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grimesgirll · 9 months ago

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you and daryl are smoking out the window when rick walks in.

"what do you two think you're doin'?"

mid hit, you almost choke at the sight of the sheriff. breathing in deeply to prevent yourself from wheezing, you pass the joint to daryl as cooly as you can after that hit.

daryl grunts. "buzzkill."

"how quick on your feet are you two right now?" rick questions, blue eyes dark and annoyed.

"we're not on watch." you say in a matter-of-fact way.

"no," rick agrees, "you're not. thank god." he runs a hand through his chocolate curls hurriedly.

"glenn's got it," you assure him, offering him a smile at the same time. "you should sit with us. you don't have to have any, drink one of the beers we brought back." you gesture to the full six packs leaning against the wall, branded with the faded logo of the brewery you guys had picked clean the other day while looking for supplies.

"he doesn't know how to relax," daryl tells you with a scowl.

neither do you, you think, but you just frown and shake your head. "rick, c'mon," you croon from your seat by the window.

"yeah, and shut the door," daryl barks.

rick turns and shuts the door lightly. surprisingly, he does what you suggested and picks up a six pack, errantly dropping it by the foot of the loveseat you're cozy on. he takes up the seat next to you, dark stained bottle in hand.

you grin. this is so not how you expected things to go. usually, rick was all pissed off and disappointed about the fact that you guys were getting high of all things. beside you, he twists on the bottle cap. high and focused on his hands, you watch them struggle against the aluminum cap, tensing and unclenching. with a huff, he uses his white t-shirt to grip the bottle again to no avail. the older man looks up from his ordeal to see you absolutely engrossed in him and smirks at you.

he says your name, breaking you out of what your high ass thought was a self-contained act of voyeurism. "wanna try?" he tilts the bottle your way.

you raise an eyebrow. "if you can't get it open, i don't think i can."

rick just smiles at you, like you said something funny. "i don't want you to use your hands, doll. try your teeth." he catches your confused expression. "remember when you did it at the bonfire a few weeks ago?"

suddenly, you recall standing outside around the fire with the group and accepting a request from maggie to open a beer bottle for her with your teeth. you could never say no to her - neither would you pass up the opportunity to hang out with a buzzed maggie for the night. so you showed everyone how to use your chompers to open the bottle. looking back, rick's eyes had never left you as you slipped the neck of the bottle into your mouth to quickly twist the cap off with your teeth. a move you later told carl not to try. you didn't want to be responsible for any dental damage.

you nod and take the bottle from his hands, sitting up in the loveseat. daryl watches, joint in hand, from the other side of the window while you take the bottle into your mouth and the cap at angle just between your molars. you feel two pairs of eyes on you as you struggle for a moment, the cap not coming loose as easily as you'd thought it would. usually, you could just maneuver it a bit for the cap to pop off, but now you're wondering if this cap is just too old, and you consider giving up. that is until suddenly, you angle your teeth just the right way and the cap comes free. it falls into your palm and you wipe the neck of the bottle off with your shirt for rick, just in case any of your spit got on it.

you try to hand the bottle back to him but rick shakes his head. "no," he gestures back to you. "i think after all that, you deserve the first sip."

who are you to say no?

you bring the bottle to your lips and drink, rick's gaze still on you. you consider chugging the entire thing but first of all, that would be rude and second of all, you're not at college anymore. wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your henley, you pass the bottle back to rick who takes a long, ginger sip as you free your hair from your ponytail and settle deeper into the loveseat.

you remember daryl's there when he offers you the halfway done joint. you want to turn it down but suddenly you're craving more. as the skunky smoke fills the air and drains out the window, you start to even crave a beer. you wouldn't mind getting crossed right now; getting a good mix of buzzed and stoned like in your college days back before the world went to shit. it was a nice way to relax, and it wasn't like you were neglecting your responsibilities.

after that hit, you're zoning out more and more. you had set up the cd player with a lynyrd skynyrd album daryl'd found in a record store with you. they weren't your favorite rock artists, but you guys could've been listening to worse bands in the apocalypse after all. you loosely follow the lyrics of one of their songs while daryl finishes off the joint.

"where'd you even get that?" rick asks, breaking the silence.

"you know some places you would get shot for asking that, 'fore all this?" daryl had told you when you'd asked him that.

"house down the road." daryl answers between puffs. "looks like they were tryna' get ahead of that medical shit."

you snicker. the story was true but without seeing those folks, you really didn't know what kind of operation they had going on. the way daryl phrased it though was a nice way to phrase it to a cop. better than we just found it.

"and you'd smoke it without knowing where it came from?" rick inquires, hand wrapped around the dark bottle.

"we know where it came from," you speak up from in between them. "it came from that house's backyard."

he repeats what he asked daryl.

"there could be anthrax in your beer."

that's when you realize you're super high.

rick doesn't have the opportunity to be confused because he's laughing and suddenly you're giggling in his face. he doesn't take it as an accident when you lean forward and fall into his lap on the loveseat. in fact, he takes the opportunity to lift your chin up, saying, "silly girl," and flipping you over to sit on his lap.

"wanna finish my beer, baby?" he offers it to you, holding it up to your lips.

"i don't need it," you reply but your words are cut off when the bottle breaches your lips anyway and you gulp down the drink. beer wasn't your favorite beverage but, in the apocalypse, beggars really couldn't be choosers. he takes the empty bottle from you and sets it on the end table before leaning back up to connect your lips.

you lean into the kiss as he pulls you closer in his lap. the satisfying pressure on your ass from his squeezing has you hazy minded and wishing he would speed up now that you realize what's happening.

then you remember daryl, the one who you'd originally been hanging out with. you hadn't even planned on seeing rick tonight.

you look up from rick towards the auburn-haired man who was ashing the joint out the window. you frown. isn't that what the ash tray on the windowsill is for? you give him a look that says come here and he walks towards the loveseat, sharing a look with rick that has the men positioning you in their favorite way.

you move willingly; they pull you, pliant and eager to please - eager to just do what someone else says and relax. the joint was supposed to help you shut off your brain after a long day but now you can only think about being pressed in between the two pent up men on the loveseat with you. rick has your bottoms off now and is two fingers deep inside of you when you start helping daryl undo his jeans.

"you feelin' ready or do you need more, baby?" your leader asks you, lips bruising your shoulder.

you shake your head. "i don't need any more fingers." you clarify. "wanna feel your big cock inside of me," you blurt out. usually, it takes you a bit to warm up and they're the ones who talk filthy but tonight you're feeling a little less inhibited.

he raises an eyebrow with condescension. "sure you can handle it, doll? last time i thought i broke you."

you snort. "i think the proper word is reset."

you feel a low rumble from rick's chest and he gently lifts your hips to remove his fingers and lower you onto his cock. you whine at the blunt intrusion but the more you grind your hips down into him, the better it feels, especially once you find a good rhythm. you're pretty sure rick's dick is way bigger than it should be but that doesn't stop you from letting him stuff you whenever you two get the chance to sneak away. it was even more rare to find the time for all three of you to be together like this. speaking of, daryl is standing on your side, dick in hand now that it's been freed from the confine of his pants, looking down at you with darkened eyes.

"wanna finish me off, baby?" he mocks and you roll your eyes, opening your mouth for him as rick bucks into you.

he gladly accepts and just like that, you can feel rick smirking as he fucks into you, barely letting you hold on as he drags your hips up and down. he hijacked your smoke session and it ended just the way he wanted. typical.

even more typical when he makes you switch positions so he can finish in your mouth, not taking his eyes off you while daryl lines himself up with your sopping entrance. rick couldn't help but twitch in your mouth watching how you reacted to daryl's cock in your freshly pounded pussy. his face tenses as he nears his orgasm, hands in your soft tousled hair while you take him in your throat so well. he's ready to just let go, he knows you can handle it, after all he knows you can get off more than a bottle cap with your mouth.

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existentialgaybirdnerd · 5 months ago

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Stealth in All Forms

Ghost is a stealthy man.

He can blend into the shadows quickly, and use them to his advantage to be anywhere he wants to be. He's quick and silent.

This is the most known fact about him.

What isn't known is that he can use his stealth in more ways than just blending in with others or the shadows.

What no one sees, is that on leave, Ghost will wear weird outfits and stand out as much as possible, simply because when someone looks and acts like they don't belong there, like they're from another planet, like they're a tourist, they get ignored. Looked over. They blend in by standing out.

Soap finds this out the hard way.

The first time Johnny goes home with Simon, he sees a side of his partner he never would have put near his vision of Simon "Ghost" Riley.

They get ready to go shopping for groceries, having arrived at the Manchester flat late last night and finding it devoid of anything due to his long absence from the place.

While getting ready, and waiting for Simon to get ready in his usual black-on-black with a balaclava, Johnny wanders around the home. Finding comfy afghan throws on the couch and armchair, red blackout curtains on every large window and sliding glass door, and even a funky tie-dye shower curtain in the bathroom with a matching bathmat. Ok, so his partner likes some color outside of his job, noted.

What he does not expect is for his boyfriend to come out of the room with a black baseball cap with a cartoon ghost on it, a tight red Henley t-shirt, faded blue bootcut jeans, the ugliest pair of pink Crocs he thinks he's ever seen, and no facemask in sight.

While he takes the time to catch his breath after laughing so hard in surprise that his knees nearly give out, Simon grabs his wallet, keys, and a backpack filled with produce bags.

With the glare he receives right as he's about to comment, Johnny wisely shuts up and simply kisses Simon on the nose as they exit the flat.

They walk hand-in-hand for a few blocks, no words coming to mind as they take in the cool weather and quiet within their own little bubble of space.

This bubble pops when they hear a woman yelling at someone to let her go, she didn't do anything wrong.

Simon's steps become rushed as they head towards the noise, Johnny following in his wake as they round the corner to see two police leering at a woman in front of a small cafe, one holding her right arm with one hand and a half-full cup of coffee in the other, puddle near his feet and splashes on the woman's shoes.

Without warning, Simon hands Johnny the backpack, grunts "Watch this," and goes over to the confrontation in quick strides, leaving his very confused partner behind.

On the way, he grabs a cup of coffee from another patron, who doesn't notice due to watching the confrontation behind their table.

Walking up to the trio, Simon gets out his phone and pretends to speak into it in a heavy American accent, one that would blend in with a fraternity party, voice higher pitched than he would normally speak in.

When he gets there, he bumps into the cop not holding the woman, spilling the hot coffee all over his neck and back, splashing a little onto the other cop during the "accident."

As he profusely apologizes and stutters his way through an attempt at an explanation, he puts his phone in his back pocket, spills more coffee on the other cop who had let go of the woman, pretends to try to wipe it off both of them only to spill more and hand the now empty cup to the woman.

As he tries to "wipe off" the first cop he spilled coffee on, he sticks his foot out to trip the other one as he takes a step forward to stop the havoc, ending in him going to "help" him up, only to accidentally "bump" both of their heads into a nearby stair railing leading to the raised coffee shop.

By this point he's put himself between the cops and the woman, hiding her with his height as he apologizes profusely and looks to be on the verge of tears, pouting as the cops call him a blundering fool and tell him to leave them alone "[they] don't need help."

As the cops leave, complaining about how the cafe didn't get their order right and then suddenly they're drenched in coffee, Johnny walks up to Simon in awe and the woman starts asking if he's ok after the bump on his head.

As she asks this, Johnny starts laughing incredulously. At the weird look he gets from her, he just gestures to Simon.

"He didn't get a drop of coffee on him, is all, I doubt he actually hit his head." This is supported by Simon grinning slightly and looking away with a nod.

At the dumbstruck look on the woman's face, Simon decides to get out of there as soon as possible, handing her money to replace the coffee he took from the other person, apologizes to that patron, and grabs Johnny's arm to drag him to the grocery store.

One quick shopping trip later, Johnny demands an explanation for what that was and gets told that stealth comes in all sorts of forms.

Gaz doesn't believe him when he recounts the story back on base 3 weeks later. Price just looks resigned.

Here you go @spottlessspectre

Hope you like it lmao.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty ghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #call of duty #john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty price #snippet #yes i did base this scene off of tasm where peter bumbles security for gwen #birdnerd ideas

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cliophilyra · 2 months ago

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when you're tastin' what he's drinkin' (are you thinkin' 'bout me?)

I went and did a jealous Sal past-saltommy thing. I hope you like it! Thank you to everyone on discord for being awesome 🫶

He’s not really looking at the crowd when he turns away from the bar. He’s got drinks in both hands, raising them over his head because the place is elbow to elbow right now and he’s just focused on getting back to the booth without spilling the beer that took him twenty minutes to get. It’s Friday night, which doesn’t always mean as much in a badge and ladder bar where not everyone gets their weekends at the weekend, but tonight it definitely seems to mean something.

His team are at their usual table. He’ll get the first round like he always does, hang out for an acceptable amount of time then bail so they can complain about the boss if they want to. Sometimes he kind of misses just being one of the team, one of the ones getting to do the complaining, which is ironic after he spent so long chasing this job.

He’s not even the one who notices first. “Sal!” The voice is right by his ear and his head snaps around so fast he’s amazed he doesn’t pull something. Tommy is next to him, holding two beers in his hand as he steps away from the bar. Sal’s eyes widen as he takes him in as best he can in the crush. He looks so good; dark jeans, grey henley with the buttons undone, tight sleeves pushed up, hugging his biceps and forearms. His curls are freer than usual, a little more grey flecked in with the soft brown now. The laugh lines around his eyes are deeper. Something in Sal’s stomach twists just looking at him. His fingers twitch against the cold glass, wanting to reach out.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he says, aiming for lightness. “Don’t see Harbour in here much.”

“Not with them tonight,” Tommy jerks his thumb back towards a table on the other side of the bar. “I’m with the guys from the 118 would you believe.”

Sal raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” He did not expect that. “Havin’ a reunion? My invite get lost in the mail?” He means it as a joke but he hears the note of bitterness he didn’t mean to show.

(Read more below or on AO3)

Tommy’s gaze slides away from his for a split second, darting over to the table. Sal follows his look and sees Hen and Howie and the new guys he knows only by reputation, laughing amongst themselves.

“Nope, not a reunion. Well not an official one anyway,” Tommy says with a shrug. He looks back at him and Sal catches his glance dart down to his hand and the ring he’s not wearing. “You look good,” Tommy says after a moment and Sal almost laughs out loud. “How’s the 122? Heard you made Captain? Congrats man.”

Sal nods and clears his throat. “Yeah thanks, ‘bout fucking time.” He grins and takes a mouthful of one of the beers in his hands because words are crowding up against his lips and he can’t say any of them. His hand only shakes a bit.

Tommy grins. “It’s good to see you Sal,” he says, a bit softer. He reaches out and claps a hand on his shoulder. The warmth bleeding through his t-shirt takes Sal by surprise. He looks down at Tommy’s big hand on his arm and his throat is suddenly parched despite the beer. For a moment everything in his world zeroes down to that touch and the memory of the last time he felt those rough fingers on his shoulder and sliding up his neck. How he hadn’t known then that it was the last time.

Tommy’s fingers twitch and jump away, as if Sal’s arm is scalding, which is ironic because to him it feels like ice the moment Tommy’s hand leaves his shoulder.

“Yeah you too,” Sal says roughly.

Tommy nods. “You…uh…you guys have a good night,” he says.

Sal nods back and presses his lips into a tight smile, doesn’t trust himself to say anything more.

Tommy smiles back and walks away to the table across the bar. Sal stands frozen in place and watches him go until the crowd swallows him up.

Sal walks back to the table where the rest of the 122 are chatting, telling the same old war stories. He smiles distantly, hands people their drinks, sits down at the edge of the booth and lets the idle chatter wash over him, chasing beer with whiskey and more whiskey and drifting until he’s somewhere he hasn’t been in a long time and all the memories are right there waiting, just under the surface. He’s on his knees in the showers with water running down his face and the salty warmth of Tommy’s cock on his tongue; moaning into Tommy’s mouth in the locker room as he fucks into that huge hand; in a soft bed, leaning over that solid muscular body, his hands gripping thick thighs as he buries his cock inside him and leans forward to bury his tongue in his mouth, moaning against his lips. He can almost feel Tommy’s hands running up his back, digging into his muscles as he pants against his sweat-soaked skin; wrapped around him, holding him against his chest in the warm morning sunlight that spills over his bed. He closes his eyes for a second against the ache in his chest and when he opens them the crowd has miraculously parted like he’s the Moses of drunken firefighters, giving him a clear view right to the table where the 118 sit, and to Tommy with his head thrown back mid-laugh, nose wrinkling in the way that makes Sal smile despite himself.

Sal half rises from his seat, body drawn forward before his brain is even consulted. Tommy has started to get up too, lowering his head as he does so to speak to the man next to him. The other man puts his beer down and looks up. Sal recognises Evan Buckley - who according to the grapevine is second only to Chim in the disaster-prone stakes - just as the kid gives Tommy a blinding smile that lights up his whole face, and then kisses him. On the lips. In public. In a fucking crappy badge and ladder bar on a packed Friday night.

Sal’s whole world grinds to a halt.

Tommy is kissing him back and the rest of the table are hooting at them and Howie is throwing peanuts, but there’s no malice behind their faux-grimaces and teasing eye-rolls. It’s no different to how it would have been back in the day if he’d kissed a woman at the bar. Tommy grins as he pulls back from Buckley’s lips and shakes his head with a laugh as he walks off towards the mens room. Sal mutters something about hitting the head and follows Tommy without even thinking about what he plans to do, driven by fury and a pain like a fire burning a hole through his chest.

He finds him in the corridor that leads to the mens room, leaning against the wall as he waits for the always busy bathroom. The fire door stands open next to him, letting in the warm night air that smells of Jacaranda blossoms and trash cans. Sal walks up to him, grabs his wrist, drags him out into the parking lot and shoves him against a wall.

Tommy stumbles, yelping in surprise. “What the fuck?” He exclaims, yanking his hand back.

Sal grabs his t-shirt instead and crowds against him, until their lips are millimetres apart. He can smell the bitter hoppy scent of the beer on Tommy’s lips. Tommy’s eyes widen. “Do you remember?” Sal asks. “You remember, baby? When you’re stickin’ your tongue down his throat? D’ you taste me?”

“Fuck Sal you’re drunk,” Tommy hisses.

“How ‘bout when you suck him off?” Sal bites out, furious and bitter. The emotions crawling up his spine, down his fingers, tangling around his tongue are nothing he’s ever felt on a conscious level before. Hate and rage and scouring pain. “He taste as good as me? You love his cock as much as you loved mine?” He whispers harshly, “Remember how you used to beg for it? Beg me to make you choke on it?” Tommy’s breath is coming in short pants against his face. “Has he fucked you on that asshole Nash’s desk? Does he make you scream his fuckin’ name Tommy? Make you cum all over yourself? All over him? Does he let you cum on that pretty face? Fill up that pouty little mouth?”

Tommy lets out a groan, eyes flickering closed for a moment, then his hands are on Sal’s arms and he’s shoving him away. Sal stumbles back, head spinning. They stare at each other in silence for a moment, still panting for breath.

“What the fuck are you doing Sal?” Tommy asks after a second. His voice sounds hoarse and Sal is bitterly pleased as he watches Tommy struggle to regain his control. ‘What the fuck was that about?” Tommy’s expression is somewhere between fury and pity and it’s that last one that hurts.

Sal shudders. He doesn’t know what that was about. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just wants…he wants but he’s afraid so instead he just hurts and he wants Tommy to hurt too. Wants to know it was…something.

“Fuck!” Sal swears, spinning on his heel, kicking at the gravel under his feet. He knows he fucked up. Again. Another one in a long line of fuck ups. His head is still spinning and he stumbles slightly as he turns again.

“Does he hold you when you’ve had a shit day?” he asks quietly. “Does he make you laugh when you’re bein’ a moody asshole?” He stops, his throat suddenly burns and his chest isn’t working quite right. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “I hope he does.”

Tommy’s face softens and Sal can’t meet his eyes. Tommy pushes away from the wall and walks up to him, runs a thumb over his cheekbone then leans in and wraps his arms around him. Sal chokes against his shoulder and hugs him back, fisting his hands in the back of his shirt.

“Fuck I miss you so much baby,” he says, barely audible.

Tommy sighs and rubs his hand over the back of his head, smoothing his hair. Sal closes his eyes and lets himself feel five years of regret and anger and self-loathing boil over and run down his face. All the blame he has heaped on himself. Telling himself if only. If only. If only he was brave. Not just reckless, daring, heroic - brave where it matters.

“I’m sorry Sal, I’m so sorry sweetheart,” Tommy murmurs and something cracks in Sal’s chest. Some light radiating at the edges. He swallows hard.

“Wasn’t your fault baby,” he says, and he takes a deep breath because he knows that’s true and so is this. “Wasn’t my fault either.”

Tommy nods and squeezes him harder against his chest. “It was never your fault. I just wasn’t…we weren’t there yet.”

“You there now though?”

Tommy laughs, a huff of air against Sal’s shoulder. “I’m think I’m getting there.”

“Good. Got any directions for me?”

Tommy laughs.

Sal smiles and thinks maybe he can see light up ahead.

#saltommy #bucktommy #past saltommy #tommy kinard #sal deluca #evan buckley #911 abc #bucktommy fic #saltommy fic

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apocalypseornaw · 1 year ago

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Don't Blame Me (Pt 4/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Lucifer loyalists find you. What better way to hurt both Crowley and the Winchesters?

Warnings: cursing, violence

The funny thing about Dean knowing you were alive was that you'd allowed yourself that fleeting moment to remember. To remember the way he used to hold you, the way his lips and hands felt on your body, the way it felt the first time he'd ever told you he loved you and how your heart had nearly burst out your chest when he slipped that ring onto your finger.

For years you'd buried those memories. It wasn't easy for a demon to get drunk but you'd managed it a few times just to quiet the echo in your chest that Dean still managed to inhabit no matter how twisted your soul now was.

—-----------

You looked around at the cabin and couldn't help but laugh, a demon hiding out in the woods. Your dresser consisted of jeans, t shirts,henleys and flannels (much to Crowley's dismay but he refused to try to force you to dress the way most of his regime did, it helped to mark you as different anyways, the hunter turned demon that Crowley used to keep them in line)

You had the soul of a demon and the heart of a hunter. You leaned your head back against the wall where you sat on the kitchen floor. Enough liquor bottles to drown an elephant laid empty across the floor but you barely felt a buzz.

Your fingers slipped down under the neck of your shirt, absent-mindedly tracing the anti possession tattoo that adorned your skin. "I just need to know you're safe when I'm not with you" a humorless laugh escaped your lips as you launched a bottle across the room where it shattered when it hit the wall causing a spray of glass to go everywhere. “Lots of good that did”

You looked down at the broken glass and knew if you ran your finger along it the cut would heal faster than the blood could drip to the floor. You wanted to go after Crowley, the thought of the shock that would be on his face if you strolled into the throne room and knocked him off of it had kept you sane. The only thing is that you knew if you went after him, meaning to inflict pain (which you and him both knew you were capable of) that he'd get Sam and Dean there and walking into Crowley's throne room meant walking into his wards as well.

You pushed yourself to your feet with a sigh and walked off to the small bed that sat in the corner of the room. It'd taken you months to figure out how to sleep, you didn't need to but you could and at the moment you needed an escape from consciousness.

You weren't sure what had woke you up at first. That was until you felt it, other demons and they were closing in fast on you. They weren't marked as Crowley's either.

You heard a light whimper and went to the window to see Juliette sitting just under it. She'd been trying to warn you. She was a loyal hound, if you ordered her to she'd fight but there were too many. If they weren't Crowley's it was those still loyal to Lucifer that meant they weren't coming to kill you. They'd try to take you which meant they'd be coming after Crowley, possibly Dean and Sam next.

You shook your head at her “Go to Crowley” she growled then, barely a showing of teeth which you knew was her way of arguing. You let your eyes slip to black and put every bit of power you had into your voice when you spoke “I ORDER YOU. GO TO CROWLEY NOW”

She snarled at you but turned to run off through the woods. You watched her go then rotated your neck in a tight circle. If they wanted a fight they damn sure were gonna get one.

Witches, traffic cams, satellite footage. Dean had exhausted ways to try to find you. He was sitting at the table in the kitchen of the bunker, he felt empty. The knowledge of what you'd endured for him, along with the knowledge that you'd thought he'd prefer you dead then how you were. Hell he'd take black eyes to have you back.

Crowley was right, the look in your eyes when you'd said “Dean, it's me” it was you. No matter what had happened to you, how twisted your insides were, the woman he loved was alive and he wasn't going to stop until he found you. Guilt was gnawing at his stomach, the memories of one night stands flashing through his head while you were still out there in the world.

—----------

He shoved his coffee cup away from him a little too hard and it fell to the floor in a shatter of glass and hot liquid. “Shit” he cursed about the time Sam walked into the room.

Sam didn't ask, he just squatted down and started picking up the broken pieces of the cup. “I'll get it Sammy” He spoke as he got to his feet and walked around the table. Sam shook his head “I got it”

“Let me help” Dean pushed and Sam tossed the pieces of the cup down to glare at him before standing to his full height “I said I got it. Dean believe it or not this is fucking with my head too. Yeah you loved her but she was my best friend. It's killing me not being able to find her, to bring her home. We've got the cure but how many years too late? And if she agrees to it can I really do something that could kill her? I'm trying to be there for you, to help you but don't ask me to be idle either please”

Dean nodded slowly, he hadn't thought about Sam in this. You two had always been close, you'd supported him going to Stanford and had helped him through the grief of losing Jess. “I'm sorry man” “It's fine” before either of them could say anything else Dean's phone rang.

Sam watched him as he snatched the phone off the table and nearly growled when he answered it “What the fuck do you want Crowley?” “Lower the warding on your batcave” “What? Why?” “A few Lucifer loyalist managed to get past the idiots that formerly worked for me and they've went after Y/N”

Dean walked into the cabin behind Crowley and stopped in his tracks. It looked like a damn massacre had happened. Blood splattered the walls and two demons laid dead. “How the fuck did they find her?” He asked, taking in the scene before him.

“She warded herself with the help of a coven she found in New Zealand. Protected her from being summoned but it messed with the integrity of my own wards on her” Crowley explained. “You warded her?” Sam asked and Crowley nodded “Angels? Other demons? Same reason Juliette took a liking to her”

Dean felt his blood boiling as he stared at Crowley “If she matters to you so much why not let me know sooner” he had to give it to Crowley he didn't flinch as he said “Because she made me promise not to. She was terrified you'd hate her. I believe her words were better mourned and loved. Now do you want to shove the masculinity down a notch and get her back or what?”

@starkleila @lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dont blame me mini series

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middleearthpixie · 4 months ago

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The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Four

Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.

War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.8k

Read on AO3

Sunlight streamed in through the canopy and bounced across the bed to hit Thorin square in the face, waking him far earlier than he wished to be woken. He regretted opening his eyes as soon as he did so, and brought up a hand to shade them as he rolled onto his side to offer his back to the offending light.

His bed was soft and comfortable, he was cozy and snug beneath smooth linens and warm quilts. But despite the comfort and coziness, Thorin’s mood wasn't a good one. He’d hoped that the previous evening would have ended with him realizing what a mistake he’d made in fighting Dís about marrying Princess Eirlys.

However, after having met her, he was convinced their union would be doomed from the start. He’d expected her to be demure and reserved, to by shy and blush when she met his gaze.

In short, he’d expected her to be a very different person from the one she was in actuality.

Perhaps it was foolish of him to assume how she would behave. After all, her father was not the most diplomatic of men, so why should she be? He was a fool to think she was anything other than the brash, lippy woman who seemed to speak her mind without hesitation.

Going back to sleep was impossible. His mind whirled too much for him to even attempt to sleep. So, with a sigh of irritation, he kicked back the linens and sat up, then slid to the edge of the bed to rise.

The room was chilly, biting into his bared skin as he stood, then padded to his trunk, where he pulled out fresh small clothes, trousers, and a heavy dark gray henley. He was just buttoning his trousers when there came a knock at the door.

“Who goes?”

“It’s me, Thorin.”

His henley in his hand, he padded across the room to pull open the door. “Dís? What’re you doing up at this hour?”

“Same as you, I’d imagine. The sunlight doesn’t often stream into my chambers back home.”

He smiled despite his heavy mood. “You would be correct. I don't even know what time it is.”

“Not even seven, I think. May I come in?”

He stepped aside. “Of course.”

She swept by him and as he tugged the henley over his head, she said, “Last eve did not quite go how we thought it might, did it?”

“And how did you think it would go?”

“Well, I thought the princess would come back out onto the dance floor.”

He emerged from the neck hole of his shirt, frowning as he moved to lace the front. “Why? Dís, I think you expect too much, too quickly.”

“Well, she certainly didn't look happy when she left the great hall.” She offered up a long look. “Why might that be?”

“Why are you asking me? I assure you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Thorin.”

“What?” He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“She seemed all too happy to let me step in.”

“As I said,” he sank onto the edge of the bed to tug on his hose, and then boots, “you expect too much, too quickly. She is no happier about this marriage than I am.”

“Well, with the way you brood, I can hardly fault her.”

He looked up. “What is that supposed to mean? Dís, I don't know this woman. And yet you think what? We should have been sneaking off to find a darkened corner?”

She gave him a long look, then rolled her eyes. “There is a happy medium, you know. Something in between mortal enemies and aroused lovers.”

“There is no happy medium, as there is nothing there at all. I’ve only just met her, remember.” He finished tugging on his first boot, then reached for the second boot. “I know her name and that she says what she thinks and not much else.”

“Oh, from your tone, I gather you do not like what she thinks?”

“I do not care for what she thinks, no.”

“And what does she think?”

He didn't answer, but finished pulling on his boot, then rose. Dís stared balefully up at him, arms folded across her chest. “Thorin? What did she say that was so unacceptable to you?”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Thorin.”

“No, Dís. This was a terrible idea and we should not have come here. I should never have agreed to this and I am sorry that I did.”

With that, he turned and thumped out onto the terrace, where he braced his hands upon the railing and drew in a deep lungful of crisp, wintry air. There was no way to explain to his sister what an ass he’d made of himself by allowing himself to be overheard by Eirlys.

But Dís, being Dís, did not take the hint and followed him out, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. “Thorin, what happened?”

He ignored her, staring out at the trees and foliage, all dusted with a layer of snow. Snow sparkled across the forest floor, where a path wound away from his terrace, and into the woods. Perhaps a walk through those woods would do him good, would help clear his head some, for he rarely had a chance to be alone in Erebor and even when he did, completely getting away from everyone often proved difficult, as it meant either crossing the plains to Dale, or going up behind the mountain, where Ravenhill was, and while he didn't mind being in Dale, the latter was also to be avoided if at all possible.

“Thorin?” Her hand came to rest on his forearm. “What happened?”

“It’s none of your concern, little sister.” He slowly turned toward her. “So, let the matter drop.”

Her brow furrowed. “Did the princess insult you? Did Thranduíl?”

His irritation bubbled over and he snapped, “I told you to let the bloody matter drop, and I meant it! Now, if you’d not mind, I think I wish to be alone.”

He didn't wait for her to reply, nor did he think twice about the hurt that swept across her face, but instead swept past her to step down from the terrace and onto the path that wound deeper into the forest.

He didn't know where the path led to, but at that moment, he didn't much care. The last thing he wanted was yet another lecture from his sister. Dís meant well. She always meant well. But she always meddled and always overstepped and rarely realized it until he pointed it out. It aggravated him each time, but today he’d had enough.

The blanket of snow muffled his footsteps, muffled the sounds of the forest around him. Every now and again, white powder filtered down through the treetops and more than once, a snowy owl swept overhead or a deer bounded across the path. The woods were peaceful. Tranquil. Perfect for thinking.

However, the way the path wound up and down and around meant that it didn't take much or very long for him to lose his bearings. In his irritation at Dís, he’d forgotten that one simple rule in regards to Mirkwood—it could and did muddle one’s mind and toss their bearings if one failed to pay attention to their surroundings.

In short, he was lost.

A muttered oath rose to his lips as he turned about to first his left, than his right, only to see that everything looked the same. Each tree looked identical to the other, and so did the bushes and even the path looked odd. Snow began falling once more, and it didn't take long for his tracks to be obliterated by it. Still, he turned to try to follow the path back, only it seemed to him that it no longer ran in an east/west direction but now he felt as if he moved south. Or perhaps north. Without being able to see the sun, he had no idea which way was the right one.

Still, he plodded on. Snow fell more heavily now, the gray skies darker by the minute. The temperature dropped just as quickly, and since he wore only his clothes and no outer garments, the chill settled into his body until he shivered even as he moved.

How could it grow so dark when it was midmorning at the latest? He’d forgotten how Mirkwood could bend time until it meant nothing. Had forgotten how it liked to play games with one’s mind over all.

He wrapped his arms about himself as he stopped once more to look about. For all the good it did. If anything, he thought he might be even more lost now.

“Wonderful.”

Branches crackled around him. The hair along the back of his neck prickled. He whipped about to glare into the shadows. “Who goes?”

No response.

The wind picked up to whip through the treetops, sending even more snow swirling about him. He felt very much as if he’d gotten trapped inside a snow globe, only this was far more disorienting. His stomach roiled as if the ground rose and fell beneath his feet. Dizziness set it, slowly at first, but it took almost no time before the entire world seemed to spin around him.

He reached for something—anything—upon which to steady himself, but as he did, he stumbled. He swung out his hand to grasp whatever he could reach as his head spun with more force now and the terrible feeling that he was about to be sick surged through him.

The arrow came from nowhere. Whistled by the left side of his head, splitting the spindly tree around whose trunk he’d wrapped his hand. A sharp sting rose in its wake, along his cheek, grazing the top of his ear to knock the heavy silver ear cuff he wore to the ground with a soft tink.

He staggered back, reaching for the sword that he’d actually left in his chambers, and let out a loud oath as he realized he’d foolishly stormed off unarmed.

Another arrow split the air, only this time, he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and as he turned, the flash became a person who, with a flick of a dagger blade, sent the arrow careening off to Thorin’s left.

“Are you mad or just a fool?”

He stared at Eirlys, who now stood before him, tucking a silver-bladed dagger back into its sheath. Unlike him, she was dressed for the wintry weather, in heavy-looking trousers and tunic and thick, fur-lined boots. Her white blonde hair had been drawn back into a heavy braid that fell to her hips and at the whistle of yet another arrow, she spun about with lightning-quick reflexes to knock it off its trajectory with the blade she’d just re-sheathed. Her movements were fluid and fast, as if she knew exactly where the next arrow would come from.

“Come with me.” She grabbed him by the wrist and jerked him forward, out of his stupor, dragging him behind her deeper into the forest. “We need to go. Now.”

“Where are you going?” He tried to tug his arm free, to tug her in the opposite direction, but her grip was like iron and not so easily broken. “The path is that way, isn’t it?”

“No.” She didn't look back at him, nor did she slow down. “It is this way and you were a terrific fool to go wandering off as if you know these lands. You’ve been here but twice and still haven’t learned, have you?”

That rankled him, as did her assessment of him as a fool, no matter how right she was. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are fortunate your sister knows you’re a dolt at times. One of those arrows might have found you, and then where would you be. Now, the guard has been dispatched and I am to bring you back to the palace, but if you’d rather die out here…”

Embarrassment seared him from head to toe. “Lead the way.”

“I thought I was.”

He fell silent, his gut churning as she led him back down a path that showed itself so clearly now, he couldn't believe he’d gotten lost and wandered so far away from it. He thought about tugging free of her grasp, but then thought better of it, knowing that if he did, the path would most likely vanish on him once more.

“You know where those arrows came from?”

“I do, I think.” The covered walkway came into view and Eirlys slowed her stride, then turned to face him. “Orcs have been testing our boundaries, coming a bit closer each time.”

He turned to look down the way they’d come. “Orcs? Here?”

“They’ve been growing bolder of late. It’s part of the reason my father is so eager to marry me off to you. He fears they’ll grow brazen enough to simply storm our borders and swarm the palace.” A hint of resignation crept into her voice. “And he will not allow me to face them, as Legolas does.”

“And you think you could do so?”

“Of course I could.” She gestured to the dagger still in her hand. “I’ve been trained with both bow and steel and am just as skilled as my brother.”

“That’s good to know,” he replied softly, carefully drawing his wrist from her grasp, “for then I will not have to worry about you being able to defend yourself, should the need ever arise.”

“As if you would worry.”

With that parting shot, she turned and started back toward the palace, as he called after her, “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

She stopped once more, slowly pivoting to meet his gaze again. “You would?”

“Of course I would.” He closed the distance between them. “I am not a monster, you know.”

“Well, of course you aren’t. To suggest otherwise would be silly.” She cast her gaze downward for a moment, but then brought it back to meet his. “But you don't want this marriage.”

As her eyes met his, he was temporarily lost for words, for he’d never seen eyes as blue as hers. And when he remembered was words were, he struggled to make his voice louder than a whisper, failing as he murmured, “It isn’t personal.”

“Even so…” She held his gaze.

“I would still not want to see any harm befall you, Princess.”

“Then it must ease your mind to know I’m quite capable of defending myself, as you said.”

He didn't say anything at first, but instead just gazed down at her as the maddest urge to curve his hand against her cheek, to see if her pale, smooth skin was as soft as it looked surged through him. Mirkwood casting its spell once again, no doubt, but the air crackled around them as she held his gaze, her eyes seemingly softer with each passing moment. His heartbeat sped up, but not in the same way as it had when he’d realized he’d gotten himself lost. No, this and the heat that seemed to swell within him had everything to do with the way she looked at him and with the sudden need to lean in and kiss her.

“There you are! Where did you find him, Princess Eirlys?”

Thorin started, but kept himself from leaping away from her as Dís came hurrying down the path toward them. A hint of color rose along Eirlys’ high cheekbones, but it was gone so quickly, he thought he must have imagined it.

“I found him on the northeastern border. Just as the orc pack found him.”

Dis’ eyes widened. “Orcs?”

Thorin sighed softly. “I was an idiot for wandering off the path as I did. I should have remained close. A mistake I’ll not repeat, I assure you.”

“I think you owe the princess a show of gratitude as well, Thorin, since she went after you.”

He nodded, turning to smile at Eirlys, whose eyes were no longer so soft. “I do thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t do it again.”

With that, she turned and hurried off, leaving him there with a puzzled-looking Dís, who peered up at him. “Did something happen out there?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Only that she saved my sorry skin.”

“Really?”An impish smile accompanied her words. “Because I almost feel as if I’d interrupted a moment.”

“Well, worry not, because you did no such thing.” he told her, brushing by her. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am nearly frozen through and wish only go indoors and warm up by the fire.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” He strode back to his chambers, fighting to keep his mind from wandering back to that moment in the woods, when all he wanted was to kiss Eirlys of Mirkwood.

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lovewriting-5 · 1 year ago

Text

Amoreena

Elton’s music video production company sent a car to our flat. He had requested that Taron and I record a music video together. I wore a gray Henley tank top with denim capris and black converse. Taron wore a white t-shirt, faded jeans and white shoes. We stood in front of the full length mirror, Taron placed a hand on my right hip as I wrapped my left arm around his waist. I placed my hand on his chest as he held his phone in his left hand. We both smile as he takes a picture.

The car pulls up outside our flat. I grab my phone and purse. Taron places his phone in his pocket and grabs the set of keys. We grabbed our luggage and backpacks then placed them in the trunk of the car. We climbed in the backseat. The driver pulls away from the curb and makes his way to the location. Taron pulls out his phone and turns on camera mode. He begins “Exciting day today!” He moves the camera onto me, asks “What is going on today?” I say with a giant smile, “We are filming a video for the song Amoreena.” Taron then moves into view, says “Knowing the lyrics, you will get why I’m very excited.” then sticks his tongue out. I add while placing a hand on the right side of his jaw, “Elton requested specifically that the two of us do it.” He adds “Thank you Elton!” I give a kiss to the camera.

The driver eventually pulls up to a cabin that is going to be used as a set and housing for the crew. We grab our luggage and backpacks, thank the driver and make our way up the gravel walkway. When we stepped in the door, we were informed that once everyone is settled the director will go over the plan for the video shoot. Everyone gets rooms figured out and luggage placed in them.

Everyone spent a lot of the time relaxing and chatting. After hours passed, everyone gathered on the back porch with drinks cause it was a pleasant evening. Taron and I sat on one end of the couch and one of the crew members joined us. Taron draped his left arm on the back of it and I leaned into him. Another crew member passed out binders filled with pages of the schedule and shot lists. Taron and I shared one since all of our scenes are together. Before getting started the director informed us that Elton will be arriving for the shoot.

The director asked everyone to flip open to the first page. I took a sip of my drink when he began going through the pages. Once he went through all the pages, one by one and two by two people started making their way to bed.

Eventually, Taron and I were left by ourselves outside on the sofa. He places his lips on my neck just below my left ear. I tilt my head to the right to give him more access. He pulls away as I turn to face him and place my lips against his. As the kiss gets deeper and deeper, we move to against the arm rest where he is on top of me. After some time, he pushes himself up a little above me as my hands stay on his back. He looks at me and smiles then reconnects the kiss. Taron moves to my chest, I say breathlessly “We should…probably get…going to bed.” He stops, pushes himself up a little and says breathlessly, “I guess…you’re right…we got…an early…day tomorrow.” We sit up and readjust our clothing. Taron stands up, puts his hands behind him and I grab them. We make our way to our room and get ready for bed. Once under the covers, we didn’t go to bed right away.

The next morning, everyone got up really early. We loaded up all the equipment and anything that was needed for the shoot. Once everyone and everything was packed into cars, we took off. Everyone drove to an open field, the light was still in the golden hour. Everyone started unpacking cars and placing equipment where needed from their notes.

A female team from the wardrobe department showed me the sundress they picked out for me to wear. It was mid-thigh, yellow with a white floral print and spaghetti straps. They also gave me strappy sandals to match. The team stood around one of the cars as protection holding up towels over the windows so I can change. Taron was in another car changing as well. We both stepped out of the cars at about the same time. He says “Babe, you look beautiful.” I saw that Taron was wearing dark grey textured suit pants, a white button up shirt and suspenders. He was also wearing white tennis shoes. My jaw dropped when I saw him. He asks “What?” I tell him “You look very handsome.” He gives a shy smile.

We were then escorted to a tent being used for hair and makeup. The team gives me a natural makeup look and gives my hair beach waves. All they do to Taron is apply little makeup. We step out of the tent and everyone was ready for us. I intertwine my fingers with Taron’s and place my left hand on his forearm. We were escorted to where the camera stood along with the director and production crew.

They were standing in the middle of the field. The director explains the shot for us and we get in our positions. The director shouts “ACTION!” Taron begins walking toward the camera singing Lately I’ve been thinking/How much I miss my lady/Amoreena’ in a cornfield/Brightenin’ the day break/Livin’ like a lusty flower… The director motioned to me and I run behind Taron with a smile on my face and grab his left arm and pull him with me. He chases me and eventually catches me. He continues Runnin’ through the grass for hours… Taron places his hands on my waist and lifts me up. I place my hands on his shoulders as he lowers me. His arms then go around my waist as he lifts and spins. The director shouts “HOLD!” We move to the next shot real quick which was Taron and I laying on the ground. I lay on the ground as he lays on top of me. I get a good grip around the back of his shoulders then the director goes back, shouts “ACTION!” Taron and I roll a few times as the words Rollin’ through the hay, oh/Like a puppy, child We ended with him back on top of me, he then kisses me. Director shouts “CUT!” We stop. Taron stands up and then helps me up. We brush off our clothes.

The director tells us “Nicely done. It looks really good, come take a look.” Taron and I go over to the monitors. He stands close behind with little space in between. We watched the footage and were happy with it. Someone from the crew shouted “Elton is here!” Everyone cheered.

Elton’s car pulled up and everyone gathered to greet him. Taron and I stood back a little to wait. Elton steps out saying “Hello.” Everyone at the same time, said “Hi.” He asks “Where are my two stars?” My fingers are intertwined with Taron’s as we made our way through the crowd. Once up front, I wave and say “Hi Elton.” He says “There they are.” I let go of Taron’s hand as Elton gives us both a hug and kiss on each cheek. The director says “Elton, we just finished the first set of shots. If you want to take a look?” Elton hooks his arms around Taron and mine’s as we are lead to a tent with another set of monitors.

We watch the footage and when it finished Elton said “Perfect! This is why I chose you two.” Taron wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him. He then kisses my right temple. Elton then had a thought, “Actually one thought…” Everyone listened. He continues “Can we get a shot of a sunrise over a cornfield?” The production manager says “We will make a note of that and get on that.” Elton then says “I don’t think I have any other notes.” I wrap my arms around Taron’s waist and move myself to face him. I pull him close to me and whisper in his left ear, “Can you wear this outfit more? Cause it’s kind of turning me on.” He then whispers in my right ear, “If only you keep this sundress? Cause I enjoyed rolling in the grass with you.”

Everyone works on packing things up back into the cars. When I go change out of the dress, I ask “Is it possible to get a dress very similar to this one?” One of the women asked, “Taron like it?” I feel my face get hot as I nod and tell her “Yes.” She tells me “We for sure can.” I say “Thank you.”

When I met back up with Taron, I wrapped my right arm around his waist and told him “They told me that they will get me a dress similar to that one.” Taron says “Yeah.” We had a few hours until our next shot. We joined Elton and the crew for some lunch. Everyone caught up with Elton and checking out the location. I even saw some people lay in the grass for a nap.

I talked with Elton for a little bit and we made plans to spend time together when the shoot is over. Some of the crew and I went for a walk. We found some pretty flowers and animals. At one point, Taron held his hand out to me as I intertwine my fingers with his, he led us to an area away from everyone else.

I face him and hold a hand in front of my face to block the sun. I ask “Why did you bring me here?” He says as he takes a step closer, “I wanted a little bit of time where it’s just us…alone.” I step closer, wrap my arms around the back of his neck and squint. I ask “What did you have in mind?” He wraps his arms around my waist and says an inch from my mouth, “This.”

Taron places his lips against mine. My tongue is against the back of my bottom teeth as his touches mine. It’s like foreplay and then they fight for dominance. He lightly loosens his arms and slides his hands under the hem of my tank so he is touching my bare skin. I pull away a little and say “Whoa there, cowboy.” He asks “What?” I ask “Are you saying you want to do it out here?” Taron looks at me and says “Not exactly. Just a little something.” I look around and make sure no one is around.

He gets a smile on his face and then sits on the ground. He rests one arm on his bent up left knee and right leg stretched out. I kneel on the ground in between his legs. I kiss him and tangle my fingers in the hair on the back of his neck. He places his right hand on the back of my left upper thigh and wraps his left arm around my shoulders. I feel both of his hands grip tight on my skin and over my capris. Taron leans back taking me with him. Laying on the ground, I smile against his lips and brush my hair behind my left ear. As our mouths move in unison and our tongues fight for dominance, his right hand slides further up my thigh to my butt. He gives a slight squeeze. I kiss down his chin until I get to his neck and leave trails along it. When I reach the mole on his neck, I suck a little. I then move back to his lips.

I tighten my knees against his sides as he sat up slightly. Taron tightens his arms around my waist and turns a little to gently lay me on my back. He pulls away and we look at each other. I smile up at him then he leans his head down and begins leaving trails of kisses on my collarbone and moves further down. I tilt my head back a little. Taron moves back up to my neck and leaves marks on both sides. We lay there and make out for a little while longer when we decided it was time to get back.

No one asked where we were. I had a feeling they all knew. Everyone climbed into the cars as we make our way back to the cabin for the next set of shots.

We all unpacked everything from the cars and set up the equipment. One of the crew members set up a director’s chair next to the director by the monitors for Elton. The director and production manager goes over the plans for the shoot with Elton.

The wardrobe team had me change into a strapless bra, matching underwear with a pair of athletic shorts over. They also gave me a terry cloth robe to wear over. Taron wore the same outfit he wore in the field minus the suspenders but with a few buttons undone. Someone on the crew started a fire in the fireplace.

I stand by it to warm up. Taron joins me, he asks “You okay?” I tell him “I’m a little nervous about these set of shots.” He asks “Why?” I untie the robe and open it slightly for him to see. I tell him “Cause you are the only one who has ever seen me dressed like this.” He reassures me “It will be fine. Just pretend it is only you and me in the room with Elton playing in the background.” I let out a deep breath. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pull me towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist as he rests his chin on the top of my head. The director says “Let’s get in position.” Taron kisses my forehead.

The first shot in the cabin is of me in the bedroom. There was a white eiderdown comforter laying across the bed. I crawl under it and then remove the robe. The production manager said “Go.” Into a walkie as a few people on the crew started spraying the windows with a hose. Elton all of a sudden says “Wait.” Everyone stalls. The production manager gives word to the people outside. Elton goes to the wardrobe team says something and one of them steps into another room and few seconds later back with a white button up shirt.

The person tells me “Elton thinks that you should wear this over.” I put it on and liked the look. I also noticed a scent coming off of the shirt and then it hits me, It’s Taron’s cologne. I do a small smile while I climb under the comforter. The production manager tells the people outside to spray the hoses again.

I bend knees, wrap my arms around them and look at the window. The music starts And when it rains, the rain falls down/Washin’ out the cattle town/And she’s far away somewhere/In her eiderdown I then stretch my legs out and lay back onto the pillows behind me. I put my left arm above my head and rest my right hand on my stomach. The music continues And she dreams of crystal streams/Of days gone by when we would lean/Laughing, fit to burst upon each other The director shouts “CUT!”

I sit up and stretch as they review the footage. The director comes over by the bed and tells me “It’s good but when you lay back on the pillows…look up toward the ceiling and be lost in thought with a hint of a smile.” I tell him “Got it.” We reset back to where I am sitting up with my arms wrapped around my knees. Music starts and when it gets to the And she dreams… I lay back as before and look up at the ceiling which is where a camera was positioned. I get lost in a thought and give a hint of a smile. Someone on the crew cuts the music and the director yells “CUT!” I sit up as they review the footage. The director then says “Perfect. Set up for the next set of shots.”

I crawl out of the bed and readjust the white button up shirt. I walk out to the living room and see the crew already beginning to get things set up. The next scene is where Taron and I will be together.

I head to makeup so they can get me ready for the next scene. They didn’t do too much except touch up some spots. The crew set up the shot. The eiderdown comforter will be draped over the couch and I will be sitting on it wearing the same thing as the bed shot. Taron will be sitting in a chair facing me and it’s supposed to be like him ‘imaging.’ A crew member stirred the fire and added kindling.

“Okay, let’s get into positions.” The director told us. I walk to the couch and sit down on the comforter. They had me sit against the arm rest facing the fireplace. Taron sits in the arm chair facing me. I was handed a green apple. Taron places his left hand on his chin, looks at me as if imagining.

The music begins I can see you sittin’/Eatin’ apples in the evenin’… I take a bite of the apple and try to make it look sexy. The music continues Fruit juice, flowin’ slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly/Down the bronze of you body The director shouts “CUT!” As the juice is flowing down my chin. He says “Let’s try it again. This time we might need more apple juice spilling down.”

Taron gets up from the chair and walks over to me. He sits down on the cushion next to me. I lean closer to him. He tells me “You looked pretty sexy to me.” Taron then leans close to me and licks my chin. I giggle. We reset and do it again. This time the director was happy with it cause he let the music continue.

The director yells “CUT!” I then get cleaned up from the apple juice. The next scene Taron and I are in it together again but this one is closer.

The crew fixed the comforter on the couch. I came back out and Taron had taken my spot on the couch. I stand in front of him, he asks “You ready for this next one?” I tell him “Ohh yeaahh.” He removes his shirt and I feel my jaw drop. He draped it on the back of the couch. He leans back against the arm rest and I straddle him. One of the crew members opened one of the windows in the living room and a blast of cold air came in. I said “It just got cold in here.” Taron says with a cheeky grin, “I’ll warm you up.”

I remove the button up I’d been wearing and toss it onto the floor. I lay down on him and he drapes the comforter over us. I fold my left arm on his chest and my right hand on the side of his torso. I lay there listening to his heartbeat. He wraps his arms around my shoulders. The music plays as I feel Taron mouth the words Oh, if only I could nestle/In the cradle of your cabin/My arms around your shoulders/The window wide and open/While the swallow and the sycamore, whoa/Are playin’ in the valley I rest my chin on my hand and look up at Taron. He looks at me, smiles then continues Oh, I miss you, Amoreena/Like the king bee misses honey We look at each other lovingly as the music fades.

The director shouts “THAT’S A WRAP!” as everyone cheers. Taron and I sat up, stretched and put on comfortable clothes. The rest of the night, food was ordered in and everyone relaxed after a successful video shoot.

#Taron Egerton imagines #Taron Egerton x reader #Taron Egerton fanfiction #Taron Egerton

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unfixablebabyyy · 1 year ago

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just a lil bit of dennis being crazy and obsessive and predatory :)

(nsfw, minors DNI)

For Dennis, sex was always the means to an end. Something that he would have whenever he felt that need had to be met. He would take what he wanted and it would be done. Uncomplicated. A simple solution to a problem. But with you, it's different. For him, you are not only a conquest, but something to be mastered, and he takes his studies very seriously. From the day Dee brought you into the bar, he was obsessed. He would imagine devouring you, slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your skin, the heat between your legs. How he would drink in the look in your eyes as your body trembled around him, how the feeling of your nails raking down his back would satisfy his hunger. These thoughts would keep him up for nights on end, drive him insane, make his skin itch, until no amount of scratching gave him his fix. So he planned it all out- every last detail down to the second. You would come over for a dinner he would cook- something impressive, but not pretentious. Throughout dinner he would touch on topics he knew you would find charming. He would know enough about you to seem like the perfect match, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Then, after dinner, he would set the mood with your favorite slow songs. If that didn't do it, he had a few of your favorite movies queued up on his TV. Thank God for the internet and his oblivious, idiot sister. But when the night actually came- after the stage was set, after he'd spent hours rehearsing the night in his head- it was you who had him.

The night did go according to his plan. You laughed over dinner, which was delicious. He took you into his arms to dance to a few of your favorite tunes after, savoring the warmth of your body against his and the smell of your perfume that enveloped him. You even got to one of the movies he'd prearranged, shocked that he'd ever even heard of it. It wasn't until around midnight that you finally made your way into his bedroom. By then, the two of you had finished a bottle of wine. Standing in the middle of his room, lit only by the street light filtering in through half-closed blinds, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, trailing his fingers along your jaw until your chin came between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your face up to meet his, he pressed his lips to yours. The rush was immediate, and suddenly everything became so intense. He kissed you harder, tugging you closer, causing you to gasp. Shoving his tongue into your open mouth, he took a fistful of your hair into his hand to hold your head in place as he devoured you. When he was done tasting your mouth, he moved to your neck. He could feel your pulse tickle his lips, and he swore he could almost hear the blood rushing through the delicate arteries and veins that lay just under the surface of your soft skin. He bit down hard, eliciting a loud moan from you and leaving behind two dark red crescents.

"Fuck, Dennis," your voice, so full of pleasure, made him lightheaded. His hands roamed your body, groped at your thighs, your ass, your waist- anything he could get them on was his. You gripped his biceps, feeling his muscles ripple beneath the thin fabric of his henley. He hissed when you dragged your nails down his chest. Quickly, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. You gasped when he easily picked you up and carried you to his bed.

There he laid you down, and he had his way with you. Just as he had planned. But he wasn't expecting to feel the way he did after, lying next to you, panting as he came down from his climax.

Normally after sex he would feel empty- satisfied, but, after the euphoria subsided, empty. He'd never felt like this before. It was like it never happened. The itch was still there. He needed more. More of you, more of your body, more of your attention, your time, your presence. Everything. So, instead of getting up to shower, or asking you when you needed to be home, or offering to call you a cab, he rolled over and pulled you into his chest. You relaxed into him immediately, but he remained tense, unsure of himself for the first time that night. Maybe, even, in his life.

#dennis reynolds #dennis x reader #it's always sunny in philadelphia #my writing

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fariconfashion · 1 year ago

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#Men Flared Full Sleeve Black Shrug #Color Black Men Henley Neck Black #Grey T-Shirt #Solid Women's Tights Jeggings #Round Neck T-shirt

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avastrasposts · 1 year ago

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The Pilot and his girl - ch. 10, part 1 **

I finally managed to wrap up this absolute monster of a chapter and I decided to split into two parts to make it easier to read, so here's part 1. I'm posting part 2 at the same time, both chapter are about 8k.

We're still only on the fluffy and smutty part but that will change in chapter 11 so I'll start using warnings more properly, I have an idea on how to set it up.

Anyway, this long chapter covers the rest of the Fourth of July celebrations together with our sweet Frankie, his friends and the Miller cousins from Texas, Joel, Sarah and Tommy.

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 1

Chapter 10 - part 2

Chapter 11

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories

You stand wrapped around each other for a little while, he feels your fingers trace along his jaw as he breathes in your scent, lake water in your hair, sun cream and then that warm, sweet smell that he knows is just you underneath.

“Ok,” he says in a low voice, pulling a little bit away from you and sliding his arm around your waist again, “come on, let me show you what I have planned for us.”

You walk up to the cabin again and Frankie gets you to change into dry clothes, grabbing a hoodie for you too, “We’re staying out for a bit,” he says when you ask, “don’t want you to get cold.”

He takes you out to the truck and opens the door to the passenger side, giving you a hand as you climb in, and a quick kiss before he closes the door and walks round to the driver’s side.

“Seems you’ve got us fully stocked, Frankie” you say, glancing out the back at the cooler and bags in the truck bed.

“No idea what you’re talking about, cariño,” he smiles as he turns the ignition and starts reversing the truck, hooking his arm around the back of the bench seat and turning around. You shamelessly stare at the way his shoulders span across the interior of the truck, his navy t-shirt stretched to an inch of its life when he twists his torso around.

“I don’t know how you do it, Frankie,” you say with an incredulous huff, “you make reversing a truck look sexy.”

Frankie chuckles, still focused on backing out of the drive, “I know you always had a thing for it, ever since our first date.” He puts the transmission in drive and turns around, grinning at you, “caught you staring then too,” he says as he takes your hand and tug you closer, pulling you in under his arm like he usually does when he drives.

“You just look so good doing it, something about how the shirt stretches across your muscles,” you slide your palm over the soft cotton covering his chest, “maybe if you do it shirtless next time, I can compare, for science.”

“For science?” Frankie laughs.

“Yeah, like shirtless is the baseline, and then you do it in a button down shirt and I can compare which ones make you look sexiest.”

“Ok, I see, for science,” Frankie says as he turns the truck out on the bigger road, “and I guess you wanna try out other clothes too?”

“Oh yeah, good idea, like a hoodie and a henley shirt too, I bet the henley will look really good,” you grin, “the open neck is gonna show off your chest really well when you turn.”

“I don’t even know what a ‘henley’ is,” Frankie says, “but I think if I’m doing this for science, then you need to do something for science too,” he takes his eyes off the road for a second to give you a quick, mischievous grin.

“What…?” you ask, looking pensive.

“Well, you know how I love seeing you in my shirts at home?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do know, why do you think I wear them?” you giggle,

“I think you should try them all, empty the dishwasher in them, and then I’ll see which one makes me wanna bend you over the kitchen table fastest.” Frankie’s nodding to himself, “I think we should do that for science, definitely.”

You give him a confused look, “I get the ‘bending over the table’ bit, but the dishwasher? You think watching me emptying the dishwasher is sexy?”

“Very,” Frankie chuckles as he turns onto a small path marked ‘Private’, leading up the mountain. “You’ve never noticed how I’m always in the kitchen when you empty it in the morning?”

“Yeah, but you’re usually making coffee for us.”

“And admiring the view,” he grins, looking over, “You, in a shirt that just about covers that cute little butt, bending down to pick things up, stretching to reach the top shelf, it’s my favourite way to start the morning,” Frankie’s got a wide grin as the truck bumps over the uneven trail heading up through the trees. “I think I absolutely need to see you doing that, in all my shirts, ‘for science’.”

“So that’s why you never empty the dishwasher?!” you gasp, poking his belly, “you’re just ogling my ass!”

“Enjoying the view, hermosa! Would you deny your poor man the gorgeous view that is your butt first thing in the morning?” His arm around your shoulder pulls you closer as he kisses the top of your head, “that sexy, cute, gorgeous, delicious, soft, juic-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point, you don’t have to empty the dishwasher,” you sigh in mock exasperation and Frankie chuckles.

The trees are thinning out and as you look up you see that the path has taken the truck almost to the top of the hill, it’s levelled out in a plateau, the forested hill continuing to climb on one side and a fairly large clearing towards the steep edge of the hill. A wide, shallow stream flows from the forest, across the plateau, and disappears over the edge. From where the water disappears you can see for miles across the surrounding tree covered hills.

“Wow, what a spot, Frankie,” you gasp, sitting up straight and leaning forward as Frankie turns the truck around and parks so that that flatbed looks out over the view.

“Denny showed us this place a couple of years ago, we’re still on his land,” Frankie says as he unbuckles and opens the door, “I wanted to bring you up here because I thought you might like it, have our date night here.”

“I love it, Frankie, thank you,” you smile at him as he opens the door on your side of the truck and takes your hand.

“Come on, let me show you the best bit,” he smiles back at you. He grabs a tote bag from the truck and leads you towards the stream, following it towards where it drops off.

“Down here, watch your step,” Frankie steps in front of you onto the narrow trail that’s carved into the hillside, and guides you down the slope. The stream throws itself off the ledge next to you into a waterfall of glittering drops, you can see a clear pool at the bottom. The trail winds down towards it and Frankie’s got a strong grip on your hand as he leads you down to it.

“This is so beautiful,” you call to him to make yourself heard over the sound of the falling water and he turns and gives you a bright smile.

The trail ends at the small pool, carved out of the rock by the waterfall. The water is crystal clear and you can see down to the shallow bottom that’s covered by thousands of smooth rocks and pebbles. At the end of the pool there’s a higher ledge that the water flows over, falling over the edge into the next waterfall. As you step closer, Frankie tightens his hold on your hand as you get close to the edge, “Careful, cariño, the next one is a big drop,” he says as you glance over the edge. Your stomach drops as you look down, a long way down you can make out tree tops and the mist thrown up by the falling water. It’s certainly a very big drop.

You hear Frankie stepping up behind you, pulling you back from the edge a bit, “You’re making me nervous, hermosa,” he mumbles into your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist and backs up. “I was thinking we could try out the water in the pool.”

“I didn’t bring my bikini,” you say, turning to him and you hear him chuckling as he presses his lips to yours.

“I was thinking we skinny dip, who’s gonna see us here?” You feel his warm hands slip in under your t-shirt, pushing it up as his palms skate across your skin, “I brought towels though,” he tugs the shirt over your head and you smile at him, grabbing hold of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head, pulling off his Standard Oil cap at the same time. Frankie gets to work on your shorts, unbuttoning them and pushing them down with your panties as you bury your nose in the unruly curls at the top of his head and inhale.

“Mmmm, you smell good, Frankie, like fresh air, shampoo and yourself,” you kiss his silky strands as he unhooks your bra and stands up to pull it off, leaving you to kick off your shoes.

“You always say I smell like myself but I've never figured out what I smell like,” he chuckles as you start unbuttoning his khaki shorts.

“It’s hard to describe, it’s just you, like your t-shirts always smell like that, which is why I love wearing them,” you let his shorts pool at his feet together with his boxer briefs.

“Is that why you always steal my hoodies?” Frankie asks, bending down to untie his boots, "Since you’ve moved in, every single one of my hoodies seem to mysteriously end up in your closet,” he gives you a mock scowl from under his eyebrows, looking up at you.

“Baby, they smell so good, so much of you,” you coo, pushing your fingers into his hair and running your nails along his scalp, “I miss you so much when you’re working late that I need wear them to remind me of you, I just want to be close to you all the time,” you lay it on thick, giving Frankie a sweet smile that he doesn’t buy, just shaking his head at you as he pulls off his second boot.

“Nice try, cariño,” he smirks, standing up and grabbing your hand, “I’m going to give you one of my hoodies and then lock the others in the truck.” He grins as you giggle and reaches around to give your naked butt cheek a slap, “c’mon, hoodie stealer, I wanna grope you in the water.” He tugs on your hand and you follow him to the edge of the pool.

There’s a bit of a step down and as you put your feet in the water you shriek, “Fuck, it’s freezing!” you gasp and Frankie curses loudly in Spanish as he wades into his waist, breathing deeply.

“Come on, it’s not so bad once you’re in,” he forces out, but his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he tries to control his breathing and you laugh.

“Nice try, you’re turning blue, Frankie!”

“Just gotta get it under control,” he gasps and motions you to come to him and after a few seconds of hesitation you, shriek “fuck it” and rush out, grabbing onto him, pressing yourself to his body for any warmth as the cold water flows around your torso. Frankie wraps his arms around you and rubs his palms up and down your back.

“Breath slowly,” he says, “deep breaths, just try to calm yourself and it’ll feel better.” You try to steady your breathing and slowly the water starts feeling refreshing rather than just icy cold.

“You ready?” you ask Frankie as you wrap your arms around his neck

“For what?” he replied, confused.

“This,” you grin and push yourself into deeper water, pulling him down with you, you hear him gasp as the cold water hits him and you shriek, it’s really fucking freezing as it closes over your head and you feel Frankie’s arms pull you tight to his chest under water. He finds his footing and pushes you both up to the surface again, he’s spluttering and you’re laughing as he shakes his head like a wet dog, making his curls fly.

“That’s for throwing me in the lake,” you giggle and he laughs too, wiping water out of his eye.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t get you back,” he grins and pulls you close again, you wrap your arms around his neck as he his lips finds yours, the heat of his mouth a delicious contrast to the cold water and his cool skin. For a little while his tongue makes you forget the icy water, he lets it taste your mouth as his hand slides up and cups your cheek, but your toes are starting to hurt and a shiver runs through you, Frankie notices and pulls back, his lips leaving yours.

“That wasn’t a ‘I’m so turned on by my boyfriend’s kisse’ kinda shiver, was it?” he chuckles.

“No, my toes are dying and I’m fucking freezing,” you press out between chattering teeth and Frankie bends down and puts an arm behind your knees and sweeps you up, bridal style.

“Boyfriend to the rescue,” he smirks as he carries you towards the edge of the pool with your arms securely wrapped around his neck.

“My hero,” you coo and Frankie snorts, grinning at you as he puts you back on your feet, giving you another kiss on the lips before he turns and grabs the tote bag he left on the ground. The warm July air is doing its best to warm up your skin again but when Frankie pulls out your beach towel you gratefully accept it and wrap yourself as Frankie starts rubbing his palms up and down your arms.

“I had this whole romantic, ‘make out session in the waterfall that turns into hot sex’ thing planned out,” Frankie says as he tries to warm you up, “I did not count on that water to be so cold.”

You glance down at Frankie’s dick, hanging limp between his strong thighs, it’s decidedly smaller than usual.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need tweezers to coax him out,” you say, shaking your head in mock sadness, earning you a pinch in the side from Frankie that leaves you giggling against his chest.

“Don’t mock him,” he chuckles, “he’s given you many hours of pleasure, show some respect.”

“Sorry,” you laugh and straighten up, “I will respect your nine inches when they reappear.”

Frankie chuckles as he grabs his own towel and starts drying off. The sun is warming you up and you spread your towel out on the grass next to the pool and take Frankie’s hand.

“Come here,” you say, pulling him down onto the towel, “we can have a romantic make out session next to the waterfall instead.”

Frankie lies down next to you and props himself up on an elbow so that he’s leaning over you and you brush your fingertips over his hair. He’s rubbed the towel over it in his usual vigorous fashion and now he has a wild halo around his head that makes you smile.

“My little dandelion head,” you say warmly, trying to make his unruly curls stand up even more as Frankie grins and shakes his head, making his hair fly around under your fingers. He has such a golden retriever energy sometimes it makes your heart melt, this sweet, gorgeous, adorable man.

“I love you, Frankie,” you put your hands on his cheeks and pull his mouth down to yours.

“I love you too, hermosa,” he mumbles against your lips as he sinks down and you feel his warm body press against yours.

…

When you open your eyes again the sun has moved across the sky and is starting to sink towards the horizon. Frankie is a solid weight on top of you, his breathing ragged against your neck as he tries to catch his breath, you can feel his heart race in time with yours as your own breathing slowly calms down.

With a low hiss, Frankie pulls out of you and rolls over onto his back, pulling you with him, tucking you into his side. You can feel his spend slip out between your legs, sticky against your sweat damp skin.

You stay quiet for a few minutes, drowsy in your satiated state, and listen to his heartbeat under your ear, before you push yourself up and look down at him. As you move he cracks his eyes open a smidge and gives you a smile, in the evening sun his brown eyes are dark amber in colour.

“I’m going to brave the cold water and wash up,” you say softly, bending down and kissing his plush lips, you can still taste yourself on them.

“I’ll come too,” he mumbles, but he wraps his large hand around the back of your neck and holds you in place against his mouth as he parts his lips and lets his tongue lick into your mouth, kissing you enough to make you let slip another moan as you feel heat starting to build inside you again.

“Frankie,” you whimper and he chuckles, letting his hand slip from your neck.

“Can’t get enough of me, hermosa,” he says, “and I can’t get enough of you, mi amor.”

…

The water is no less cold the second time around and you both yelp as you wash up, rushing up onto the grass to dry off and get dressed. Frankie holds onto your hand as you climb the narrow path up to the meadow again. As you get to the truck again you make to go round to the passenger side but Frankie stops you.

“Our date isn’t over yet, cariño,” he smiles and pulls you around to the back of the truck. “I made plans for dinner too, remember? And I bought us a present.” He climbs up onto the flatbed and shifts the tarp that’s been covering something at the back of the truck. As he picks it up and brings it to the edge you see what it is.

“Frankie!” you squeal, “no way!” He’s carrying an Ooni pizza oven with a big red bow on it and grinning widely.

“You said it’d be cool to have one for the yard when we get a house but then I saw it on sale so I got it!” he grins at your excitement, “it’s portable so we can use it whenever.”

“We’re gonna have the best pizzas!” you giggle, inspecting the oven as Frankie sets it up on the gravel path a safe distance away from the truck. “How does it heat up?”

“Wood pellets,” he replies, and shows you the box. “And I made your pizza dough yesterday and smuggled it up here along with the rest of the stuff,” he gives you a cheeky grin as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Seriously, you made my pizza dough?”

“Watched you make it enough times, cariño,” he smiles as he bends down to light the oven, “it heats up in about twenty minutes according to the instructions so we better get started on the pizza.”

Frankie has thought about everything and you have to stop and give him a big hug as he pulls out the dough, flour, even a big tray to prepare the pizzas on.

“This is so sweet, Frankie, did I ever tell you you’re the best guy I’ve ever met and how lucky I am?” you press a kiss to his cheek as he lines up boxes with pizza toppings on the edge of the flat bed.

“A few times, but you can always tell me again,” he says, leaning into your kiss and making you press your lips to his scruffy beard again.

“Best man ever, making me the luckiest person in the world,” you smile with your nose pressed against his cheek.

Frankie turns his head and gives you a kiss, “I’ll fight you for that title, hermosa,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Call it a tie?” You caress his cheek, fitting your thumb into his dimple as he cocks his head, thinking about.

“Yeah, ok, I did just buy you an awesome present.” He grins and grabs the container holding the dough and gives it to you. “Work your magic, reina de las pizzas.”

“ ‘Queen of the pizzas’, not a bad title,” you smile and get to work.

…

While you make the pizzas, Frankie’s busy setting up the rest of his surprise for you. With some thick blankets and pillows he turns the flatbed into a cosy looking nook, looking out over the view at the end of the plateau, with a couple of camping lanterns standing on the roof of the truck. He’s even strung fairy lights along the edges and up over the edge of the roof, hooking them up to a small battery pack.

You push the first pizza in and soon the smell of it wafts through the air and Frankie comes over with the plates.

“This smells so good, even better than in the oven at home,” you say as you keep an eye on the pizza, it bakes a lot faster than in your regular oven.

“Yeah, it’s making me hungry,” Frankie replies, sinking down on his haunches to peer into the oven next to you.

You pull out the first pizza and Frankie helps you up on the truck, balancing it in his other hand.

“This is amazing, Frankie, I can’t believe you brought all of this and hid it, I was wondering why we were bringing so much luggage!” you laugh, as you make yourself comfortable among the pillows. Frankie pulls the second pizza out and puts the third one in, passing the second one up to you.

“You didn’t ask, which is lucky, I didn’t have a good excuse,” he chuckles, “third pizza almost done, this thing is fast!”

Frankie pulls the last one out and climbs onto the flatbed, sinking down next to you and opens the cooler, passing you a beer. You grab it and a pizza slice, settling in against the pillows and look out over the view. The sun is sinking below the horizon in a spectacular show of reds and pinks and you both sit back in silence, eating the pizza while the evening settles around you. As the sun disappears beneath the horizon in a last show of bright red light Frankie mumbles something under his breath and you look over at him, he gives you a smile.

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” he repeats, “the officer who did most of my pilot’s training used to say it when we were airborne at sunset.”

“What does it mean,” you ask.

“The whole saying goes, ‘Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning.’ It means a red sunset brings good weather, a red sunrise brings bad weather. It was usually pretty correct too.”

“So we’re getting good weather tomorrow too?”

“Yeah, it seems like it,” he says, standing up to light the camping lanterns and the fairy lights, “and the weather app says so too,” he grins as he starts gathering your plates and beer bottles.

“Wow, Frankie….” You look at the fairy lights, the whole back of the truck is now bathed in a soft golden light and you sink into the pillows as Frankie comes back and lies down next to you, pulling you close to his side, wrapping his arms around you. “This is incredible, thank you for this whole evening,” you say in a low voice, not wanting to break the stillness of the night that’s gathering around you.

“Anything for you, mi amor” he whispers back and you feel his lips pressed against the top of your head and his arms tightening around you. You reach up and cup his cheek, pulling him closer so that can reach his soft lips. He tastes like pizza and beer as he parts his lips for you, letting your tongue in. The cool tip of his nose is pressed against your cheek as you sink back down against the pillows, taking him with you and you feel him deepen the kiss, moving his body so that he can press himself along your side. His warm hand caresses your cheek, slips down over your neck, makes small circles over your collar bone before he pushes down the low neck of your top, cupping your soft breast in his hand, letting his thumb circle around the hard nipple, pulling a low moan from you into his mouth.

“Do you want more, hermosa,” he mumbles, still close to your skin as he lets his nose drift across your cheek, tracing kisses along your cheek.

“Yes, Frankie,” you breathe, his warm fingertips on your breast are sending sharp signals through your nerves, making arousal thrum under the surface. He shifts himself, pressing wet kisses onto your neck, you gasp as you feel his teeth nip and he does it again, giving your nipple a gentle squeeze at the same time and pleasure shoots through you, making you tremble.

You feel Frankie’s low rumbling chuckle in his chest, “That was the good kind of shiver, baby, the one where you want me to go on.”

“Defi- “ you gasp as he sucks a mark into your collar bone, harder than he usually does, the sensation delicious when the tip of his tongue licks it, soothing the burn. “Frankie,” you moan and he does it again, the thin skin on your neck bruising this time, the wet swipe of his hot tongue making you arch your body up against him as you press your thighs together.

“You like that, don’t you?” he mumbles, continuing to kiss up your neck and finding your lips again, his eyes are dark as he looks down on you, shifting his body again and you feel the rigid length of his hard cock against your thigh. “I like leaving little marks on you, like seeing them on you the next day, letting others see that you’re mine.” His voice is dark and low, a possessive tone he doesn’t often use. “I want you to feel the bruise tomorrow and know I made you feel so good, know how much I love making you feel this good.”

He climbs over you, pushing your thighs apart as he rolls his hips against your soaked panties, drawing a loud moan from you that makes him smile. He holds his weight on his arms, his hands on either side of your head, and his sheer size makes you feel tiny under him as he looks down at you, his dark eyes locked on yours as he rolls his hips again. Your body arches of its own volition as you moan and your head falls back, exposing your neck to Frankie, who drops down and lets his tongue drag across it, tasting the salt on your skin, before he finds that delicious spot just under your ear. He presses his soft lips to it, letting the tip of his tongue lap over it before he pulls away a little bit.

“Hermosa,” he mutters, “can I leave a mark here too? I want to show…I want hi-” he breaks off, kissing your skin again, “I want to leave a little mark here.”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Frankie,” you moan, he’s pressing his hard cock against your core, rolling his hips in an irregular pattern against you, the movement creating friction over your clit. You move your hands up and push your fingers into his hair as you feel his teeth graze across the thin skin just under your ear. His hand slips down over your chest, his calloused fingertips creating delicious friction as he takes your breast into his hand again, circling your nipple with his thumb. When he sinks his teeth into your neck he rolls his hips, his hard cock pressing against your clit and you whimper his name loudly, arching your back up.

“Frankie,” you moan as you feel him soothe your skin with a lick before he pushes himself up on his arms. You see him look down at your neck, tracing his fingers over the red marks, he looks pleased with himself as he gently touches them.

You touch the pad of your thumb to his bottom lip, soft under your touch, “Frankie, baby, do you want to show him that I’m yours?” you ask him gently and he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly guilty. “It’s ok,” you say, caressing his lips, “I want him to know I’m yours, leave bruises on me so he can see them tomorrow, I want everyone to know I let you fuck me so hard I see stars.”

“Fuck…” Frankie mutters, “cariño, let me..” His eyebrows are knotted together and he sits back on his heels, dragging his hands over your hips, down over your thighs, tugging your shorts down, not even bothering undoing the button, he tosses them over the edge of the truck, quickly pulling off his t-shirt and letting it drop.

Swiftly moving down he leaves a mark on your hip bone, making you whine and wriggle your legs open for him as his wide shoulders find their place between your legs. He lets his mouth suck another mark into the inside of your thighs, tasting the salty skin and holding your thigh tight as you buck underneath him. As he moves closer towards your glistening pussy he can feel your heat and your smell. He’s already eaten your pussy twice today, the memory of your taste still fresh in his mind but his cock throbs as he bends down and drags the tip of his tongue through your folds in one smooth motion.

Above him you whimper, your hips pushing against his mouth. He knows every way to make you come undone under his mouth now, and as your moans turn to whimpers, your hands finding purchase in his hair, he lets his tongue find every spot he knows brings you closer to your climax. His nose rubs over your clit as his tongue dips in and out of your opening, tasting your arousal and he coaxes you closer to the edge.

“Frankie, baby,” you moan, “please, need you inside me.” You push yourself up on your elbows and look down at your gorgeous man, buried between your legs. He looks up and your pussy clenches around nothing as his dark eyes meet yours. His face is sultry and slick, shining from eating you out and as his eyes are locked on you, his tongue dips out, licking slowly over your clit. You see the smirk on his lips and you fight the urge to grab his face and press it against your pussy, his touch is maddeningly slow and light, teasing you. With a groan you drop back down on your back and lift your hips up to him and he puts his arm across your hips, holding you down.

“Hermosa,” his voice is rough and low, “do you want more?” You feel one of his fingers tease at the edge of your opening and you whimper a low yes. “Tell me, my beautiful girl, I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head and flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit, making your voice break.

“Fu..fuck, Frankie, yes, please, I want more!”

He chuckles and lets two of his fingers slip in, the stretch of him making you moan again. He looks up at you, your head thrown back, showing the marks he’s left on your throat, and as he curls his fingers back, dragging them across the spot he knows will make you tremble and call out for him, he keeps his eyes on you, watches as your jaw clenches around a groan and your hands scramble to grip on to something, anything. His cock is aching, pressed into the blanket beneath him, and as he sinks his mouth to your clit again he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relieve some of the tension, rutting against the hard surface.

Frankie’s mouth on your clit makes you squeeze your thighs around his head, and as he starts to plunge his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, dragging his hooked fingers across the nerve ending deep inside your pussy, you cry out, calling his name, begging him for release and he gives it to you. With one last firm lap across your clit, his fingers buried deep in your pussy, he pushes you over the edge. He can feel exactly when you snap, the tension locking your muscles as your back arches, pushing your hips on to his mouth. His name on your lips turns to whimpers as you gasp at the onslaught of pleasure that rushes through your body. He works you through it, letting go of your clit and slowing down his fingers inside you, letting them move slower but still stroking over the areas he knows will bring your arousal back again.

“Frankie…” you mumble as you regain your senses, “come here, I need you,” you reach out for him and he comes willingly, pressing soft kisses on your hot skin as he crawls up your body, finding your lips and letting you taste yourself on him.

“Let me take care of you now,” you whisper as he pulls back a little from your mouth. “I know you’re hard as a rock.” You move your hips a little and he groans as they press up against his throbbing cock. “Let me ride you, let me do all the work and get you off.” “Please, hermosa, I want that so much,” he mumbles, kissing your lips again as you slip your hand between your bodies and palm his cock, swallowing down his moan as he rolls his hips into your hand.

Gently you push him away and make him roll on to his back, falling down onto the pillows. Moving down along his legs you sit up on your heels and drag your fingertips lightly over the large bulge in his shorts, making him hiss.

“Cariño,” he warns, “don’t tease me now.”

You smile and nod, “Don’t worry, sweet Frankie, I’ll take care of you.”

You unbutton his shorts with his eyes on you, watching as you slide them down his legs, lifting his hips for you. His breathing is quick, his muscles tense and as you free his cock from its confines he groans, his fingers flexing. You pull off your t-shirt and bra, tossing them the same way as his shorts. His hand comes up and grabs your breast, caressing it with a firm touch, watching as the soft flesh spills out between his fingers as you move to straddle his thighs. His cock is weeping, curving back against his stomach, and every vein is standing out against the hard surface.

“Can I taste you first, Frankie,” you ask, “I always like the way you feel in my mouth.” Frankie hums in response and manages a small nod as you bend forward. You let the tip of your tongue lick the slit on the head, tasting the salty liquid that’s beaded and smeared across the silky soft skin. His hips jolt and a rumbling groan escapes him, making you look up at him. His dark eyes are wide open and fixed on where your mouth is hovering over his hard cock, Frankie always likes to see, watch as your lips stretch around him, the wet heat of your mouth making every nerve in his body come alight. Now you can feel his eyes on you as you open your mouth and let it stretch around his swollen tip, sinking down over him. Frankie groans loudly and curses in Spanish, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You keep one hand on his thigh, feeling his muscles bunch up as you take him deeper, the tip of him brushing against the soft inside of your mouth. Your other hand is wrapped around his base, stroking what’s not in your mouth, the slick of his precum and your saliva making your hand slide up and down as his groans turn to whimpers.

“Cariño, baby…please, wait…” he whines as you feel his thigh go ridgid under your fingers. “I want to fuck you, let me...let me come inside you.”

You can’t resist hollowing your cheeks and sucking firmly on his cock as you pull off him, earning you a whimpered fuuuuck from Frankie as his eyes squeeze shut. He draws a few deep breaths as you move up over him and line yourself up over his hard on, when he opens his eyes again, he sees you looking down at him.

“Hermosa,” he suddenly whispers, his eyes looking at you with awe, his voice soft and gentle. The mellow golden light of the fairy lights are lighting up your skin, making it glow, bouncing off your soft looking curves, making you look more beautiful than he’s ever seen you. “Mi hermosa, mi amor, you’re so beautiful.” He lets his hands slide up your thighs, over your hips, caressing the soft swell of your belly and the silky skin of your breast until he can cup your cheeks with his hands. He’s looking at you like he’s trying to burn the image into his mind, this moment, the dark night around you, the soft light on your face, your bare body straddling him, ready to sink down over his aching cock, the most beautiful and most sensual vision he’s ever seen.

“Frankie,” you whisper, kissing the inside of his wrist as he holds your face in his hands, “let me take care of you.”

With a long sigh you sink down over him, letting the tip settle inside your entrance as you watch Frankie’s soft face scrunch up, he fights to keep his eyes open, but his eyebrows knitting together. His thick cock pushes into you, slipping through your soaked folds and as you slowly lower yourself. You whimper when your hips sink down to his, he fills you up completely, stretching you around him. Frankie’s hands slip down from your cheeks, grabbing your hips, his own driving up as he gasps, he can feel you squeeze every inch of his cock buried deep inside you.

“Cariño,” he groans, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet, “cariño…lindo,” he moans as you rock your hips, his cock dragging along your inside, the ridges of it creating friction that makes you drop your head back and arch your back. Frankie’s fingers are digging into your hips, willing you to move faster and you lift yourself up a little, dropping down to feel his tip hit a spot deep inside that pushes all the air from your lungs when he pulls you down at the same time.

“Tell me, Frankie, tell me what you want,” you mumble through your clenched jaw, tilting your head to look at him again and he drags his eyes up to yours.

“Fuck…fuck yourself…on me…cariño, oh shit…” he squeezes his eyes shut as you shift your position, “fuck yourself on me,” he pants out. You feel him plant his feet flat on the blanket, his fingers holding onto the meat of your hips, and he lifts you up. You help, raising yourself up, letting his cock slip almost all the way out before you slide down, squeezing him tight. Frankie groans as his hands set a fast pace, he’s holding you tight, pushing and pulling you up and down, letting his eyes flit from your face to the sight of his slick coated cock stretching your wet pussy and disappearing deep inside you. His breathing is ragged, his face strained and you can tell he’s close by the way he begs you to come on his cock, filthy words pouring out of him, every thrust into you making him gasp and moan. The closer Frankie gets, the more he talks, letting every thought in his head that he knows will push you closer to your second climax, slip out. He begs you to fuck yourself on his big cock, take him in any way you want, how your tight, hot cunt makes his cock feel like it’s being milked dry, how much he loves the taste of your pussy, how he needs you to come so that he can fill you up, fill every bit of you with himself and watch it drip out.

His fingers slide over your pussy, feeling where his cock pounds up into you, and when his fingers are coated in your slick he lets them circle your clit, drawing louder moans from you.

“Baby, please, you’re so fucking wet for me, you feel so good, I want to feel you come around my cock,” he moans as you move faster up and down, your plush tits bouncing above him, catching the glow of the fairy lights as you fuck yourself on his cock, heat building in your body, you squeeze your eyes shut. He increases the pressure on your clit and your head tilts forward, your mouth open, gasping for air as you feel your climax starting to unfurl.

“Frankiefrankiefrankiefrankie….” you cry out as your body convulses and he slams your hips down again and and again, his own meeting yours in a sharp thrust, making his cock hit that perfect spot. He feels his balls contract, heat builds rapidly and with a hoarse shout he digs his fingers into your hips and grinds up into your pussy. You collapse on top of him, your head falling on to his shoulder as he pumps himself empty, filling you up. With an exhausted gasp he lets go of your hips, wrapping his arms around you as his head falls back against the pillows.

The night is dark around the truck, the low hum of the cicadas the only thing to be heard apart from your combined breaths. Frankie reaches out and pulls a blanket over you both, protecting you from the cool air on your damp skin, and you stay wrapped under his arms until you’re ready to fall asleep, his sticky cum slowly drying on your thighs, and Frankie’s warm arms wrapped around you.

…

It’s late when you get back to the cabin but the lights are still on in the main living room and when you walk through the front door you’re met by the smell of wood smoke and beer.

“There they are, hey guys,” Benny’s in the kitchen, just helping himself to a beer, and closest to the door as Frankie and you come through it.

“Hey, Benny,” you say, accepting the beer he offers you, while Frankie shakes his head.

“Fish,” Pope calls in a low voice, “Lucía fell asleep about two hours ago, but she wanted you to come and say good night when you came back.”

“Ok, thanks, I’ll go in and check on her,” he grabs the bag with wet towels from you and drops a quick kiss on your cheek, before heading to the back of the house and your bedroom.

Benny and you make your way over to the living area where everyone else is sprawled out over the couches and armchairs around the open fireplace, a low fire is crackling, spreading a warm, woody, smell. Tommy and Pope are crouched by the fire, making s’mores and Pope offers his to you as you sit down.

“Thanks, Pope,” you sink down into one of the empty armchairs. It’s next to Will and his wife Hannah, you haven’t had a chance to talk to her much yet so you ask how her school year’s been, she’s a high school teacher and always has good stories to tell about her kids.

Pope’s made himself another s’more and sits down on the wide arm of your chair, giving your shoulder a small squeeze as a greeting. Pope’s become a good friend in the months since you first got to know him. His warm demeanour and light hearted flirting makes him easy to be around and he often hangs out with Frankie and you, coming over for dinner almost every week. He’s Frankie’s best friend and you know the two men share a lot of dark history, but somehow Pope can crack jokes about it in a way that makes Frankie double over laughing, wheezing with tears in his eyes. You’re eternally grateful for the support he gave Frankie when he hit rock bottom, letting him crash on his couch while he found his footing. Not to mention pushing Frankie to talk to you that night at The Outback Bar, something Pope has reminded you of many, many, many times since.

“How was your evening with Lucía?” you ask Pope after Hannah and Will have said good night, heading out to the camper van they’re sharing with Benny and his girlfriend Lisa.

“It was great,” Pope smiles, moving over to the spot on the couch left by Hannah. “I taught her to make s’mores, we watched ToyStory and Brave, made some more s’mores, played hide and seek and then she crashed and fell asleep on the couch.”

“You’re the best babysitter, Santi,” you laugh, “and you spoil her rotten.”

“It’s my job as her uncle,” Pope grins, “and I know Frankie wanted to show you the waterfall. Did you have a nice date?”

“Yeah, it was great, it’s really beautiful up there,” you smile, “but the water in the pool was freezing. We couldn’t stay in for long.”

“We hiked up the hill behind the plateau a few years ago, followed the stream to the top, hey Joel,” Santi makes room on the couch for Joel who’s just come out of his and Sarah’s room. “We found the source of the stream, it’s pouring straight out of the rock further up, must be some underground lake that feeds into it. Crystal clear and ice cold.”

“What’s this place?” Tommy asks, moving to the fire to make himself another s’more.

“Nearby,” Pope says, “up the hill and still on Denny’s land, not far from here.”

“Frankie took me up there this evening, while Pope looked after Lucía.” You turn to Santi, “How long does it take to hike up there from here? We drove but it might be nice to hike to the top.”

Pope frowns, thinking about it and when Frankie comes over to stand behind your armchair, he asks him, “How long did the hike up to the top take, Fish? We did it like, what, two years ago?”

“About two hours, one way, nice hike,” Frankie says, “Is there still stuff to make s’mores?”

“Yeah, on the table,” Tommy says and nods behind him at the fireplace.

“You want one, hermosa,” Frankie asks you, giving you a quick kiss when you nod.

As Frankie crouches down by the fire Pope continues to tell you about his evening with Lucía, earning himself a scowl from Frankie when he hears how much sugar Pope let her have, Pope brushing it off with another comment about it being his job as her uncle.

Benny and his girlfriend have been involved in some deep discussion about summer plans but now Benny seems to have a new bout of energy.

“How about truth or dare?” he calls over from the couch he’s on with Lisa as Frankie hands you a sticky s’more and everyone groans at the suggestion.

“We are not drunk enough for truth or dare, Benny,” Frankie says, making you leave the armchair so that he can sit down with you on his lap.

“And we’re not in high school,” you hear Joel mumble next to Pope and you both give him a quick grin.

“Fine,” Benny says, not deterred, “strip poker?” earning him a decorative cushion to the head, courtesy of Frankie’s flawless aim.

“Tell me embarrassing stories about Benny then,” Lisa, his girlfriend, grins, earning approving nods from Frankie and Pope.

“I like her, Benny,” Pope laughs, “you wanna go first, Fish?” he asks with a wicked grin.

“Oh no, by all means, Santiago, you go first,” Frankie chuckles, looking over at Benny who’s looking less than pleased about the way the conversation is going.

“Payback for the stories you told me about Frankie at the BBQ, Benny,” you smile at him as Frankie smirks.

“Ok, time for bed!” Benny says loudly, fake yawning and standing up, pulling Lisa up by the hand too. She’s giggling and tugging on his hand to make him sit down again.

“C’mon, Benny, I wanna hear the stories,” she protests, laughing as he pushes her to the front door.

“Don’t worry, Lisa,” Frankie says, “we’ve got plenty of time tomorrow for all the stories, even the one about the goat.”

“Frankie….” Benny’s voice is a low warning but Frankie just grins and flips him off, “Retribution is a beautiful thing, my friend.”

You hear Joel chuckle as he pushes himself to his feet, “I’m gonna head to bed too, good meeting ya’ll today, have a good night.” He waves at you as he heads over to his bedroom and Tommy leaves too, heading out to his tent, leaving Pope, Frankie and you.

“What do you say, hermosa, time for bed?” Frankie asks and you nod.

“Yeah, gonna be a long day tomorrow, and you know Lucía is gonna wake up early.”

“We’ll just send her over to Pope’s tent,” Frankie grins at Pope as you get up and pull him to his feet.

“Oh, that reminds me, Fish,” he says, “She said she wants blueberry pancakes for breakfast tomorrow but I checked, we have no pancake mix up here.”

“I brought the stuff I need to make them, knew she’d want them.” Frankie says, as Pope gives you a good night hug, dropping his usual kiss on the cheek.

“Sleep well, Pope.”

Chapter 10, part 2

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