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cherrycocaineee · 3 years ago

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6. Draco Malfoy - Rainy Nights, Warm Drinks

*Warning - smut*

“I want you.”

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.”

Draco’s p.o.v

Loud chatter filled the jam-packed dining hall as students discussed their Christmas plans while their grubby hands reached for the feast laid out before each house. My gray-blue eyes stared blankly at the turkey and sides that touched my plate, my fork picking at whatever it could reach without me moving too much. I was counting down the moments that led up to Dumbledore clinking his fork against his glass that would dismiss everyone from Hogwarts, sending them home. Each single tick drove me crazy as I shook my leg, desperately pleading for time to move faster. At the end of this feast, everyone would be on the train heading to their families, while I would finally get to see the one person that I couldn’t get off my mind. Even now, the only thing I could think about was seeing her beautiful face and hearing her soothing, angelic voice, tuning out the voices of my friends.

“Draco? Earth to Draco!”

Pansy’s voice sliced right through my current thoughts involving my plans after school. Blinking a few times, I turned my head to see Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Pike, and Nott staring at me. While Pansy stared at me with concern, the guys stared at me skeptically.

“What?” I muttered, dully.

“Pansy asked you what you were doing during the break,” Blaise informed, taking a sip from his cup.

“Yeah,” Pansy agreed, “I was thinking you and I could go on a date since we won’t be in school.”

A date? I had broken up with Pansy a year ago with the excuse that dating her had become boring, which it had, however, the real reason I left Pansy was because I had fallen in love with another girl. The whole thing had torn me up since day one because I hadn’t believed that I, the Slytherin Prince, could have fallen for a muggle, and yet I did. After a whole week of thinking about it and running everything carefully through my mind, I finally decided that I didn’t love Pansy and needed to end it with her before things got too serious.

“I won’t be returning home this Christmas,” I stated, “Dumbledore has asked me to stay and help tutor some second years in potions.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Pansy sneered, “it isn’t your job to teach those brats.”

“You’re dad’s okay with that?” Nott asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He wasn’t at first but once Dumbledore told him that I was the highest ranking student when it came to potions, he settled down and decided that I’d make a great leader for those snot nose brats,” I spoke, pride dripping from my lying tongue.

Of course, staying at Hogwarts wasn’t a complete lie, it was just not the full truth. For the first four days of break, I’d be staying with Maggie and her Grandmother then I’d come back to Hogwarts to help out with tutoring, and it’ll keep going like that until school starts again. It was an agreement that I had worked out with Dumbledore after he found out about Maggie, which if I’m being honest, I’m not even sure how he found out.

“And you’re okay with it?” Blaise asked, amused.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” I muttered.

I looked back down at my plate, feeling their eyes still watching me but not paying attention to it. Eventually, Dumbledore stood up from his seat and clinked his silverware against his wine glass. The chatter stopped immediately as everyone turned their impatient attention to the headmaster. Excitement was bursting through my chest, something I never thought I’d ever feel for a girl like Maggie. Dumbledore started by wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and happy holiday, then proceeded in telling everyone what to expect when they got back from break. We were expected to practice and prepare for our O.W.Ls that were coming up, which Umbridge decided to announce after interrupting Dumbledore. I may have pretended to like Umbridge and do as she said to appease my friends, but in all honesty, I hated her more than I hated anyone else.

After all of Dumbledore and Umbridge’s talking, the feast disappeared from our tables and it was time for everyone to head to the train. I saw my friends on the train. Pansy turned around.

“Well maybe I can stay here with you, so you aren’t alone,” she offered.

Annoyance broke out across my face, “I’ll be fine, Pansy. I’m not interested in spending time with you anyway, so you’ll just be alone.”

She started pouting while the other snickered behind her back. Scoffing, she stormed past everyone onto the train. I waved goodbye to the others and they followed after Pansy to the cart. Those leaving for the Christmas holiday were finally headed towards the platform and those who would be staying at Hogwarts for the vacation headed back towards the school.

As I was approaching the entrance, I saw Dumbledore standing there waiting for me, a smile on his face.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” he stated, “have you gotten your belongings together?”

“My bag is sitting in my room,” I replied.

“Once you collect it, go to Hagrid’s. He’ll be waiting for you there to help you get to the muggle world. Have a safe trip.”

With that, Dumbledore walked away allowing me to go fetch my belongings.

I grabbed my trunk out of my dorm room and carried it all the way towards Hagrid’s small hut just a little ways from the school. Hagrid was outside playing fetch with his large hound as I finished walking towards him. Immediately, he looked up after tossing the rather large stick across the field.

“Malfoy,” Hagrid said, “what brings you here?”

I raised an eyebrow. He was kidding, right?

The big oaf laughed heartily and patted my shoulder with his gorilla sized hand.

“I’m messing, is all,” he bellowed, “let’s get a move on it before anyone notices.”

Hagrid opened the door to his home and gestured me inside. Sitting on the table when he opened the door was a thick, black bag filled with dark, gray powder. Hagrid scooted around me and picked up the black bag before meeting my gaze. This was awkward for me, and I knew he could tell but fortunately he didn’t say anything to make it worse. Instead, he told me that the floo network would take us to Diagon Alley and we’d have to walk through another entrance into the muggle world. From there we’d take a wizard bus, which I found odd, straight to Maggie’s farmhouse just on the outskirts of London. However, I grew bored with being explained the plan and just wanted to get there already.

I went through the floo network first and waited for Hagrid patiently for a moment. Once he was standing by my side, he took my luggage and walked with me through Diagon Alley. We both walked through the less populated parts of Diagon Alley until the two of us reached a dead end. Hagrid tapped his umbrella against the wall in a pattern and they started pulling apart revealing the empty alley of the muggle world. The smell was different from the one back in the wizarding world. I could definitely smell freshly mown grass, but there was an oil smell mixed in too. As Hagrid and I walked past all of the people and shops that adorn the streets, I could smell pastries, coffees, and other foods that I recognized. I could feel the inside of my mouth water.

We waited on the sidewalk near a coffee shop for what seemed like forever before a bus came to a sudden stop in front of us. No one seemed to notice its incredible speed.

“Why hello there, Hagrid,” said a frail, stubbled face man wearing a purple suit.

“Hello to you too, Stan Shunpike,” Hagrid laughed, “starting work a bit early, aren’t you?”

Shunpike gave a crooked smile and nodded his head before gesturing us on. I went to grab my trunk when Shunpike grabbed it instead, pushing me inside. The smell was something to gag at. It smelled worse than anything I could imagine. Hagrid took a seat.

“Aren’t you going to have a seat, Malfoy?” He questioned.

“No, I’d rather stand,” I muttered, disgust lacing my voice.

“Where to?” Shunpike asked.

Hagrid gave the address and Shunpike looked at us confused.

“That’s a muggle household.”

“Not completely,” Hagrid said, “Loral Belle is the homeowner, Dumbledore’s friend.”

A slow nod bounced off his thin shoulders and sat down.

“Ernie, you know where to go.”

As soon as the knight bus took off, the speed pushed me back. Not even my grip was strong enough to keep me in place and I ended stumbling backwards until Hagrid’s large hand grabbed ahold of me. I pretty much clung to Hagrid’s large arm as we whirlwind through the busy streets of London. Two trucks stood in the way of the bus and I thought we’d slow down. However, we didn’t. Instead, the bus warfed itself so that it was thinner and we slid right through the small crack separating the two muggle vehicles. It wasn’t long before we reached the dirt road that led to Maggie’s farmhouse. Hagrid paid Shunpike and told him that there was extra in it for him if he waited for him and kept this visit a secret. Shunpike agreed with a large smile on his face.

Hagrid grabbed my trunk and led the way to Maggie’s. He tried to make small talk with me as we hiked down the dirt road, but neither one of us knew what to say to each other.

“How did you meet her?” He finally asked, catching my attention.

“My father had some work to do with an old, retired friend,” I said, all of the memories flooding back to my mind, “I saw her sitting by the fountain reading a book when a group of guys started harassing her. I watched her try to get away from them, failing miserably, so I stepped in despite her being a muggle. A gentleman never lets a woman get pushed around. She already knew I was a wizard when I helped her, she said that her Grandmother had taught her to tell the difference from a young age. The more I talked to her, the more I liked being around her.”

A goofy smile appeared on his face, “she sounds like an amazing young woman.”

“She is.”

Sitting on the porch when we got there was Grandma Loral rocking back and forth while a red scarf was being knitted next to her in the air. When she saw us, a smile appeared on her face and she climbed to her feet, approaching us at the edge of her porch.

“Hagrid,” she greeted, “it’s been years.”

“Nice to see you too, Loral,” Hagrid said, “I wish I could stay long, but I’m only here to drop off Mr. Malfoy. I’ll see you in four day.”

I looked up at Hagrid, “thank you, Hagrid.”

If I didn’t know any better, which I didn’t, I could have sworn I saw tears in Hagrid’s eyes. He tried to push it away and claimed that dirt had gotten in his eye, but I knew the truth. No one was use to me being so nice, and seeing me do so meant to them that I was finally deciding things on my own and not because my father wanted them. Just like my decision to continue seeing a muggle. Grandma Loral and I waved goodbye to Hagrid, once he was gone, Grandma Loral sat back in her seat.

“Maggie’s in the garden out back,” she said smiling, “thank you for coming, Draco. I know that the decision couldn’t have been easy.”

“Actually,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, “it was the easiest choice I’ve ever had to make in my life.”

Grandma Loral told me to head back there and she’d take care of my trunk. Nodding, I walked down the steps and headed down the cobblestone path to find Maggie sitting underneath a tree reading a book. Dozens of flowers of all shapes and colors surrounded her and blew in the breeze. Her brown, curled locks of hair brushed delicately against her freckled face. She was as beautiful as the day I first saw her. I walked over to her and smiled at how deeply invested she was in her novel.

“Mind if I sit?” I asked.

Her body jerked and her head whipped around to see me standing there with a smirk on my face. A large grin stretched against her face from ear to ear before nodding eagerly. As soon as my body was positioned next to her, she threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said, releasing me from her tight grip.

“I’m happy to see you too, Maggie,” I said, “how have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. Things have been a little difficult lately.”

When I asked her why, a sad expression came to her face. I thought maybe she was being bullied more, but as she explained, I realized that it wasn’t that. Grandma Loral was getting sick and it was getting worse and worse. Maggie was worried that she’d lose her grandmother and have no one once she’s gone. I touched her hand and told her it was going to be okay. She looked up at me.

“How have you been?” She asked, her smile trying to distract me from her growing tears.

I told her about Umbridge and my family, she never looked away from me and held on to my hand the way I held on to her’s when she told me about her Grandma. It seemed we were both going through some stuff right now and all we wanted was for someone to talk and relate to.

The remainder of the day moved quicker than I had hoped. Maggie was now in the kitchen cooking up some soup for dinner while I set up the dining table. From the kitchen, the two of us could hear Grandma Loral coughing up a storm. Maggie grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and brought it to her grandma before returning to finish dinner.

After supper, Maggie helped her grandma to bed before joining me in the living room with two glasses of hoto cocoa. Rain started to drum against the roof of the farmhouse, lightning slashing against the darkened sky and thunder rolling across the heavy clouds. With each passing second, the rain got harder and louder. I sipped on my warm beverage and looked at Maggie. She had whipped cream sitting above her lip and I laughed causing her to look at me.

“What?” She asked, an innocent smile dancing on her face.

“You’ve got some whipped cream on your lip,” I chuckled, leaning forward and wiping it away with my thumb.

A small red tint appeared on her face as she tried to avoid eye contact with me. I could tell she was embarrassed and I found it to be more attractive than ever. I scooted closer to her and she looked at me.

“Draco, is everything okay?” She asked.

“I love you,” I blurted out.

Her bright green orbs widened in shock and I started to regret saying anything to her. I looked away from her, but she grabbed my shoulder, pulling it to face her.

“I love you too,” she hummed.

Before I could stop myself, I smashed our lips together, saying a silent prayer that neither of us were holding that hot beverage. The kiss deepened and I pulled her into my lap, gripping her waist tightly to keep her in place. When we pulled away, she was panting from the lack of air, her lips red and slightly swollen from the heated kiss. I leaned down and started nibbling on her neck, earning a small whimper from her.

“D-Draco,” she gasped.

I unattached my lips from her warm flesh and peppered her jaw with kisses before reaching her ear.

“I want you, Maggie.”

Her body shivered at my words and I smirked. Maggie was gripping onto my blazer tightly.

“But I-”

“Shh,” I cooed, “I’ll be gentle.”

I waited for her to give me the signal to continue. When her head nodded, I laid her down on the cushioned couch and began kissing her again. I traced my tongue against her bottom lip and tasted the cherry lip gloss she had coated her plump lips with after dinner. My fingers squeezed her thigh and she gasped, giving me full entrance to the inside of her mouth. I slipped my tongue into her warm, wet mouth and our tongues fought over dominance, however, Maggie’s submissive side kicked in and she let me take control easily. Quiet moans spilled from her muffled mouth. When I pulled away from her, a small string of saliva pulled from both of our lips. A rosy tint illuminated off her face and her green eyes were hazy, her floral shirt was pulled up, revealing her black, laced bra.

“Fuck,” I hissed, my pants growing tighter at the sight of her coming undone from my touch.

Pulling myself up, I removed my blazer and tie before unbuttoning my white, dress-up shirt. Her glistening eyes watched my every move, widening at the sight of my bare chest. She started nibbling on her bottom lip as I pulled at the hem of her shirt.

“Let's get this off,” I muttered, my voice husky and dripping with arousal.

Maggie didn’t argue, she just pulled her shirt above her head revealing more of herself to me. I groaned as I leaned down and started sucking on her exposed skin, leaving wet kisses against her porcelain skin. Her heartbeat was pounding against her chest, her skin was heating up, and her fingers gripped the couch cushion. I reached behind her and unclipped her bra clasp. Immediately, her hands moved to cover herself up. I lifted her chin.

“Don’t hide yourself, baby girl,” I whispered, “let me see you, please.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

She allowed me to remove her bra from her small body and I tossed it to the side with the rest of our clothes that littered the living room floor. I pressed my lips against hers once again, my left hand gripped her left breast and I almost melted at the feeling of her perfectly soft, fleshy breast. Her pink, peachy nipples hardened from both the cold air and my calloused hands pinching at them. Her moans were becoming louder, but not too loud since her grandmother was sleeping.

“Draco, please,” she moaned, her hips moving against my own.

“What is it?” I moaned back, “what do you need, baby girl? Tell me.”

“I-I need you. Please.”

Those words turned me on even more. I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them off, her black matching panties hugged her hips. I hooked my fingers to her lacy panties, pulling them down and revealing her perfect pink cunt. My pants were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second, so I quickly removed them from my body, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the pile. I started kissing her breast, sucking on her nipples, and tracing open mouth kisses against her body until I reached her lower area. The sweet aroma coming from her was intoxicating and I felt drunk from the scent alone.

I traced my tongue against her already soaking slit causing her to shiver and moan. My tastebuds were coated with her delicious nectar and I couldn’t help but dive in quickly. Her small fingers tangled themselves into my gelled hair, messing up every strand. A list of moans echoed off the walls as I flicked my tongue hungrily over her clit. Maggie tried to close her legs, but I pinned them back down. My gray-blue eyes flickered up, meeting her lustful orbs. She was covering her mouth because she was becoming too loud. Careful not to hurt her, I slipped a single finger between her folds and she flinched. I stopped.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, it’s okay,” she panted, “i-it’s all just a n-new experience.”

Nodding, I went back to lapping up her flowing juices and started entering my finger again. This time it slipped in with ease. A few seconds passed and I added another finger, moving them slowly in and out of her.

“D-Draco, faster.”

I didn’t waste time and started moving my fingers faster and faster into her sex. Her back arched off the couch, I could feel her clenching around my fingers and I could tell she was getting closer and closer to her release. I started sucking on her swollen clit and she yelped out before cumming all over my fingers. I removed them from her then placed them in my mouth, sucking every last drop off of them. Groaning against my fingers, I pulled them out with a pop.

“Delicious,” I hummed, watching her chest move rapidly as she caught her breath, “have a taste.”

I captured her lips with mine and rummaged my tongue around her warm mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head making me smile at how undone she looked for me. I pulled away.

“Doesn’t that taste amazing, sweetheart?” I whispered in her ear.

All she could do was nod her head. Sweat was beaded against her forehead and her hair was starting to cling to her face, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Ready?” I asked, “and use your words for me.”

“I-I am,” she muttered, “I-I’m ready.”

Climbing on top of her, I aligned my hardened member with her entrance before pushing it, peppering kisses against her face as she cried out in pain. Once I was finally nestled inside of her aching cunt, I stayed there to let her adjust to my size. A minute passed by when she gave me the okay to move, then I started moving my hips at a slow pace. Every time I pulled out and pushed back in, I felt myself get squeezed around.

“God damnit!” I groaned quietly, “so fucking tight. It feels amazing, Maggie.”

“D-Draco, you’re s-so…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence.

I started moving faster and harder with each stroke and both of our moans filled the room along with the sound of our sweaty skin slapping against each other. Despite the noise coming from us, we remained quiet enough so we didn’t wake up Grandma Loral.

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as I started snapping my hips harder to meet hers. I grabbed her chin with my right hand and pulled her head to meet mine, my lips feathering over her. Her warm breath fanning over my chapped, slightly parted lips.

“Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby,” I said strictly.

Maggie’s eyes opened and our eyes stared at one another as I drilled into her repeatedly. Her nails raked into my back causing me to growl at the stinging pain. I lifted one of her legs over my shoulder for a better position, my cock now going deeper into her sweet sex.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moaned, resting my forehead against her, never tearing my eyes away from hers.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Feel good, huh sweetheart,” I praised, “you love being fucked like this.”

I didn’t want to take it too far, afraid that me being rough or even degrading her would cause her to push me away. She was sensitive. But Maggie seemed to love my words and nodded her head furiously as she started meeting my thrust.

“Yeah you do, fucking slut.”

Her moans were like music to my ears and I could feel her tightening around my throbbing cock. I wrapped my hand around her throat, not too tightly, her free hand gripping my arm as I practically slammed into her with inhuman speed. I didn’t know what came over me, but everything felt intoxicating and I felt energy rushing through me.

“I-I’m going to cum,” she whimpered.

“Then do it,” I growled against her lips, “cum.”

Her body started shaking as pure pleasure rushed over her small form. I watched her emerald eyes roll to the back of her head as I continued to slam into her, riding out her high. Our moans got louder, and we didn’t care that we were being loud. If we got caught, we got caught. All that mattered to me was watching her, being with her, loving her.

My thrust started getting sloppy as I felt myself coming to my end. I removed my hand from her throat, letting her lungs collect the well needed air, and buried my head into her sweaty neck. With a few final, strong thrust, I came inside her dripping cunt and moaned in her ear, or more like growled with pleasure. Her body shivered at the sound as she knotted her fingers in my hair. My body collapsed onto her, our chest heaving up and down as we tried to settle down. Once our breathing returned to normal, I pulled myself out of Maggie and laid next to her. I looked at her.

“Sorry,” I whispered, as I tiredly chuckled, “I didn’t mean to finish inside you.”

She giggled and shook her head, “it’s okay. I’m on birth control, so it’ll be fine.”

I smiled at her and leaned down to pick up my dress-up shirt. It was cool to the touch and as I cleaned up the mess on Maggie, she closed her eyes enjoying the welcoming, cold cloth. After I cleaned the both of us up with my shirt, I laid back down. Lightning flashed against the sky once again as a loud rumble of thunder hit the clouds. Maggie sat up and cracked the window open, the cool breeze washing over our sweaty bodies. I pulled her into my arms and nuzzled against her.

“I love you, Maggie,” I whispered.

“I love you too, Draco,” she said, “now and forever.”

Forever, huh?

A smile appeared on my face as I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep next to the one girl I would sacrifice everything for. All of the thoughts that once invaded my mind, the unsureness of being with a muggle, how my father would act once he found out, all of it, disappeared. The only thought left was how I would protect her from Voldemort, and if she would still be by my side when she found out I was destined to be a death eater. But all of that could wait. I wanted nothing more than to enjoy the next four days with her.

I’ve never felt so relaxed before.

Forever sounds nice.

#draco malfoy #draco smut #draco imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco #malfoy #muggle #harry potter #harry potter smut #smut #dm stories #hp smut #draco fluff #draco fanfiction

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago

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Tom Felton - Risk

A/N - Despite writing this 8 months ago, it hasn’t been uploaded anywhere. I forgot about it until a few days ago, redrafted it, and here we go. With the (not so) recent blow up of Draco-tok and Tom’s increased following, I thought it would be a good time to upload as well, and it has a summer feel to escape the disgracefully bitter winter here in Britain. I do not own the song lyrics used. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - cursing, legal alcohol consumption, mutual pining, 3.4k words of fluff and angst. Nothing further.

Summary - After your break up, one that pained you to the bone, you try to escape and you find yourself taking that one risk you always thought you should, travelling. A simple day out, and the one person you don’t want to see is the one person who can help you with your car troubles. Could he help with your heart troubles too, over a reminiscent dinner perhaps?

RISK, that’s what this is. You’re taking a risk for once in your life, living a new experience and stepping outside of your comfort zone. That's what you’re supposed to do to get over a particularly brutal break up, isn’t it? So here you are, finding yourself again, exploring places you’ve always wanted to go. Current destination: Cape Town, South Africa. A haven.

You came here on a whim. Looking up some cheap prices from when you were in Barcelona, and surprisingly, you got a good direct flight and hotel deal for more than a reasonable price.

Before your break up, you’d never have dreamt of this. You were content with your life of luxury in LA with your boyfriend after dating for a while, but with his insane work schedule and travelling, you just couldn’t reasonably keep up with the relationship. You felt neglected, work and Willow always coming above you, and you couldn’t just be solely financially reliable on him, even if he was a millionaire. So after a long few days of gruelling arguments, you packed your bags and did what he told you to do.

“Live your life the way you couldn’t do with me holding you back.”

He was sorry, so sorry, heartbroken. I can still see his face when he let me go. Too darling to forget or stay mad at. You’ve just got to find the part of yourself that stayed with him, and maybe you’ll find it half way across the globe in between gorgeous beaches and scenic mountains while staying in a luxurious five star hotel.

Your days have been filled with hiking and swimming, spa days and sunbathing, fancy meals and getting drunk under the stars. But even though you’re living the dream, you haven’t quite found yourself yet. Maybe you will with your sightseeing plans for later on.

This afternoon, after you’ve spent the morning hiking, you’re ready for a calm afternoon back at your hotel, a leisurely swim in the pool to cool down and maybe some sunning on the adjoining beach.

You make your way back to the car you hired, a beat up jeep, but it’s a pleasure to drive around the mountains. But as you walk back there, you see someone. No, it can’t be him. It was just someone with the same hairstyle as him. Wearing the same shirt that he used to wear all the time. And wearing the same glasses. It has to be a coincidence, he can’t be here, it’s just your mind playing tricks.

Part of you even wants him to be here, but the correct part of your brain knows that your longing thought us nothing more than wantonly cohorted, made up from missing him and being away from the last place you could call home. So without another thought, you open the door to the car and climb into the driver's seat. You’re suddenly conscious of the way you’re dressed: canvas shorts with a sun top and billowy button down, but even if it is more of a practical outfit, you still look damn good in it, so calm yourself down.

Starting the car is easier said than done, because as soon as you slot the key in and turn it, the engine vibrates for a few seconds and lets out a low grumble, and then it dies. Internally you curse yourself, and you hit the steering wheel a few times to release some steam. This was always Tom’s area of expertise, you never had to deal with car mechanics, but instead of making it a big deal, you give it a go again, only for the engine to crash again.

Footsteps sound outside the car on the gravel and sand, and then a head appears at your rolled down window, followed by a voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“Need some help, Miss?”

You turn your head so quickly that you feel something pull. No no no, he cannot be here on your get away trip.

He smiles at you lopsidedly until realisation dawns on his face. In that moment, his cheeks fall and his red eyes droop. He is definitely high, but high tom is the best tom, all slow and cuddly.

“W-what are you doing here, Y/N?” he asks incredulously, his enunciated British tone raspy and soothing all at once, grounding you.

“Vacation. Um, you?”

You fumble over your words, scrutinised under the piercing blue of his eyes behind his glasses.

“Filming.” he says.

Even after you split up, you’d never expected it to get this awkward if you ever met again. You’re definitely not over him yet, you can tell by the way butterflies flitter inside your stomach just at the sight of his day-old stubble and the tufts of sun kissed hair that poke out from his cap.

“That’s, um, nice,” you respond and offer him a shy smile, “Would you mind, um?”

He nods and moves around to the hood of the car. You watch as he turns his cap around and rolls up his sleeves, revealing his gorgeously tanned and toned forearms. You lose yourself and all inhibitions as he works to find out the problem, his seamless movements and his cute thinking face that crinkles his forehead and scrunches his nose. How he’s always so willing to help in any circumstance and the undying love that he revels in day after day, it’s like basking in eternal joy whenever you’re around Tom because not a single moment is dull. You can’t help but remember the way it felt when he kissed you, the fire that his touch left in its wake, the gentle way he held you through countless nights.

“Sorted, sweet pea.” he says, leaning against your car door with his head against the window frame.

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “No one’s called me that since you.”

The words are out before you can stop them, your sad smile unmoving from your face despite being filled with longing, and it just so happens to match his expression exactly.

“I have to film this afternoon, but how about I take you out for dinner? We can just, I don’t know, catch up? It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve bumped into each other.”

You don’t even have to think before the answer is spilling from your lips rather enthusiastically, a definite yes with a vigorous nod. He chuckles, slipping his hand through the window to clasp yours.

“I still have your number, so I’ll text you a time and place, yeah sweet pea? I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, “bye tom.”

You watch as he walks away before starting the car, your thoughts the whole way back to the hotel filled with nothing but Tom and thoughts for the night. Dinner with your ex really is a risk, but maybe, just maybe if he reciprocated your lingering feelings, it’ll pay off.

No matter how much you want to spend the afternoon carelessly swimming and enjoying yourself, taking in the views all around you and revelling in the South African sunlight, you simply can’t. Every moment you close your eyes, Tom’s smile illuminates your thoughts and fills your body with a prickling longing. It’s a bitter feeling that scares you, unnerving you and forcing you to lose all hope for the night ahead. Your phone buzzes on your way to the spa, thinking maybe a hot stone massage will clear your mind, but you quit when you see what he’s written. You haven’t deleted his number from your phone either.

PAPI ♡ : What hotel are you at? I’ll grab you for dinner at 7. Dress fancy, preferably in that nice black dress I love, but you look perfect in everything. T x

That black dress. The same one you haven’t worn since your last night out before the break up. Maybe you will wear it, maybe you won’t. You tap out a reply, signing with a smiley face and no kisses no matter how much you want to press that x like there’s a gravitational pull, but it just doesn’t feel right in the circumstances.

PAPI ♡ : I’ll be there, sweet pea. T x

That might be Tom’s worst habit of them all. Constantly signing his texts with ‘T’ when you obviously know that it’s him. It used to gnaw at you, especially when he’d send particularly needy texts, multiple in a row, and sign them all the same way, but often, it was rather cute. He always was crap with technology.

All the memories come flying back at a terrifying pace, the different texts calling to you from your phone, begging for you to relive the good old days. No, you can’t. You won’t give in to such an insane impulse. It’s bad enough that you agreed to go to dinner with your ex, you can’t let anything cloud your mind to make you more malleable for the night. So to resist temptation, you throw your belongings down on a sun lounger and grasp a cocktail over a nearby bar, downing it briefly before diving head first and breaking the surface of the water. Maybe a swim will distract you until you have to get ready.

Tom spent his whole afternoon messing up lines. Not for a minute could he focus. His lunchtime beer ended up being drunk faster than he’d wanted to, and he hardly ate a thing, for his stomach was filled with butterflies. Whenever anything was said in the script or on set that linked his mind back to you, he went hazy for a solid minute. Every time he’d try to pull himself together, and would fail, remembering how your hands felt when you tied his hair back or undressed him.

Eventually, it was too much.

“CUT!” the director screamed an hour early. “Stop, just stop. Go home, sleep, come back tomorrow. We haven’t got a single decent shot in hours, Felton.”

Tom gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down beneath a feathering of stubble that had made its way down there. Faintly, he nodded and ran a trembling hand through his hair before pulling a cap on. He rolled his sleeves up briefly, wandered to his dressing room, and fell into a chair, his thoughts whirring around his head too fast for him to form a sensical sentence. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? So, he grabbed his belongings and ran to his car, driving to his hotel to play his sorrows away while awaiting your date.

Once coming in from the pool, you spend a few hours prepping yourself, primping and dressing for the date. You want to look good for Tom, but also for yourself. You always dressed up to feel good about yourself and it was just a bonus that Tom worshipped you, even more when he knew you’d made an extra effort. Curling your hair, dabbing on lipstick, even buckling the straps on your sandals fills your stomach with butterflies and gives you goose bumps all over your skin, already prickling with the blush you received from looking in the mirror. It’s time.

Your walk out to the front of the hotel feels foreign, your ankles wobbling in the heels you decided on, and even as the humid air hits you, you feel a little exposed and chilled. However, any anxiety dissipates when you see Tom walking towards you, a dopey and ever loving smirk on his sun kissed face, crisp chinos with loafers and a billowy button down, loose around the neck. The evening breeze blows the short sleeves up and gives you a peek at the curls of ink that hug his arm in the shape of a dog, the same as how you see the contrast on his ankle between the dark palm trees and his white skin.

You don’t realise you’ve been standing still and tearing apart his every exquisite feature until he’s an inch away from you and his fingers have slipped around your own, holding your hand loosely and keeping you close.

“Hi.” he says, his mouth pulling to a grin.

“Hi.” you return, pacing your fingers with his own more intricately to distract yourself from how crimson your cheeks are.

“Come on,” he picks up his pace back to where he’s parked, “I’ve got a surprise.”

He plays show tunes the whole journey, silly show tunes that put a smile on your face and ones you can’t help but sing along to. He keeps his calloused palm on your knee, brushing some hair behind your ears or sneaking a kiss on your cheeks whenever possible, but the journey isn’t long enough for anything major, nor long enough for you to take apart every piece of hospitality he’s offered you so far. It’s just dinner with an ex, right? Yeah, that is until he pulls up outside a five-star luxury restaurant, complete with a mini ballroom floor and a stage where stands a woman in an evening gown, warbling out in a different language.

“We’re around the back, I have connections.”

His smile is as luminous as the twinkling lights that he’s had arranged in the trees on the back terrace of the restaurant. One table sits with a bottle of wine balanced precariously atop, a single rose in a fluted vase, two wine glasses and sets of cutlery, and with the sun setting and the fairy lights, it’s perfectly ambient. You want to speak, but you can’t find the words. Maybe, if he pulled out all the stops this way, he feels the same as you do.

He pulls your chair out before sitting down himself, pours your glass of rose wine first, and even orders your favourite meal. The amount of times you’ve ordered that very same thing though, it must be ingrained in his mind. Neither of you say a word except for meek thank you’s, and tension fills the air, not ceasing until the waiter delivers a bread platter.

“Oh,” Tom says to the waiter, a little startled, “do you have any crackers? She doesn’t eat bread before meals, or, well, at all.”

The waiter nods and scurries away, but you’re left with a burning blush on your cheeks, anxiously tucking your hair behind your ears.

“You remembered,” you chuckle softly, feeling a little giddy even though its one of your more stupid habits.

“Of course I did, I remember everything about you.”

He reaches over the table and leaves his palm open. You give it a moment of thought before wrapping your fingers around his own, tracing the lines and sun spots. He’s so familiar yet so different, your time apart somehow meeting your shared experiences, the cons outweighing the pros, something causing a barrier.

You engage in small talk while you eat, simple conversations of how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to, only very few anecdotes shared from your past relationship. It feels so natural between the two of you, just the sight of his wispy dark blonde curls is still enough to make your heart flutter, but both of you are holding something back. Nothing changes until you’re half-way through your second bottle of wine, liquid courage making you buzz.

“Do you miss me?” you ask, holding nothing back, taking just one more risk before you close off the Tom chapter of your life for good. “Do you miss us? The way we were? Who we were with each other?”

He doesn’t say a word, only looks at you with heavy blue eyes, pleading.

“Do you miss the way I used to kiss you good morning? The way you’d kiss me goodnight? The good times we had, even the bad. Do you not miss me at all?”

He swallows thickly and takes a heavy swig of wine. He signals to a waiter who clears your dishes, and then he leans on his bare forearms over the table, both of his hands holding yours as he stares into your soul, those mystical ocean eyes boring into your pained soul.

“I miss it all,” he says in his hoarse tone, “I miss you and our life more than you can imagine. If it was up to me, I’d never have let you go, but I couldn’t keep you tied down. So before you leave forever, can we have one nice night and pretend like we aren’t completely fucking broken?”

You see tears in his eyes, threatening to fall down his cheeks at any given moment. You hold his hands tighter, letting your soft fingers dance up his arms, anything to feel the warmth of his skin against you once more.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” you whisper, Hoping that the sound is blown away with the wind, or disguised by the melodious singing from just inside the restaurant, but no. He hears your words as clear as day.

“Then don’t go. Don’t leave me again. Come back and we’ll make it better, I won’t work, we don’t need to, and you can live out all of your goals too. It’s high time that you come back where you belong, by my side. Don’t leave again, Sweet pea. Please.”

You’ve never heard him sound so desperate. He clings to you, kisses your hands, and when you’re too dumbfounded to respond, he gently pulls you up and brings you upright to a flat area of the terrace.

A sweet and familiar melody flows with the wind and the bird song, softly filling your ears from the restaurant, seeping into your own little circle with Tom. He cradles his forearm around your waist, his hand splayed on the small of your back. His other cups the palm of your hand gracefully as you rest your head on his cloth covered shoulder. He still smells the same, that same mix of smoke and beer and firewood as always, the musk of his aftershave lingering on the expanse of his neck, a faint sweat from the sun clinging to his freckles.

As soon as the lyrics start, you bury your head further into Tom’s neck, chest to chest, keeping him close.

‘Come on skinny love just last a year,

Pour a little salt we were never here,’

“Come home with me and let's pretend you never left.” Tom suggests, swaying in time with the music, your body moving in time with his even if you aren’t particularly responsive to what he’s saying. “It’ll be better now. We can make it better.”

You hum against his neck noncommittal, the vibrations sending warmth through his chest. His hands roam your body, the snug fitting of his favourite dress hugging your body all too familiar to him. It’s muscle memory to trace the contours of your body beneath the black poplin, the gaps of lace giving him a peek to your dappled skin, and the slightly lower neckline still driving him crazy. His chinos hold his legs and give the silhouette of his muscles, tensing as he dances meek waltz steps, his body naturally leading the way for yours to follow, his shirt blowing open more as you hold him closer. His warmth is what you need, his body, his heart, all of him.

“I want to come back, we’ll make it work,” you whisper, toppling between your heels in what somehow resembles a slow dance to the music still coursing through your veins and making you alive.

‘In the morning I'll be with you

But it will be a different kind

'Cause I'll be holding all the tickets

And you'll be owning all the fines’

“Let's take the risk, sweet pea.”

His voice is no more than a hoarse whisper, illuminating your mind in places that you forgot, his words making your heart flutter. This is it, you love him and you have to go back with him.

‘Come on skinny love…’

“Maybe, “ you start, “Just maybe, this isn’t skinny love anymore.”

Reaching up on your tiptoes and cupping the back of his neck, gently tugging the hair at the nape, you bring his lips down to yours, finally meeting in a kiss, one that’s been months coming. He brings his palms up to your cheeks, holding and caressing while your eyes are squeezed shut, focussing on the deepening massage of his lips against yours. It’s so welcoming, so warming, so homely. This was definitely a risk worth taking.

#tom felton #draco malfoy #tom felton imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco tok #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff #tom felton smut #tom felton fluff #draco fan fic #thomas felton

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years ago

Text

Cabin in the Woods [18+]

Jackson Neill x Female Reader

For @storiesofsvu’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @resparza!

Summary: You and Jackson take a trip to New England that goes slightly awry.

Warnings: NSFW, nipple play, fingering, praise, slow gentle sex until the end when it gets a lil rough. Fluffy fluff & the tiniest bit of angst (so Jackson can reassure you). Trans male version here

3,350 words

Jackson made a tiny mistake with the timing. He booked your leaf-peeping getaway for mid-October, when the leaves in the city were just beginning to turn.

When you arrived at your cozy Airbnb in the mountains of Vermont, you were greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of… sticks.

“Goddammit. I forgot how geography works,” Jackson griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the drive up I-91 when the scenery started to look distinctly more ashen than orange halfway through Massachusetts.

“It’s like we time-traveled two weeks into the future,” you marveled at the bare tree branches rattling in a chilly breeze. Your rustic cedar-shingle cabin was surrounded by forest and at the end of a long dirt driveway. Even without the screen of leaves, you couldn’t see any neighbors.

“So much for leaf-peeping. There are no leaves.”

You picked up a bright red maple leaf from the driveway. “Found one!”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm and shook his head. “If I made our reservation a week earlier, the foliage would be, you know, in trees.”

“Found another!” you pointed at the colorful ground, grinning. “There’s another!” You picked each one up and tossed them at him like confetti.

“Alright!” he groaned, curling his elbow about your neck like a shepherd’s crook to wrangle you in. “I see you refuse to have a miserable time. Won’t even wallow with me for two seconds?”

“I think it’s pretty.” You turned in his arm and kissed him.

The tip of your nose was cold, but your lips were warm as he kissed you back and tried to look on the bright side. Just because things weren’t going to plan didn’t mean he had to relapse into his ingrained Catholic guilt.

***

Since the publication of his book, Meyerism: A New American Religion, Jackson Neill had been receiving threats from the eponymous cult that had him on edge. Not only was he afraid for himself—he wasn’t so macho to pretend otherwise—but he worried about you or his kids getting caught in the crossfire. The deeper he dug into the Meyerist Movement, the more he was convinced they were capable of anything.

This vacation was supposed to be a way to leave all that behind for a weekend, but stress clung to him like spiderwebs.

At least the weather was cooperative. Friday afternoon was clear and sunny—just the right temperature to sit out on the porch with a hot cup of cider. After unpacking, you settled down with Jackson on Adirondack chairs and listened to the sounds of nature as the fading sun slanted orange and red through the forest.

Pops of bright color still stood out amid the dull grey-brown landscape like flames—late trees that had waited for your arrival to change.

“You’re right: it is pretty,” Jackson conceded, your hand nested in his. Your fingertips were getting cold, so he held them to his lips and blew on them.

Tomorrow, you’d go on a nice hike with a beautiful view of the snow-capped Green Mountains. The trip wasn’t a total waste, Jackson thought. He tried to relax.

***

The next morning, you awoke to the pounding of rain on the roof and Jackson pacing downstairs in the living room. The entire cabin creaked and groaned with the force of the wind, and you quickly pulled on a sweater and wool socks before padding down the stairs.

Jackson was tapping at his phone, muttering under his breath, before finally tossing the useless device on the couch with a dry laugh. His apparent crankiness couldn’t have been that bad, though—he’d gotten up early to light about a hundred votive candles, filling the dim living room with flickering golden light. He must have been planning something romantic.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“No signal out here in God’s country,” Jackson rolled his eyes at a wooden cross decorating a door frame, which had not been visible in the listing photographs.

“Isn’t there Wi-Fi?”

Jackson stared at you with lips so thin they vanished into a fine line, and eyes that looked ready to shatter like exploding light bulbs at any moment. “Storm knocked out the power.”

Oh. That was why he lit candles.

“And our hike is canceled, unless you want to go out in that.” A freezing mix of rain and sleet rattled the window panes.

It was easy to let another person’s bad mood get you down, but you tried to stay positive. He’d been so tense lately, he needed support. You both needed this vacation to go well. “That’s OK. We can stay in and get cozy with the fireplace.”

“You would think so,” he gave a humorless chuckle, shaking your arm off to sulk into the open-plan kitchen. “The listing said breakfast was included, but the refrigerator is empty. We’ve got… toast.”

“Maybe we can drive into town? Find one of those quaint little bakeries.”

“Out into the cold,” he sighed. “And we don’t have internet to look a place up. No wonder the host thinks they can get away with starving us—I can’t even call to complain!”

The wall of positivity you’d constructed groaned and cracked, and the anxiety it held back began to stream through. You sank down onto the couch.

Oblivious, Jackson hunted through the charmingly rustic (and empty) cabinets with an increasingly frustrated frown. “This trip is a disaster.” The words stung as surely as if he called you a disaster.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He turned. Your voice was so quiet he barely heard you say anything.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated so he would hear, lower lip trembling with the effort.

It took him three strides to cross the entire cabin, and he was on top of you, kneeling in front of the couch, stroking your face. “Hey, no, no… What are you talking about?” His green eyes were soft as the hay fields you’d passed yesterday as they searched yours.

“It was my idea to come here,” you sniffed.

“I know.” His head tilted, and frown lines creased his forehead. “I wanted this weekend to be perfect for you, and I can’t get anything right. I don’t know why you’re sorry. This is my fault.”

“But it’s my fault you’re miserable. I thought getting away from the city would be relaxing. I wanted some alone time with you. But you’re not having any fun. I just don’t want you to be upset…”

Something changed in his eyes.

“I… I’m not upset.” His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “I’m not upset at all—not at you. Maybe at myself. Fine, entirely at myself. This was your trip, and I fucked it up. I hate disappointing you.”

A hint of a smile crept back into your face. You covered his hand with your own and turned into it to kiss his palm. “Jax, you could never disappoint me. All I wanted out of this trip was to spend time with you. So long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

“You don’t look happy.” A flicker of a self-deprecating smirk. “Guess I ruined things by being a grouch, huh?”

Your face once again threatened a smile. “No…”

“Yes. I’m a big mean grouch. Come on, you can tell me off,” he grinned, leaning close to your neck and purring his words against your earlobe. “Punish me. Throw a handful of sleet down my shirt. Push me into a pile of wet leaves.”

“Nooo!” you squirmed beneath him, fighting a laugh as he invented tortures for himself and kissed them into your skin.

“Come on, I deserve it.” He pulled back, and a smile broke across his face like dawn to see how your eyes had brightened.

“Alright, alright. Maybe just a little sleet.”

“From now on”—he pressed his lips against your neck again and sucked lightly at the beat of your pulse point—“I promise”—he nibbled his way over your jaw—“to appreciate every moment of our vacation”—his lips ghosted against yours—“and make sure you feel good.”

You pulled him down onto the couch with you, falling back onto the cushions as his lips melted with yours and his tongue hunted for a moan inside your mouth. He found one, long, slow, and tortured as you tasted the raw heat of his apology.

“Mmm,” you hummed as if a chocolate truffle were melting on your tongue. “You want to make me feel good?”

“Yes,” he sighed back, lips moving against your cheek and his hips lazily grinding against your thigh.

“I have a few ideas about how you could do that…”

“So do I.”

His long fingers slid down your stomach and slipped beneath the waistband of your flannel pajama pants. You drew a sharp breath as his pads grazed the top of your slit, and he paused, looking to you with lust-blown eyes for permission to continue. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you angled your pelvis to move his fingers onto the aching bud of flesh that sent hot shivers out beneath your skin at the contact.

“Seems we’re on the same page, Dr. Neill,” you whispered, and captured his lips again.

Moaning into the kiss with a dark, gravelly rumble, Jackson let his fingers venture deeper into your folds. You weren’t drenched for him yet. Moments ago, you had been on the verge of crying, and he still had to reassure your body that it was wonderful and loved—but he was a patient man and enjoyed taking his time. Each breath and sigh was a signal he attended like a rapt student in the front row of the classroom, his own pleasure coursing through his veins as he played with your pussylips and brought out your trust and desire.

“Shirt off.”

Nodding, you peeled the hem up over your stomach, and he sat up to help you wriggle it off over your shoulders. While he was at it, he pulled off your pajama bottoms and stripped to his boxers.

“Hey, I’m cold,” you whined, pouting as goosebumps began to prickle over your naked arms.

He pulled the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and covered you both with it. “I’ll keep you warm, querida,” he purred as he lowered himself over you.

A hot flush spread over your skin. You loved when he spoke Spanish—sweetly, with the vocabulary of a 1950s telenovela, and full of diminutives the way his mother used to speak it to him as a child. A well-placed querida or cielito could send shivers up your spine. It was nothing compared to the back-arching jolt a moment later when his tongue teased your nipple.

You cried out, fingers curling sharply into his hair as if his tongue carried an electric charge, unsure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer and make sure he never stopped. As he gently sucked and your sensitive flesh pebbled into a stiff peak beneath his circling tongue, you were leaning toward the latter. Head thrown back, you gasped out his name, begging for more.

He worshiped your chest, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful, attentive expression, but he didn’t give you more, no matter how you clawed at the back of his scalp. His tongue worked in gentle, leisurely circles, tracing one fully before moving on to give attention to the other.

Fingers delving back between your thighs, he found your clit swollen and throbbing. You let out a startled, sobbing moan as he stroked it, your back arching, clinging to his head almost painfully tight to brace against the overwhelming sensation. If he kept touching your two most sensitive areas at the same time, you were going to come fast.

“Easy…” he soothed, sensing your agitated level of arousal. “I want to make this last. Can you be good for me and wait?”

Whimpering, you nodded and loosened your tight grip.

“Yes, Dr. Neill.”

“Good girl.”

As he languidly serviced your nipples, he dragged his fingers lower, through your folds. It still made your skin prickle with wanting, but without direct contact with your clit, you wouldn’t come as fast.

When he found your entrance with the pad of a finger, it was slick enough to press inside without resistance. You let out a delicious, tortured moan as the long digit penetrated your tight walls, opening them a little at a time.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. So wet. That’s my good girl.” He lifted his face from your chest to kiss you in praise.

Your hips writhed to push the finger deeper as you kissed him back. He was hungry to reconnect with you—to go slowly and spend as much time as he could sharing pleasure with your naked body—but you were starving. You might explode if he didn’t fuck you.

He moaned softly as your wetness swallowed more of his finger. “Feels like you’re sucking it. Trying to pull me in. You must want more.”

“Yes… please,” you whined, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders.

A second finger stretched your entrance, and he began slowly fucking you with both.

“Oh, fuck. More! Harder,” you moaned.

“You sound so desperate,” he observed casually. “Like one of my students trying to cram for a test.” Heavy-lidded bedroom eyes betrayed his desire, but he wore a cheeky grin and did not increase his pace.

Wet sounds of flesh filled the cabin, so slow it was torture. “Please, Jackson… please let me come. Please…” you begged, but he just kept watching you studiously, worshipfully, as he fingered you slowly. Enough to keep you begging, but not enough to let you finish.

He was straddling one of your legs, and his cock pressed rock-hard into your thigh. Every so often, you would feel it twitch, usually when his fingers massaged a sensitive spot inside that made you give a satisfying noise, and he could feel your pussy gripping around him. Then he would murmur, “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Only when you were a drooling, trembling mess that could barely string two intelligible words together did he start to actively roll his hips, rubbing his erection against your leg.

“Do you want more?”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed.

He sat back on his haunches, and you wailed as his fingers slipped from your yearning wetness, leaving you so empty. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked softly, so tenderly that “fuck” sounded like the most romantic, poetic word in the English language.

“I love you,” you replied, which wasn’t technically a yes, but made Jackson’s breath catch suddenly in his throat.

“I love you, too, mi corazón.” He tugged the elastic waistband of his boxers down over his straining cock, and, taking it in his hand, notched its thick head against your entrance. His forehead rested against yours as he demanded huskily, “Now tell me you want me inside you.”

You gasped. He was so big and blunt against your tight pussy, you almost didn’t think he could fit. But you knew he could—and you knew that was why he always warmed you up so gradually, so agonizingly, so he would never hurt you. With the crown of his cock stretching your opening, the temptation of being filled by him was so close that an unbearable ache drowned out every other thought.

“I want you, Jackson. I need you.”

A thrill rushed through you as his walls came crashing down. His hips canted forward, and a pleasurable burn filled your depths as his cock stretched you open farther than seemed possible—and you watched his mind empty in that moment. All the stress and worry were gone. Nothing was on his mind but you and how good you felt wrapped around him. Nothing existed for you but him between your legs and the ragged sound of his breathing.

As if to seamlessly replace his fingers with his cock, he set the same languid pace. At first, the difference in girth was enough to make it infinitely more intense. Relief cascaded through you as your pleasure finally began to build toward a finale, heat pooling in your lower body with every thrust. Dipping his head, Jackson found a hardened nipple and sucked it until you were babbling incoherently, hips jerking to add to the depth and friction he was giving you.

“H-harder,” you whispered, and this time, he didn’t tease you.

Your pussy coated his cock with so much cream, he knew you could take all of him. Knew you were ready to snap, and so was he—so his hips pounded faster, thighs slapping your skin, heavy balls swinging against your ass.

“Yes… yes… yes…” he breathed rhythmically, chasing his climax as your arousal coated his cock and slicked your thighs.

“More,” you rasped, though your fingernails were already digging red crescents into his back, the stretch almost too much. He needed a stress release, and you wanted to be his outlet. “Let yourself go.”

A final barrier broke inside him, and he took you so quickly, it was more like jerking himself off with your body than making love. Nothing went through his mind but seeking his own release. For a moment, Even you vanished, and there was nothing but his cock surrounded and gripped by unbelievable warmth. You cried out in pleasure at the new depths he struck with reckless abandon.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck!” he gasped, fingers gripping the couch cushion as his hot seed painted your inner walls.

He panted, going still. After a few moments of catching his breath, cock twitching the remainder of its contents into you, he wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow and opened his eyes.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He gave a sheepish sigh.

“It’s OK. Sometimes it takes me too long… It was fun anyway.”

“Stop that. Whoever gave you those excuses is a fucking idiot.”

Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he reached between your bodies to stroke your clit. You gasped out, finding your body responded quickly with waves of molten heat exploding between your thighs. You were still close to finishing.

Jackson circled his hips, using his spent, tender cock while it was still hard. Though each movement was overstimulating and made his body cry out to stop, he savored the way you responded to the pressure: your eyes squeezing closed, your breath growing shallow. He lowered his mouth to your chest again, stroking your clit faster as he flicked his tongue and rocked his hips in shallow thrusts. Your moans built, louder and more strained, back arching beneath him until finally, you came, walls crashing around him, convulsing and releasing, then clenching down again as your whole body shuddered with wave after wave of ecstasy.

Jackson’s mouth popped off the bud of your nipple as a pained moan tore from his throat. His exhausted cock suffered as your pussy involuntarily tried to milk another orgasm from it, but there was a smile on his lips. A breathy laugh.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

You lay together for a while under the blanket. Even after you’d recovered, your shared body heat was incentive enough not to want to get up yet. The storm outside didn’t relent, and despite the warm light of a hundred flickering candles, the air inside the cabin was chilly. Soon, you would start up the fire in the rustic stone hearth, and you could stay cozy inside all day roasting marshmallows and reading books or playing board games. After a brief trip into town for supplies, that is. Besides, you would have to brave the storm to make good on your promise to slip some ice down his shirt.

For now, Jackson’s face was buried contentedly in the curve of your neck, hot puffs of breath tickling your skin. You held him in your arms, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So,” you murmured. “Enjoying our vacation yet?”

You felt him smile. “It’s everything I needed.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Jackson Neill x Reader

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Note

ok but what if the whole week y/n’s mom has been hovering over them and tagging along to their car rides. not because she suspects something but she’s just in a good mood and “want to spend time with my family” all the while she’s cockblocking them. reader finally snaps and goes to the bathroom where lee is showering or the garage where he’s working on the car and is like “i need you to fuck me” which he absolutely does, but the fact that this time around the mom can walk in at any moment not only makes them be extra careful, but it also makes it that much hotter

The three Bodeckers all had vastly different ideas on the meaning of ‘family bonding time.’

To you, it meant casual activities surrounding shared interests, like an afternoon spent fishing or a morning preparing breakfast together. To your mother, it meant long road trips and weekend vacations and dinners without TV, radio, or newspapers to distract from each other; constant togetherness, with barely enough privacy to breathe. To your stepfather, it meant coming up with some excuse to be alone with you so he could rail you like it was the end of the world.

A week of your mother’s idea of ‘family bonding’ had you warming up to Lee’s interpretation.

See, you’d gotten a bit spoiled by Lee’s sexual appetite, rarely ever having to get yourself off to relieve tension since he was always just around the corner and more than willing to relentlessly pleasure you. But since Monday you’d been stuck in either the back of the patrol car or the twin bed in a motel room, which meant no time or place for either. Not only that, but the backseat of the patrol car only brought back memories that made it harder than ever to keep your hands to yourself (or rather, off of yourself); sleeping in a small room with him just a few feet away was so tempting, despite the impossibility of anything happening with your mother sleeping beside him. Still, you couldn’t help but fantasize about just crawling into bed and riding that thick cock, his hands grabbing your waist and pulling you down, his stubble scratching your face as he whispered all kinds of filthy praise in your ear...

“Hello? Are you listening to me?” your mother whined, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” you mumbled, sitting up from where you had been resting your head on the inside of the window.

“I said we’re about to get to our hotel for the night,” she repeated, “and tomorrow we’re going on a hike.”

“Mama, I don’t wanna hike tomorrow,” you groaned. “I thought this vacation was supposed to be about relaxing, not exercising.”

“Walking is good for your figure,” she defended.

“We didn’t need to drive all the way out here to walk!” you announced, gesturing out as if to evoke the general environment that you were currently riding through. “There’s plenty of walking to do at home!”

“But now we’re immersed in nature!”

“Nature...?” you repeated, furrowing your brow in confusion. “Mama, are you under the impression that Knockemstiff is some kind of urban environment? We live in the fucking woods!”

Lee laughed, but stopped when his wife shot him a glare.

“I don’t like that tone or that language,” she frowned. “I hope your attitude has improved by the morning or you might miss out on all the fun I have planned.”

You rolled your eyes but she seemed to relent, and you kicked your legs up onto the seats beside you to rest your eyes for the rest of the drive. You were jostled from your nap some time later when the car stopped; opening your eyes, you sat up and looked out the window and the hotel in front of you. It was actually sort of cute, in a dilapidated sort of way, but you’d seen worse so far on this nightmare of a family vacation.

Lee unloaded everyone’s bags (and by everyone’s bags, I mean your one bag, Lee’s one bag, and your mother’s six bags) while you and your mother went to the front desk to get the key. You would’ve killed even just for those few moments alone with him, but she had a sixth sense for keeping you two apart lately; it didn’t feel so much like she wanted you away from him, though, and more like she was trying to get to know you better herself. You weren’t sure what was motivating this sudden desire for a fun mother-daughter relationship after a lifetime of her treating you mostly like a nuisance, but the gestures of friendship were wholly unwelcome.

“Did you get all the bags, honey?” she asked Lee as she stepped back him to start unlocking the door. He just looked exhausted as you began to giggle at the absurdity of her asking him that when he was standing among a comically-large pile of suitcases and travel bags.

“Dear god let’s hope so,” Lee grumbled, but she didn’t seem to notice as she became preoccupied with the room in front of her once the door had swung open.

“Oh, this won’t do!” she frowned.

“It’s got a bed, doesn’t it?” Lee rolled his eyes. “And a shower, right? I need a shower.”

“We paid for a lakeview room, but all I can see out this window is trees! We’re changing rooms,” she announced.

“No no, I can see the lake,” you protested, desperate to not have to do this process all over again.

“I can’t see it,” she maintained, leaning in closer to the window and squinting.

“No, look, Ma, it’s right there! It’s behind the trees... you just have to look through the trees.”

“I can’t see through trees,” she shook her head. “I’m going to get us a new room.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t change her mind.

“Can I at least take my shower first?” Lee requested.

“Sure, you shower while I go sort this out. Darling,” she turned her attention to you, “would you look on this map and pick out a hiking trail for us to go on tomorrow?”

Your eyes widened a bit at that. “You mean I’m staying here?”

“Unless you would rather come with me to the front desk—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, “no, I’ll stay here and pick a trail.”

She waved as she stepped out, shutting the door behind her. You were on Lee like white on rice, throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him aggressively.

“How long do you think she’s gonna be gone?” he mumbled against your lips as his hands roamed over your back and grabbed your ass.

“Long enough for you to fuck me,” you decided. “Let’s get in the shower.”

“You need to pick a trail—”

You glanced at the map in your hand for a moment, picking out the first one you saw before tossing it aside. “We’re doing the Yellow Springs trail.”

“But that says it’s expert difficulty,” Lee began to protest before being distracted but your hand reaching down and rubbing his cock through his slacks. He was already half-hard and growing quickly in your palm. “Fuck, you’re insatiable,” he growled.

The two of you stumbled to the bathroom and stripped with lightning speed, hopping into the shower’s stream of water before it was even hot. It wasn’t quite big enough for two people, but you fit just fine with him pressing you against the cold tiled wall as he fucked you.

“Daddy,” you whimpered as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “harder, please, I need to come.”

“She could be back any minute,” he reminded you with a gravelly voice.

“Then we’d better make it quick,” you smiled. He pushed your legs up a little higher and it made his cock push even deeper into you— so deep you nearly screamed. His hand clamped down over your mouth as he continued, only hitting deeper and harder even as tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the intensity.

“Is this what you wanted, princess? Is this what you were thinking about all day?”

You nodded, and he growled approvingly.

“Me too,” he grinned, “wanted to touch ya so bad I thought I’d die. But nothin’ can keep me away from you for very long— fuck, ‘m close.”

You were close, too, but you figured he knew that with the way your walls were tightening and rippling as pangs of intense pleasure wracked your body. The water was hot but it was nothing compared to the heat of him inside you, especially as he came, coating your walls with his thick seed and making your eyes roll back into your head.

“Fuck,” he groaned deeply, “been waitin’ so long to do that.”

He relaxed the grip of his hand on your mouth, giving you a better chance to catch your breath. He slowly pulled out and allowed you to lower your legs, though he didn’t let you go until you were sure you wouldn’t fall over. You moaned softly as you felt his come leak out and run down your thighs, instantly washed away by the water.

Slipping out of the shower wordlessly, you dried off and dressed with a few minutes to spare before your mother returned. When he emerged in a towel while you felt yourself blushing uncontrollably, she explained to both of you that she couldn’t get a new room but was able to get some of her money (also known as Lee’s money) back.

“How was your shower, honey?” she asked him once she’d finished her tangent.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answered simply.

#twi!lee #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker headcanon #stepdad!lee bodecker #Anonymous

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fictionfunshop · 3 years ago

Text

Reunited - One Shot

Spencer Reid / Lila Archer

I watched their episode again and they were ROBBED of a happy ending so I gave them one.

18+ Smut.

You would recognise his eyes from anywhere. Captured within the honey flecks, framed with dark circles, was the innocence that made you weak at the knees all those years ago. He had chopped his hair and let his natural curls show through, which made him even more handsome than his younger self.

"Lila?" he grinned. You send him a short wave before you approach where he's sitting in the café; he pushes the heavy book back into his bag and signals to the chair in front of you to sit down.

"Spencer." You give him a small smile as you take your seat.

"What are you doing here? It's not that I'm not glad it's just…Virginia?" You could see he was flustered more than usual which made your heart swoon all over again.

You had tried to keep contact after everything that happened, but life got in the way; a new film to shoot, a case to solve, hour-long phone calls, and daily letters turned into sporadic texts until it just dwindled out.

"I'm filming a TV show here; get this, I play a Doctor." You both let out a giggle, "Are you still with the FBI?"

When you found out filming was in Virginia, you thought what would happen if you bumped into each other; wishful thinking that you could finish what you had both started after all these years. Now he was sitting in front of you; you could almost taste him again.

He nods his head, "Part-time, I lecture at the university too to keep me busy. So a TV show, no more movies?"

"I wanted to be in one place for more than a few weeks. Get a semi-normal life now I'm older." He nods in understanding. Being a movie star was fun, and you were successful, but long shoots and weeks away didn't make you a great girlfriend or wife when you tried that out.

You drop your eyes to his long fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, and you remember how they felt gripping your face and in your hair. You know you're blushing when he lets out a cough and throws you a smirk.

"So, you live here now?" He breaks the tension

"Yup, well, for the next while at least…."

"Your husband or boyfriend, not mind?"

"I don't have either." You interrupt him. "There's no one…" he smiles at your answer.

"And you?"

"You remember how awkward I am," he looks at his watch and finishes up his coffee. "I've to go to class…" you were sure the same flash of disappointment was reflecting in your eyes like his right now.

He stood up, and that's when you noticed he had filled out; chasing bad guys has added muscle to his tall frame.

"Do you want to grab dinner sometime? I'm new here, and I need a tour guide to show me around." he nods his head before you even finished the sentence.

"Yeah, you free tonight?" you could see the hesitation in his answer. Little did he know you were just as desperate to see him again in a more private setting.

"Yeah, that's good for me." He digs deep into his satchel and hands you his card. "Give me a call, and I'll arrange something."

He places his hand and your shoulder, and by instinct, you nuzzle your face there. You only notice now how long his fingers are. He squeezes your shoulder before walking away like all those years before.

All you could think about right now as Spencer Reid. After he left you in the café, his touch burned into your shoulder; it felt like a match was lit inside you. You replayed the night you first kissed him in your head. Would it be different now? Would he initiate? Would he keep his hands in your hair, or would they drift down your back? You clench at the idea of more than kissing him.

You were utterly distracted for the rest of the day, fluffing your lines in the read-through, forgetting meetings and appointments even after being reminded. You thought it would stop your thoughts if you called him and heard his voice, but it didn't. It only amplified them. You now had an internal countdown to when you would see him again.

You smoothed the black dress you finally decided on after changing your mind six times. You had never been this nervous about a date before. Ever. You were a movie star for crying out loud; men always made it obvious that they wanted you but not Spencer. Even on the phone earlier, he seemed timid and reserved, repeating the restaurants address to you and the time of the booking. You wanted to be early, but Virginia traffic made that impossible, and you arrived and the restaurant 10 minutes late. Your heart stopped when you finally saw him again. He was dressed dangerously good in a dark three-piece suit, a small bouquet in his hand; your heart raced when you approached him.

"Sorry, I'm late," you approached him, "I thought LA traffic was bad.." you kiss his cheek.

"These are, em for you. I remember they were your favourite..." he hands them over, your fingers grazing.

"You just googled that," you teased him. "Nice suit, by the way..." now you're up close, you see that it's a dark grey tweed, his blue shirt and tie matching it perfectly.

It took everything in you to not run your hands down his chest to feel the expensive material.

"You look great too; you were always beautiful, though," his brown eyes meeting yours, his irises blown out. Neither of you said anything for a while until the hostess interrupted you both to let you know your table was ready. Even though you were both nervous, the conversation flowed exactly like all those years before. It was surprising how open you both were after all that time and how he could still surprise you.

"A Cowboy?" you look at him in disbelief, sipping on your wine

"Yeah, few horses and cattle. Be surrounded by nature."

"What would you do on your imaginary ranch?" you can feel your cheeks start to hurt with the smile you have pinned there.

"I dunno…look at them? I'll figure something out" he drifts into thought. "What would you do if you weren't acting?"

The first answer you thought of was too corny to be by his side on this dream ranch, so you thought for a moment.

"Maybe a writer? I took a few classes at Juilliard and loved it…."

"I think you'd be great at that, better than me as a cowboy" he smiled at you softly.

The unmistakable tension was back; even in the dim light of the booth, you could see his eyes had turned black. You didn't want to break it; being under his gaze like this felt euphoric, and you were now sure the world would collapse if you didn't kiss him again. You both finished up your meals in comfortable silence, both occasionally stopping to compliment the food or, in Spencer's case, give you little tid-bits of information about Virginia. After you finished your meal, which he insisted on paying for, he offered you a ride home. He opened the door of the car for you, unintentionally trapping you in a corner. You saw your opportunity and pressed your lips against his lightly at first, so light that you didn't think it happened until you felt Spencer grab your jaw and push your lips together harder. The stubble on his chin is scratching your face lightly; your hands found his waist as your tongues sought each other out. You were glad the days of photographers following you were over because you were sure the scene of you two tangled together was obscene. He was the one to break the kiss, a repeat from the first time.

"I need to get you home; we'll get in trouble if we keep going," he smiles before letting you slide in the passenger seat. His hand rested on your bare thigh as he navigated you both back to your apartment, where he quickly pulled into the parking lot, the kiss from earlier giving him confidence.

"Do you want to come up?" he nods his head as he turns off the engine. You both jump out of your seats, his hand finding yours as you guided him to the elevator.

"How many stories are you up?" He asks as you both wait,

"24 – why are you afraid or something?" you turn to look at his face. He was chewing on his lip.

"A little", He chuckles. "I got stuck in one at a case a few years ago. I try and avoid them now."

The door of the elevator bings open, and you both stumble inside. He pins you against the furthest wall as you hike one of your legs up to rest on his hip; he keeps it there with his hand, his body now flush against yours as you both continue what you started in the restaurant car park. You groan as you feel him getting hard through his trousers as your hands finally make their way up to his chest into his curls. He hisses and nips at your bottom lip when you tug lightly on his hair. The elevator doors open, and you both scramble to get out; you dig through your bag for the keys.

"Wow, I didn't even know this view exists!" he announces as the door swings open into your open plan living room and kitchen; there are panels of floor to ceiling windows leading to the balcony outside.

"Is that a hot tub?" he points to the structure in the corner outside.

"Don't worry – I won't push you in with your clothes on again." You tap his nose, and he grabs your hand back, leaving it on his chest as he captures your lips in a kiss again.

As soon as he lets go, his hands steady themselves around your waist, his nails digging into your hips; you slip his jacket off, throwing it in the corner, hoping it reaches your couch. Your fingers get to work on his waistcoat; as he nearly rips your dress, he tugs on the zip at your back that hard. He breaks your kiss to shrug it from his shoulders and to slip off his tie.

"You wear too many clothes,"

"Same could be said for you," he pulls the straps of your dress down, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you in your underwear; you kick the dress to the side and slip your shoes off. He takes the opportunity to rid himself of his shirt and shoes before he gathers you into his arms again, his fingers tracing up and down your back.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," he rasps in your ear, boxing you in to your breakfast bar; one of his hands travels down your side, giving your hip a quick squeeze before he slips his hand into your underwear to find you soaked. "Did I do this?"

You whimper and nod your head as his fingers circle your entrance. You can feel yourself tighten in anticipation for his next move. He gathers your juices and circles your clit, and your knees start to shake; you are confident that if he weren't quick to grab your hip with his other hand, you would be on the floor. You bury your head into his neck, moaning his name and your hands are on his biceps as he circles your clit and dips a single finger inside you, teasing you to perfection, feeling the spring in your stomach tighten. He must notice because he plunges two fingers inside you harshly, causing you to yelp out his name. He continues his assault, his thumb joining in, rubbing your clit as the feeling in your stomach builds up quick.

"'Spencer, I'm…" you plead with him. He kisses you harshly as you crumble around him, stars appearing behind your eyes. You flutter them open as he slips his fingers out from you, a smile on his face.

"You enjoy that?" You nod your head, "You were so tight when you came. I'm surprised you didn't break my fingers," he chuckles. The quiet confidence he has gained over the years is a complete turn on.

You take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. He lightly pushes you on the bed as you shuffle up to your pillows. He finally takes off his trousers, leaving you both in your underwear. You can't help but drink him in; you were correct when you said that he had filled out, his chest and shoulders was broader and a little sun-kissed, and he was still lean. You gulped when you saw how hard he was through his boxers.

"We don't have to do anything." He whispers, climbing on top of you.

You shake your head and smile, he might have physically changed, but he was still a complete gentleman on the inside. He traces his fingers around your hips, his thumbs massaging you a little before he pulls off your underwear, leaving you exposed. You sit up on the bed and kiss across his chest while he works on taking off your final piece of clothing. Once off, he sits back on his heels and looks at you.

"Fuck, I'm lucky" he stares at you, and you could feel yourself drip on the comforter with those words.

"Spencer," you buck your hips, trying to gain any relief.

"Do you have protection?" he asks, slipping down his boxers.

"I've got an IUD, and I'm clean."

He climbs on top of you, and you settle your hands around his shoulders as he lines himself up at your entrance, sliding in easily. Your legs wrap around his waist as he drops down on his elbows, staring into your eyes as he bottoms out.

"Oh God," you bite your lip.

He sets the slow pace as you tangle your fingers into his hair, kissing him harshly. It was so intense between the two of you; it was sensory overload. His skin on yours broke you out in goosebumps, and he's biting your lip as you tighten around him with each thrust made you squint your eyelids shut. He grabs one of your hands from his hair and places it beside you; your fingers are interlocking.

"Look at me, Lila," your eyes snap open. You struggle to breathe as your gaze locks, and you whimper. He dips his head and sponges kisses down the valley of your breasts, and you push your chest into him. He smirks as you tighten your grip on his fingers, chanting his name as he makes his way back up to your neck and attaches his lips there.

"This is better than I ever imagined," He rasps in your ear. "I'm so close,"

"Me too,"

He lets go of your fingers and moves them down to your clit as he picks up the pace. You can feel him hit your cervix with every thrust now, and you are sure that the whole building can hear you both. You grab his face and kiss him hard as you feel yourself tighten around him as you fall off the edge. A few moments later, you can see his face tense and the vein in his forehead pop as he comes inside you. He stays still for a few moments before he kisses you again as he slips out and collapses next to you. He pulls you into his side, kissing your forehead. You trace your fingers on his chest, letting the silence envelope you both for a few minutes.

"That was…" you whisper. He chuckles and nods his head in agreement.

"All those years, that's what we were missing."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #mgg #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #mgg oneshot #fuck my feels #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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mylittlerambledmusings · 4 years ago

Text

The Road-Trip Part Four

Part Three | Masterlist | Part Five

Rating: T+

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

Words: 2878 Notes: Thank you all for the love and reblogs. It took a few days but I finally got this done. I won’t lie when I saw the people who’d started following me, I may have fan-girled a bit. Just know I appreciate all the love, it truly couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m not going to say this is the end, but I also don’t want to make any promises.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence, blood, and there’s still fluff in there, I promise!

Translations (if any of these are wrong, please feel free to correct me!) : You're still too beautiful to be with him Back off, asshole, she's taken I’ll call you tomorrow, asshole Hermosa-Beautiful Mi Sol- My sun Mi alma- My soul

Summary: Day One- The Visit.

The morning passed without any more incidents, thank goodness, and Frankie was able to take a shower, get the rest of your stuff out of the SUV, and let the dogs out again before the guys got there. You were also able to make them some sandwiches and pack a cooler with beer, soda, and water for them to take down to the lake to fish. Once they’d shown up, Frankie formally introduced you and the dogs to Will and Benny because you all had yet to meet the brothers. You were just shaking Benny’s hand when Pope pushed past them and scooped you up into a hug, which you returned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stage-whispered in your ear “Sigues siendo demasiado hermosa para estar con él,” causing you to laugh and you pulled back, patting his stubbled cheek.

“And you’re still as handsome as ever,” you responded with a wink, just as Frankie grumbled back at Pope “Retrocede, pendejo, ella está tomada,” and pulled you out of Pope’s arms back against his chest.

The men had joked and caught up a little, effortlessly bringing you into the conversation, and telling you some pretty embarrassing stories about your boyfriend before they decided to head out. Hell, they’d even asked you to come along. Pope had started back up with his picking on Frankie saying he was sure you’d catch more fish than Frankie, which had started up another round of insults. You turned them down though, telling them you’d much rather be lounging on the porch with the new book you’d gotten before you’d left home. You knew it would have been fun, even if it was just to watch them argue, but you’d already made up your mind.

Frankie lingered, cupping the back of your head as he stepped towards you, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re sure you don’t want to come?” he asked, pulling back to meet your eyes.

You reached out, slipping your fingers through his belt loops, and pulled him back to you, biting your lip as you watched him smirk. “I may have said the porch,” you started and then lowered your voice. “But what I really meant was that clawfoot bathtub.”

Frankie groaned and grabbed your face in his hands then pressed his lips to yours. Just as quickly as it started he pulled away and stepped back. “Fuck, Hermosa, you can’t just say shit like that.” He gave you an exasperated look all while shaking his head. Dropping his hands he turned, making it to the door before he looked over his shoulder at you and shook his head again when he saw your smile.

“I love you, baby,” you said sweetly, which turned into a laugh when he scoffed and walked out the door. But before it shut, he poked his head back inside, a brilliant smile on his face, dimples on full display. “And I love you too, mi sol,” he said with a wink, then shut the door behind him.

~*~

You didn’t lie to Frankie when you said you were going to lounge in the huge clawfoot tub and you did, for about an hour and half. You’d had to get the water hot again a few times but it was the most relaxed you’d been in weeks. Once you finally got out of the tub, you’d gotten dressed in the comfiest pajamas you’d brought with you and then moved out to the porch to lay on the huge lounge chair. You, Flex, and Marvin all cuddled together while you read. It was so peaceful that at some point you’d actually fallen asleep.

You must have been more tired than you’d thought because when you woke up it was dark outside. You checked your phone and saw it was only eight o’three at night and you’d gotten a few texts from Frankie. He’d let you know that the fishing had gone spectacularly horrible and none of them had caught a thing after two hours. He also let you know they’d gone on a hike and now they were going out to dinner before possibly going to a bar after that. The third text was a video of him and Pope saying they hoped that you were sleeping finally, and then Frankie said that he loved you, and that he’d see you later tonight. You sent off a few texts back to let him know he was right, that you hoped he was having fun, and that you loved him too.

You two texted back and forth a few times before you told him to put his phone away and enjoy his friends. After his playful response you waited a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t going to keep texting and then put your phone into your pocket.

Marvin was the first to notice you were awake and after a quick lick to the face he hopped down off the chair. Flex was a little slower but perked up when you asked if they wanted to go outside. A short walk later that Flex had thankfully been good for, the three of you headed back inside for dinner. You fed the boys and then made yourself a sandwich, then headed into the living room to curl up on the couch to watch tv. You were so happy that the host of the Airbnb you were in had stocked the fridge before you got there, it made your planned day of laziness possible.

Once you got your belly full, you must have drifted off again because the next thing you knew there was a knock at the door. Both dogs started barking, waking you up completely. After shushing them, you padded across the room to look out the peephole. You flipped on the outside light and opened the door with a frown. “What the hell?” you asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could truly comprehend what was in front of you. You had to grab the dogs by their collars to pull them back inside as you took in the men in front of you.

Standing there pinching his nose with a few napkins with his head tilted back was a guilty looking Frankie, who had blood down the front of his shirt and one of his cheeks coming from a cut, and Pope who had a split lip and a cut in his eyebrow. They both looked rough and a little worse for wear.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, Hermosa,” Pope started before you could even get them inside. He reached back and gripped Frankie’s arm, leading him in and stopped so he could shut the door behind them.

“It looks like you both got punched in the face,” you retorted, sending Pope a look as you reached up to cup Frankie’s face. “Jesus, baby…” you breathed, your hand hovering over his cheek, your brow pinched in concern. “You hit harder,” Frankie said, dropping his eyes to yours to give you a wink, his voice was a little nasally due to him keeping pressure on his nose but you could hear the smile in it. He could be such a shit sometimes. You huffed and rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help but smile. “I’m never going to live that down, am I? Let me see.”

Frankie shook his head a little before letting go slowly with a wince and you watched as he slowly lowered his head. There was a damn good chance he’d have two black eyes because of the hit if the slight bruising was any indication, but at least it looked like his nose had stopped bleeding. “What the hell happened to you two?” You asked again, finally unable to hold back any longer, eyes bouncing between your boyfriend and his best friend.

“There were these guys,” Pope started, eyeing Frankie like it was the first time he’d seen him in the light. “And they were being really handsy with the waitress at the bar…” “And Benny politely asked them to stop, because all of us could tell she didn’t like the attention and they didn’t take kindly to being told no,” Frankie finished.

“When two of them went after Benny after he’d had enough, Will jumped in, and Frankie and I tried to break it up but then more jumped in and the next thing we knew it was an all out brawl and then we were being pulled apart by the bouncers. We hadn’t even gotten our beers, before they kicked us out.”

“The bouncers made sure nothing happened outside and that we all went our separate ways,” Frankie assured you, going to pull you in before he remembered just how bloody he still was and stopped. Instead, he tucked you into his side. “I dropped Benny and Will off at the hotel to cool down and then brought this asshole home,” Pope said, tilting his head towards Frankie, who reached out to backhand his shoulder, causing Pope to grunt.

You shook your head at their antics and looked to Pope, taking stock in his injuries. “Did you need any first aid stuff?”

“Nah, hermosa, I’m good.” He reached out and pulled you out of Frankie's arms and into a quick hug before he pulled away and headed towards the door. “Just take care of him.” He smiled at you over his shoulder and then met Frankie’s eyes. “Te llamo maana, gilipollas.”

Frankie grumbled giving Pope the finger before the door shut behind the other man. Once you two were alone he met your eyes and his softened at the worry in yours. “I’m alright, mi sol,” he whispered, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into the contact and lifted a hand to grip his wrist to keep his rough hand on your cheek. “You don’t look alright, Frankie,” you argued, but there was no heat in your voice. He didn’t have an answer to that so you just shook your head. “Here, let's get this off and then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

You helped him out of his shirt and then the two of you went into the bathroom after your detour to the kitchen for paper towels. The last thing you needed was to get blood all over the towels here. That would just set off a whole round of questions you didn’t want to have to answer and you definitely wanted to avoid that all together.

Frankie closed the lid on the toilet and sat, just watching while you got everything you needed in order on the sink. He smirked as he watched the dogs realize just how cramped it was with all four of you there before leaving to go lay on the bed to watch.

“You’re staring,” you chided, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“I can’t help it…” He reached out, gripping your arm and pulled you to stand between his legs. “It’s not my fault you’re still as beautiful as the day I met you.”

“And you’re still quite the charmer,” you responded looking down at him while he curled his hands around your thighs.

The day you’d met Frankie had been a weird one. You had just broken up with your current boyfriend and had decided to go out with one of your single friends. You hadn’t exactly been upset about it because the guy had been a real asshole once you’d really gotten to know him, but still. Break ups sucked. And honestly, you had gotten tired of wallowing at home as you debated on eating ice cream and watching sappy movies. So, instead you’d gone out to a local bar around the corner from your place with Jen and gotten more than just a little tipsy. You had been right in the middle of a story when you threw your arm out at the same time as Frankie was walking by… And you hit him square in the nose with the hand holding your glass of beer.

You had apologized profusely, especially when it took forever to get his nose to stop bleeding. He’d laughed it off, saying it was no big deal but in your tipsy state you invited him over so you could get the blood out of his shirt and he could clean up in a bathroom that was a hell of a lot cleaner than the one here.

When he actually took you up on it, you said goodnight to Jen who just waggled her eyebrows at you and walked with Frankie less than a block to your house. You hadn’t been able to get all the blood out of his shirt, but you had been able to clean him up, getting to know each other as you did. He’d stayed for hours after that, hanging out on your couch with Flex’s head in his lap as he rubbed the big guys head absently while you talked.

He’d been honest with you about his drug use and how he’d been clean for the last two months. And who were you to judge? You’d done your own stupid shit in the past and at least he was being open and honest with you from the start. (Even better, you’d known he’d been clean since you’d been together because he was having random drug tests at work and every one had come back clean so far.)

When the sun came up he’d said he had to leave because Marvin was probably freaking out, but you two had exchanged numbers with the promise you’d do this -hopefully without the violence- again soon. He left with only a hug and even after the great time you’d had, you didn’t want to get your hopes up that you’d ever hear from him again. It had to be too good to be true, right?

Only you did, five minutes later, when he called you and asked you out to dinner that night. He’d said, “I want to do this right, Hermosa, go out with me tonight?”

You’d said yes, of course, and truly the rest was history. You’d spent almost all of your time together and life with Frankie was never boring. Between the random trips, surprised outings, and then just the nights in making out on your couch or his while you both ignored the movie you’d put on, you’d fallen more and more in love with him.

Frankie brought you back to the present by rubbing his hands up and down the backs of your thighs. “You know I’m really okay, right, mi sol?” he asked softly.

You smiled down at him, and nodded as you gently wiped away the blood. “I know,” you responded, lifting your eyes to his dark ones and shrugged one shoulder. “I still don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I know, mi alma,” he said sincerely, pulling you in closer and resting his forehead on your belly.

You dropped the paper towels on the counter and slid your fingers into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. You weren’t really sure what to say to that, especially when he’d pulled out that pet name for you. He didn’t say it often but when he did, you melted like butter. “Let’s get you some ice for your face,” you suggested. He groaned against your belly but nodded.

When he straightened and stood you had to take a step back, but his arms around you didn’t let you get too far away from him. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours twice before he pulled back. “Thank you,” he whispered and kissed you again gently.

Your arms slid up his bare chest to cup the back of his neck. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, baby.” You chuckled when he pinched your side.

“I’ll have you know, both times it was not my fault.”

You pulled back so he could see you roll your eyes and then stepped out of his arms. “Come on, Morales.”

~*~

Frankie had kissed you and pulled you down on the couch with him to stop you from starting to fuss over him. He’d sat at one end and had you lay down, putting your head on a pillow he’d put on his lap, with one of his arms draped over you. His other hand carefully pushed the hair out of your face before he’d started to run his fingers through it, thoroughly relaxing you.

With a hum you opened your eyes to see him smiling down at you. You returned his smile and then turned your head towards his belly as you snuggled into him. Moments like these with Frankie were your favorite, it didn’t matter whether you were on the couch, in the bed of his truck, or even on a blanket in the middle of a field somewhere. It didn’t matter where it was, as long as you were together.

You still felt him staring at you so you pulled away to meet his eyes. He was still smiling so you knew it wasn’t something bad. “What?” you asked, drawing out the word, when he didn’t say anything.

“Move in with me, mi sol.”

Tag List: @cxnnxrmar

#Triple Frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #the road-trip

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kiatheinsomniac · 4 years ago

Note

Number 28 with Arno, please?

Versailles Tryst

NSFW CONTENT BELOW CUT

28: “Not so loud, baby.”

The romantic tune of a string quartet and a harpsichord faded into the distance, echoing off the walls around her as (Y/n) found herself wandering away from the party, making her way through the corridors of the grandest palace in France. It wasn't all that rare for her to come to Versailles with her father - him being a foreign ambassador and needing to visit to discuss affairs with the King - but it was rare for her to get the chance to actually admire the place (including the architecture and art it had to offer) instead of stuck-up party guests.

Her baby blue dress twirled around her as she made her way around the corner, the flared cuffs that flowed like waterfalls down her wrists being decorated with lace and the front of the dress being white and frilled at the skirt, the front portion of the bodice being adorned by intricate white lace and golden buttons. She still had the last bite of a strawberry tart in her hand, bringing it up to her mouth when she was suddenly stopped and almost dropped it, gasping as she quickly caught it in her hand, looking up to whomever she had just walked directly into.

"Arno Dorian." She smiled in both thrill and surprise, meeting those warm and unmistakably mischievous eyes as well as his charming smile that sparkled brighter than the crystals at her neck.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." He replied, taking her hand for a kiss, layers of satin and lace from her sleeves falling to the bend in her arm, only for him to find the last bite of the tart in her hand. He quickly took it from her fingers so that he could plant a delicate kiss to her knuckles, lips lingering on her skin, grinning as he pulled back to eat the last of her snack, making her jut her lips out in a pout and playfully hit his arm.

"Hey!” But he could tell she wasn’t too angry by the smile on her lips, “I heard from Élise that you weren't invited, what changed?" She raised a brow and he offered the young woman his arm in order to guide her through the palace as they spoke, beginning to continue his route to the ballroom. Though, she seemed to have other plans: guiding him away while uttering about the haughtiness of the guests already working on her last few nerves.

"I stole her father's clothes and lied about my identity." He winked as he followed her lead towards the gardens, watching her throw her head back with a hearty laugh, putting a hand over her chest, giving him some time to admire her smile while her laughter died down as they exited the palace towards the gardens. It only made him happier, prouder, to know that he was the source of such melodious laughter from her.

"I just can't believe they kept you from your own step-sister's returning party, it's been so long since she's been here in Versailles and they won't even let her own step-brother see her. How ridiculous!" She rolled her (e/c) eyes.

"Exactly!" Arno agreed, "And she'll be leaving for Paris before I get to see her. This party is my only chance but I have all the guards looking out for me." He let out a sigh and cast an angry glance towards the palace

"Then I'll try not to take up too much of your time." She flashed a wink and a smile as she leaned into his side, sighing as the warm summer breeze hit their skin, crickets chirping in the distance and still able to faintly hear the music along with the trickling of fountains.

"We have plenty of time here. Laying low for a while will likely be better in terms of the guard situation anyway." He shrugged before tilting his head and raising a brow when (Y/n) ducked down to lace his arm over her shoulders, glancing up to him before resting her head against his warm body.

"It's been too long since I've last seen you. . . Olivier always keeping you busy and too eager to go out gambling instead of visiting me. . ." She pouted.

"We have some time now." He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, "I'll come by yours later this evening, likely when you're asleep. I'll wake you up and we can spend some time together, how does that sound?" He hummed, taking one of her hands in his and rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm.

"After you've seen Élise?" She murmured, eyes falling to the gravel under their feet.

"If I get to see her at all, yes." He replied, sighing, missing what little family he had left, not knowing anyone else other than the De La Serre's who had taken him on as a boy. This only made her feel guilty, deciding to make the most of what time they would have together this night.

(Y/n) took the lead of their walk once more, taking the two of them over to a sheltered red rose garden where she sat down on a stone bench and turned her body to look up to Arno, a hand reaching up to caress his stubbled face.

"I really have missed you." And he smiled at the softness that glimmered in her eyes, reflecting from the light which emitted from the palace, dimly illuminating their secluded area of the garden. A large hand went to rest against the side of her neck, bringing his face closer and closer until she reached up to close the small distance, sighing as her other hand fell against his broad chest. His lips moved gently but confidently against hers, freehand roaming up and down her side.

His kisses became more demanding, tongue darting out to coax her to allow him entrance, feeling her soft moan as she melted into his arms, now circling around her waist to pull her in closer. Her hand ran down his chest until she reached his pants, cupping his groin and earning a groan, feeling him grow firmer in her hold as she swayed with each dizzying kiss.

He leaned in, a hand on her breasts softly guiding her to lay back on the cold stone of the white bench, watching her shiver slightly at feeling it against the skin of her back that was exposed, eyes glancing up to him, dancing with teases of lust in them. He let out a low hum as his lips brushed over her jaw and got right to the creamy skin of her neck, pausing to deeply inhale her lavender perfume that was dappled there.

She gasped when she realised that his other hand had already bunched up the front of her skirts and hiked them well above her knees, going down to explore what laid under those torrents of creme and baby blue satin and lace, nimble fingers running over the thin fabric of her pants, hearing her moans that were muffled against his lips.

"Shh." He winked, flashing his pearly teeth in a grin as those pants were quickly pulled down her legs, one hand reaching down to stash them in his pocket while the other held her thigh against the side of his head, lips grazing over the soft skin there, tantalisingly making their way between her legs. (Y/n) threw her head back with a whine before glancing down at him, dark brown eyes alight with lust and admiration through those thick lashes of his.

Her lungs stuttered for a breath, raggedly gasping at the first hot lick at her sex, letting out a hum of desire as one hand went down to caress the side of his head softly, coaxing him on with her fingers gently carding through his hair, her other hand helping him to keep her layers of skirts and petticoats back.

"You're always far too good at- at this." She moaned lowly, fingertips caressing his cheek as he chuckled, one hand coming up to part her lips, giving his wet tongue direct access to her clit, hearing her small gasps and watching her breasts rise and fall with each pant, even from within the restrictions of her tight bodice.

"And you always taste so good when I do it." He sighed against her wet skin, kissing downwards until his tongue could poke at her entrance, hand having to push her hip down, watching her bring the back of her palm up to her mouth to muffle her moan when he licked upwards and wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking down hard and flicking his tongue over it. Her hips stuttered in time with her breaths as he continued, that hand from earlier now caressing her folds, sinking the tip of his middle finger inside of her and hearing the breathless 'please' that escaped her, taking it as the go-ahead for pushing it the rest of the way in. With another moan, now sharper than the last ones, her hand came back down to rest on the side of his face, cupping it, fingers tangling in his hair, messing it up slightly.

"I need-" But her words were cut short by another moan when he continued sucking at her clit after stopping to press kisses to her very inner thighs. He hummed, pulling away as that finger curled upwards and he started to pump it in and out, seeing her grip on her skirts turn her knuckles paler.

"I need more, need you, please. . ." And he smiled softly, licking along her slit a few times before pressing a wet kiss to her clit.

"Patience, mon amour. . ." He murmured before getting back to work, pushing his ring finger in too and hearing her moan his name, feeling her hot walls contract around him.

"Arno, please-" And she pushed him away by the shoulders, fingers delving even deeper into her as she sat up to kiss him, feeling her whine at the contact before she grabbed his wrist and guided it out from under her dress. Swinging her leg over him, she moved so that he was straddling his lap, reaching down to feel his hardened member straining against his pants which now seemed far too tight. He groaned when her trembling fingers eagerly fumbled with the buttons keeping them done up, a hand tangling in the hair at the back of her neck while he peppered her neck in kisses, biting down into the softness of her flesh and soothing each one with a hot lick. She opened her mouth to protest, not wanting marks to show up during her stay at the party but he softly shushed her, pushing her hair aside to leave more, making her give in to his temptation.

Her hand freed his erection from his pants, pumping her hand over it a few times to hear his breaths grow heavier, guiding it to press against her entrance, hands raking over his chest to his shoulders as she sank down onto him with a much louder moan at feeling her walls stretch around him, her head falling to rest against his shoulder, fingers digging down into his shoulders as his hands moved down to her waist, guiding her to start riding him, grinding her hips down into his, moans increasing at the pleasure of it all.

One strong arm remained wrapped around her waist while the other came up to trace the tops of her breasts, continuing upwards to her mouth, pressing his palm down over it and groaning at the look she gave him when her eyes opened, watching her melt under his touch.

"Not so loud, baby." He sighed, thrusting up into her until he threw his head back, then looking back at her. "So beautiful." His other arm staying wrapped around her waist but moving his hand downwards enough to grip her ass through her dress. She ground down on him to get her hips at a different angle, making him hit a spot inside her that had her fingers gripping the back of his hair while her thighs trembled violently, almost collapsing on him and feeling his hands continue to guide her hips over him.

Her cry of his name was muffled against his palm as she came around him, walls clenching and pushing him to his own release, spilling his hot seed inside her, bringing both arms around her waist to hold her close as she collapsed against him, head resting on his shoulder while both of them panted heavily. (Y/n) let out a long hum as her lips brushed against his neck, pressing a breathless kiss there as he eased her off his lap, slipping out of her.

"I've missed you." She smiled softly as he cupped her face, leaning in to press a loving kiss to her lips, thumb brushing over her cheek as he brought her legs onto his lap, pulling her pants up over her calves and letting her stand for a moment to pull them up entirely. He tugged softly at the skirts of her dress, organising them and arranging them to look as though nothing had happened at all, watching her press her thighs together at feeling his cum leaking out of her. She laughed softly as she leaned forwards, smoothing down his hair and pulling at the ribbon to tie it back together neatly. She set herself down on his lap and turned her body to wrap her arms around his neck.

"You should head back before someone notices that you're missing and I need to find Élise." He spoke with a hint of sadness in his voice at having to part with his lover.

"You promise that you'll come and visit me later, promise?" And her eyes bore into his, making sure he put a very part of his soul into the truth.

He pressed a quick kiss to the end of the nose and squeezed her waist a little when he replied:

"I promise."

#arno dorian #Arno Victor Dorian #arno dorian x reader #arno dorian imagine #assassins creed #assassins creed unity #assassins creed imagine #arno dorian/reader #the amount of times i had to edit out writing about his scar #because he doesnt have it yet

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imagineaworlds · 4 years ago

Text

I Love You (Part Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Descriptions of murder and kidnapping. Being held hostage at gunpoint. All around mature content!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 5994

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 9. Day after part four.

In the morning, Hotch drove me, JJ, and Spencer to the precinct from the hotel. We were up bright and early, but we were still way behind Gideon and Morgan, who must have left hours before us. Granted, they were hunting a killer who preyed at night, whereas we were searching for one in the day. It made sense that they needed to collect themselves and their itinerary for the day long before us.

After spending the day in the field yesterday, Hotch and I planned on taking some time to look over the evidence for any patterns or discrepancies which would help us catch the Mill Creek Killer. No one was perfect, not even our Unsub. He had to have made a mistake somewhere. There had to be something pointing us to him past just waiting to catch him in the act of performing his ritual. Realistically, that was what we had to do. But it was weighing on me, the guilt of letting another woman be taken and killed just so we could catch one man.

We all immediately got to work at the office. JJ found Mr. Meyers, the reporter who had contact with the Hollow Man, waiting in the lobby for her. They went off to discuss the Hollow Man separately, while Hotch, Spencer, and I continued on towards the boardroom. Sheridan was waiting there for us. It looked like he hadn’t even gone home at all. His clothes were the same as the day before, and his eyes looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

Hotch noticed right away. He patted Sheridan’s shoulder to gain his attention, then told him to go home for a few hours. Sheridan, surprisingly, didn’t argue. He must have been waiting for us to come in to start working so that he could go rest.

Spencer went digging into one of the boxes for a piece of paper he wanted to scan; meanwhile, Hotch and I sat down at the table to start reviewing everything the detective and his team had collected before calling us in for help. Hotch was reading while reclining in his chair and mindlessly playing with the stubble on his chin.

I leaned back in my seat and put my feet up on the table. He didn’t even look up when he told me to put my feet down. I stared at him, almost daring him to look at me, but he didn’t. I went back to the papers I was evaluating and it took him another minute or so before he told me to put my feet down again. But he still didn’t look at me.

JJ burst into the boardroom and hurried over to us. We looked up at her to see the panic plastered to her face. “We just got a call about another missing woman. Merideth Dale. 25.”

I slid my feet off the table and sat up straight. “Does she match the appearance type of the other victims?”

“Perfectly. She was supposed to meet her friend for a bike ride this morning, but disappeared after calling from the trail.”

“Mark Twain National Forest?”

JJ nodded while handing both Hotch and I new case files. We both accepted them and hastily began flipping through the pages. There was a picture of Meredith Dale attached, and JJ was entirely right. She matched the description perfectly. It had to be our guy.

I flipped to the next page to find a mini map of where Meredith’s phone was found. She had been traveling on her bike along a fairly popular path before stopping at a bench to call her friend. That was where her friend found her phone and decided to call the police.

Spencer came back and Hotch caught him up to speed. I spun around in my chair to face the bigger map of the forest that was pinned to the wall. When I realized that the path was near where the second victim was found, I stood from my chair and approached the map so as to get a better look.

“What do you see?” Hotch questioned.

I squinted and got real close to the map before pointing to something with my index finger. I glided the tip of my nail along the paper as I followed the path Meredith was last seen on, all the way down to where the second body was found. Then I traced it to where the first victim was taken then found. And so on.

Hotch realized that I was spotting something important. He grabbed a spool of string from the table and came over. As I continued to trace the path between all of the victims, Hotch followed my finger with the string, marking the spots of the kidnappings and murders with pins. When we had marked all of them, I dropped my finger from the map and took a step back to get a clearer view of our work.

The Unsub was rotating between sectors of the park, but only a few number of them that were close to the highway. The paths he was taking and the sectors he was staying in were all easy to access and easy to escape from quickly. The parking lot nearby was huge, which meant that his car would blend in easily, and he had direct paths to the park where Ellen Carroll was taken, the bike path where Meredith Dale was taken, and all of the woods where the bodies were found.

But why rotate like that? And how the fuck had we missed this?

I snapped behind me while still staring at the map. “Spencer, call Garcia. Ask her to check the park rangers’ forest search schedules.”

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked me quietly.

I broke my concentration with the map for a second to make eye contact with Hotch. It was the first time that he had looked at me since I asked him about having more kids yesterday. For a moment, I got lost in his eyes. I didn’t think that I could miss them so much… Yet, even just a day without them made me yearn for all of his love. I thought about how I never wanted him to look away. But not all wishes come true. He broke eye contact first to look back at the map before I began my explanation.

“He’s staying relatively in the same area with the abductions and murders. And depending on the day, he takes the bodies to a certain sector of the forest,” I said.

“Yeah, but the first one is way deeper into the forest. It would take nearly three hours to get there, while the rest of them take not even an hour. So why the change after the first one?”

“He was nervous. He wanted to be cautious to not get caught with the first body because he was unsure of how to go about hiding it at that point. But once he knew what he was doing, he got more confident, and decided to stay closer for convenience and easy escape. And he only takes them from the most populated sectors, but takes them to the more secluded ones.”

“So, then, he knows about how the forest rangers operate. He knows when the parks open, when people will be around, when officers will be on patrol, and where to put the bodies so that they won’t be found for a few days. But how could he be sure that those sectors are safe?”

I pointed back at Spencer, who immediately took the cue to repeat what Garcia was saying over the phone. “The forest is broken up into six districts, and each of them are patrolled every…” Spencer paused as a realization dawned on him after Penelope told him something. He started interrupting and thanking Garcia for her help before hanging up and running to the map. “These sections are patrolled every three to five days, officially, but with department cutbacks, they’ve had to spread out the searches even more. Now they’re only being checked every five to eight days.”

“Approximately how long it took to find the bodies,” Hotch said, the realization dawning on him, too. “That’s why he’s rotating. He's dumping the bodies in the sectors that have just been checked so that he has the longest period of time to spend time with the bodies without being distrubed.”

“So we know where he’s going to dump Meredith Dale.”

“If he hasn’t already,” I added.

“The question is, where in the sector is he dumping the body? He can’t do it anywhere near where the last body was found.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem for him. The sectors are hundreds of square miles large. He could leave the body even five miles away from the first one and we still wouldn’t be able to find her in time,” Hotch said.

I turned away from the map and slowly went to sit back down. My mind was racing for answers. The Mill Creek Killer had to know that we were looking for him. And he had to know that we were close. He wouldn’t have rushed to take another woman if he didn’t think that way. That was his first mistake, though. He rushed and it gave us time to find him.

The mini map on the desk was staring at me for some reason. There was something I was missing in that map. Something important about where the Mill Creek Killer would have taken Meredith Dale. Where could he have taken her? Supposedly her friend was just up the path, which meant that right after the call ended, he would have approached her, taken her, and run before being seen.

The hiking path.

Just across from the bench where Meredith was last reported to have been was a small hiking path that led straight into the woods. It wasn’t a popular path, and it wasn’t clearly marked. Locals and experienced hikers liked to take it, though. At least that was what the park ranger explained to us yesterday when talking to us about the forest.

“Spencer, where does the path across from the bench where Ms. Dale went missing lead to?”

“Uh…” He started to trace the map. “Saltgrass Cove.”

“That’s where we’ll find her.” I stood back up, grabbed the case file, and hurried towards the door with Hotch and Spencer following closely.

Hotch drove the undercover cop car with the lights and sirens on. We arrived at the scene first, Sheridan and his team right behind us once we called from the car. By the time we got out of the car, found the path, and ran deep into the woods, the K-9 unit had released their dogs in search of a body.

We knew where we needed to look, it was just a matter of pinpointing the exact location. The dogs would certainly help, but we couldn’t just stand around while they searched. The team and the group of officers following us tried to keep up with me as I stepped off the path and started racing through the woods.

Hotch called after me to slow down, and I tried, but when we heard one of the search dogs barking south of our location, I started sprinting again. The dog kept barking to call over the entire force until his handler commanded him to stop.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing around Saltgrass Cove when I saw what the dog had found. Hotch came speeding up behind me, taking a few extra steps past before stopping, too. Spencer and JJ stopped behind us.

We were too late.

Meredith Dale’s body was lying in the middle of the clearing, covered with leaves, just as Ellen Carroll had been found. Only this time, Dale’s face wasn’t exposed. It could have been because the last body was tampered with before we got to the scene, or maybe it was because the Mill Creek Killer hadn’t come back yet to prepare or defile the body.

Detective Sheridan approached the body and pushed the leaves covering the face to the side. He cursed under his breath then started pushing the rest of the leaves away. Hotch sprang into action, running over and telling the detective to stop immediately. Sheridan halted, but didn’t move away. He looked up and Hotch asked why they shouldn’t examine the body.

“We need to leave the body as it is. He hasn’t completed the ritual yet, which means that he has to come back. And when he does, we’ll be here, waiting for him.” Hotch turned to the rest of the officers standing around, “Search the nearby area, find spots to hide in the treeline. If we’re going to catch the Mill Creek Killer at any point, it’s going to be today. Please, do not touch anything that you might think is evidence. Leave it all as it is for now. Once we catch this bastard, we’ll start to proceed with crime scene protocol.”

Everyone threw their hands up and groaned or sighed. They didn’t understand like we did how important it was to not touch a single thing. If the Mill Creek Killer was as smart as we profiled him to be, he would know if anything was out of place. Perhaps he would even know if one leaf on Meredith’s body was out of place. But by the time he would be able to get close enough to notice, we would have him. So Hotch leaned down and started covering the body again.

Everyone dispersed except for our team. We waited for Hotch to come talk to us. When he was done resetting the body, he dusted his hands off and approached us. “He’ll be back soon. She looked like she hasn’t been dead more than an hour or so. The blood was still fresh and her skin was only just now starting to grow cold. He’s rushing the process now, so we’ll likely see him in the next hour or so.”

“Should we set up watch times?” JJ questioned.

Hotch shook his head, “No. We need all eyes on this guy. It’s easier to trick people when they aren’t in large groups. We have the upperhand if we all stay. JJ and Spencer, why don’t you guys take up the north side of the clearing, Y/N and I will take this side.”

“Sure,” JJ and Spencer answered almost in unison. They smiled at each other after realizing what happened. Then, they left together to walk across the clearing towards where Hotch wanted them to stay for the next hour while we would wait.

Hotch pointed to a fallen log hiding behind a patch of bushes. “Let’s go there.”

We strolled over around the bushes and sat on the log. I wiped off the dirt from the hem of my pants. While running through the forest, mud had collected there, which was less than ideal. And we had some time to spare with stupid things like that. Besides, it was nice to not think about the dead girl a few feet away from us.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch began hesitantly. I raised a brow, but continued picking at the mud. “About yesterday…” My brow fell. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s alright,” I responded, sitting upright. “You were right. I shouldn’t have asked about it and certainly not while we’re trying to focus on a case. It was out of line.”

We both knew that this job came first for us. We had worked too damn hard to get where we were in our careers, and even though we loved each other very much, we had to respect that our careers were just as important to us. When we first started dating, we made sure to be very clear with one another that the cases come first, not our relationship. That might sound odd to others, but it was what worked for us. It was what made sense for us. It was how we made our relationship work.

“It wasn’t that.” Hotch took my hand and flipped my palm over in order to clean the dirt off my fingertips. I stared at his jawline as he stared at my hands. “Truth is, I’m scared to have that conversation right now. Ever since Haley left, I haven’t been so confident about the idea of raising a family. I hardly ever get to see Jack as it is. I couldn’t imagine having another kid and not being able to see them just as often.”

“Aaron... You don’t have to be afraid of having a family. The right person should just… get it. Your job is important to you, but, of course, you’re going to make the time you have with your family special. You do it with Jack every time you have custody of him. I don’t think for a second that Jack hates you for doing your job. In fact, I think he admires you.”

“Yeah, but we’re both gone all the time. When would we ever make time for a kid—”

“There’s someone coming,” Sheridan whispered from the trees nearby.

Hotch and I pushed ourselves off the log we were sitting on and turned towards the clearing. The Unsub had come from the direction of the hiking trail. And he approached Meredith’s body with intent, not like a civilian who had just happened upon the pile of leaves and was curious to see what was underneath. This had to be our guy.

As the Unsub crouched and reached out to brush away the leaves, we made our move. JJ and Spencer jumped out of the treeline to the north with their guns raised, while Hotch, Sheridan, and I jumped out from the south. Once we revealed ourselves, the other cops came forward from their hiding spots, too.

“FBI! Put your hands on your head and step away from the body!” Hotch shouted.

The man hunched over the body immediately put his hands behind his head and stumbled back from the body. JJ holstered her weapon, pulled out her handcuffs, and grabbed the guy. She pushed him against the tree and turned him around to get a good look at the bastard's face. We all expected her to cuff the guy then and there, and we would call it a day, but she hesitated.

“Meyers?” she questioned. We all looked around to each other for answers, but none of us had any except for JJ. “This is the reporter who has been talking to the Hollow Man,” she told us. “You’re the Mill Creek Killer?”

“What? No!” he exclaimed defensively.

“Then how the hell did you find this place?” I asked.

“I got another letter from the Hollow Man. He told me that the Mill Creek Killer had struck again and where to go for the scoop. I showed up here thinking that I was going to meet the guy, get an exclusive or something.”

JJ’s grip on Meyers fell and she took a step back. “How did he tell you this?”

“He sent me a letter. Here, take a look at it yourself.” Meyers pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket, and while shaking harder than a chihuahua, handed it to JJ. “I swear, I didn’t do this.”

JJ looked over the letter as the sound of a helicopter flying overhead buzzed through the trees. We all looked up to see a news helicopter hovering over the crime scene. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. That was our one chance of catching the Mill Creek Killer, and the Hollow Man ruined it. Fuck.

Hotch grabbed my arm and turned me around so that we could talk privately for a moment. “We can arrest him for interfering in a police investigation, question him back at the precinct, but I don’t know how much help it’ll be.”

“If you thought we were rushing before…” I began, thinking long and hard about what was going to happen next with the Mill Creek Killer. With the news hovering overhead, he was surely going to see it and we wouldn’t be able to set up another sting. “He didn’t finish the ritual. He was already in a hurry to find a new victim because we were close to finding him, but now that he hasn’t completed the one thing that gives him relief, he’ll be desperate for another. He won’t wait anymore than a day. We have to find this guy now.”

“I just don’t get it. If these guys are friends of some sort, why would the Hollow Man lead the press to the Mill Creek Killer’s crime scene?”

I considered his question. Like Hotch said, if they were friends, they wouldn’t have betrayed the other like this. Even if they were a master and apprentice duo, too, it wouldn’t unfold like this. If the Hollow Man wanted the Mill Creek Killer to be caught, he would have contacted us directly. But he didn’t. He wanted the media to connect him to the Mill Creek Killer’s cases. By doing so, he has injected himself into another part of the situation. He wasn’t getting the attention he wanted for killing those prostitutes, so he resorted to diverting the attention on the Mill Creek Killer to himself.

“They’re not friends. They’re competitors. They both want the media attention, but neither of them want to turn in the other because they are fascinated by the other murders. The Mill Creek Killer has to know that the Hollow Man did this to take his attention away. So not only was the ritual ruined, but the media high afterwards. That means he’s not going to be thinking when it comes to his next victim. He doesn’t care about being careful now. He only cares about the attention.”

“He’s going to start taking them off the streets.”

“Or from their homes, their jobs, restaurants. Anywhere.”

“Hotch,” Spencer said, nearing us, “I just got a call from the precinct. A woman called 911, said that a guy just tried to kidnap her off the street.”

“So we were right,” I told Hotch.

He scratched his temple. “Alright, Reid, we’ll drop you and JJ off at the precinct. Sort out this Hollow Man mess while we go to interview the woman to see if it’s connected.”

A crowd had gathered around the caution tape surrounding the scene. Cops were standing around in the middle of the street, trying to redirect traffic and deal with the worried bystanders. One cop, specifically, was standing at the border of the scene, likely under orders to only let us in since they were waiting for us to show up and question the victim. When Hotch and I showed our badges, the cop smiled lightly and lifted the tape up for us. We ducked ever so slightly under before heading over to where the victim was standing with two officers.

We flashed our badges again to the woman and dismissed the officers so that we could talk to her alone. She had obviously been through this process of questioning a few times already, so she was already keen to tell her story again before we could even ask her to. A sign that she was still anxious about what had just transpired— and rightfully so, too.

She began to give us a detailed account of the man who approached her, what he said to her, and then how he tried to take her. Just as we had profiled him to appear, she explained that he was very handsome— which was why she had stopped to talk to him in the first place. He had approached her and asked if she had a phone that he could borrow since his car wasn’t starting and his phone was dead. When she couldn’t find her phone and he offered her the chance to come look at the car with him, that was when she declined; and when she did, he tried to forcefully take her.

“I’d been watching the news, and saw that they were looking for a guy who has been taking women during the day. I didn’t know what to do besides scream.”

We thanked her for telling us what happened, then Hotch asked if she would be willing to sit with a sketch artist in order to give us a visual of what her attacker looked like. She was more than happy to do so, and we immediately sent her along with another officer who would take her to the precinct to meet with the artist.

As we headed back to the car, Hotch got a call from Gideon. I leaned against the side of the car while he answered. From Hotch’s side of the call, I was beginning to get the gist of what was going on. Spencer, Gideon, and Morgan had finally found the way that the Hollow Man and the Mill Creek Killer were saying connected: the classifieds in the newspaper. That was how the Hollow Man was able to tell Jim Meyers where Meredith Dale’s body was.

I pushed myself off of the car and turned to Hotch. He raised a brow while still on the phone, letting me know that he was aware I had something important to say. If they were communicating via the classifieds, then that was how we were going to lure the Mill Creek Killer into our next sting operation.

It was getting late in the day, we would likely only have another hour or so to put another message into the classifieds for the morning paper. And Spencer was perhaps the only one who knew their speech patterns well enough to write a convincing coded message. But it was our only shot— it was our last shot, really.

So I told Hotch the plan I had pieced together in my head over the last few seconds, and he relayed the information to Spencer and the team over the phone. Spencer would have to write a message to the Mill Creek Killer from the Hollow Man, telling him that he was sorry for ruining his plans with Meredith Dale, so he wanted to make it up to him by giving him the gift of another victim. The location would be hidden in the message, and in the morning, we would take an agent out there who matched the descriptions of his usual victims to play dead in order to lure him in. Since he was desperate to complete the ritual, he was sure to come. I had no doubts. He wouldn’t be thinking straight, so he would fall for the trap easily. But we had to hurry.

Hotch hung up the phone with the team so that they could start working on the message. We headed back to the precinct and managed to catch the tail end of them working on it. By that point, though, Spencer was rushing as the deadline was only twenty or so minutes away. Meanwhile, JJ was talking to Meyers about controlling the Hollow Man in the media for the next day or so to keep him distracted from the Mill Creek Killer sting, and Detective Sheridan was asking around for a female detective that was willing to sit in as our cadaver for the sting. Most of the women were understandably not too keen on the idea, but there were two girls who offered and were brought to me and Hotch for consideration.

We walked them both through the plan and what the Mill Creek Killer would likely do— but it would be in a controlled space and we wouldn’t let him get too far. We just couldn’t afford to have another mess up like with Meyers. We needed to make sure we got the right guy this time. And by the time we ran through it all with both of the women, one decided they weren’t brave enough to take on the task anymore, but the other didn’t budge and insisted that she was ready.

Everyone slept at the office that night. There was no reason to go to the hotel when there was still so much work left to be done. I hadn’t even intended to fall asleep at all. Morgan and Gideon were discussing their case with us since they were struggling to connect more clues with the Hollow Man. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep at the table was looking at the pictures from the most recent crime scene. The Hollow Man had killed a sixteen year old girl prostitute behind a dumpster and her friend was the one to find her. And there were still no leads.

When Hotch woke me up in the morning, I was laying down on the couch in the break room, which had practically been turned into a second board room for our team to work in. I figured that Hotch must have moved me at some point, because he was sitting in a chair that he placed right beside me, reading through another file while tracing light figure eights on my shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiled at me as I sat up.

I stretched and yawned away my exhaustion. “What time is it?”

“8:30. We’re leaving in about thirty minutes.”

“Did you guys make any progress with the Hollow Man?”

He shook his head and I shrugged disappointedly. It wasn’t a shock, but it was still upsetting that we weren’t any closer. Granted, if we were going to catch the Mill Creek Killer later, he was sure to give up his competitor after some interrogation, so maybe it didn’t really matter in the end what they did or didn’t find while I was asleep.

I stood up and stretched again for extra measure, acutely aware that Hotch was staring at me out of the corner of his eye. After a moment of waking myself up, I strolled over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup before offering Hotch one, too. He accepted the offer and I poured another cup full, then walked back over to the couch. I handed him his drink as I sat down. I leaned forward and propped both of my elbows up on his knee closest to me and kept the warm rim of the cup pressed against my lips so that I could smell the coffee while also warming up my nose from the steam.

“What are you looking at?”

“We got the sketch back from yesterday’s victim,” he answered, holding the drawing up for me to see.

He was almost exactly how I imagined him. He was definitely attractive, if you could get past the fact that he was a total sociopath. His face was square. His eyes were light, bright, and wide. His lips were perk, perfect for kissing— which was always an unconscious factor people tended to put into consideration when it came to potential partners. And most noticeable about his appearance was his hair. He was clean shaven, and his hair was short and nicely cut. He didn’t match any physical features one would expect from a textbook sociopath. But that was definitely a reason why we hadn’t found him yet and why these women were so interested in going with him somewhere private. He didn’t look at all scary. That was what made him dangerous.

“Well, at least we’ll know if we get the right guy this time,” I laughed.

Hotch chuckled slightly but bit it back when he realized that he had let it escape him. My smile faded and I stared at his cheek for a second before feeling the urge to look at his eyes again. I let go of the coffee cup with one hand and went to hold his face in my palm. His skin was so cold compared to my warm hand, and he noticed it, too, right away. I dragged my thumb down his jawline, applying slight pressure towards his chin to make him look at me. He leaned into my touch, his eyes falling shut as he relaxed.

“We’re going to get this guy,” I reassured him. “And then we get to go home and see Jack.” He smiled at the thought. “We’re going to be okay.”

He opened his eyes and leaned towards me before kissing me. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered against my lips. I kissed him again eagerly.

The door to the break room opened. Hotch and I immediately pulled away and looked over. “Hotch, Y/N—” JJ had come in hurriedly, but was slowly realizing that she had interrupted and regretted not knocking. “Sorry… Uh. We’re getting ready to head out. You guys should gear up.”

“Thanks, JJ,” I said. She smiled politely and backed out of the room much faster than she had come in. I started laughing once the door closed behind her. Hotch looked me up and down and started laughing, too. “Well…” I shrugged before kissing him again.

At the sting operation site, a makeup artist sat with the detective who was going to lay down as the body so as to make her look convingly dead. While JJ and Spencer were covering her body in leaves, Hotch and I reviewed the plan with her one more time. It was very possible that the Mill Creek Killer would come up to her and touch her, but we wouldn’t let him get much further than that. She just had to stay still until we decided to reveal ourselves. She would be okay, we promised that much.

When she was ready, we helped her lay down without rustling any of the leaves, then covered her face. Afterwards, when she looked as the other victims had, we all retreated into the forest to hide until the Mill Creek Killer would show up. I checked my watch to see that we had only five minutes until he was supposed to show up— at least according to the note we put in the classifieds. He could possibly have been too scared to show up on time, so we had to expect that he could perhaps show up late.

Hotch and I didn’t sit down or talk this time around. The stakes were too high to think about anything other than catching this asshole once and for all. I wouldn’t let him get away again. I couldn’t. And I was sure that the rest of the team felt the same way. In fact, I knew it. JJ looked as nervous as I did, Hotch’s silence told me that he was focusing on not jumping out too soon, and Spencer was searching the treeline frantically for any sign of movement.

Nearly five more minutes after the Unsub was supposed to arrive, we heard rustling in the forest coming from across where we stood. As a man walked into the clearing, he kept his head low, focusing only on the girl covered by leaves laying before him. He chuckled to himself and giddy approached the detective. He crouched down, tore off his jacket, and pulled out a tube of lipstick from one of the pockets.

Once we saw the lipstick, we knew we finally had the Mill Creek Killer. The lipstick was his signature. He wouldn’t complete the ritual without it.

“Go,” I ordered quietly. Simultaneously, we all jumped out of the bushes and into the clearing with our weapons raised. Hotch ran at the Unsub and tackled him before he could put a finger on the detective. She sat up, her weapon pointed at him as Hotch put his knee on the Mill Creek Killer’s lower back and started handcuffing him. I turned to the detective, “You alright?” She nodded. “Good.” I held out a hand, she took it, then I pulled her up to her feet.

We did it. We won. We got the son of a bitch.

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @marvelismylifffe @alex--awesome--22

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines

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sensual-kiss · 4 years ago

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A Pleasant Target.

Warnings: 18+, foul languages, unprotected sex, MINORS DO NOT READ.

Written by 𝐂𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄

The vast ballroom was filled with hedonists, masks covering their pompous facades, and champagnes on their hands. The light was dimly lit. A piece of jazz music could be heard as some people swayed on the dance floor. Couples were dancing romantically, and bodies pressed to one another. Ellerie rolls her eyes at the sight, scoffing as she scans around the room for her target. She was sent by her father to dig up information about the new lad that just move into town. She was only given a name by her father, without any specific detail about this lad. She knows the task was going to be hard when she entered the ballroom.

Elle was dressed in a strapless red dress with a slit that reaches her upper thigh with strappy heels in the same color—sauntering across the room through the sea of people in her dress—sporadically eavesdropping to conversations that might contain information about her target or at least a lead to him. Being a pro at what she does, she is always sly and careful about her actions. Not to mention that she can feel eyes land on her. A group of middle-aged men was eyeing her from head to toe. Elle almost scoffs when she notices them. ‘Like you can handle me.’ She thought, clearly making fun of those filthy men.

Standing in a corner, she watched them again with eagle eyes. She was trying to spot this so-called host. ‘How is it so hard to find him when he’s the fuckin’ host?’ she thought. As she quarreled with herself, a butler walked near her and offered her champagnes. She needs one now. She shrugs and reaches for a glass. Elle continues to eye the crowd as she takes a sip of the champagne. The taste was refreshing as she started to get stressed by the task at her hand. Her eyes scan the room until her eyes meet with his eyes, a blue one, almost as blue as hers. He was leaning on the bar, clad in a tuxedo just like everyone else. She couldn’t recognize him as he was wearing a mask just like her and everyone else. Was he somebody that she knew?

His eyes were locked on her; one corner of his lips was pulled into a charming smirk as he raised his glass in a toast. She diverted her attention toward another place as she tried to focus back on her assignment. It was probably just another guy who wanted her to dance with him. The room feels stuffy all of a sudden. Elle decides to go outside and take a breath of the crisp night air. Her journey leads her to a garden, a beautiful garden filled with roses. There’s not much light except for the shining moon and a little garden lamp. The breeze was relaxing as she thinks through the task she was given. Was it because her father knows that this new lad in town was very unreachable that she sent her to lobby people to learn about him? She will tell her father to be more specific when giving her a task in the future. After gulping down the rest of her champagne, she pivoted her body towards the way where she came from. But a man standing in her way startled her. Elle does not get scared quickly. However, this man walks like a cat. She doesn’t even hear him at all.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The lad offers her a charming smile that made her remember the lad near the bar. It was him. He was indeed even more attractive up close. It is weird for Elle to get tongue-tied, but his presence affected her so much.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Brandon, and you are milady?” His smile was genuine, but his eyes hide something that intrigued her to unravel it.

“Brandon? Williams? So, you’re the host?” She cannot hide the shock that adorned her facade. She was expecting a nasty middle-aged man, but he was definitely out of her expectation.

“Yes, and I think I haven’t got your name yet.”

“Ellerie. I have been looking for you all night.” She teases, an innocent smile etched on her lips. Hoping that her confession will intrigue the lad.

“Have you now? You didn’t seem very interested earlier.” Elle was getting bothered by his insanely attractive smirk.

“I am now.” The dominant vibe he was emitting intimidated her, but she won’t show it, of course.

“Let me show you around?” Brandon offers his arm to Ellerie with an endearing smile etched on his facade. Elle accepted the offer, letting him lead the way to wherever he intended on taking her. She keeps contemplating if she should ask him questions and gain the information her father needed, but a glance at him and her mind went blank. What is he doing to her? How is he even capable of affecting her this much?

The pair have been walking together for some time now. Brandon showed her his mansion, which was enormous but nothing foreign to her. After all, she grew up in a manor similar to this one. The hallway was empty. The sounds of music from where the party is held were barely audible. And before she grasps in their situation, her back was pressed to a wall nearby, and his lips were on hers. She kisses him back with the same fervor, arms circling themselves on his neck as she felt his arms wrapping around her slim waist, pressing their bodies together, leaving no space in between them.

She pulls away, taking an intake of oxygen as his lips chase for hers, making Elle smirk slyly. She got him hooked. “Shall we take this somewhere private?” He asked her, gasping a little, his hands grasping her waist. “Please do lead the way, sir.” Elle grins at him before he kisses her one last time, then pulling at her hand softly.

Elle was facing the door, leaning her body back against Brandon’s sturdy one as he attacked her neck. Leaving wet kisses from her jawline to her shoulder. She couldn’t resist the moan that slips her lips. Giggling when his stubble tickles her. When they finally made it inside the room, he slammed and locked the door. Taunting her like how a predator taunts its prey.

He shoved her to the soft mattress, pressing his body on top of hers while littering kisses on her. Elle’slegs wrap themselves around his waist, grinding up against him as she cups his jawline and maneuvers his lips to hers.

A whine slips past Elle’s swollen red lips as he keeps teasing her. “Stop teasing me!” She scowls at him. His charming smirk was back on his lips, etched proudly as he holds himself on top of her, his elbows supporting his weight. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you? Don’t worry, little one, I’ll take good care of you.” Brandon’s hands reached for Elle’s dress, hiking it up and ripping her panties off. Elle submits herself to him, moaning when she feels his rigid shaft nudging at her core.

“Plea—” Elle doesn’t even finish the word coming out of her lips as she felt him push his member inside of her. Screaming as he stretched her to her limit. Brandon kisses Elle to shut her up, tongue battling for dominance. Thrust after thrust, Elle was reaching her climax as she begged for him. “I’m close. . . Ahh fuck!! Brandon!” She signaled at him. Brandon’s thrust picked up its pace as Elle reached her climax, her manicured nails scratching at his back, leaving red lines along his back. She can feel him reaching his peak, grunting with a rough voice as he slowed his pace after he finishes inside of her.

“If you haven’t realized it, you’re mine now,” Brandon said, panting, as he laid on his back beside her. “I belong to no one, Brandon.” She chuckles at his confidence. Neither of them planned to become friends after this, but the universe said otherwise. Romantic relationships were not on their agenda, but a stress reliever won’t hurt anyone.

Ellerie and Brandon develop friends with benefits relationship after their first meeting. Gradually becoming each other’s best friend.

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fanfictionaries · 5 years ago

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Love and Academia Ch.9 - Cold Beer and Crossed Lines

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide, Angst

Author’s note: A little attraction. A little flirting. A little Clint. A whole lot of Bucky and Emily!

Also: Holy cow! 5.5k words?? Longest Bucky chapter and longest chapter I’ve ever written on anything to be honest.

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

It should be illegal for cookies to taste this delicious. It should be even more illegal for the person who baked them to look so delicious. Bucky watched Emily as she took that Friday afternoon to tidy the lab. A group of visiting middle schoolers had spent the better part of the afternoon with them, learning about science, plants, and ecology and now the room was in shambles. Not that it was very clean to begin with. He had no idea why, but a universal truth existed about ecology labs – they were always a mess. Perhaps it was the lack aseptic technique required for their experiments. It might also have to do with the exorbitant amount of time they spent in the field, their camping materials, hiking boots, and lab equipment almost always coming back caked in mud. Nevertheless, you’d never find yourself in a spic and span ecology lab. The concept was practically an oxymoron.

Still, the mess the middle schoolers left was quite impressive and as his diligent graduate student, Emily had volunteered to clean up and put everything back into place. He watched her through the office window that looked out into the rest of the lab. Her hair was down today the long golden strands cascading down her back in thick waves. If he focused hard enough, he could just remember the silky, soft feel of it threaded through his fingers. She wore the same pair of baggy, paint-covered jeans as the day he walked into his office to find her dancing amongst the piles of Dr. Erskine’s book. They were high-waisted, synched tight at her small waste by a belt, but hanging loose everywhere else. It wasn’t until she bent over to pick something up that he could see the outline of her perky ass and full thighs. Currently, she was on her tiptoes attempting to place a large fluorescent light on top of a cabinet causing the bottom of her shirt to ride up and reveal the creamy skin of her ribcage. God, did she have to wear such little shirts? Not that he thought it would make much of a difference. The girl could probably come to school in a parka and he’d still get an erection watching her.

He didn’t know when the line of propriety in his mind had been crossed, but he was currently miles past it with no intention of turning back. The best he could do at this point, would be to come to a screeching halt and take five where he was. However, that was a little hard to do when everywhere he went, there she was. When he taught his classes, she was there. Sitting in the front row, idly doodling in her notebook, pen flipping in her delicate fingers, long legs crossing and uncrossing over each other. Often times, he found himself losing his concentration mid-sentence, too focused on the way Emily’s lips wrapped around the end of her pen. Even in the seemingly sweet solitude of his lab she was ever present. It didn’t matter what day or what time, she was there. Headphones on, working diligently at her desk. Dr. Erskine hadn’t been kidding when he said she was a hard worker. The amount of time she spent grinding away at her work bordered on unhealthy – bordered on his work ethic.

He had an excuse of course. He was using his work as a distraction. He always had. When Jenny Haver broke up with him his first year of graduate school, he locked himself in his room and didn’t come out until two weeks later, a full PhD proposal written to perfection. Is that what Emily was doing too? Avoiding something? Using her work as a distraction? He couldn’t imagine what it would be. She always seemed so happy and bright. Every morning, she swept into the lab like an early spring breeze, fresh and invigorating. Often times the day didn’t feel like it began until he saw her smile. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Even himself. She was his student. What he was experiencing was simply a basic case of carnal attraction. It was biological. Unavoidable.

“Hey, Dr. Barnes.” His wandering mind was brought back by the woman in question, standing in the doorway of his office. Despite their more relaxed relationship, she still kept her distance whenever she could, and she still insisted on calling him by his professional title. Probably for the best.

“Emily, what can I do for you?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and friendly and free of any hint that he had been ogling her moments before.

“I’m taking off early today. I wanted to let you know, I’ll have the rough draft for my introduction to you by Monday,” she said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Yea sounds good. Any fun plans for the weekend?” He wished he could pretend that he’d only asked to be polite, but truthfully, he wanted to know more about her. He needed to.

Emily rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “Oh yea. Major fun. That is, if working all weekend is considered fun. I’ll be swimming in it.”

“Whoa there, someone better real you in before you get too out of hand,” Bucky said dryly, joining in on the joke.

“I know, an absolute menace to society.”

“The worst.”

They smiled at each other, finding a soft comfort in their banter. It was not the kind of joke that brought you to audible laughter. Instead, it filled you with a warmth and fondness that stuck with you. The thought of it possessing the ability to make you smile for days, months, even years.

“What, um, what about you?” Emily asked, shifting her weight and leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, well I’ve got midterm grading to do. I might meet up with Steve for a few beers.” Bucky didn’t actually have plans with Steve, but he found himself making up the detail on the spot. The need for his life to seem less boring taking over momentarily.

“Oh fun…so it looks like you liked them.” Emily pointed towards the plate of almost finished cookies on his desk.

“Yea, they’re delicious,” he complimented, watching as Emily chewed her bottom lip as her gaze focused on the plate of snickerdoodles. She appeared to be deep in thought, the contents of it becoming clear when a dusky blush began to spread across her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, she snapped out of her trance and pulled her eyes away from the plate of delicious treats, making an effort to look anywhere but him. Realization flooded through Bucky, his mind wandering back to their texts from the previous night. Apparently, the exchange hadn’t been as one sided as he thought. He hadn’t meant for the text to sound so sexual when he sent it. Truthfully, it was a case of mistype, having forgotten to tack on the ‘s’ at the end of the word cookies. It wasn’t until the text was sent that he realized his mistake and how it might be construed. He thought about sending a follow up text immediately to correct it, but something had stopped him. Some sick, depraved part of himself wanted to know how she’d react. Emily in a whole was an enigma. Ever since their truce, he’d tried to spot any hint of the confident, sexy, bold woman he’d met that night at the bar. Something to prove to himself that it was her raw sexual prowess and the memory of it that weakened his resolve. However, that version of her had since been seen again. Instead, in its place was a sweet, intelligent, and sarcastic woman. A little shy. A little quiet. Funny. He didn’t know how to justify that in his mind. How to justify his attraction to that version of her in his mind.

“Well, have a good weekend,” Emily said softly, disappearing from his doorway before Bucky even had the opportunity to respond.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands and taking a deep breath before raking his palms over the rough stubble on his cheeks. He needed a distraction. Something entirely graduate student free. His thoughts wandered to his lie about hanging out with Steve. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Picking up his phone, he opened his recent call list. Mom. Mom. Mom. Sister. Steve. Clicking on Steve’s number, the phone rang.

“Hey Buck, what’s up?” Steve’s voice asked from the other end, the screams and shouts of little kids sounding from the background.

“Hey Stevie, I’m not bugging you at work, am I?”

“No, no. We’re on our second recess of the day. I’m monitoring. What’s up?” he asked again.

“Just wanted to see if you were free to grab dinner and a few beers tonight. There’s this place near my house I’ve been wanting to try,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair.

“Yea—” Steve’s answer was cut short by a loud screech somewhere on his end “—Jackson, stop. Put that down!” Bucky heard Steve scold; his voice more distant as he spoke to the children around him. “Yea. That sounds good. Just text me the place and time and I’ll meet you ther—Martha, that’s not how we talk to our friends.”

Bucky laughed, accustomed to half conversations with Steve when he was at work.

“Alright punk. I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up, not bothering to wait for a response. He knew he wouldn’t get one. When Steve was around his kids, they dominated all of his attention. He lived for those kids, every one of them. Just looking at the impressive cut of Steven Grant Rogers, you’d never think that his life’s calling was wiping snotty noses and teaching the ABCs. But one conversation with the human embodiment of a basket of yarn, you very quickly realized that he wasn’t fit for much else. Allegedly, and while Bucky had seen the pictures he still wasn’t fully convinced, Steve used to be just a sprig of a thing. Barely over five feet tall and a buck twenty soaking wet. He had told Bucky years ago in college that he’d hit a growth spurt halfway through high school and taken up weightlifting to stop getting his ass handed to him every day. But secretly, he believed the real reason behind his impressive growth in mass was to be able to one day lift his entire kindergarten class with one arm. He’d personally seen his best friend hold up ten giggling five year old’s dangling from a single arm like little monkeys.

No, tonight would be good. An extra-large pizza split between them both and one too many beers was just what the doctor ordered. Maybe a game or two of pool if they had a table. If not, he would be perfectly content with bullshitting and talking about the old days. This was just what he needed to clear his mind of Emily.

Four hours later Bucky was walking through the side entrance to Goody’s still reeling from the conversation he’d had with his mother. She wanted him to come home for thanksgiving. He did not. Let the argument commence. He loved his mother. He really did. And he knew she meant well. He really did. But he also hated her inability to respect his boundaries. He really did.

As he entered the small pizza joint and bar, he was pleased to see a few decent and empty pool tables in the far corner. Spotting Steve already sitting down at a table, two beers and giant steaming pizza before him, Bucky headed towards him.

“Got here early so I ordered for you,” said Steve, standing up to pull Bucky into a brief hug. Bucky slapped a hand on his friends back before pulling back and looking down at the pizza. Extra-large meat lovers. Extra cheese.

“Aww darling, my favorite. You remembered,” Bucky teased, sitting down and taking a large sip of the lager. Setting his pint glass down, he reached forward and grabbed a piece of pizza, the cheese stretching with a perfectly melted consistency.

“Well you know, I wanted to try the alfredo pizza they had, but someone refuses to eat anything but the most testosterone filled, artery clogging pizza.”

Bucky shrugged, taking a large bite of his slice and speaking through the pizza as he chewed, “Hey man, why bother with anything but perfection?”

“Well I can’t argue with that logic,” laughed Steve, grabbing a slice himself.

“Oh, my mom wanted me to tell you that she got your card,” Bucky remarked, remembering his mother’s parting request right before he ended their call. Every year Steve sent out a card with a picture of him and his new group of kids to all his family, that list seemed to include his parents.

“Oh great! How is Winni?”

Bucky sighed, “She wants me to come home for thanksgiving. I told her I was spending thanksgiving with your family. By the way, can I come to thanksgiving?”

“Yea, you’re more than welcome Buck,” Steve laughed before taking on a more serious tone, “Are they all still on your case for moving?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his beer. “Mom figures I should have stayed after everything with Diane. But, fuck, the last thing I wanted to do was be closer to her and all those memories. Plus, her and my sister still baby me over the whole thing. I’m a grown man. I don’t need their coddling. It’s been almost a year and a half.”

“I get that. Took nearly two years for Mary and my mom to stop trying to take care of me after Peggy left me. Nearly lost my mind, but they finally got the memo that I was okay. Are you…okay that is?” Steve asked, leaning forward on the table, eyebrows raised in concern.

Bucky had to think for a moment. Was he okay? For months he had felt consumed by the emptiness Diane’s departure from his life had left. The world had felt so bleak. He held so much anger towards her. For leaving. For giving up the way that she did. But now, things felt different. He didn’t know when it had happened but waking up in the morning no longer felt like a chore.

“Yea, I think I am,” he answered truthfully, finding realization and catharsis in the statement.

“Good. Good, man. I’m really happy to hear that Buck.”

They shared a brief smile before Steve’s morphed into a mischievous glint, “So does that mean you’re ready to get back out there?”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head, “Let’s just take this one step at a time, alright pal? But speaking of dating, how are things going with you and Natasha?”

Bucky watched as the smile on Steve’s face widened, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“You dog. That good?”

“Better. I uh…yea. Definitely better.”

Bucky laughed, taking another bite of pizza. Well, at least one of them was getting laid. He was happy for Steve. Even during his entire relationship with Peggy he’d never seen him so smitten.

“There she is!” A chorus of cheers and greetings flowed through the air from the bar behind him. Bucky didn’t think much of it until he heard the sound of a familiar voice.

“I know. I know. Maria had me in the basement doing inventory.”

Turning in his chair, Bucky was surprised to see Emily, standing behind the bar, chit-chatting with a group of older men and women. So much for a night free of his graduate student.

“Where have you been girl? We haven’t seen you in forever!” asked the patron near the end – an older woman with greying hair and kind eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry! My day job has been kicking my butt lately. But, it will all be worth it once I graduate,” Emily laughed, leaning against the bar top.

Bucky watched her as she interacted with the group. She seemed comfortable. At ease. The group must be regulars.

A throat clearing pulled him away from Emily and back to Steve, who looked at him smugly, “I could use another beer. Why don’t you run up to the bar and grab me one Buck?”

Bucky nodded, downing the rest of his and standing, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Uh huh, sure. Take your time man.”

Walking up to the bar, Bucky watched as Emily’s gaze passed over him and then doubled back, a smile spreading across her face.

“I guess you weren’t lying when you told me you were a bartender,” he said, setting his and Steve’s empty glasses down on the bar top. Emily raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Half-truth Dr. Barnes. Graduate student most of the time. Bartender sometimes.”

“I don’t suppose the sometimes you’re a bartender, you could call me Bucky?”

Emily breathed deeply, scrutinizing him through squinted eyes, “No, I don’t think I can.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t have any leverage as your advisor for you to change your mind?” Bucky asked mischievously.

“That sounds an awful lot like abuse of power Dr. Barnes—" Emily replied, a similar mischievous glint in her eye “—Now, what can I get you?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Can’t go wrong with a Caribou Slabber,” Emily stated resolutely, grabbing two pint glasses from the shelves behind her.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Two of those and uh, two waters.” Bucky pulled his wallet from his pocket and leaned against the bar, rubbing at the rough stubble on his cheeks as Emily poured his beers. Emily laughed, a small light thing.

“What?” asked Bucky.

“Watta,” Emily repeated, imitating his accent crudely.

“It’s not that thick,” Bucky defended himself good naturedly.

“Whatever you say Brooklyn.”

Bucky laughed, the sound of the nickname rolling off her tongue made something tug in his chest. Shaking it off, he pulled out some cash and placed thirty dollars on the bar top in exchange for their drinks.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” said Emily, “Say hi to Steve for me. Let me know if I can get anything else for you.”

A few hours later Bucky found himself in an aggressive game of one-pocket. Many hours spent in their dorm hall rec room had resulted in their shared skill at pool and they had a bad habit of getting a little competitive.

“Is that the best you can do?” Steve taunted when Bucky made his second scratch of the night.

Bucky sighed, standing up straight and taking a large gulp of Caribou Slabber. She really did have good taste in beer. “Shut up punk. I taught you how to play. Remember?”

“And now, the student has surpassed the teacher—” Steve shrugged, watching as Bucky eyes diverted towards the bar for the hundredth time that night “—okay. What’s going on?”

“What?” Bucky asked, feigning innocence and stupidity.

“Oh please. You can’t stop looking over at her. Is there something going on?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. She’s not even over there right now!” Bucky scoffed.

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out a curt mhmm. Bucky knew he didn’t believe him. He was no stranger to Steve’s ‘I know best and you know nothing’ look. But he was telling the truth. Nothing was going on between him and Emily.

“Whatever. Believe me. Don’t believe me. I’m going to take a piss—” he propped his pool stick against the side of the table “—and if I come back and you’ve moved any of those balls, I’m coming for you punk. Don’t even try it! I’ve got that table memorized!” Bucky called out behind him and he headed towards the back of the bar where the restrooms were located.

Rounding the corner, he was stopped abruptly by the sight of Emily with some guy. Crowding her space, the man stood only a few inches above her looking frustrated. Emily’s posture was closed off, her arms crossed in front of her looking away from him and at the doors to the restrooms. He should have turned away. It was none of his business. But something kept him planted in the stop, moving forward a few inches to listen in.

“See, this is what I’m talking about Em! You won’t open up to me. You never would! I mean, I mess up once and now you won’t even talk to me.” Interesting.

“Mess up? Mess up? Clint, you did the one thing, the one thing, I explicitly told you not to do!”

“I know. I know. But I promise it will never happen again. Just give me a chance! Couples get past this sort of thing all the time,” Clint pleaded, placing a hand on her arm that Emily promptly shrugged off.

“I can’t Clint. I told you how important faithfulness and honesty were to me. I made that explicitly clear at the beginning of our relationship and you agreed. You agreed and you still slept with Sharon! I mean, how long has it been going on?”

The man was quiet. Bucky’s stomach dropped. He should walk away. He should really walk away.

“How long Clint?” Emily asked again, this time her voice a little weaker.

“A year and a half.” Bucky might not have been sure he had heard the answer correctly if it wasn’t for Emily’s boisterous reaction.

“A year and a half?! Are you kidding me Clint? Almost our entire relationship? God. I can’t even look at you.” Emily turned to walk away, but Clint caught her by her forearm, yanking her back and against the wall. “Ow!”

“Em don’t walk away. Listen to me! I can explain!”

“Let go of me Clint,” Emily said through gritted teeth.

“No, not until you listen to what I have to say,” Clint responded, desperation and anger evident in his voice.

Bucky, no longer able to watch the exchange, stepped forward, “Hey, back the fuck off man. She told you to let go.”

The coupled looked towards him as he stalked down the hallway, anger seething through him. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Listen buddy, this isn’t any of your business,” said Clint in annoyance.

“Like hell it is—” Bucky grabbed Clint by the shoulder and pulled him away from Emily, before turning to her “—are you okay Emily?”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Emily said to Bucky. But the way her posture relaxed, and her arms opened from around her body said differently. She was relieved he had stepped in.

“Do you know this guy Em?” Clint asked, stepping forward.

Bucky swept around, placing himself between Emily and Clint. He towered over the man, using both his height and size to intimidate. Though, he reckoned the flaming, red-hot rage in his eyes would be enough to send him running. He was seething. Every ounce of his self-control kept him from absolutely clobbering the douchebag.

“Just go Clint!” Emily called over Bucky’s shoulder.

Clint laughed, no humor found in his expression or tone, “Are you fucking this guy Em? Is that why you won’t talk to me? Already slutting around?”

Bucky wanted to punch him. Bucky almost punched him. But the soft touch of Emily’s hand on his bicep kept him in check. Turning his head, he caught the desperate plea in her eyes and knew that beating this guy to a pile of mush would be the wrong thing to do. So instead, he took slow and calculated steps towards him until Clint was pressed against the wall opposite them. Bucky watched as the cockiness quickly melted from his face and in its place, fear resided. Jabbing a large finger into his chest, Bucky spoke low and menacingly.

“If I ever see you lay another hand on her, I will personally make sure you regret it. I will not hesitate to kick the ever loving shit out of you. Do I make myself clear?”

Clint nodded frantically, eyes shifting from Bucky and the exit.

“Now, I never want to see you around her or this place ever again. Got it?”

“Yea man, I get it! Just let me go,” Clint pleaded.

“Everything alright here?” Steve’s voice sounded from the hallway entrance.

“Yea. Clint here was just leaving. Mind walking him to the door?”

Steve took a moment to assess the situation behind speaking in a casual tone, “Not at all. Come on Clint.”

Clint’s eyes seemed to go wide when he took in the even more massive man. Steve clasped a hand on Clint’s shoulder and guided him out of sight. Letting out a long breath, Bucky closed his eyes and counted to ten, calming himself before turning back to Emily.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking a moment to scan his eyes over her.

Emily nodded, biting her lower lip and leaning against the wall behind her.

“No, you’re not. Do you need me to wait for you to get off and walk you home?” Bucky asked, lifting her right arm up to look at it more closely. No bruises. Yet.

“I’m, uh, I’m actually already off. I was headed out of the bathroom when he cornered me,” Emily said, rubbing at her face.

“Okay, let’s get you home then. Come on.”

Bucky and Emily left Goody’s after he explained everything to Steve. His best friend didn’t seem upset about cutting their night short at all. Instead, he told them to make it home safely and that he also made sure Clint would not be coming around any time soon. They walked in silence, the only thing keeping the darkened street alight, the soft yellow lights of streetlamps and porchlights. The walk was very reminiscent of the last time they had found themselves walking the streets of Pocatello late in the evening. The only thing different this time was the lack of Trixie by their side and Bucky’s arm slung over her shoulders protectively. She needed someone to take care of her in that moment. He knew solely from the fact that instead of shying away from his touch, she leaned into it all the way to her apartment.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she lived close to him. Her complex was only about a half mile from his house. The manufactured building held no personality, the white siding and grey trim creating uniform replications of the same apartments. However, Emily knew exactly where she was going, leading him towards her apartment with a practiced ease. When she unlocked her front door, she walked right in, leaving the door open. Bucky took this as an invitation to follow her. When he stepped into her place, he found it to be surprisingly lacking in any sentimentality. In fact, it looked half empty. No pictures hung on the walls. No nick-knacks or keep sakes. Just furniture and the odd piece of decoration. It was messy, but not too messy. The small dining room table was clear, but the coffee table held notebooks, pens, and her laptop. A pile of blankets and pillows sat on the single couch in the living room.

As if sensing where his gaze was focused, Emily spoke over her shoulder as she disappeared into a back hall, “You can have a seat on the couch. Just shove the blankets out of the way. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky made his way to the couch, picking up the patchwork quilt. The fabric was soft in his hand, the cotton material aged in just the right way. The individual squares were neat and colorful and held a warmth that Bucky only felt as a child when he visited his grandparents’ house. The intimacy of the quilt overwhelmed him. It was too personal. The situation felt too personal. He shouldn’t be there.

Just as he made to drop the quilt and walk towards the door, Emily reemerged donning a pair of sweats and fuzzy socks.

“Hi,” Bucky said, his mouth dry. Something about seeing her like this, looking so small and vulnerable, felt both wrong and horribly right.

“Hi,” Emily responded, walking towards him and giving a quizzical look at the quilt and then him.

“Oh, I was just admiring it. It’s really beautiful, the quilt I mean.”

Emily pulled it from his hands, hugging it to her chest as she sat down on the couch, “Thanks. It was my grandma’s.”

There was a long pause, a heavy weight filling the space between them.

“Do you wanna’ talk about it?” he asked.

There was a long pause as Emily tried to decide whether she wanted to discuss the events that had occurred that night. Bucky waited with bated breath. Then, with a deep sigh, Emily began to talk.

“We met the summer before the second year of my PhD. Mutual acquaintances. Department barbeque. He seemed nice. We moved in together after a year. And then a year later, a month and half ago to be exact, I found him in our bed with his lab mate, Sharon.” Emily picked at the quilt in her lap and brought her feet up onto the couch, turning towards him. “I kicked him out the same day. Haven’t spoken to him till tonight.”

Bucky was quiet, opting to simply allow her to tuck her feet below his thigh and listen.

“At first, I was upset, but as time’s gone on, I’m realizing that I probably wasn’t upset for the right reason. I felt hurt. But not because I loved him. I should have loved him. I think. We were together for so long. We lived together. But…” She laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I don’t usually…Nat says I like to bottle things up and make bad jokes at my own expense. I don’t—I don’t usually…”

Bucky found himself reaching out and placing a hand over hers. He had no idea why she felt comfortable enough to open up to him, but he was touched that she did.

“What a dick. Doesn’t matter if you loved him or not. Or if he loved you or not. You made an agreement and he broke that. It’s no one’s fault but his own. You deserve a lot better than that guy, trust me.” The words he spoke were true. She did deserve a lot better.

Emily turned her hand over, her fingertips brushing against the palm of his hands. The touch sent his pulse racing. A burning fire igniting beneath the surface of his skin everywhere her fingers brushed.

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” breathed Emily. Her eyes focused on the movement of her hand and Bucky’s in turn as he moved his hand in sync with hers. Fingertips to fingertips. A ghostly touch.

Bucky chuckled lightly, “Are you ever going to call me Bucky?”

“No,” Emily responded, a small smirk on her face.

“So just Dr. Barnes forever?”

She was quiet, a pensive look on her face as she ceased the dance of their hands and threaded her fingers through his.

“How about James?” she asked.

Bucky’s heart clenched. A hand wrapped around it tightly, squeezing and squeezing. The sound of his name, his given name, slipping past her lips and rolling off the tip of her tongue caused a visceral reaction within him. The front of his jeans tightened, and arousal shuddered through his body.

“Say it again,” he commanded, voice gravely with need.

He heard the sound of Emily’s breath catching in her throat before a soft “James” passed her lips. Hand still gripping hers tightly, he used it to pull her forward and onto his lap. Eyes wide with surprise, her chest heaved, and body trembled as she braced her hands on his shoulders.

“Again.”

“James.”

They leaned towards each other, noses touching and lips a whisper apart. The hot, heavy mix of their breaths shared between them. He should stop. He was no longer crossing a line of propriety in mind. He was crossing a real line. Everything told him to stop. The voice in the back of his head was a distant scream that shouted: ‘She’s your student’, ‘You’re her advisor’, ‘It’s inappropriate’, ‘It’s a liability to your position’, ‘What about Diane?’. But with the feel of her hips in his hands and her hair tickling his face as she leaned over him the voice moved farther and farther into the recesses of him mind.

“Again.”

“Ja—”

Emily was cut off by the shrill ring of a phone in the kitchen. They both jumped, pulling away from each other as if the phone itself caught them in the middle of a nefarious act. Bucky released her waist, his hands falling to his sides as Emily stood and ran to the kitchen.

“Hello? Nat, hey. What’s up?” Emily’s voice lilted from the kitchen, breathy with a small hint of panic. “Yea, I’m fine. I just got home a few minutes ago.”

Bucky stood, removing the quilt that had made its way onto his lap and folded it, before gently placing it back on the couch.

“Oh, Steve told you what happened?”

He sighed, looking around the living room and then back towards the kitchen before making his way towards the front door. Quietly, he exited the apartment, closing the door behind him. The chilly bite of the late night air sank through to his bones as he walked home, trying to make sense of what just happened. By the time he made it to his front door he still didn’t know if he should thank Natasha or advise Steve to break up with her. But one thing was definitely clear, he had crossed a line and there was no going back.

Love and Academia Taglist:

@is-it-madness

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#love and academia #fan fiction #fan fic #bucky #auprofessor!bucky #auprofessor!buckyxofc #ofc #buckyxofc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #smut #angst #mutual pining

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unstoppableforcce · 5 years ago

Text

what we do now that it’s over (3)

alt. title: war happened. emotions happened. they’re in love and I’m making it cannon myself

finnpoe / stormpilot

this episode ft. some more angst and lots of soft ! check it out on my ao3 - relliot

still accepting requests between works - r.e.

The bright light woke him immediately, he feared it was the sun, that he had slept outside the entire night, covered in bugs and sweat and everything he feared when he agreed to come to Yavin with Poe.

But it wasn’t dawn, just the automatic porch lights when they sensed motion.

“I told you I was fine, so you stayed up for me?”

Finn blinked, still trying to make out the shadowy shape out of the intense lights. The voice was just raspy enough that he couldn’t place it to Poe right away, not until his mop of curls came into view and his face finally illuminated.

He coughed, cracking his neck, groaning in discomfort. “I needed to say something…”

“Get up, come on.”

He almost didn’t want to let him help him up, but Poe was fully awake and functioning while he was, at best, a tired slump of himself. Poe took his arm and slung it over his shoulder, the two of them walking together into the house, both in silent agreement to keep their footsteps quiet as Kes was asleep downstairs.

Poe was particularly grateful for the silence, knowing that if Finn had something to say, he was going to hear about, and he wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.

By the time they hit the stairs, Finn was awake enough to walk on his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to mentioning it, to pull from Poe as they slinked upstairs. He set him down on the makeshift bed in the loft, pulling back briefly and sighing, hands on his hips as he glanced back down the hall to see Rey in the other bedroom already asleep, then back to Finn.

“I shouldn’t make you sleep out here, you can take the other bed-”

“I just fell asleep on a porch; I think this is a luxury.” Finn fought back, rubbing over his chin and the stubble growing there.

Poe stopped himself from saying anything else, going through a similar motion with another sigh.

Finn wanted to say everything he had planned to say, to sympathize and get him better… It was too late, they were both too tired, Poe barely looked awake, much less attentive.

It was going to have to wait.

Finn broke the silence. “We’re going out to the Force Tree in the morning?”

“Yeah, I think, you know, Rey seemed excited for it…”

“Right, yeah, good.”

Poe nodded along, incapable of anything else as a yawn ripped through him.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Finn added, kicking out of his boots, releasing Poe from the conversation.

The next light he saw was the actual rise of the sun, beading through the windows of where he slept, sparkling through the fabrics strewn about. It was a much nicer surface to wake up on, his muscles groaned but not nearly as uncomfortable as he had been when he woke up in the middle of the night.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sighed, just as he heard a soft patter of feet coming to where he sat. It was Rey, looking an adorable mix between sleepy and well-rested, and she had remembered to change into separate clothes to sleep in, unlike himself.

“Morning…” She chimed, halfway through tying her hair up into her normal knotted style. “I saw you outside last night, but I figured you’d make your way inside.”

“Yeah…” He chuckled out, just as a much heavy set of steps made their way into the room from the other side.

Poe looked even worse than yesterday, if he had gotten any sleep at all, he didn’t look it.

“Morning,” Rey added again with a soft smile.

“Yeah, morning.” He sighed, positioning his hands back onto his hips. “You guys good to head out after we eat?”

They both nodded and he joined in with him.

“I’m sure my dad’s already up and cooked, I’ll change and meet you down there.” He spoke again, almost entirely to Rey, not even glancing down to Finn once as he spoke before turning away.

Rey raised a brow, but Finn shook his head, neither of them saying anything, just turning back to their respective sectors to change their clothes and meet Kes downstairs.

Poe was right, he was cooking, and looked like he had been for a while, a full meal prepped for them and waiting on the table while he sipped at his caf.

Rey and Finn sat down, waited for Poe but when he didn’t come down in the first few minutes, they began eating, and eventually, he sauntered down the stairs, grabbed a plate and leaned against the counter.

“I’m excited for you to see the Tree, Rey, and you, Finn, I’ve heard it’s an incredible experience for force users.”

“Oh, I’m not a Jedi.” Finn defended; a cheek full of food.

“That’s not what Poe says, heard you’re great with a saber and-”

He dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter and shook his head, trying to laugh it off but no one around the table was buying it. “Yeah, but I’m not like Rey.”

“My mistake…” Kes said carefully, downing the rest of his caf and shrugging. “You should probably get going if you want to beat the suns.”

Poe nodded, bending over the table to collect plates and walking them over to the kitchen while Rey tied up the laces on her boots, Finn doing the same. “We’ll be back by sundown; do you need anything else?”

“I’m going to walk the Belken, set the droids out in the fields…”

“Well if you need anything-”

“Go.”

So, they did. Poe leading the way with a pack thrown over his shoulder, trekking out the front door and heading out

Yavin was nothing if not beautiful. It was a one body wide path, so they hiked in a line, first Poe, then Finn, then Rey, almost completely in silence as the natural noises of the jungle around began to drown out even their thoughts.

The sun barely threaded the dense canopy of leaves above them, stray beams cutting through and sparkling across their very quickly sweating bodies. Eventually, the foliage on either side of the well-worn if not slightly overgrown path faded back some, leaving just enough room two people now. Finn took a few extra long steps until he settled into step alongside Poe.

They were each quiet, but Poe was noticeably stewing in his own personal hell.

They couldn’t stay. They just couldn’t any longer.

Poe didn’t even notice him coming up alongside him, that was how out of it he was. Finn passed a gentle nod back over his shoulder and Rey got the message, slowing her step and giving them some distance.

“We need to talk.” Finn tried at first in a whisper but after a few beats, repeated at a more audible volume, getting Poe to snap his head back his way.

“Talk about what?” He chuckled, rubbing the sweat off his brow with one swipe of his wrist wrapped with a scarf.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you…”

“Nothing is-”

“Okay, you can’t keep pretending you’re fine but ever since we got here you’ve been acting different-”

“I haven’t-”

“Can you let me finish?” Finn snapped, enough for even Rey to raise an eyebrow at even if she kept her mouth shut and her eyes down like she wasn’t paying attention.

Poe only bit his tongue and raised his hands gently in surrender, not much, but enough.

“Listen, we came here because the war is over and we can slow down, we need a break, we need a chance to figure it all out and you’ve just been boiling.” He sighed out, bringing them to a stop on the path, Rey no longer pretending to be chasing butterflies. She was paying as much attention as Finn, neither of them ignoring it now.

“He’s got you in on this too, the both of you conspiring against me-” Poe rambled out, barely capable of forming the words on his tongue as everything continued to biol under his skin, turning him red and it wasn’t from the heat. “I’m fine and the two of you need to start worrying about yourselves.”

“Poe…” Rey sighed, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder which he hit away like swatting a fly. “We don’t know what’s going on and we just want to-”

“This is a lot coming from you.”

He was crying now, trying desperately to pretend he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help himself, the tears hot on his face as he shifted on his feet, the beams of sunlight splattering his face in a bright yellow. He couldn’t stop himself now, he just couldn’t.

“You said it yourself, we came here to slow down, and you’ve spent the entire time watching me because you can’t do what you’re telling me to do… to realize you have to figure out what you’re going to do now that it’s over too.” Poe ranted out, pushing his finger into Finn’s chest, stuttering him back a step. They could read the regret on his face, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t.

Finn and Rey exchanged a look but before either of them could form a rebuttal, he redirected to Rey.

“You still won’t even tell us what happened to you on Exegol, which is fine…” He rubbed his brow, “We don’t know each other that well, I don’t expect it, but it’s clearly weighing on. So, you guys don’t get to come after me. You don’t.”

No one knew what to do, least of all Poe. He expended every last ounce of his energy by shouting at them and now he couldn’t meet their eyes. Blowing out a breath, he shook his head and turned away, continuing down the path. By himself.

Rey followed first, keeping her eyes down and continuing the silent march. After a few seconds and a deep and shuddering breath, Finn did the same. They were all lost in their thoughts the entire rest of the hike, now finding themselves grateful for the gentle hum of the jungle.

By the time they reached a small bridge, Poe was already waiting for them, a small stream flowing underneath it. But he didn’t want to talk, he waited just long enough for them to catch up, then continued, going right from the bridge and following the path for a few more minutes before reaching the end of the path, the end of the Dameron property.

It was like a breath of fresh air rushing through their bones, through their hair, through every inch, every atom of their being. Rey got a whiff of it when they first got there, but that was faint, like a gentle breeze, this was a full-blown tornado force of feeling. It was in the air, it was all around, it was breathtaking and rejuvenating all at once.

And Finn could feel it all too. Rey was immersed in it, but he could still feel it.

Even Poe couldn’t ignore it, they didn’t know what he was feeling but his whole disposition had still changed. He slowed down, he softened. This kind of power? Force-sensitive or not, it could be felt.

It was an extensive tree, an intricate design, towering into the treetops, much bigger than Poe remembered from when he was a kid, from the last time he was out here.

Rey’s breath caught as she slowly approached it, coming up next to Poe as they both inched towards the base. She stepped carefully over the thick roots, ripping off her gloves and outstretching her hand for the wood. Poe did the same but with slightly less caution, much more familiar as he drew his fingers over it.

Finn squatted next to one of the largest roots bulging out of the dirt, laying his hand down soft onto it. The feeling was there, and it was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

But his finger ran over a groove, following along a curve that caught his eye as soon as he glanced down.

A small P engraved, not well, sharp edges, it must have been a knife…

“My father yelled so loud when he found that…” Poe mused. Finn glanced up just long enough to catch that Poe had been looking his way, staring even, pulling away as soon as he caught him, both of them turning back to the tree. “I was young, eight or nine I think… trying to feel something more, I don’t know…”

They both kept quiet, not knowing whether the story was over or not and not wanting him to retract further into himself.

“I haven’t been back out here since then.” Poe chuckled to himself, pulling his hand away and walking down further to where the roots dipped into the stream, the two of them electing to follow as he collapsed down into the dirt. “It wasn’t even a year after my mother died.”

Finn gave Rey another nod and she gave one back, retreating to the tree which was calling her to do just that.

He sat down on a rock opposite Poe, his boots tipping into the humming water as it flowed past.

“Everything changed after she died.” He wasn’t crying. He was unnaturally stiff and maintaining a painfully stern stare off into the water a few feet below.

“Poe…”

“I got out of here as fast as I could. And there’s just this… there’s this guilt, it’s heavy, it’s weighing me down and it’s been there for years…” He scoffed, reaching to his neck and grabbing the ring around the chain hanging there, tugging it gently back and forth. “I thought winning the war… I thought it would all go away…”

“But it’s worse.” Finn sighed with a nod to faint that Poe wouldn’t have been able to see it even if he was looking that way instead of into the water.

“It’s so much worse…”

He reached over and grabbed his hand, the one not holding tight to the necklace but resting on his knee. Poe glanced down to his grip on his hand, to the calloused skin that held tight to his own. A deep breath in, deep breath out.

He pulled away. He didn’t want to, but he had to.

“I guess we’re all still trying to figure it out.” Poe let out one last ragged sigh. “Figure out what we’re going to be now that we can be anything…”

He finally looked up and met Finn’s stare, so soft, eyebrows furrowed out of concern and chapped lips jutted out in a near pout. Poe’s stubble had progressed to a ragged beard by this point, not full yet, but a few days and it wouldn’t be a surprise at the rate it was growing. And the bags under his eyes, they were caving into his face, he was a ghost of himself.

Finn didn’t imagine he looked much better. He wasn’t getting any more sleep than Poe was, his head just as wrecked by being here, or at least half as wrecked watching Poe spiral so much.

“Well, Rey seems to have it all figured out at least…” Finn laughed out, swiping a hand under his nose with a futile attempt to melt away the heavy tension.

They both glanced back up to Rey and sure enough, she was levitating by the tree, rocks spinning around in a gentle blur.

“Nah… I think we’re all stuck.” Poe sighed, grabbing a stone and rolling it down into the water, making a light splash. “And I don’t think we can go anywhere until we figure it out.”

“Just don’t forget we’re here.” Finn smiled softly, extending his hand for the water Poe kept in his pack and he obliged. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Poe passed over his bottle and huffed, other hand still hanging around the ring on his neck. He licked his bottom lip and sucked it back in briefly before looking back to Finn.

“Yeah, I know…”

#finnpoe #stormpilot #poe dameron #finn #rey skywalker #rey #post tros #tros spoilers #A Long Trip Home

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seromreven · 5 years ago

Text

title: teeth.

anonymous requested: “Could you perhaps write a horny Vampire!george on bloodlust seducing one of the boys? Potential smut? Pretty please? ;>”

author’s note: (aw, since you asked so nicely). had a horrible migraine today but also wrote this! what a day!

---

The moon’s full figure hung in the night sky like a watchful eye, keeping a lookout for Paul who wandered the garden with only the pale light of the full moon being his guide. It was dreadfully late, but it was the only time of day he could get the peace he craved so much so he contented himself with a thought to walk the darkened pathway while listening to the crickets and owls as they talked amongst themselves. His loyal hound, Martha, ran miles off in front of him- smelling the various plants and trees with great excitement as they walked together in silence. In his solitude; there was a certain eerie sensation, something he couldn’t quite place. Something that told him that perhaps he wasn’t quite alone as he thought…

Later, as he had finished his long and winding hike- the moon still high upon the night sky- he put the kettle to the stove, planning to make some nice and familiar tea before he showered and headed to his bed and into the wondrous dreams he were beginning to sorely miss. But there as a knocking, a racket, from outside- luring him away from the boiling water to the window that resided in the wooden front door. He saw nothing but darkness and Martha rested as silent as a stone on the sofa, in front of the crackling fireplace. Paul shook his head- it seemed to be nothing, and he hurried back to the black granite stove as he heard the angry hissing of the water. It wasn’t long he got to enjoy the scalding hot tea (just as he liked it) before the sounds from before started to repeated. He had the mind to ignore it but before he could do that for very long- Martha shot up from her place of rest and barked with raving madness at the door.

“Jesus, Martha!”

Paul held a hand delicately over his rapidly beating heart, shocked by his dog’s sudden outburst. He ushered away and into the back garden when she wouldn’t stop her maddened barking. He wiped his brow; he had to use strength to move Martha even an inch, something which was quite an unusual behaviour from the otherwise obedient dog. He looked out the door window yet again, expecting nothing, and got quite a surprise when two hardened eyes stared back at him. He jumped back, rather startled, and cursed under his breath as Martha continued her loud barking. He let his heart settle for a bit, its rabid beating getting quite hard to bear, before straightening himself out and opening the door and its many locks. Before he could get out a greeting, the stranger spoke-

“Good evening,” was told in a slow drawl. His voice was heavily accented in a place of origin that was familiar to Paul but nowhere he could quite place at the moment. It was a handsome stranger- a handsome man. His long brown hair framing his sharp cheekbones rather perfectly. And, well, he was dressed for a nice evening out. A long coat with white ruffles peeking out from the sleeve-ends- reminding Paul of something out of a period movie set in the Victorian times. But he couldn’t quite let his eyes wander from the man’s face. Something striking and familial of it played with something hard in his chest. As if they had met before and Paul had simply forgotten.

“... Evening,” he responded in a pause that risked being awkward- Paul having stared for so long after all. His brows furrowed as he fought the temptation to scratch the small stubble growing from his face in its usual slow pace, it was uncouth to do in company. “Quite late for a visit, is it not?” He asked, not knowing what to expect from the stranger. The man simply smirked at his question, flashing his teeth and very protruding canines- something that made Paul’s heart jump.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

The man’s figure were highlighted by the shining full moon and Paul shook his head as he played with a small smile. “Surely I would remember a man as striking as yourself.”

Sure, Paul, go ahead and flirt with the midnight stranger. He silently chastised himself- beating the thoughts as quickly as they came. Might as well make the most of it, he thought and looked the man over. He didn’t look familiar. And Paul hadn’t lied. The stranger was unique enough in appearance that he must have remembered him. The stranger shook his head, the smirk still going strong; “it doesn’t really matter.”

“Well,” Paul stepped aside, leaning himself against the wooden frame of the door, “come inside for a drink and then we can get to know each other… again.”

The stranger nodded, tongue poking out slightly beneath his sharp teeth as he stepped inside. The brown in his eyes flashed a dark red but Paul chalked it up to a trick of the light and closed the door gently behind him as the stranger walked with striking confidence into his humble abode. He watched the man study him carefully and Paul couldn’t help but be reminded of a prey, stalked by a predator, as the man licked the end of his canines seductively. Paul’s heart jumped to his throat as he watched the stranger come closer to him and Martha’s barking start up again as if it never ended.

“You want me, don’t you?”

The man asked, almost mockingly, as he came to a stop frightfully close to Paul and rested a hand on Paul’s flushed cheek. The stranger's hand very incredibly pale and frightfully cold. Paul stammered, wanting to say something- say anything. But it was as if the word had caught in his throat. “Yes,” he managed to whisper out and shocked himself with how honest and true it felt even in his very core. He couldn’t have said no, even if he had wanted to. “Y-Your… name?” He managed to get out only a few seconds afterwards, much to the apparent pleasure of the man in front of him. But he didn’t answer- only leaned in and, with a fervour and hunger, kissed Paul. Martha grew silent again and in the eerie silence Paul heard a name ring through his ears and place itself firmly in his head. George. The man’s name was George.

The kiss grew deeper, and he felt George’s slender hands grab him tightly by the waist and pull him up as if he only had the weight of a small child. He walked the familiar path to the bedroom- how he knew it, Paul didn’t dare to think of. And not too soon were Paul placed with grace and delicacy on the soft bed. He watched, with deep breaths, the man above him look down at him with such a hunger he had never before seen in a man. It excited him. It sent exhilarating shivers southwards and he couldn’t contain a giggle in reaction to the buzzing warmth that went through him as George looked upon him with a visible arousal.

They got naked in a heartbeat. Paul hardly noticed it before he laid bare arsed on the woollen covers of his bed, his erect cock tapping the far end of his stomach rhythmically as George caressed the soft flesh of his thighs. The man whispers as he kissed the flushed skin but Paul couldn’t discern what was being said in his low and rough voice before he came to the tip of his penis with a smirk and a murmur of ‘gorgeous’ the moment he took him all in. Paul’s following moans, as George swallowed him deeper and scraped his wonderful sharp teeth against the sensitive skin, were so loud that it felt like they shook the walls of the tiny country house. And Paul thanked his lucky stars for living so isolated- having no neighbours to disturb, having the freedom to be as loud as he was now. And Paul was loud when he came so shortly after it had begun. But, fuck, no one had sucked him off like that in… well, he weren’t sure if anyone had ever sucked him off so expertly before.

“God, George, that was… that was magnificent,” he whispered in the daze of his mind blowing orgasm. His sweat glistened in the low light that illuminated the room and he didn’t dare to move as felt the slow aftereffects of the pure and raw pleasure seep through him. He heard George give a whisper of a haunting laugh and before Paul could even begin to wonder what it had about- he felt sharp nails dig into his hips. It didn’t quite… hurt, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant and he yelled out at the sudden intrusion, only to be answered with a haughty laugh as George appeared over his waist with a whisper of ‘my turn’. His mouth was again greeted by the mouth that was slowly beginning to be so familiar to him as George’s hands caressed and petted the tender skin the lined Paul’s slender waist.

He felt, what could only be, George’s cock poke and prod against the opening of his arse and in a swift and sudden move- it buried itself deep and harshly inside him. His body went through the shock that would usually follow such an unprepared move, but it hadn’t hurt and he released a whimper of confusion. It was delightful but overall… bewildering. But with the slow and deliberate moves that followed, it was quickly forgotten.

Paul wrapped his shaking legs around his lovers’ narrow waist as pleasure upon pleasure rushed over him in indescribable fashion. He had never quite experienced such- and he had gone through many a lover, male and female. And George’s kissing were up to parr to the delirious moves he dished out- the kissing harsh and desperate, like of a man of experience but starved of touch. George’s mouth disappeared from his, much to Paul’s vocal displeasure, with the biting pull of Paul’s lover lip. “Fret not,” George whispered with no strain upon his voice, “there’ll be many more nights to come.”

George licked the sweating, salty skin of Paul’s neck as he made his way to rest his mouth against the beating vein in his neck. Paul’s chest moved in large motions as he felt the end coming near for him, again- the climax of a newly awakened erection. But from all appearance- he couldn’t tell if it were anywhere near the same for George. For he hadn’t even felt the heartbeat of the man and it started to tear at his exhausted mind.

“G-George- I’m… I’m,” no more did he let out before he was interrupted by his own yell, coming upon them both. The other man stayed quiet, hips still snapping against his in achingly slow movements. “... G-George?” He asked, wondering if the other man simply had fallen into a... strange… kind of sleep. But no more could he catch his breath before he felt George’s lips move against his sore neck. “Mine forever,” he felt no breath upon his neck when George uttered those words and he grew frightful as sudden coldness swept the room. “W-What?”

George finally emerged his head from the crook of Paul’s neck. His eyes were a pure dark red- reminding Paul of the blood he had seen the countless of times he would cut himself shearing the sheep. Reminding him of the man that once had happened upon Paul in one of those instances. Teeth flashed in a terrifying smile as he stared at Paul’s bleeding hand. A man with blood-red eyes and handsome high cheekbones. A man that had all but disappeared the moment Martha had showed up, barking mad and loudly at the sight of the stranger. Paul gasped, “you-”, but no more could he let out before George sank to his pulsing vein that rested in his neck, fangs flashing dangerously as all light and sound disappeared from Paul’s world.

#request #the beatles #paul mccartney #george harrison #mcharrison #beatles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #vampire au #reached 300+ in my mini hiatus !! love y'all !

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destiel-love-forever · 5 years ago

Text

The Set-Up

In Claire and Jack Novak's opinion, it's been far too long since their dad went out on a date. Castiel Novak doesn't think it's an issue. His children disagree.

So, they make a plan.

Enter a dating app, a fake profile, and an unsuspecting Dean Winchester. What could go wrong?

Read Below or on AO3: The Set-Up

The Set-Up

The plan is simple. Only 3 steps.

Stage One: Make the dating profile.

The first thing the app asks is what picture or pictures they’d like to include. Claire wants the picture to be more on the attractive side, while Jack thinks it should be goofy. They decide to add three in order to cover all the bases. The first is of their dad when they went on a hike last month. He’s wearing that light blue shirt that makes his eyes bright. It was a weekend, so his stubble is grown in. The smile on his face is carefree, showing off his dimples and eye wrinkles. They both agree that he’s handsome - even sexy, if it were possible for their dad to be sexy - and use that as his main photo. The second picture is of their dad at an outdoor concert. He’s wearing his blackRebel With A Cause shirt and his sock monkey winter hat with the strings hanging down. The third is a picture of the three of them at the ocean. Uncle Gabriel had taken the photo just after a huge wave knocked them over, so everyone’s hair is all over the place. They’re standing together haphazardly, arms wrapped around each other so they can smile for the picture. You can practically hear the laughter.

“Perfect,” Claire announces, clapping her hands together after this part is done. “Now they see he’s a hot, goofy, single dad.”

“Do we want them to know the single dad part?” Jack asks nervously.

“Uh, duh! This isn’t Tinder, Jack. This is looking for a long-term thing. I think it’d be a little hard to do that while keeping his sixteen-year-old twin teenagers a secret.”

Jack shrugs, unable to argue. He clicks the NEXT button and they continue filling out the profile. It takes them thirty-four minutes, and a lot of arguing. It’s a relief when they finally submit it.

“Now what?” Jack asks as they stare at the finished profile.

“Now,” Claire pauses dramatically, giving Jack a crazed smile that makes him wonder if this plan was actually a good idea. “We wait.”

----

When Dean gets home from work after pulling a double-shift, he grabs a cold beer from the fridge and plops down on the couch. He kicks his feet up and turns on the TV to watch the football game that’s about to start. As the announcers go back and forth on what team is going to win, Dean starts messing around on his phone. His thumb hovers over the dating app Sam convinced him to install last week. He hasn’t looked at it since the first night. It’s not that he doesn’t want to find someone, he’d love to, but it’s such a time-consuming process.

After glancing up at the TV to see that there’s still ten minutes before kick-off, he figures he might as well scroll through the thing. What’s the harm in looking? It might even be entertaining.

Case in point: The first profile Dean sees is of a man maybe ten years older than him with a black Santa beard, who has wrapped himself in a strange-looking rainbow towel and is holding what looks like a pet mouse. Dean doesn’t even read the description of that one.

The next isn’t terrible. A younger guy with a cute smile. Dean rolls his eyes when he reads the blurb on the guy's profile. Every achievement in his life is written out for Dean to read - from winning his highschool talent show to getting a masters in business. He then lays out his dating history, in which each situation he was the victim.

Next.

Dean's breath catches when he flicks his thumb to a picture of an absolutely beautiful man. He's standing on what looks like the top of the mountain, grinning at the camera. Despite the hiking clothes and messy, sweaty hair, he still manages to be Dean's wet dream.

Holding his breath, Dean starts to read the blurb on this guy's - Castiel, Age 38 - profile. He's praying this guy doesn't suck like all the others.

I'm a freelance photographer, a terrible singer, and have a set of 16-year-old twins that make my world chaotic. When my kiddos graduate I plan on doing a lot of traveling. My Hogwarts house is Hufflepuff - yeah I'm a 38-year-old man who cares about his Hogwarts house, fight me - and my patronus is a guinea pig. I'm allergic to guinea pigs though, so not sure what that says about me. Message at your own risk if none of that scares you off.

Dean reads the paragraph two more times, grinning like an idiot. He scrolls through the rest of the pictures, each one sporting an equally good looking Castiel, and decides this one is worth a shot.

He opens up the chat feature but then his thumbs freeze. What does he even say? He rereads Castiel's paragraph before typing out what he hopes will be a response the guy likes.

Dean spends the rest of the game checking the app every two minutes. When he finally gets the checkmark that Castiel read it, he holds his breath and stares at the screen. Then it tells him Castiel is typing. Dean's heart races. He decides it'd be a good idea to grab another beer while he waits.

This Castiel guy has him feeling like a damn teenager again. If Dean's being honest, he kind of missed that.

----

"Dad got a new message!"

"Oh god, is it another creeper?" Jack asks, hurrying over to where his sister is sitting on the couch. It's a valid question. They've had some real wackjobs message their dad. One asked upfront for a dick pic. Another told him he'd like to bring him on a walk in the forest at night. Suffice to say, those got deleted.

"No, he's hot!" Claire grins at Jack, showing him a picture of a very handsome man that looks to be a little younger than their dad. He has kind green eyes and a warm smile. The picture shows him at what seems to be a barbecue, people blurred in the background as he stands there wearing a faded flannel and holding a beer. Relaxed. Casual. Not full of himself.

"What's his profile say?"

Claire clicks on the button that makes the profile blurb pop up and read out loud, "I'm a pretty laid back guy, but I still squeeze in adventures every once in a while. Nothing's better than a lazy Sunday on the couch watching football - though kayaking down the river is a close second. If those kinds of things sound good to you, feel free to message me."

"He sounds good," Jack muses.

"Good? How about great. He's perfect. I mean, dad isn't a huge football fan, but he could read a book or something as they cuddle! And dad loves kayaking and stuff like that."

Jack lifts his hands. "I'm sorry. You're right. He sounds great. What does his message say?"

After a second, Claire reads, "Your chaos doesn't scare me. Life should be messy after all, right? Plus, I don't own any guinea pigs, so we're batting a thousand so far. Look at us go - and then a wink face."

"He's funny. That's good! Dad needs to laugh more."

"Dad needs to do what?" Castiel asks, strolling into the living room while looking at his twins suspiciously.

"Oh. Uh." Claire and Jack exchange a look. Then Claire says, "Sleep more. We were just talking about how you're always up late and up early. You need to relax more."

Castiel chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind. Don't worry about your old man, kiddos. I'm fine."

As Castiel flips through the channels on the TV, Claire leans in to whisper in Jack's ear. "He's not fine, but he will be." She shows him the message she sent back to Dean, grinning mischievously.

"Stage two?" Jack asks in excitement.

"Stage two."

Stage Two: Arrange a meeting.

After seven messages stretched over 36 hours, Dean asks if they can meet. He suggests something low key and public, making a joke about serial killers, and Castiel (A.K.A. Claire and Jack) says he knows just the place. They agree on grabbing some coffee on Saturday morning at a little cafe downtown. Ten A.M.

That gives the twins sixteen hours to get their dad to that cafe at that particular time. Unsuspecting, of course.

Stage Three: Get dad to the cafe.

They ambush him at dinner. Claire starts - she’s usually the one to take the reins. Even as a toddler, she was the troublemaker of the two.

“So, dad. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

Castiel, always very perceptive, pauses halfway through cutting his steak and looks up at his daughter. His eyebrows pull in. “Nothing… that I know of.”

“Perfect! We want to hang out with you.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel looks at Jack, then back at Claire, highly suspicious. “You want to hang out? With me? On a Saturday?” He looks at each of them again. “Without me telling you you have to?”

Jack steps in. “School starts in a week. I’ll be busy with football and student council, and Claire will be busy with dance and drama. We just wanted to spend a little extra time with you.”

Wanting to make this sound a bit more realistic - because they’re teenagers after all - Claire adds, “And we were kiiiiiind of hoping you’d bring us clothes shopping for back to school, too.”

“Ahh, there it is. The motive.” Castiel winks at his kids. “Fine. We can go school clothes shopping.”

“And coffee!” Jack adds enthusiastically.

“Coffee?”

Claire shoots her brother a look for shouting that at their dad instead of being more subtle, then smiles at Castiel and says, “Well, that’s what we wanted to do first. Get coffees and then go shopping.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, kiddos. I’ll take you shopping.”

“It’s not a bribe,” Jack states firmly.

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” Claire shrugs a shoulder. “It’s very New York City. Everyone’s been doing it.”

“Doing what?” Castiel asks, slightly exasperated.

“Getting coffees. It’s way cooler than stupid stuff like bowling or the movies.”

Jack nods. “It’s more sophisticated. Grown-up.”

This makes Castiel smile. “Okay. Grown-up coffee date it is.”

----

Castiel sighs as they walk into the coffee shop. It’s been a morning of overbearing children. First, he planned on letting them sleep-in this morning. What teenagers don’t want to sleep-in on Saturday, a week before they go back to school? Apparently Castiel’s. They made it clear they needed to get their coffee by 10 AM, because the mall opens at 11 and they don’t want to have to wait in lines.

Then what Castiel wanted to wear - old jeans and a hooded sweatshirt - was apparently not cool enough for them, whatever that means. They talked him into his nice pair of dark jeans and a soft grey sweater that’s thin enough for the lingering warmth of summer.

As he started driving them to Starbucks, he was quickly directed downtown instead. His kids love Starbucks. At least, they used to. Now it’s apparently not what everyone is doing. It’s not New York City - something they both keep saying, even though Castiel is clueless what New York has to do with anything.

Now they’re in the coffee shop, and Castiel is sent to get himself coffee while Claire and Jack go talk to a friend. They say they’ll be back in a minute, telling Castiel to just go sit. When he offers to get them their coffees, they both nearly shout at him not to before stuttering something about not being sure what they want yet.

Castiel gets his Americano and slumps down at a table in the corner. He pulls his phone out and opens the chat for Gabriel. He’s the coolest person Castiel knows - which sort of hurts the soul to admit.

Castiel: Do you know what it means for something to be ‘So New York City’? And since when is Starbucks not cool?

"Excuse me?" Castiel puts his phone down and glances up at the man who just spoke to him. He's taken aback. Not only is the man gorgeous - dressed in black jeans and a faded denim-colored button-up shirt that has the top few buttons left open, with a charming smile that involves the prettiest pink lips Castiel has ever seen, a dusting of freckles, and green eyes that feel like they could see into his soul - but he's also standing extremely close to Castiel. Like, if Castiel were to stand up, they'd be chest to chest.

Castiel clears his throat and awkwardly says, "Uh, hey. Can I help you?"

The guy stares at him for a few seconds, then his gorgeous smile fades. "You're Castiel, right?"

"Right." Castiel scans the cafe, confused. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Seriously?"

"Well - yes."

The guy huffs, clearly angry now. "I'm Dean."

"Okay." Castiel scratches the back of his head and laughs nervously. "Well, hi Dean. Can I help you with something?"

"Great. I knew you were too good to be true. Just had to be a fucking dick." Dean turns to leave before spinning back around and glaring at Castiel. "Why even show up? Why keep messaging me? Seriously. What the hell is this?"

Now Castiel is really confused. "Messaging you? I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea-" his eyes travel past Dean's shoulder, catching sight of Jack and Claire trying to hide behind a bookshelf. "Oh, Jesus christ."

"What?" Dean growls.

Castiel laughs softly. That's all he can do in this situation. He's so shocked that his kids pulled this off that he can't even be pissed right now. He's sure that will come later, though.

"Let me guess. We met on a dating app or website."

"Dude, what is this? Is this some sort of fucking game?"

"No. Unfortunately, it is not." Castiel points at his twins, who look terrified. When Dean sees them, Castiel explains. "Apparently my pain in the ass teenagers didn't want to accept my I don't want to date right now. I'm assuming they're who you've been talking to."

Dean stares at them before turning to look at Castiel with wide eyes. "You know, it was written on your profile that they create chaos in your life. I was forewarned. Just had no idea I was going to be a part of their troublemaking."

"Okay, I need to see this profile now." Castiel laughs, trying to imagine what his kids would have put. "Can I buy you coffee as an apology?"

"An apology?" Dean scoffs, stepping closer to him so he can speak in a lower voice. "You're not getting out of this one, blue eyes. I'm on their side. You and I are on a date right now."

"We most certainly are not."

Dean winks at him. Winks! "I'm gonna grab myself a coffee. You just stay there."

"But-"

"Need anything? Muffin? Refill?"

"I - but - no." Castiel wipes a hand down his face, suddenly nervous. He's on a date. He's not ready for a date. He doesn't have topics prepared in case the conversation lulls. He didn't ask Gabriel what to do or say in every possible scenario.

Before Castiel can panic further, Dean is back. He puts a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder and pushes him until he's sitting in his chair, then goes to the opposite side of the table to sit across from him. His grin is even wider than it was when they first spoke. That was a sexy, but nervous Dean. This is a confident, amused Dean.

Great.

"So, Castiel. Let's get a few things straight. Is your patronus really a guinea pig? And how exactly does one get themselves sorted into Hufflepuff?"

Castiel groans. What other embarrassing stuff has his children told this man? He looks over at where Jack and Claire or clearly spying on them from across the cafe. He narrows his eyes and mouths you two are dead while doing a line across his throat with his finger.

When he turns to look at Dean again, the guy is laughing. He's loving this.

"First of all," Castiel begins, letting a large amount of sass into his tone. "If we’re going to try this, you aren’t allowed to bash Hufflepuff. What’s your house anyway?”

“Gryffindor,” Dean states proudly.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Cliche.”

“Uh, I can’t help that that’s my house!”

“Did you take the official test?” Dean doesn’t even have to answer. The look on his face and the way his eyes awkwardly dart to the side give him away. Castiel points an accusing finger at him. “Exactly. So you’re one of those wannabe Harry Potter guys. No giving me shit for being Hufflepuff until you take the test too, asshole.”

Dean laughs softly, looking at Castiel with eyes that practically sparkle. “Alright. Fair enough.”

“Second of all, that right there?” Castiel points a finger at his twins, then at Dean. “Not cool. Not cool. You’re on team dad if you come around. No joining those two to gang up on me.”

The smirk Dean gives Castiel makes it pretty damn clear this rule isn’t going to be followed, even though he says, “Of course.”

Lucky for Dean, Castiel’s already hooked on this man. He’s laid back. Good looking. Funny. Charming. It’s easy for them to talk and tease each other. He’s making Castiel laugh for the first time in a long time. Plus, he already passed the crazy teenager test. If this guy can handle the fact that he was tricked by the twins to come here on a blind date with their dorky, uncooperative dad, then Castiel can give him a chance.

“What’s number three?” Dean asks.

“Huh?”

“There was a first of all. Then a second of all.” Dean puts his elbows on the table and leans closer to Castiel, almost like they’re sharing secrets. “What’s the third of all?”

“Umm,” Castiel looks at his coffee, feeling himself blush. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t blushed in years. “Third of all - ummm.”

“Can I do the third of all?”

Castiel tilts his head, looking at Dean in curiosity. “Sure.”

“Great.” Dean licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Castiel’s own mouth. When he looks back up at Castiel, it looks like he wants to eat him alive. “I'm bringing you to dinner tonight so we can have a proper first date. One where your two goofballs aren't spying on us."

Castiel turns around, laughing when he sees that Jack and Claire have moved closer now, trying to hide behind an open menu that barely covers one of their faces, let alone two. He looks back and Dean and smiles. "Dinner tonight sounds perfect."

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