed to see, she need to vent about it but she can’t do it with Lori or Shane, because they are the main reason about it. So she goes to the woods hoping to find some peace.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, kinda angsty, a little bit of fluffy, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of violence

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader

Word Count: 2,072

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with a lot of love.

Chapter 2

It was again one more boiling hot day in the Quarry near Atlanta, you thought the temperature would for sure kill you, but there was another thing threatening to take your life and it wasn’t a Zombie.

Before everything, before the world ended, life wasn’t easy. You wanted it to be, but you were living one of the worst moments of your life. You had just lost your job as a vet because you couldn’t save a rich man’s cat and he demanded that you were fired. You felt bad for the poor cat, for your lost job, for your name as a professional that was now forever marked and also for your dog a female German Shepherd called Luna that had to see you not acting like your usual self.

On top of that your older brother, Rick, got shot working… he was a Sheriff’s Deputy. That’s what made you stop feeling sorry for yourself, because you couldn’t. You needed to see your brother laying on a hospital bed in comma, you had to hold things together and take care of Carl and Lori.

Lori and Carl had you, but you had no one, Carl was just a kid and Lori couldn’t even take care of herself at the moment. There was Shane, he was like a brother to you, but even with him there… it was as if you were alone. You just had Luna.

You went to their house and stayed there, you were going to stay until Rick got better, yes, he was going to get better and you would stay just a little bit more to help during his recovery, and everything was going to be fine again. But it never was. The world ended. The dead were walking as if they were alive and Rick died.

Now you lived in a Quarry with Lori, Carl, Shane and a bunch of other survivors. Most of people were pleasant and easy to live with, the exception was Ed, Carol’s husband and Merle Dixon, Daryl’s brother, but this was the apocalypse and you don’t have much choice on the people that are going to be around you.

It had been almost two months since everything happened and the camp was created, almost two months your brother had died… and today, while you were picking some wood, you saw something that felt as if someone was pulling your guts out of your stomach and squeezing your heart.

Lori and Shane. Not Lori and Shane friendly doing what they usually do, they were in the middle of the forest, fucking, and there was no other word you’d use to describe it other than fucking. There wasn’t even two months Rick died, and his best friend and wife were fucking.

You felt nauseated, you went back the same direction you came and knew you had to do something to calm down. You couldn’t afford causing an scene or any uncomfortable situation, you could not hurt Carl.

“Hey! Aunt Y/N, did you already pick all the woods?” Carl shouted to you from the spot he was, playing with Sophia and Luna, Carol watching them.

“Er… wood wasn’t good that side, I’m going to the other side see if I find anything better.” You gave a lame excuse, you just wanted to be alone, cry all this shit out, in silence cause you didn’t want anyone to know and you didn’t want to attract any walkers near the camp.

“Can you look after them a little more, Carol?” You asked the woman, you were sure she was not going to say no, she loved being with the kids and even with Luna.

“Sure, don’t worry.” She said, you nodded and then walked to the opposite side from where you came the fastest as possible, looking down so others wouldn’t see you had started to cry.

You walked until you found a place far enough so no one would find you, but not so far that you would have any trouble. You had a gun and knife, you knew how to defend yourself, but you couldn’t make it easy to the dead to kill you, you were not that dumb.

You sat behind a tree, brought your knees to your chest and hid your face crying. Your thoughts were racing and all you could think was about what you saw, your brother and how you missed him. You listened to some light leaves hustle, but You didn’t give it importance, thinking it was probably the wind, it was so light that it couldn’t be a walker. So you continued minding your own business crying what you had to cry so you could look at your sister-in-law’s face without letting her know how upset you were.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here vulnerable like that” you jumped startled by the redneck’s voice. ‘So that was him,’ you thought, ‘of course, only he could walk with light steps, he was a hunter after all.’ You wiped your tears, not that it would help they were still falling and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop them.

“I’m not vulnerable, I just needed some time alone.” You answered, he was really trying to not be too rough on you given to your situation, but his lack of tact was something he had much difficulty to overcome.

“Ya could cry in your tent, it’s safer”

“I don’t wanna Carl and Lori to see me cry. I don’t wanna have to explain myself, things would get bad if I had to. I don’t wanna upset Carl.” You sniffed, that was one of the worst parts of crying, getting a damn runny nose.

“Shane can’t help?” He asked, you didn’t know but he probably already had some idea of the reason you were crying.

“He’s part of the problem Dixon, if I could I’d punch him and kick his balls” you answered, tears still running down but a little bit calmer.

“Did ya see him and…” he didn’t finish the question, because you completed it for him.

“Lori? Yeah”

Talking about them made you remember everything you saw and how it hurt you. You were still mourning Rick, and Shane and Lori apparently were already moving on. What hurt the most is that even mad at both of them, you still loved them. Lori was like a big sister, a sister that you wish you had while growing up, and Shane? He was your brother he taught you how to defend yourself, he gave you shooting classes, he brought you home the first time you got drunk and even took care of you while you were hangover. When Rick wasn’t there, he was. At this moment you hated him as much as you loved him.

“Do you know if anyone else know about them?” You asked after a long time, you were so lost that you didn’t even noticed that Daryl walked a bit ahead and stoped with his back turned to you. He wanted to give you privacy to cry, but he also couldn’t leave you behind, it was dangerous to you staying so vulnerable at the forest. He knew you could defend yourself, but you didn’t even listened him approaching, you sure were not going to listen to a walker too.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I’m much into the woods, so I caught them a few times.” He answered at distance, not turning to look back at you. “Do ya like him?” Daryl asked and right after he just regretted having opened his mouth, why would he ask such an intimate thing to you? He should just stay there and make sure you’d go back alive to the camp.

“Ew! No! He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together.” You answered disgusted to the idea of liking Shane any other way. “It’s not that. My brother, he died. Well, you probably know. And I know Lori needs to continue living and they are adults, but there’s not even 2 months and she moved on that fast and Shane… he was his best friend. I’m still mourning him, the world still doesn’t make any sense without him here and they are already fucking. I know I’m being selfish and emotional but…” you spoke so much that you had already lost your line of thought. Daryl was probably tired of you, he wasn’t one to talk much, but here you were opening all your thoughts to him.

“It’s about yer brother. Ya have the right to feel.” He understood, he had never lost his brother and he hoped he’d not lose him anytime soon. Merle was a dick, and he made him mad most of the time, but he was his brother, so he understood you.

You wiped your tears, calmer and ready to continue. You were still mad and sad about everything, but now you didn’t feel like you were going to die anymore, you were not suffocated. You got up, shook the dirt from your pants and approached the archer.

“I was going to take some wood for fire. I don’t want to go back empty handed. Can you help me?” Now you gave a look at him, and noticed he had some rabbits and squirrels hanging from a rope. He was being essential to maintain everyone fed, he was not one to be socializing around the camp, but he was good and you could see it.

He just nodded and started walking by your side collecting the good woods he found along the way. “Thank you.” You said collecting a branch that you saw.

“For what? I didn’t even take the woods to the camp.” Did he not understand or was he faking?

“Not about the woods. Well, that too… but thank you for staying with me and talk to me, you didn’t have to” ‘but you did’, you completed in your thoughts. “Also, thank you for always bringing us food. I don’t know if I ever told you that.” He grunted, sometimes you wish you could know what he was thinking, you never knew if his grunts mean something good or bad.

“No need to thank me” he never knew how to react at moments like that. Should he say thanks back? Should he give another compliment?

Soon you returned to the camp, he helped you put the woods near the makeshift kitchen and was going to clean the rabbits and squirrels so they could be cooked.

“Luna likes you” you said, you saw how your dog acted around him. He was a little surprised with the comment. “You can take her with you when you want, I see that you like her too.” You smiled, a beautiful one just as if you were not broken or had cried your soul an hour ago.

“She likes my food too” he joked, it was not intentional but after what he said he even got a little smile at the corner of his mouth for some seconds. You giggled before answering.

“I know, she makes the cutest puppy eyes. It’s not her fault if you can’t resist her charms.” He snorted and for some seconds, just few seconds, he thought that maybe she wasn’t the only one he couldn’t resist. As he went to clean the hunt, you went to Carol to say you got the wood and offer to take care of the kids while she started to prepare the food.

You couldn’t take that smile from your face and you didn’t were sure why, you ruffled Luna’s fur while you sat close to the kids and released the dog so she could run around a little. You hated having to let her tied, but you were too afraid of what could happen if she went too far. She ran around the camp and soon approached the archer he pet her and she made her happy tail dance to him, he looked in your direction and you smiled watching their interaction. Your day wasn’t lost, there was still good things to be grateful for, even in a world like this.

Final notes: Please tell me your thoughts. There is a long time I don’t write and publish fanfiction in English so I’d be glad to hear from you.

#the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x grimes!reader #rick grimes #daryl x reader #daryl x you

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profounddefendorcrusade-blog · 8 months ago

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I feel bad for Starlo.

Star has a point, idk what the four were ticked off about, there is like 99% chance everyone willingly participated in the trolley problem, based on what we've seen of his behavior thus far it's not like Starlo to be that big of a jerk/drag them by force/yell at them to do it. Ed's words:

he does it because Star asks NICELY

clearly jealous

It genuinely seemed like a fun time/fun roleplay, especially since every day is the same. Like, the five are supposed to be a rowdy and adventures bunch, what exactly did Starlo do wrong, I'm genuinely confused and curious. Except taking a big liking in Clover (his posse should know that this is a big moment for him, according to Blackjack they've known each other since high school and had the same liking for westerns. So they were basically a nerd gang.) Starlo was kind, patient and considerate towards Clover the whole time, even warned Mooch about them not being bandits, taught Clover gun safety, wanted to bring his posse along for a fun time, thanked Ace for telling him about getting Clover a new hat...

Sure, at first he only liked Clover for being a human, but as Ceroba says, that changed and he grew to genuinely care about them, plus I can't help but think Star saw himself in Clover and that's part of the reason he was so proud of them all the time even when they messed up (I'll talk more about this at some point)

What exactly made Ace want to leave the gang? He even said how he doesn't mind "getting run over by the fake train"

he's so nice. says sorry for forgetting the safety goggles even when he was scatterbrained due to his excitement. I love him so much

The only real "faults" (I'll call them temporary faults) I saw in Star during the Wild East section was that he was even more enthusiastic and more proud than usual. But how couldn't he be when he met a member of the species that he has admired for so long because they have real cowboys and sheriffs on the surface (who are seen as brave heroes who deliver justice, while Star canonically feels like a nobody farmer). His posse should have realized Clover wouldn't be there forever and just let their boss enjoy himself with his "deputy who'd have to leave sooner or later anyway"(or be more patient with him/ask him why he feels this strongly towards Clover/if there's a deeper reason for that). His friends including Ceroba just turn their back on him so quickly instead. The moment he's gotten the chance to feel valued for once and put himself first and not have to take care of this whole town and everyone in it and live his dream of meeting a real human, suddenly "his personality is damaged?"

Star's literally built this whole town, organised everything, he worries about everyone, Ceroba (plus was the one to give her emotional strength before and after Clover's sacrifice), Kanako, the monsters, his family, struggles with feelings of worthlessness yet never wipes that smile off his face, always does his best to be hopeful and optimistic and make others laugh, gave his posse a nap time so they don't become exhausted, gave Ceroba a free home, didn't act upon his feelings towards her and was a 110% supportive, caring friend instead. THAT'S who he is. He's the papa bear of this friend group, the glue holding everyone together.

He was just *really* excited. Y'all know he's insecure and just wishes to escape who he is and yet y'all blame him for liking Clover so much. Yeah, the four are very clearly jealous. But why won't the four of you control your feelings for a while? As mentioned, Clover WILL HAVE TO LEAVE EVENTUALLY. They won't be Star's "deputy" forever (the kid who's just as into westerns as he is, who values justice just as much, who also values doing the right thing. Someone he clearly felt understood in the presence of, whom he loved; just look at the way he talks about Clove during Showdown). Star seems genuinely confused of what he did wrong poor guy just wanted to live his fantasy for once and feel important:

Even at the beginning Moray's like "oh no Martlet is upset" Mooch replies "don't be a buzzkill nothing exciting ever happens around here" and Ray's like "Yeah you've got a point"

If you all agreed to have a little fun with a human who will very soon leave forever why is Starlo's enthusiasm such a big problem? If the posse weren't into this after all (unless they were simply too jealous which could have been solved with a honest talk and a little patience) why are you doing this "rowdy" job with Star in the first place? Do you want your boring routine day to day life so much back? Or just for Clover to leave (which they will soon enough)? You, western enthusiasts, literally met a real human, A HUMAN FROM WESTERNS YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PASSIONATELY INTO (clearly not as passionate as Star but passionate ENOUGH to understand where he's coming from).

... okay.

#Like idk if I'm being biased because Star is my favorite character but I kinda just started thinking more and more about this and... yeesh.#Felt like a BIT of an overreaction to blame Starlo this much #No wonder he cracked #and unlike with Ceroba we actually see him do his very best to “fix” what he did “wrong”#i feel so much sympathy for this guy man #WAY more than for Ceroba #sorry fox lady #uty #undertale yellow #starlo uty #uty starlo #like dude literally had to come crawling on his hands and knees for them to forgive him #what “loyal” “supportive” friends they all are #sobbing for star #poor poor man #meanwhile everyone forgave ceroba for much much MUCH worse #she didn't need to burst into tears and beg for forgiveness even though she SHOULD have #everyone forgives her immediately on the spot + she gets a hug from clover #I'm sorry Starlo #like how was he “selfish” and “reckless”#he did something for himself for the 1st time in his life #y'all are reckless too btw #you put yourself first ONCE and they call you selfish #Star had the right to be mad at them for attacking Clover for no reason other than jealousy #wdym he's throwing you around for human business you literally wanted this #he watched the tapes more than 50 times bc that's how much he hates himself #and yet he's still been doing EVERYTHING in his power to be there for EVERYBODY

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exhaustedpirate · 1 month ago

Text

call disconnected

my first entry for CS Autumn/Spooky Bingo created by the lovely @hollyethecurious - the prompt was "ghost stories", i got a little carried away and made it into a bit of a crime solving thing! all my love and devotion goes to @belovedcreation for betaing!

rated T | 7849 words

also on AO3

summary: Sheriff Emma Swan gets a call about an accident in the woods, a man begging her for help. An hour later, Killian Jones is on his way to the hospital. Funny thing is, the call for help doesn't match the voice of the victim.

The call arrives just after 2 o’clock, which is lucky because there would be a whole other emergency if someone stopped Emma Swan from getting her grilled cheese.

Ruby is supposed to be on phone duty but there is an anniversary dinner to plan and she doesn’t want to be responsible for Mulan having an underwhelming night due to her wife’s rushed planning. So Emma is covering the phones when it rings.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static greets her on the other side of the line, tensing her body unconsciously before a voice rings out. “Help, I-I fell-” It’s a strange panicked voice she’s never heard before, an accent not common to their small town of Storybrooke, Maine. She feels a tingle in her spine all the way to her hands. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir,” Emma takes a deep steadying breath. “Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” His guttural grunt of pain weighs on her chest and she feels like she’s having difficulty breathing. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she feels his panic in her veins. “I can barely hear you, sir,” Her knuckles are white as she tightens her hold on the phone, pressing it harder against her ear as if it will make it easier to hear. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River,” His breathing becomes panicked and she knows she should keep him calm, urging him to take shorter breaths but she’d feel like a hypocrite. “I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

The call cuts off and she is left with the sounds of her fast breathing. “Sir? Sir?”

Emma tries to redial, grateful for the old technology to allow her to do so. An automated voice informs her the number is not in service and she frowns in confusion.

Maybe it was a prank.

Maybe some of the local teenagers were trying to send her on a wild goose chase so they can vandalise another section of their lovely neighbourhood.

But the panic was real. The fear in that voice was real. The hairs on her arms are still raised as she remembers the voice, as she remembers all the alarms her body gave her.

Graham pokes his head into her office a second after. “Emma?” Her hand hurts from where she’s still holding onto the phone as if her life depends on it. “Are you alright?”

Maybe it is a prank.

The tight feeling on her chest tells her to go check it out nonetheless.

She drops the phone, with maybe too much strength, before she faces her deputy. “Are you up for a hike?”

---

It really is lucky that Graham practically lives in the woods. Emma was made for concrete roads and windows to keep the insects away. She wouldn’t last an hour alone in these woods.

The Toll Bridge crosses through the edge of the forest. The Misthaven Trail parallels the Shepherd River that flows under the bridge. It’s common to see vehicles on the side of the road - hikers leaving the last piece of civilization before venturing into the forest.

Emma parks the cruiser alongside a Chevrolet Chevelle and she’s almost sad to see it left to the whims of nature. But it probably belongs to their injured hiker. She places her hand on the hood of the car. She can still feel some warmth.

“This must be his.” She points the car out to Graham. “It’s probably been like an hour since he left. Call the hospital, ask them to get an ambulance here.”

Graham nods and grabs his phone. She lets his voice become background noise as she inspects the car. The door is unlocked, the hiker probably wasn’t expecting to be long. There’s a satchel in the back seat. She opens the door and looks inside. There’s an ID in the wallet and a buzzing in her ears when she looks at the picture on it. Killian Jones.

“They’re on their way,” Graham breaks through her inspection and everything becomes clearer. “I told them to keep their radio on.”

She nods. “We’re looking for Killian Jones,” Emma turns the ID towards him before tossing it inside the car. “Assuming he’s our hiker.”

Graham has his tracking face on as she closes the door. There’s something on the driver side floor that causes that tugging in her gut that guides her to flare up.

“It’s a good thing it hasn’t rained,” Graham points out from the other side of the car. “There are some recent footprints leading west. They’re probably his.”

“The Misthaven Trail,” Emma nods, any investigating paused in lieu of finding the injured hiker. “Let’s go.”

“Stay behind me.”

“Go get him, Fido.” Emma presses her lips together attempting to hide the smile at her terrible joke, but fails at the sight of his unimpressed look.

They follow the trail in familiar silence. Graham’s experience allows them to travel at a fast speed through the trees. They pay close attention to any sounds out of the ordinary - which is to say, anything that isn’t birds, animals or the rushing river below them.

“Emma.”

Graham stops and she manages to stop before she runs into him. He gestures to the ground where a blanket is crumpled underneath a tree, still warm.

“Still warm,” Emma confirms before dropping the blanket. “He must be close. Maybe he fell.”

“After all the warnings the Mayor released, there’s still people who forget to respect the forest.”

“I thought those had only been around for the past year,” Emma frowns, looking around. “I mean, you both gave me an hour-long lecture about it when I started.”

“Everyone in town knows to be cautious of these woods but there was a, uhm,” And it is the first time she’s ever seen Graham sound uncertain, his voice trembling with emotion. He clears his throat before he continues. “There was a death in these woods.”

She sees the way he looks guarded now, in pain. “Oh.”

A flash catches the corner of her eye. With a hand to cover her eyes from the sun, she turns towards it. The sunlight has caught on a metal flask within throwing distance from the blanket, she assumes. Close to it is a pile of rocks. A strange pile, each rock deliberately placed on top of the other. It must have been a while since it’s been built there according to the moss growing on them.

Emma turns towards her deputy to point that to him but sees him a few steps away looking at the ground. “Drag marks,” he points out as if he could feel her eyes on him. “He must have fallen down-”

“Help!” A weak yell cuts him off and they whip their heads to the right.

“And ended up down by the river,” Emma finishes for him in a quiet voice, her heart beating faster at the sound of pain, as she stands next to the deputy.

Using caution, Emma follows Graham’s lead as he gets them to the river bank following the sounds of pain. Halfway down, they locate the hiker and for the first time, Graham’s confidence falters and so do his steps. A man is slumped on the side of the river, covered in dirt and blood. She can see tendrils of red flowing down the river.

“Don’t move,” Graham orders, recovering quickly, as he stands next to the victim who seems to slump at their arrival, the fight leaving his body in his relief. “We’re here to help.”

Emma kneels on one side of him and is instantly on alert at the sight of the gash in his head and the bone protruding from his leg. She looks up at Graham and he seems to read her thoughts.

“I’ll guide the paramedics here,” Graham says, grabbing the radio from his belt. “Keep him still and awake.”

She nods before he returns to the trail to guide the others to where they are. Emma places her hand on the man’s shoulder, careful to avoid hurting him further. His big blue eyes turn to her, pain and fear side by side with hope and creating a tug in her gut.

She clears her throat. “Are you Killian Jones?”

“Aye, I fell, broke my leg,” he explains in a hoarse voice. She frowns at the sound, a whole other type of tingle running up her spine. “The ground caved under me.”

There’s static in her radio before Graham’s voice rings out. “ETA is three minutes, is he conscious?”

“Yeah, conscious and lucid,” Emma answers through the radio. “Broken leg and head injury.”

“I thought I was going to die here,” Killian groans as she puts away the device. “How did you find me?”

“The Misthaven Trail is long and you weren’t exactly specific.” Emma breathes out a chuckle, her nerves slightly calmed at knowing help is coming. “But we found where you fell down. We would have been here faster but service in this area is crap. I don’t know how you called us in the first place.” She’s babbling. She does that when she’s nervous.

Killian’s eyebrows furrow together, confusion taking over the pain. “I called you?”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s how we knew to come find you.” She answers as if it’s obvious, even as a pull in her gut tries to tell her otherwise.

“I left my phone in the car,” he explains and she feels that tingle up her spine once more. “I didn’t call anyone.”

Careful footsteps and cautious voices approach them and she lets the paramedics do their job as they put Killian Jones in the stretcher and cover his wounds. Their eyes remain locked until the last possible moment before Emma follows behind the stretcher being led by Graham.

A light flashes in her eyes once more and she looks up at it, the pile of rocks still standing proudly in the forest, a bird perched on the top stone, its deep blue wings fluttering. The hairs at the back of her neck stand in attention and she tries to make sense of what happened.

They found the hiker exactly where he told her he’d be. His leg was broken, just like the call said - she wouldn’t soon forget the sight of the bone piercing his flesh. The voice was different, Emma noticed it right away, but there were no signs of other hikers in the area.

But if the call wasn’t made by Killian Jones, then who called them for help?

---

Loud laughter rings out from the open kitchen window. An unconscious smile stretches Emma’s lips as she looks out at the dark heads illuminated by the fire pit she borrowed from Graham. Despite being disappointed at the cancelled camping trip, Henry seemed to have forgotten all about it when she reminded him of the comforts of home camping and the awesome backyard that came with their house.

After the day they had, Emma just couldn’t think of Henry in the woods.

“Emma?”

Speaking of, her deputy’s voice from the phone in her ear brings her back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry.” She turns her back to the window, leaning on the counter. “I got distracted.”

“I was saying that Mr. Jones should be going into his MRI scan right now and after that, they are preparing him for surgery on his leg. The doctors said that despite the trauma his body has been through, he’s doing really well.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Emma breathes out in relief. Against her best interests, she hadn’t been able to put this strange rescue away from her mind. There was just something about the call, his voice, his eyes, that just didn’t seem right.

She feels Graham’s patient silence on the other side and she nods to herself to gather up courage. “Doesn’t all of this seem strange to you? The whole situation.”

“Emma-”

“He didn’t call the station, Graham, it was someone else, I swear,” she interrupts, her hackles raised. “He didn’t have a phone on him either, this is all just-”

“Weird,” Graham interrupts this time and he sighs. “I should have told you earlier, but I know Killian Jones, we a- were friends.”

“What?”

“He used to live here until last year. His brother, he-” Emma waits in suspense as Graham takes a deep steadying breath. “He died while on a hike in that trail a year ago, I assume Killian went there to pay his respects. I didn’t even know he was in town until we found him.”

“Y-You didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I didn’t want to believe it was him and then, when we found him, I knew I had to stay focused. I needed to do my job.”

“Right,” Emma scratches her forehead, her brain full of conflicting thoughts. This was a lot to consider. “So who called the station? A ghost?” She asks her question sarcastically to disguise how the possibility doesn’t sound too ridiculous to her.

“All I know is that we had a long day, Emma,” Graham evades, his tone placating and calm. “We should get our rest and look at this whole thing again tomorrow, with fresh eyes.”

“You’re right,” she exhales. “Goodnight, Graham. Keep me updated.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

Emma ends the call and throws the phone at the dinner table. She’s going to push those doubts away even if she needs to force them away. She’s got some happy campers to focus on. Emma pulls the popcorn from the microwave and picks up the platter she made with the components for s’mores before pushing the back door open carefully.

“Does anyone know any ghost stories?” Ava Zimmer is almost vibrating in her seat as she grabs a handful of chips Emma brought earlier. Camping is not synonymous with healthy food.

“Ghosts? Aren’t we too old for that?” Nicholas Zimmer, on the other hand, is trying to hide his fear with bravado.

“Come on, Nick, it’s almost Halloween.” Henry knocks shoulders with his friend’s and she can hear the grin in his voice. “And that means ghost stories. Besides, they’re not real.”

“Yeah,” Ava agrees. “It’s just spooky and Halloween is the time for spooky.”

“Just not too spooky,” Emma interrupts, ignoring the way Nicholas startles at the sound of her voice - no need to embarrass the boy. “Otherwise you won’t sleep tonight.”

“Have you heard the story of the Misthaven Ghost?” Henry leans close to his friends on the bench with a grin.

Emma is glad for her steady grip on the platter or there would be no s’mores tonight. “Misthaven Ghost? Where did you hear that sort of story?” She tries to keep her voice cool but even she can hear the edge in it - was she the last one to hear about this? -, focusing instead on placing the food down on the small camping table she opened.

“Mr. Booth is having us write a ghost story for class and he gave us that one as an example,” Henry answers and he must misinterpret her questioning as innocent curiosity but she’s not going to correct him. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

“No, please join us!” Nicholas grabs her thankfully empty hands to pull her to sit between him and his twin after Henry stands up to stand on the other side of the fire.

“You’re such a scaredy cat.” Ava teases, looking at him around Emma.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Kids.” Emma warns, holding their arms to keep them from hitting each other.

“Listen up! For I am about to tell you the story of the Misthaven Ghost,” Henry calls from the other side of the fire before popping another popcorn in his mouth. Emma finds herself smiling at her kid’s dramatics. “It was a cold night in October, the 30th of October to be exact. An innocent man is walking the Misthaven Trail, determined to beat all odds and finish the hike. He is alone, nothing but his thoughts and the animals around him,” Nicholas plasters himself to Emma’s side. “He carries only a phone that won’t work this far into the woods and his bravery. He hears a presence to his right, to his left, all around, feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand in attention and a voice whispers in the wind,” Ava holds her right arm now as Henry lowers his voice. “‘Get out of the woods’, it says, ‘get out’, but the hiker is too fearless to heed their warning. Suddenly, a boom lights the sky and the ground gives out from under him, and then he’s falling. He’s falling and he can’t ask for help,” Emma feels the shiver running up her spine and, distantly, she thinks maybe Henry should focus on this storytelling ability he has. “He is floating on the river then, his body weak and leaving him, his last thought on the family he leaves behind, a last goodbye sent to the stars he loved so much.”

Henry finishes with a fluttering gesture towards the night sky. Ava and Nicholas on either side of her are gripping her arm, not willing to break the silence.

“He had a family?” Emma asks and even her quiet tone manages to startle the twins.

“Were you scared, Ava?” Nicholas asks as he looks at his sister, a victorious grin winning over his fear.

Ava huffs and crosses her arms. “No, you’re the scared one.”

“It’s a good story, isn’t it?” Henry asks, a bright smile on his face and a proud stance to his shoulders.

“Mr. Booth told you this story?” Emma tries again.

“Yeah,” Henry grabs another handful of popcorn, now that his story is done, eating one at a time. “He wanted us to have an example of what to write but he was probably also showing off.”

The kids laugh, everyone in town knowing of August’s designs of being a published author and his constant promises of finishing his novel soon. But there was still something niggling at Emma’s brain.

“Did he make up the story himself? Or did he hear it from someone?”

“He says he made it up inspired by a real event,” Henry shrugs. “I told Mrs. Nolan about it and she said that, about a year ago, someone did die in those woods and that’s when the Mayor put out the announcement.” He grabs the marshmallow sticks and passes them along to his friends who are still visibly spooked. “Apparently there had been lots of reports of injuries and lost hikers on that trail before that.”

“So it took someone dying for them to actually do something about it? Figures.” Emma scoffs and Henry shrugs, unaware of the turmoil in his mother’s brain.

“Okay, can we tell less spooky stories now?” Nicholas asks, begs almost, bringing Emma back to the present. The fact that Ava doesn’t tease her brother is telling.

“Why don’t I grab my laptop and put on a movie for you?” Emma suggests, standing up from the bench.

“Nightmare before Christmas?” Nicholas turns pleading eyes towards his friends.

Ava nods and then seems to remember herself. “Only if we watch ‘Monster House’ after.”

Her twin seems to think about it before nodding resolutely. “Deal! Is that okay, Henry?”

Henry smiles, seemingly just happy to have a fun night with his friends. “As long as it’s Halloween themed, I’m in.”

Emma grins, despite everything. “Double feature it is,” she chuckles. “I’ll set it up.”

‘This is Halloween’ drifts through the open kitchen window as the kids settle down making s’mores in the yard while Emma sits at the kitchen table. She finds Killian Jones’ social media easily enough - she wouldn’t have become one of the best bail bondsperson in the business without being able to find someone’s internet footprint with only a name and a date of birth. It might be slightly illegal to have taken a picture of the man’s ID but what is she gonna do? Arrest herself?

Maybe Emma needed to take a long look within herself if she was negotiating committing illegal acts to herself… After she got to the bottom of this mystery.

Killian Jones is even more handsome than she had previously thought. Considering the only times she’d been able to actually look at him were either a small grainy ID photo or him caked in dirt and blood, it wasn’t a high bar.

Seeing him on the deck of a small boat, a colourful shirt open to show his chest underneath, his eyes crinkled in laughter as he holds out a beer bottle in cheers to the person behind the camera is a welcome alternative. She has to force herself to scroll past the picture.

She notices belatedly that the last post - the Hawaiian shirt distraction - is from a year ago, September to be exact. In the middle of all the thirsty comments, she finds something interesting. ‘Don’t shut me out, Killian, I’m here for you’, was posted by one bookworm33 and it would have looked weird if it didn’t speak of desperation and worry.

Emma continues to scroll down and doesn’t have to swipe too long before she pauses at a picture of Killian Jones and a man that shares the same eyes and facial features. Her gut tugs at her and she taps on the picture once, a tag covering the man’s eyes. Bejewelled40 - whose real name is Liam Jones - aside from being a Taylor Swift fan, is also Killian Jones’ brother.

There are pictures of them in boats, hiking, and visiting foreign countries, even some that include Graham. His posts also end a year ago and the ‘remembering’ on the top of his profile is an easy explanation. Clicking on the first photo - different angles to the September boat trip, focusing more on Liam Jones than his brother - she finds another comment hidden between thirsty comments and boat enthusiasts. ‘I miss you’, written simply and it’s the lack of emojis that catch Emma’s attention. Bookworm33 was clearly important to the siblings.

It doesn’t take her long to get a better picture of the situation. Belle French, the brother’s friend, has been a librarian at Storybrooke High for the past 4 years after a troublesome divorce made her move cities. Pictures and references to the Jones brothers start a few months after that, before there’s a significant lack of Killian Jones in her pictures a year later.

An article in the local newsletter, an announcement in the paper and a remembrance post on Facebook spells out the rest of the story. The Jones Brothers move to Storybrooke 5 years ago and join the community, Liam as the Sheriff and Killian as the Harbormaster; Belle and Liam start their romance and become engaged two years ago. A year ago, Belle’s father passes away and she travels back home and Liam is found dead on the Misthaven Trail three days later. Killian Jones isn’t seen in Storybrooke for a whole year after the funeral until Emma finds him almost dead by the river bank.

A message notification puts an end to her research. ‘Jones is out of surgery and we should be able to visit him tomorrow’, Graham texts and she looks at the clock. Emma sighs. Two hours researching and she still has so many questions.

‘Take the day off tomorrow, Humbert, I’ll follow up with Jones’, she messages back. ‘Don’t argue with me, I’m your boss, you deserve some rest’, she sends right after, expecting the argument.

‘Alright, Sheriff, I leave it to your capable hands.’ The reminder causes her to massage her temples. She has Liam Jones’ job; could this whole situation feel more like a horror movie?

Going back to Liam Jones’ instagram, Emma finds a picture of him with Graham in a nature setting. With a squint and a zoom, she recognises the setting. She swipes to find a video with Graham’s voice from behind the camera and Liam Jones struggling but determined to take his next step.

“We’re currently on mile 5 of the Misthaven Trail,” Graham explains, a very faint hint of tiredness in his tone as he sweeps the camera over their surroundings and Emma can’t help the eerie feeling at the setting sun behind the trees. “As you can see, this area is beautiful and peaceful, a great place to be at one with yourself and your thoughts.” There’s a scoff from the right and Graham laughs, turning the camera to his friend. “Liam here is having some trouble.” He earns himself a glare from his companion. “There've been a lot of accidents in this area so this is your friendly reminder to be careful where you step and to respect the forest.”

“You’ve lectured every single lost or injured hiker we pulled out of these woods. Friendly, my arse.” Emma sucks in a breath at the sound of Liam Jones’ voice. Graham’s responding laughter and voice seems to sound from underwater as he defends himself.

Please, help me, plea-

It’s the same voice. She feels the tingle in her spine and the raised hairs on her arms she had before. How could it be possible?

Sounds of yelps outside have her jumping from her seat, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. Subsequent cheering reminds her of her whereabouts. It’s the kids reacting to the anthropomorphic house finally meeting its demise on the small screen. Emma grips onto the kitchen counter, taking deep steadying breaths.

She needs to have a chat with Killian Jones.

---

It’s rainy and gloomy the next day when Emma arrives at the hospital.

Maybe the weather’s a sign. It’s not like she was ever a superstitious person but it’s hard to remain sceptical after the day she’s had. The nurse tells her he’s in room 13. Of course.

In the corridor, she sees a familiar figure.

“I thought I told you to take the day off, Humbert.”

Emma almost grins when he startles. Almost. She simply crosses her arms as she stares him down. Graham looks away, as if he just got caught in the proverbial cookie jar, it’s a cute look.

“I am taking my day off, Emma,” Graham defends and she raises her eyebrow. “I didn’t ask him anything that could be related to the case. I just-”

“Wanted to see how your friend was,” she finishes for him.

Graham stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets and nods. “I just needed to make sure he was okay.”

“Because Liam would have wanted you to do the same.”

He looks up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. This might have been the first time she’s shocked her deputy in the year they’ve worked together.

“H-how…?”

“I did some research last night.” She uncrosses her arms to stuff her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I found Killian Jones’ social media, which led me to Liam’s, to Belle’s and then to yours. You were his deputy.”

“The four of us bonded over being away from home.” He shrugs, trying to hide the heartache over the loss. “After Liam passed, it all fell apart.”

“I’d never seen Killian Jones in Storybrooke before today, or Belle French.”

“Killian left after the funeral, said something about a family member in Boston even though I’m sure they didn’t have any family in the States. He rejected all my calls, I had no way to find him.” Graham sighs, scratching his forehead. “Belle isolated herself the first few months. After that she would go from home to work and back. She’s been trying to go out more, determined to live her life the way Liam would have wanted her to. It’s still a slow process but at least she’s trying.”

“And here you are in the middle of everything trying to be there for everyone.”

“I didn’t lose a brother or a fiance, Emma, I’m fine.” He crosses his arms and she recognises the look on his face.

“Right, if you want me to be ‘bad cop’, I will,” she threatens.

“Seriously, Emma, I’m fine, it’s been a year and-”

“Graham,” she interrupts, holding up her hand. “Go see Dr. Hopper or I’m suspending you.”

He groans and yet, it feels like a victory. “Yes, boss.” He mockingly salutes and yet it still shows his respect.

“Go home and enjoy the rest of the day off while I go and talk to Mr. Jones.” Emma pats his arm and he nods.

“I told him to tell you everything he could remember,” Graham informs her. “I know you can do your job but he can be very stubborn so I just wanted to make it a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Emma smiles amusedly and watches as he walks past her. “Hey, Graham?” He stops in the corridor and she can’t hold back her curiosity. “Liam was the sheriff before me,” Graham shifts in his feet, uncomfortable. “Did you apply for the job? I’d think you’d be a shoe-in to be the next Sheriff as opposed to an outsider.”

“Nah,” He shrugs and she can actually see the weight on his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have felt right.” His lips curl up in a small smile, a grieving smile. “Besides, you are a great boss.”

Emma rolls her eyes but her smile is wide. “Get some rest and go see Dr. Hopper.”

“Yes, boss,” he repeats before he leaves the hospital wing all together.

With a deep steadying breath, Emma knocks at the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

She nods to herself before opening the door. “Mr. Jones, I’m-”

“Sheriff Emma Swan,” Killian Jones nods at her. “Graham told me you were coming. Didn’t expect you here so fast though.”

“As it happens, you’re my only open case.”

She stands a few feet from his bed, arms crossed as she finally takes a look at the man they saved the day before, now no-longer covered in blood and dirt. There is a bandage on his forehead all the way down to the temple, his face, neck and hands - the only things visible - filled with small scratches, and his leg is in a thick cast. He looks tired but okay.

He looks handsome too and she’s trying not to remember his boat pictures. It helps that the hospital gown and robe cover his chest and what she knows is underneath. She’s really trying.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the chair next to his bed, where she assumes Graham had been seated minutes prior. “We’re probably in for a long chat.”

She should refuse, keep him at a distance. She sits down but not before pulling the chair back a few inches. Emma catches an amused smile on his lips and she wonders what else Graham told him about her. She clears her throat focusing on being professional.

“Alright, Mr. Jones-”

“Please, call me Killian.”

Emma nods, trying to look away from the soft smile he directed at her. “Killian.” His smile grows. Professional, Emma. “Do you remember what happened before we found you?”

“Aye,” It’s his turn to clear his throat at the wavering tone of his voice. “The ground slid out from under me and I fell, hit my head and broke my leg.”

His tone was distant, factual, and it sounded wrong in his voice. “What were you doing in that part of the woods?”

“I-uh, I went there to drink.”

“We didn’t find any evidence of alcoholic beverages and your blood alcohol levels were very low.” She raises her eyebrow at his half-truth. “Let me tell you a little secret.” She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. “I-”

“Have a thing with lies.” There is a small smile on his lips at Emma’s surprised expression. “Graham told me about that.”

“Right.” It takes her a second to recover from the surprise. “If you know, why don’t we avoid lying or, in this case, omitting part of the story and you tell me the truth.”

“Commanding, I like it.” He smirks weakly and at the roll of her eyes, he nods in preparation, his expression turning serious. “I was there to mourn my brother, Liam.”

“Why not go to the cemetery? I’m sure you’ve heard how dangerous that part of the woods is.”

“That’s where he died,” His voice is low and she can only just hear it over the beeping of the machines. “Graham and the others found his body wrapped around on a rock in the river the next morning. He’d bled out during the night.”

“So he got injured the day before? How did no one notice he was gone for so long?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound accusing but from the guilty self-punishing look in Killian’s face, that’s how he would describe it.

“A few weeks before he passed, I went through a break-up,” he sighs, settling carefully on the pillows at his back and Emma does the same on the cushioned chair. “I had fallen in love with a married woman.” She tries to contain her surprise and apprehension but it’s like he can see everything she tries to hide. “I know, I got an earful from my brother when we started dating. But she promised that she was going to divorce her husband as soon as she could find a good lawyer so she could guarantee a joint custody deal.”

“She has a child?”

He nods and his frown is enough for her to understand his conflict. “We kept it a secret. We didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardise her relationship with her son. Liam kept telling me how reckless I was being, how naive, but I kept shutting him down. I was in love.” He shrugs. “After a while he stopped trying and I was happy.”

“Her husband found out.” It wasn’t a question.

“I got greedy, selfish,” Killian’s tone turns hard, self-loathing. “We went to a cafe in town and she was nervous but I was happy, I was out in public with the love of my life.” He shakes his head with a scoff. “Her husband walked in with her son right behind him and I considered it luck that the cafe was almost empty. The boy came up to us first, asking his mom why she was there and who I was. I didn’t know what to say and her husband was looking at me like he wanted to kill me.” Killian sighs. “She asked me to leave and that she would talk to me later.”

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well.”

He actually laughs, a sharp, terrible sound. “I had gotten myself into a state when she finally met me. We yelled at each other, she accused me of pushing, I accused her of playing with my feelings. When she finally told me that she almost lost her son because of me, I shut up. She told me she was going to go back to her husband, that he was willing to take her back after the stupid mistake she made and then she left.” He finishes with a sigh and Emma leans back on her chair, overwhelmed. “I didn’t take it well.”

“Who would?”

His chuckle brings her eyes back to his and despite the pain behind them, there’s an amused glint in the blue eyes that definitely do not get captured well in pictures. “For the next few weeks, I started drinking. A lot. I didn’t want to see Liam’s disappointment or self-righteousness so I distanced myself. That day, he barged into my house, took one look at the half-empty bottle in my hand and went off on me.” He shifts in his bed, hissing when his leg moves wrong. “I can see now that he was scared but at that moment I was angry. We argued and I told him that I never wanted to see him again and he left my house.”

“Is that why no one filed a missing persons report?”

He nods and his eyes water. “I drank the whole night after he left and the next day, I woke up to someone banging on my door. It was Belle.” His breath shudders. “She had been trying to call him all morning. Liam had told her that he would be coming to my place so she thought he’d stayed the night, when he didn’t text her or call her the next morning, she started to get worried. That fear, the feeling that someone had gone wrong to someone you love, was the sharpest cure for a hangover I ever had.” They both shared a mirthless chuckle. “We called Graham right away and when he didn’t know where Liam was, it became a town wide search.” He takes a deep breath. “Graham found his car parked at Toll Bridge and searched through Misthaven Trail.”

“He fell.” Emma wrings her fingers as she watches the emotions in Killian’s face.

“He left his phone in the car so when he fell into the river, he couldn’t call for help.” He sniffs, staring at the wall in front of him. “So imagine my surprise when you and Graham showed up to my rescue despite the fact that I also left my phone in my car and no one knew I was even in town.” Killian turns to her, his eyes still full of pain but a curious small smile gracing his lips.

Emma tucks her hair behind her ear in a nervous move and leans back on the chair. “It’s like I told you yesterday, we received a call that helped us find you.”

“Right,” he frowns. “And as I just said, I left my phone in the car, so it’s impossible.”

She sighs. “I’m aware of that and, trust me, I’ve spent the whole night trying to figure it out and the only explanation I have is impossible.”

“Try me.”

Emma opens and closes her mouth a few times while Killian looks on patiently. “All our calls are recorded,” she says instead, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Before I came here, I went by the station to download the recording, so I’m just gonna play it for you.” Killian raises an eyebrow while Emma brings up the file.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static rings out from the speaker and she tenses up all over again. “Help, I-I fell-” Killian gasps and she gives in to his silent request and hands him the phone. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir. Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” Killian’s eyes shine with tears at his brother’s voice, at his sounds of pain and Emma feels her chest tighten. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she is dreading the end of the call. “I can barely hear you, sir.” His knuckles turn white from where he is gripping the phone and a tear falls down his cheek. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River. I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

Killian takes a shuddering breath when the recording ends and the phone drops on the bed. She should grab the phone and give him space. She should ask him questions about it. And yet, Emma finds herself grabbing his trembling hand with hers, her whole skin tingling at the touch. He grips her hand back tighter, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

“H-How-,” he whispers in a broken tone. “That’s my brother’s voice but-but how is it possible?”

Killian looks at her, pleading for an answer, for an explanation. But she can’t give him one. Emma shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.” Her thumb moves unconsciously over his knuckles. “But if it wasn’t for this call, we wouldn’t have found you.”

To her surprise, Killian starts to laugh even as tears fall down his face, a disbelieving sound. “I can’t believe this.” He covers his face with his free hand and Emma squeezes his hand, silently asking for clarification. He sighs and looks at her, his eyes bluer than they’d been before. “I ran away after the funeral, they had barely finished covering the casket and I was crossing the town line. I knew Belle needed me to stay, Graham too, we should have mourned together, helped each other during this but I-I-”

“You blamed yourself.”

He exhales a laugh. “Aye, stupidly tried to find answers at the bottom of a bottle once again. I just kept replaying our last argument, kept seeing him bleeding out in the river and I knew I couldn’t grieve when I knew it was my fault.”

Emma opens her mouth to protest but Killian raises his hand, stilling the words she still wasn’t sure she would say. “After a night where I was almost inducted into this woman’s witchy cult,” and she really wishes she had the chance to ask about that, “I looked for help. Found a therapist, grieved. A week ago, I told him about the anniversary of Liam’s death coming up and he suggested I visit his grave, talk to him, ask for forgiveness.” He sighs. “I was on my way to the cemetery when I found myself on the Toll Bridge. I thought it was a sign when I found the marker Graham made to honour Liam. I sat there and talked to him, I didn’t realise how much anger I still felt towards him dying, abandoning me.” He laughed sarcastically. “Ridiculous, I know. I threw my flask and I felt the ground slide from under me and I thought ‘there it is, your revenge, Liam, you’re finally punishing your killer’.”

“And then we showed up.”

“And I thought that maybe you had appeared for a reason and now hearing that?” He looks at her embarrassed, shaking his head. “I sound like a crazy person but-”

“I thought I was crazy,” Emma interrupts him with a reassuring smile. “Common sense would have you think the call was a prank. But from the moment I got the call, my instincts told me something wasn’t right, that there was more to the story.”

“I’m really glad you decided to go with your instinct, then,” he smiles softly. “If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”

“But you did.” She squeezes his hand and they both seem to remember that their hands are still clasped together. She doesn’t let go and neither does he. “And if we are to believe in ghost stories, your brother is adamant that you get a second chance.”

They lock eyes, share a soft smile and she figures professionalism has been thrown out the window from the moment she took his hand. He nods and his smile widens. She kinda wishes they could hold hands forever.

Wait, what?

“You may be right.” His voice is soft and it feels like he’s trying to look inside her, searching. “He’d probably beat up the side of the head that it took me this long to get my head out of my own arse.”

Emma chuckles and his smile widens. “I don’t think he expected you to break your leg and your head to get the message across.”

“Well,” his lips curve into a side smirk and she’s not ready for it, “I’m guessing that the service in the afterlife is a little spotty.” She laughs, surprised at his joke, and he laughs with her. Nope, she was not ready. “My brother always gave me good advice, maybe I should follow this last one too and take that second chance he gave me.”

“Oh?”

Her heart hammers against her chest at the way he looks at her. He opens his mouth to answer when the room door bursts open.

“Killian Jones!”

Emma jumps from her seat, refusing to acknowledge how empty her hand feels now that it’s no longer holding his, to make space for the shorter brunette storming up to Killian’s bed.

Belle French.

“I haven’t heard from you in a whole year and then I have Graham calling me to tell me you’re in the hospital?!”

But Killian only smiles, clearly happy to see his would-be sister-in-law despite the guilt beginning to take root in his eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Belle.” And it’s clear that the simple sentence breaks something in the librarian’s being. With two quick strides, she embraces him tightly. “Careful, love, I’m an invalid now,” he complains, even as his arms hold her closer, willing to ignore any pain it might be causing him.

“You’re in a world of trouble, Killian.”

His smile only widens and he turns to look at Emma, likely amused at the overwhelmed look on her face. Belle seems to realise that there’s someone else in the room - not that Emma blames her - and turns to her.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I-”

“No need to apologise,” Emma raises her hand to stop the apology. “I just needed to take Mr. Jones’ testimony.” He raises an eyebrow at her use of his last name, clearly unimpressed by her choice to be professional. “Sheriff Emma Swan,” she introduces herself before holding out her hand.

“Belle French.” Belle takes her hand, still somewhat surprised as she looks between Killian and her. “Is he in some kind of trouble then?” Her expression seems ready for a fight and Killian’s smile seems to grow.

“No, no,” Emma is quick to appease. “I just needed the full story, that’s all.” She stuffs her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I actually should go write up the report.” She takes a few steps back towards the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss French. Get better soon, Mr. Jones.”

She starts to walk out the door. “Emma,” Killian calls and she really should not have turned around so fast. “Maybe we can grab a coffee when I get discharged? You can tell me all about safety measures when hiking.”

Emma tries to ignore Belle’s curious expression. “I think Graham might be the better man for the job.”

“He’s been trying for years, it never stuck,” He grins and there’s only so much a girl can be expected to take. “Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

She bites her lip and focuses on the hopeful look in his eyes. The last time she trusted someone, that she gave someone a chance, she ended up in prison. She should say no.

Maybe she can justify this leap on supernatural activity too?

“It’s a date.”

The way his grin lights up a whole room does feel otherworldly.

Just as the door closes behind her, she hears Belle’s stupefied voice.

“Killian Jones, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Emma laughs. Maybe not all ghost stories have to have bad endings.

#ouat ff #cs ff #carolina writes #ghost stories #cs bingo 2024 #killian jones #emma swan #graham humbert #henry mills #belle french #captain hook #captainswan #ouat #once upon a time

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒.

DAY SEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cosmic horror au + western au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."

pairing: jack daniels x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft enemies to lovers

summary: with celestial dancers ensnaring victims with entrancing performances that lead innocents away from their homes. Jack and you, cowboy sheriffs with a history of discord, leave town in search of the missing people.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: daddy kink, mirror sex (kinda there's a mist that imitates your desires and copies your movements so technically it's like a mirror but without a reflective surface), outdoor sex, piv, hint of horror imagery, dirty talk, size kink (jack is a big boy in every universe fight me)

a/n: sorry y'all this is unedited but hopefully i didn't make too many mistakes! enjoy xx

“I still don’t understand why we need to go together. I’m completely capable on my own.”

On cue, Starlight whinnies and shakes her head, her disagreement apparent. You frown at the horse, “You’re supposed to be on my side,” you quip, refusing to look at Jack whose laughter rings out.

The lanterns you have on each horse illuminate the road ahead but do little in actually illuminating your surroundings. Shadows linger in every corner. The sky, despite still having the sun up, is a dusty copper, dark clouds swirling and forming shape of all watching eyes. The world had become an odd place. Humans were mere ants now, easy to crush beneath the forces out of your control. Distance between towns had become wide, each town having deputies to protect the innocents within. Dangerous weapons had been forged to fight against the evil and given to every sherrif in town.

Lately people have been gone missing. In the dead of night celestial dancers would just stand at the edge of town, ensnaring victims with entrancing performances to take them far away from their homes. You didn’t ask what these dancers did to the ones they captured, you assumed it wasn’t anything pleasant.

You and Jack being the more talented sheriffs of the town had been picked to locate said missing people. The further you two traversed away from town, the more menacing and confusing the world around you became. The darkness moves. Creatures of all kinds snarling and drooling within the deep forests.

“I know you’re capable, sugar,” Jack remarks, he expertly guides his horse, bringing the two of you into closer proximity. The rhythmic sound of hooves fills the air as you draw near. “But you must admit, this is a dangerous job.”

You only shrug, “Beats being here with you.”

“You hate me that much that you’d be willin’ to die?” he says with a lazy grin. “That’s a bit extreme, even for you.”

“I doubt this is going to be that hard. You just like teasing me.”

“Hmmm maybe. . . but I blame you for that, sugar. You’re too fun to tease.”

A loud sigh parts your lips and you shake your head. Jack was and always will be insufferable. In all honesty, Jack wasn’t so bad. He just had a talent for getting under your skin. But you had to admit, your frustrations with him had been shifting into something else, something like desire, for a while now.

Your fingers tighten around the reins. You’ve been trying really hard to ignore the flutter in your stomach whenever he was around, you’d never hear the end of it if he figured it out.

“Shut up,” you grumble, lowering the front of your hat. “You’re incorrigible.” You glance over at Jack, who's trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably. Your frown deepens.

“Incorrigible?” he snorts. “So sophisticated with your insults today, should I be flattered?”

“I’m just running out of words to insult you with.”

His smile falters slightly, annoyance creasing between his brows, “Funny.”

Jack’s annoyance brings a smile to your face. You’re about to say more, eager to get under his skin just like he does yours, but suddenly he lifts a hand and halts his horse. You do the same, tightening the reins until Starlight comes to a full stop.

He presses his forefinger slowly to his lips and points ahead with the other. Goosebumps raising across your skin, your gaze turns to the dirt road.

There’s nothing.

Until there’s something.

The first thing you notice is the eyes; they’re red dots, gleaming and staring into your soul.

Then you notice the antlers sprouting from behind the skull of the long figure. Two of them curling around its jaw. It's wearing a long cloak, the type similar to what you and Jack wear when the weather is turning cold. The light of your lanterns reflects on the figure,

Panic flaring in your gut, your eyes snap to Jack. He’s only staring. Calm and steady. “Look down,” he mouths without looking at you.

The silence is deafening. You look at the eerie figure again, its hand now stretched towards you both as if beckoning you to come closer. It’s a bony hand, a sickly grayish-green. You hold your breath and lower your gaze. Your lids flutter in surprise as you notice the sheep at the figure's feet. They have horns just like him, and have the same glowing red eyes. The animals stare at you, not a sound coming from them.

Shepard of the Voidborne, your mind whispers to you. You were told that he was once human and after being driven out of his mind, became one of the cosmic horrors that lurked all around. He had his sheep and that was pretty much it. He only came out during the night. The shepard was harmless for the most part but if you made a sound or attacked, your death was immediate.

The tricky part was that you had to sense him before he came. You had to catch the stillness of the wind, the sudden silence that befell, and the scent of the dead.

You didn’t notice any of that.

But Jack had.

The Shepard and his sheep stare at you long enough that it feels like forever. He never lowers his hand, the invite always there if you were stupid enough to take it.

You fight against letting out a breath of relief when he finally turns away, the sheep mimicking him. Fear coating your tongue, you close your eyes and focus on your heartbeat instead, willing it to become silent.

He doesn’t make a sound as he leaves and you only realize that when Jack gently touches your cheek, pulling you back to reality.

“He’s gone, darlin’,” he says surprisingly soft. “You’re safe.”

His fingers curl towards the back of your ear, palm cradling the side of your face, warmth spreads. Your breath hitches and you quickly avert your gaze, “I see that,” you say sharply. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way, ma’am,” Jack muses as you do exactly that, his gaze glinting with mischief.

You try not to think about the lingering warmth left on your cheek.

The horses are tethered nearby, and the lanterns cast a warm glow around your small circle of safety. You set up a modest fire, its crackling flames pushing back the encroaching darkness.

Jack produces a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag. He uncorks it and offers it to you with a grin. "Care for a drink, sugar? I figure we've earned."

You accept the offer, taking the bottle and taking a long, deep swig before passing it back. The warm burn of the whiskey helps chase away the lingering chill of fear from your encounter with the Shepard.

Jack settles down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brush. He gazes into the flames, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he turns his attention to you, his eyes softening with concern. "You okay, sugar?"

“I guess,” you mutter. “I didn’t notice him.”

“Who? The Shepard?”

You nod and he shrugs, “He’s a hard bastard to notice. It ain’t your fault.”

“That’s not an excuse. I should’ve sensed him. . . somehow.”

He chuckles softly, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Well, you know, I've got the devil's luck. Besides, I've got you to watch my back. When I’m with you I’m more alert, darlin’."

“So you really do think I’m incompetent?”

Sitting by the fire, you both share the bottle, taking turns. You can't help but notice how the flickering firelight plays across Jack's features, casting his rugged face in a warm, inviting glow. You feel slightly ashamed for how you’re acting. Deep down you know this has nothing to do with Jack thinking you’re not good enough, but with the growing knot in your stomach, you need to divert your emotions into something more violent.

“The only thing I know is that I wanna protect you more than I want to do myself.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath suddenly coming in short and fast. You swallow around the knot quickly forming in your throat.

"Well, aren't you just a regular knight in shining armor?" you huff in mock annoyance, attempting to lighten the weight of his words.

But Jack doesn't take the bait this time. Instead, he surprises you with a genuine, soft smile. "You're strong, no doubt about it. But even the strongest folks deserve a bit of pampering now and then, don't they?"

You're momentarily taken aback by his sincerity, the hint of vulnerability. Jack reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light.

"Jack, you don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass," you murmur, your irritation fading as you meet his warm gaze.

He leans in a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes drop to his lips and move back to meet his gaze again."I know you're tough as nails, but that doesn't mean I can't be here for you. We all need someone to lean on, sugar."

You find yourself lost in his eyes, the flickering firelight dancing in them, and for a moment, you let your guard down.

"You're a fucking nightmare,” you smile, heart rapid in your chest. “Kiss me."

The chaos, the darkness, the shadows—all of it stands still. Jack closes the distance, soft lips covering yours, his tongue traces the seam of your lips. He’s not at all how you imagined. He’s not rushing you. Instead, he’s taking his sweet time memorizing the curve of your lips with the tip of his tongue.

Only when you moan does he slip his tongue between your swollen lips, licking himself further into your mouth. He cradles your face with both hands, thumbs moving down as if tracing tear streaks down your cheeks.

Neither of you notices the thick fog starting to accumulate around you. A sinister whisper crackling within the gray. It settles around you. Listening to your needy whimpers and Jack’s groans—it observes, takes in the desire reflected in your features, and shapes begin to form.

The fire goes out with a loud sizzle.

“Fuck—” Jack hisses, pulling away, hand moving to grab his gun. He pulls you close. You’re still tasting him on your lips, dazed and confused as to what’s happening. There’s a moment of silence between you two, your surroundings illuminated only by the lanterns.

The fog is unnaturally thick. You hear sounds; breathy and intoxicating. The voices grow louder, a tingle spreads over the back of your neck, and you notice that they’re oddly familiar—

Your cheeks burn when you notice they’re the sound of your moans. Both Jack’s and yours. The shapes are still forming, only mere silhouettes of two people perched on top of a log, their poses the same as yours.

“Eidolon Veil,” you mumble, drawing Jack’s attention to you. “I heard of it, never actually saw it before.”

“What is it?” he grunts a response, hand still on your waist. “And why the hell is it moanin’?”

“It’s harmless,” you answer. “It’s a reflective fog that takes the shape of those within its circle and mimics their desires as well.”

Jack snorts, lowering his gun, “So what, you’re tellin’ me this mist is gonna show us fuckin’ like rabbits soon?”

You turn to him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, “If that’s what you desire, then yes,” you grin. “Though the image becomes vivid only if the people actually go through with it. If not it’ll only show a preview and move on to its next target,” you raise an eyebrow at him. “You really don’t know what it is?”

“I don’t research the creepy crawlies as much as you do,” he croaks. “Are you sure it’s harmless? In this world nothin’ is.”

“I think it has to do with substance,” you say. “Desire keeps it from dissolving entirely. So it’s basically looking for food.”

An especially sharp moan echoes from the mist and you involuntarily press your thighs together, arousal growing between your legs. Jack also shudders at the sound. He palms himself through his pants, your eyes dropping to where his cock strains against the thick fabric.

“Let's give it something to choke on then.”

Throwing all caution into the wind, you two strip down eagerly, your mouths always a breath away. The figures within the fog become more tangible, you can see yourself clearly now, your face painted with want and arousal. You get on all fours and the mirage does the same, Jack is on his knees right behind you, hand slipping between your legs. He traces his fingers up and down soaked folds, circling your clit, you feel the heft of him over the curve of your ass.

Your breath hitches as he pushes two fingers into you, electricity crackles over your skin, a moan parting your lips further. The mirage mimics every sound and movement, and watching it turns you on in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jack coos. “Such a sight—and so darn wet.”

He fucks his fingers deeper into you and pulls them out slowly. Jack leans over to kiss the skin between your shoulder blades, the movement of his fingers slow as he works you open. Your head falls and you arch your back, wanting more. He doesn’t stop until you’re a sopping, trembling mess. Slick drips down his fingers and all the way down to his wrists.

When you look at the mirage, the Jack within the fog makes you taste yourself on his fingers.

Your Jack hums pleasantly, pulling out, he traces the plush of your lips with wet fingers before slipping them into your mouth. You suck eagerly, your cunt fluttering at the lewdness of it.

He cups your neck and pulls you up so that you’re flush against his chest, your pulse quickens as he presses his lips against your ear, “You think you can take me, darlin’?” he asks and kisses your cheek.

“Y–Yeah,” you whimper, the fog echoing your answer.

You haven’t gotten a good look at him yet but you do feel him. He’s thick and hard, dragging his cock up and down your slit. You shudder as the head catches against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re drippin’ sweetheart,” he says with a grin, breath tickling your neck. “And you’re shakin’, worried I’m too big?”

His voice drips with sarcasm and glee, he teases your entrance with the head, smearing precome over the sensitive skin. You gasp and feel your nipples tighten, without thinking you spread your legs further.

“Yes!” your mirage echoes your thoughts. You let out a deep exhale, blood rushing to your cheeks. “You’re so big, Jack—It won’t fit. . .”

“Is that right now?” he murmurs, dragging the curve of his nose down your neck. “You say it. I want to hear your voice.”

You clear your throat. Beads of sweat gather at your tailbone, “Y–You’re big,” you whimper and as a reward he cups both your breasts, playing with your nipples. “I don’t know if it’ll fit. It’s been a while.”

He takes a sharp inhale, “I’ll make it fit,” he growls, exhaling his breath simultaneously.

With that, Jack sinks into you.

He sucks on your neck and continues to gently pinch your nipples, waiting for your to adjust to his size. “That’s it,” he purrs, licking the salt from your skin. “You feel so good around me, sugar. Look at how fucked out you look already.”

He holds your jaw and tilts your head up, you clench as you see yourself. He was right. You look utterly fucked out; kiss-swollen lips parted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

“Jack,” you whimper. “Move, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he soothes you, lips pressing against your neck before letting you go. Your palms fall to the ground. “You’re made for me, pretty girl, don’t you forget it.”

Before you can say anything, he pulls back his hips and slams into you with force. Your fingers dig into the soil, your body going rigid before becoming loose again. Jack fucks you thoroughly, slowing down while pulling out only to snap forward. He’s loud. Growls and grunts bouncing off of his clenched teeth, he holds on to your waist and the mirage echoes it.

With every thrust, he knocks the air from your lungs. Pleasure swirls in your stomach, shirt circuits your brain. Your lips part wide with a series of moans, your breasts tingling. Your senses narrow on the way his cock fills you, how deep he is inside, and how you just want to scream—not his name necessarily, but something you can address him as.

With both your and your mirage's moans getting louder and louder, your mind whirls. You’re gushing with every thrust, your orgasm rapidly building.

Daddy, your mind suddenly shouts. Your body tenses, your cunt squeezing around him in away that it forces the slows of his thrust. Jack groans at the overwhelming tightness, his cock pulsing. You watch the mirrored reflection, see the veins popping in his neck, see the debauched look of his face.

Daddy.

“F-Fuck—” you rasp when Jack resumes his thrust, faster and harder than before. He smacks your ass, pain blossoming over the skin.

Then suddenly you hear it.

It’s your voice but not your lips that moves.

“Again—Daddy—” the voice is strained, as if your replica is equally as embarrassed as you are.

He stops and you see his confusion in the fog. “W-What?” he murmurs. You shake your head, your frustration growing as you press your lips tight together. Jack smoothes his palm over your back. “What did you just call me, sugar?”

You clear your throat, “Technically it wasn’t me,” you say weakly. Jack smiles as he drags blunt nails down your skin, your body reacts and arches towards him. You sigh. “It was a mistake.”

“Not it wasn’t,” he quips. “You said so remember? The thing about the veil mimicking our desires?” he doesn’t wait for your answer as he bends over, covering your body with his. He whispers, “You can call me, daddy, if you want to. I don’t mind, darlin’. In fact, I like it.”

You nod and he slowly drags himself out, and equally slowly pushes back in, “Use your words.”

“Yes, d-daddy,” you gasp, the word hits your tongue just right.

Jack draws back again, satisfaction pooling in his eyes. He grins and a part of you can’t help but feel flustered. “That’s what I want to hear,” he kisses the back of your shoulder and continue to move inside of you.

The sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of you sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You moan in pleasure as your orgasm builds with each thrust. He grips your hips, thrusting harder and faster as your orgasm nears its peak. You can barely keep your balance as the waves of pleasure wash over you in a glorious chorus of bliss.

“Oh—daddy—” you sigh, your tongue loose. The fog picks up your moan, echoing your words. You bite your lip as his hands move from your hips to your chest, massaging your breast with each thrust.

“Look at that face,” he says with a moan, forcing your gaze up. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he teases. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Then ask for it, sugar.”

“P-Please, daddy, make me come,” you moan, you’re pleasantly helpless under him. “Pleasepleaseplease—”

With one final thrust, you tip over the edge; your orgasm rattles through your body accompanied by a series of groans and daddy’s. Adrenaline rushes through your system—your toes curl, your neck arches and your eyes roll back as pleasure washes through you.

The mirage echoes every sound as Jack pumps his cum into you. He lifts you by the shoulder, forcing your head towards him as he claims your lips in a heated kiss. He swallows your moans, your whimpers and sucks your tongue until you’re compeltly pliant against him.

Once he’s finished, the fog starts to dissipate until it’s only the two of you, lying in the dirt, panting, the fire alive once again. Jack kisses the top of your head before pulling out, and you look away, his spend drips from you, making a mess between your thighs, your face heats up.

He tenderly cradles the side of your. Jack smiles and you can’t help but smile as well, burying your face into his palm.

“That was—damn,” you manage to say. You blink and sit up, looking around you. There’s nothing but darkness and the sound of crickets.

“Seems like your daddy took care of you,” Jack purrs, pecking your lips before pulling you into an embrace. You glare at him as he nuzzles your neck.

“If you mention that to anyone else I’ll kill you.”

He laughs whole heatedly, “I don’t kiss and tell, sweetheart. Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours.”

“So the Eidolon Veil moved on,” you say, changing the subject. “I guess it was well fed.”

“It seems like it,” he responds, kissing your forehead. Your heart flutters. “C’mere, let’s get you dressed before you catch a cold. We still have a whole lot of investigatin’ to do tomorrow.”

“Can’t we just stay like this? A little longer?”

He kisses your temple this time, his warmth seeping into your back. “‘Course we can, darlin’.”

You lean into his embrace and he manages to pull one of the blankets from his pack, covering you. Your eyes trail the stars in the sky.

Little moments of peace like this are worth savoring just a bit longer.

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #kingsman the golden circle fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #hauntedhoedown

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