#i read fics that try and make long drags off a cigarette sexy and i just roll my eyes

[mikaila-orchard]

Writers that try and frame smoking in an erotic light never grew up with parents who just refused to clean the mountains of butts and ash that long ago buried the kitchen ash tray.

[shwazzberryswriting]

Playing With Fire

Pairing: Jaehyun x Femme Reader

Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Idol NCT/Firefighter NCT Universe, Friends to Lover, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Fluff, One Shot

Summary: There are challenges to spending an evening with the hottest firefighter from the NCT Fire Department, Jeong Jaehyun

Word count: 9.3k

Rating/Warnings: Mature/Not Beta Read, Cigarette Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Marijuana Use (Mentioned), Kissing, Explicit Sexual Content: Rough Sex, Impact Play, Brat Taming, Choking, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Protected Sex, Aftercare, Praising, Cum Swallowing, Dom/Sub

Minors DNI! 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Prompted from an Ask. Thank you for the request OP Nonny! I can go on a ramble about this fic. 🥰 All I will say is, I have no idea what it was about this prompt and the ideas that came...but it all led to this fic, and I really, really hope you will enjoy this fic!!🥺💚 It was so much fun to write. Thank you as always for reading!!!💗

Apologies in advance for any mistakes, shortcomings or messing up OP's fantasy

If you want to send in a Request ➡️ 💚

Please let me know of any technical errors or if you have feedback/questions

Song Rec: "Just My Imagination" by The Temptations 🍑

* His lips were flushed. Pressing the brown end of the cigarette into his mouth, Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on the flame from his lighter. His porcelain cheeks hollowed, lips pursing, as he inhaled, lighting up his cigarette. Her throat was dry and her cheeks were burning up, eyes unable to leave the firefighter seated across from her.

He was Mr. May in the newest NCT Fire Department Pin-Up calendars. She was reminded of his oiled up chest when his collarbone peeked out from the stretched neck of his NCTFD shirt. He ran his free hand through his hair, the wavy locks bouncing over his forehead as they fell back into place. Try as she might to forget about the image, it was all she could think about.

Jaehyun had been running one hand through his hair in his pin-up picture. He’d been topless; chest, abs and arms oiled up, glistening in his brightly lit picture. The cool sky blue background contrasted with his hot pose. Wearing red rubber boots with black fireproof pants, he stood with his legs wide open, cocking his head to one side. The thick yellow straps hung down at his hips, tugging his loose waistband low enough to show off the lines at his pelvis.

Inguinal Crease

Jungwoo had informed her that the lines on Jaehyun’s hips, the sexy ���V” cut that attracted her eyes to his body instantly, had an official term. Though she’d denied staring that hard at Jaehyun during his shoot, if anyone were to ask her about the day she would have to lie about remembering much else from the photoshoot.

Seeing smoke escape his lips, she blinked a few times, trying to be rid of Mr. May. Picking up her pint of beer, she drank as the table became hazy, smoke billowing out from Jaehyun’s lips. The tip of his tongue swiped his lower lip, sending heat down her stomach. The smoky sweetness of the tobacco tickled her nose. She touched the tip of her nose to stop herself from sneezing. His eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he took another drag from his cigarette, resting his back into his seat.

“How’s your evening?” he asked, his voice smooth, calm. White clouds curled out of the corners of his lips as he shut his mouth. Licking her lips, they tingled as she wondered if his lips would taste like beer or like tobacco. Jaehyun pulled the glass ashtray at the center of the table toward his side, tapping the cigarette against it. His eyes reflected the orange blaze from the end of his cigarette as he took another long drag. Holding his breath as he set the cigarette down on the ashtray, his lips thinned. A moment later, he turned his head to his left, blowing out smoke, making sure not to direct it toward her. Some of it still made it to her, absorbing into her hair and dress.

“Good.” She drained her pint, the cold beer relieving her throat’s irritation. She set her phone down beside the ketchup and hand sanitizer. The battery was at 2%, forcing her to give him company. “I know Taeyong told me to relax, but technically I’m working on the clock. I should stop drinking, right?”

Her phone’s desperate state was a good excuse to call it a night. Two drinks was the polite amount to drink, especially if she wanted to come off professional. She had to wait for Taeyong to return to get his permission to leave, though.

“Right?” She’d been waiting for him to respond, but he’d simply rolled his cigarette between his fingers as he slowly blew out a stream of smoke. “What do you mean?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his shoulders hunching over.

“Do you ever listen to me?” She pushed her empty pint toward the center of the table, next to his empty pint. “I’m still working, so I should stop at two drinks, right?”

“Drink as much as you want. The bill comes out of your boss’s company’s pocket, use up that corporate cash. I think Taeyong invented the budget manager role for you tonight.” “Why would he do that?”

“Because the last time he invited you to come out for drinks with us you went home.”

She sat up straight, watching Jaehyun raise his hand, calling out to a waiter. Her cheeks flushed, admiring the way his Adam’s apple bounced as he talked. Lights from above reflected into his eyes as he laughed, motioning with his left hand, inviting their waiter to come to their table.

Weeks ago, Taeyong had asked her if she wanted to go out and celebrate one of the NCTFD member’s birthdays, but she’d declined. Her excuse had been because she didn’t want to intrude upon their private celebrations. But she’d been afraid of Jaehyun.

She still was.

“Do you want anything?” he asked. “I got us each a pint of beer. Jungwoo wants chicken tenders and hot dogs.”

“More beer?” His dimples appeared as he chuckled, nodding. She smiled, feeling tension loosen in her chest as her body warmed up. His disarming smile was working because of the beer. It had to be the beer. “Where did everyone go?”

She looked around the crowded bar. She and Jaehyun were seated at the left side of the bar, where three long tables were lined up together. There were 23 NCTFD members celebrating with their supporters, it was the only way for all of them to be seated together. And, it allowed for easy fan interaction. It was rare for them (especially Doyoung) not to be surrounded by the MILF Brigade, a local fanclub.

The self-titled MILF Brigade had been created by a group of housewives who knew how to market the NCTFD calendars. Not all members were mothers, wives or women, but they were enthusiastic in their thirsty support of NCTFD. Many MILF Brigade members often showed up to NCTFD’s chosen hangout bar, The Cherry Bomb.

Jaehyun shrugged as he finished scoping the place out. He snuffed out the cigarette, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. As he glanced over his shoulder, she poked her finger at her phone.

Was he avoiding eye contact with her?

“Thanks, man,” Jaehyun said, grinning at their waiter. He pushed a plate of thick cut potato fries toward her before giving her the first two pints of beer. “Come on, you wanted more beer, you have to find space for another two pints. You have to work for your beer.”

She laughed, setting the pints down to her left. When their table was filled with fried bar food and a couple dozen pints of beer, she looked around for their friends again. Nothing but strangers, not even a MILF Brigade member was around.

“Did you really order a banana milkshake?” she asked, pointing to a long necked stainless steel cup. It sat beside his slice of pizza, loaded with green and red peppers over thick pepperoni slices.

She snorted into her pint, noticing the tips of his ears turn pink. He threw his hand up to his mouth, dimples deepening as he laughed, pointing at the beer foam that flew into her face. Eyes shut, she brushed the sticky foam off her forehead and nose with a napkin, feeling her face flush. She blew her tendrils out of her eyes as she opened them, taking a long drink of beer.

“Banana milkshakes are good.” The lines at the corners of his eyes remained as he took a sip from his straw. “You’re free to drink some if you want.”

She bit into the thick steak fry in her hand. Salt melted onto her tongue as oil glided over her taste buds. The inside of the fried potato was mushy, while the outside had enough crisp to crunch in her mouth, the perfect fried potato. It paired well with beer.

“I can’t imagine drinking a milkshake along with beer.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I worry about throwing up. Milk being regurgitated? Are you kidding me?”

He laughed, leaning back. Mouth wide open, eyes crinkling up, low belly guffaws.

“You don’t have to get so drunk that you’re throwing up. Unless that’s how you drink?”

“Ha ha, finish your pizza.”

He grinned as he chewed, making his dimples bounce as he watched her drink another pint. It took everything in her not to lean over the table and grab him by the front of his shirt. Kiss him until she was breathing smoke out of her lips. It scared her how much she enjoyed being with him. Eyes fixed on her plate of fries, she ate silently with her special concoction of ketchup, mayo and honey mustard. She was afraid to look into his eyes.

It was that damned night they went to karaoke to cheer up Xiaojun, who had just been dumped. She’d gotten high with Mark and Jaehyun, and Mark had dared them to sing a duet together. In the middle of singing their duet, staring into his eyes, she’d realized that she got along so well with Jaehyun because she liked him and almost cried. She’d warbled through the ending, but Jaehyun’s sweet, smooth voice saved them, winning them the prize of “Best Duet”.

“Yo! Thanks for the food!” Mark’s voice always arrived before he did. Eyes red, the left corner of his lips raised, Mark slumped into the chair beside Jaehyun. “Yo, why do we have, like, 30 cups of beer?”

“We haven’t toasted,” Jaehyun said, pushing his half empty plate of loaded nachos toward Mark. “Once I finally got the order in you all ran off.”

“Sorry. I had to go use the bathroom.”

“Yeah, I can smell your bathroom break, man.”

She snorted. Amongst the tobacco smoke, food and liquor, Mark’s marijuana stench was infiltrating her nose too. The pungent floral scent, a specific stench from Mark’s homegrown plants, both delighted and disgusted her. Being high with Mark often came with a lot of laughs, but the last time she’d gotten high she ended her night crying over Jaehyun.

“Finally! Food!” Jungwoo slid into the chair to her right. He reached over to pinch Mark’s cheek. Mark pinched Jungwoo’s cheek in return as they laughed together. “When are we going to toast, man? I’m starving!” “You all ran off.” Jaehyun had downed a pint of beer somewhere between Mark arriving and Jungwoo arriving. “Let’s get to it or I’m drinking every fucking pint, man.”

“Me too!” She picked up her second pint and clinked it against Jaehyun’s.

“Sorry!” Taeyong arrived with a handful of the NCTFD members talking loudly behind him. “We took pictures with the MILF Brigade!”

“Thanks, man,” Jaehyun said, picking up a pint to hand to Taeyong. “You always manage to negotiate with them.” “Come on!” Haechan said, sitting beside Mark. “They support us! It was kind of them to agree to the photos and give us privacy!”

“Clean your hands first!” Taeyong hollered as Mark and Jungwoo were about to pick up some food.

“Shit, yeah.” Mark, in his haste, knocked Jaehyun’s milkshake over as he reached for the hand sanitizer. “Holy shit!”

The silver cup tipped forward directly over her phone. The pale yellow milkshake splashed against the table. The cup rolled over toward Jaehyun’s side of the table. She flinched as she felt thick droplets hit her face. She stood, her heart beating fast.

“Fuck!” Jaehyun's outburst surprised her.

She looked up to see Jaehyun and Jungwoo also standing on their feet. Both men had their eyes wide open, hands up in the air. Jungwoo’s clothes were dry, but the spot he’d just been seated at had the milkshake dripping down the edge of the table. Jaehyun was not spared. At the front of his dark denim jeans, the milkshake stain was all over his crotch and dripping down the left side of his thigh.

Everyone paused.

Taeyong pointed to Jaehyun’s giant come-like stain, and gave out a loud belly laugh. Eyes shut tight, mouth wide open, he looked to be in pain as he laughed. Mark and Haechan burst out into belly laughs. More NCTFD members arrived and in a matter of seconds the bar erupted into uproarious laughter. The tips of Jaehyun’s ears were beet red, and she picked up her milkshake covered phone, holding it out at an arm’s distance.

Jaehyun walked past Mark, and she followed him, grabbing her things. Seeing that he was heading to the restrooms, she continued to follow him. They parted ways when he walked into the Men’s restroom and she to the Women’s.

She didn’t have much hope for her phone after wiping it clean. The milkshake had seeped inside her phone, and she couldn’t rinse it out. Covering it in a few layers of paper towels, she put it into her purse before leaving the restroom.

“Get some shots with me,” Jaehyun said when she’d exited the restroom. His pants had recovered well, but the dim lighting of the bar likely hid the damage leftover. “I need it, and so do you.”

“I think my phone is dead. Like, dead dead.”

“All shots on me. It was my milkshake.”

Gripping onto the straps of her purse, she nodded, letting him lead her to the bar at the back. Hiding from the rest of NCTFD, they found a quiet corner, sitting on the soft wooden stools. The bartender left them alone with a bottle of Grey Goose to attend to more demanding guests.

“To my ruined phone.” She held up her cold shot glass up to her eye level.

“To my ruined image.”

He clinked his shot glass against hers before throwing his head back, shot glass against his lips. Slamming the shot glass onto the counter, he groaned with close lips before pouring himself another shot. He drank it immediately before pouring himself another, lips shut tight. His Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he swallowed. His neck was long, thick, tempting.

She closed her eyes as she tilted her head back, shot glass pressed against her lips. The cold liquid burned her throat. Licking up the droplets of vodka off her lips, she set her shot glass down onto the counter, eyes on her hands.

“Throw it down.” He poured her another full glass. “It needs to smack the bar counter.”

“Why?”

“Because, that’s how you get aggression out.”

“Soft voice, rough hands.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. She sucked onto her bottom lip, looking down at the water rings their shot glasses had created. It was worse knowing that he heard her, as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough having spoken her thoughts aloud.

He poured himself another shot. Their eyes met, and the apples of his cheeks were dotted with pink spots. His dimples appeared as they picked up their shots, clinking the shot glasses together. Silently, they drank together, and she shook the counter with him as they slammed their glasses onto the counter.

“Hey! Stop it!” the bartender shouted from the other end of the bar. “Jae, I’ll toss you out. I’m serious.”

“We’re on our way out,” he said, raising his hand. “Thanks for everything.”

“I’m fucked,” she said, placing her’s purse strap over her shoulder. “My phone’s dead. How am I supposed to get home?” “I’ll fetch us an Uber. It’s not a big deal.”

“Thanks.”

The summer night air was so humid her loose tendrils clung to the back of her neck the moment she was outside. They waited for their ride across the street from the bar, under the lamp beside the closed donut shop. The shop gave NCTFD 20% discounts in appreciation of the work they provided to the community.

Jaehyun had taken a cigarette out with his black plastic lighter. Loose tendrils fell over his forehead as he tilted his head to light his cigarette. Seeing his lips wrapped around the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing, she wanted him between her legs with the same sort of focus.

Her body flaring up in heat and adrenaline, she looked away. Crossing her arms over chest, she didn’t want to think about Mr. May with the oily body and perfect inguinal crease. She’d managed to make things awkward between them and she didn’t have a phone to distract her as they waited for their ride.

“Can I have a smoke?” she asked, turning to face him. “Just a few puffs, I swear.”

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

Their fingers touched and she fought the urge to fall into his arms. The warmth of his touch sent heat to her nipples. She hummed with her mouth shut, trying to disguise her pitiful moan as she began clearing her throat, pressing the cigarette against her lips.

The smoke glided against her tongue, gently burning down her throat and tickling her sinuses as she inhaled. Holding her arm up, wrist snapped back with her fingers curled over her palm, she had the cigarette between her index and middle fingers. The warming, rushing sensation of tobacco and nicotine swam up to her head and through her lungs.

“I smoke occasionally.” She took another drag, the earthy smoky flavor filling her senses. “Is it a bad idea to ask Mark for a joint?”

“You like Mark?”

She coughed, spitting out puffs of smoke through her mouth and nose, dropping the cigarette. He guffawed, stepping over to rest his hand on her shoulder.

“Mark?! What makes you think I like Mark?”

“I thought you said you’d never get high again after we sang-”

“-Fuck! I did say that!”

She clapped her hand over mouth, eyes wide. Turning her back to Jaehyun, she saw red as her vision blurred and the ground felt like it had turned into the ocean as her legs shook. Hand planted against the glass window, her chest felt heavy and her knees ached.

She’d felt something deep inside of her when they’d sung their duet. When he’d reached out and held her hand for the second half of the song, that had been when she was too high and drunk to hold back her true feelings.

Their duet had aligned them together so well she didn’t want to leave his side. Being with Jaehyun was a harmonious existence and that feeling had been kept at an arm’s length for weeks. But with liquor flowing through her body and Jaehyun so close, it was coming closer and closer, ready to break.

“For what it’s worth,” she heard Jaehyun say, her eyes fixed on her shoes, “I think you have a lovely voice.”

Swallowing air, she shut her eyes. It was his kindness under all that aloofness and snark that really got to her. Her chest felt tight, like her body couldn’t contain her heart anymore. Fingers gripping onto her arms, her mind spun as her body was too hot for comfort. Trying to focus on her breathing, in through her nose and out through her mouth, she wanted to be rid of the half formed, contrasting thoughts about the possibilities between them.

“Thank you.”

She turned around, arms remaining crossed over her chest. He was snuffing the cigarette out against the concrete with the bottom of his shoe. Hands in his front pockets, his eyes were hidden under his curtain of hair before he shook his hair out his eyes. Looking at her for three solid seconds, a smile broke out, his teeth shining under the lamp.

“You’ve got milkshake stains.” He blew raspberries before laughing, hands over his stomach. “On your face.”

“You only noticed now?” Her body flared in mortification, heat rushing into her ears. She dug her hand into her purse, fishing for her compact mirror.

“Let me help,” he said, clearing his throat, cutting off his guffaws.

She froze, feeling nothing but the heat from his hands holding her cheeks, hearing nothing but the slow inhale through her nose. As his face came close, she shut her eyes, feeling his wet lips over her right cheek. Tongue swiping near her left jawline. A kiss at the tip of her nose.

“Jaehyun.” She uncrossed her arms to touch his chest, feeling the ground turn into ocean waves again.

He stepped back, releasing her right arm, gliding his touch down her left. Their eyes met. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze soft, eyes hooded. She wasn’t ready to leave his touch.

The bright headlights from a SUV grabbed her attention. His hold on her arm remained as they slowly walked over to their Uber ride. The stroke of his thumb on the back of her palm sent a shiver up her back.

She was silent as she buckled up, looking at him. Heat rushed up her face as she caught Jaehyun’s eyes drifting down and up her body. The tips of his ears flushed when she captured his gaze.

“Should we clean up at my place?” she asked, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

His dimples deepened as he grinned, nodding. Her cheeks burned as he hooked his index and middle fingers over hers, pulling her arm toward him. Throwing her head back, she laughed, the vodka flooding her thoughts.

When they exited the car, Jaehyun wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his front, letting her lead them to her place. The tobacco smoke blended with banana and vanilla in a surprisingly pleasant scent, though she preferred the floral oaky musk he emitted when his lips touched her neck.

His radiating warmth was burning her up, and she breathed out his name into the air. They were just a few steps away from her front door. He groaned into her neck, his vocal cords reverberating into her back, heating up her breasts and core.

“If I could fuck you right now-,” right arm around her waist, his left hand grabbed her wrist to throw her arm against the side of the house, pinning her body against the wall with his, “-but only if you say yes.”

Eyes shut tight, she took in a slow breath, savoring the stinging of his hold on her wrist. The pressure of his body over hers, her breasts pressed against the wall, sent heat rushing up and down her body. She wanted him to fuck her right then and there.

“We’re supposed to clean up,” she breathed out softly. He released her immediately, his eyes wide when she turned around. Taking his hand, she raised it to her lips, reassuring him with a kiss on his knuckles.

They entered her house quietly, the lamp at the front door providing them with enough light to move around. Jaehyun sat at the foot of her stairs to take his shoes off as she locked up. Kicking off her shoes, she watched him slip his socks off, fumbling fingers trying to stuff his socks into his sneakers. The moment she stood before him, he kicked his shoes aside and stood.

Hands grabbing his neck, she pulled him to her, and their lips met. As his lips touched hers she opened her mouth to capture his. Inhaling, her clit twitched as his sweet, smoky musk enveloped her entire body. Her tongue swiped his lips as she deepened her kisses. His tongue pushed against hers, and she moaned. He swirled his tongue around her mouth, flicking her tongue before capturing her top lip between his lips. Shifting his head to the other side, he kissed her bottom lip.

“You taste so sweet,” she breathed out, thumb pressing against his lips to stop him from continuing the kisses.

Her body lit up as he opened his mouth, tongue pushing against the pad of her thumb. His thumb pushed into her mouth as he sucked on hers. Humming, she swiped her tongue in and out gently before sucking in. Saliva was building fast as the taste of his metallically, salty thumb filled her mouth.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, pulling her thumb out of his mouth, his free hand caressing her hip. He swiped his saliva covered thumb along her bottom lip, retrieving it from her mouth.

“I want us to have sex,” she replied. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he gave a low guffaw. Her face prickled with heat and she looked away, embarrassed. She pushed against his chest when he tried pulling her in for a kiss. “Do you listen to me?”

“I hear you. You want us to have sex.” He guffawed. Her face flared with heat again. She pushed him again, forcing him to break their embrace. “I’m sorry. Your directness is sweet.”

The back of his knuckles traced across the low cut of her dress’s neckline, lighting up her chest. Her hands were rubbing his stomach, wanting to feel his abs. Fisting the fabric at his stomach into her hands, she wanted the shirt gone.

“Jaehyun,” she panted, her eyes closing as his lips landed on her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him to her. He groped her ass, lips pressing against her neck. His teeth and lips pinched her skin as she drew circles into his back with the tips of her fingers. Heat bubbled into her core as she felt his cock warm and stiffen against her.

“How do you want it?” Both hands cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I don’t want to scare you like I did outside.”

Her heart was beating so fast her whole body throbbed. His eyes were searching her face, lips parted and damp. The slightest crease between his eyebrows formed.

“I don’t want to be seen by my neighbors,” she said, her chest shaking as she gave a chuckle. “I like it rough, Jaehyun. Why do you think I like you so much? Because your praises mean more to me than anyone else’s? It’s because you’re a strong, arrogant firefighter, Mr. May.”

“‘Strong and arrogant.’” He chuckled low, the tips of his ears flushed as he looked away. “Who knew you were such a dirty slut?” Adrenaline raced up her spine, sending chills down her front as Jaehyun grabbed her ass and pulled her body tight against his. Left hand touching her chin he planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Tell me to stop and I will stop right away, OK?” “Yes, got it.” Her hands shook as she raised them to caress his chest. His pecs were firm.

“Don’t try to be brave. If you don’t like it, say stop and I’ll stop. I swear, I’ll stop. I want you to feel good, safe.”

“Got it,” she said, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Thank you for being so clear. I appreciate it.”

She kissed him, hands moving to caress his shoulders. He licked her lips, fingers sending warmth into her as they glided up her back. As he grabbed the back of her neck, she winced at the sting of his fingers digging into her skin. Blood rushed to her nipples, hardening them. Slipping her dress off as soon as she felt him unzip the back of her dress, she fell back into her couch.

Everything spun. She breathed through her mouth, hands planted flat at her sides, feeling for the cushions. Her right leg hung off the edge, the tips of her toes touching the soft carpet. Adrenaline shook her spine as his palms clapped on the inside of her thighs.

“Don’t you fucking close your legs,” he said softly, fingers digging into her skin. The sharp stinging on her left thigh left her as he slid his index and middle finger between her legs, tracing her panty lines. “Peach printed panties? I like that.”

With his lips and nose pressed against her clothed heat, he hummed against her core.

“Jaehyun!”

His hot breath warmed up her folds. The vibrations of his voice shook her insides, shocking her nerves. She propped herself up by pushing her elbows against the cushions, wanting a better view. Eyebrows furrowed, he pressed his nose harder against her folds. He inhaled deeply, sending fire up to her head as her whole body lit up in discomfort.

“Dirty perv,” she breathed out, trying to sit up. Left hand resting against the couch, her right pushed against his shoulder. Inhaling sharply, she winced as he grabbed her wrists, her skin stinging.

“You smell ripe,” he said, moving away from her pussy. Immediately, he pressed his mouth against her core again, humming low, loud and long. His hands kept her wrists resting against the side of her thighs. Hips shaking, heat flooding her head, she could only pull against his hold, focusing on the sweet pain of his grip on her wrists.

“Jaehyun!” Hot tears pooled her eyes, her body burning up. He chuckled into her, his vocal cords turning her on. She arched her back. His lips captured her clothed folds as he planted kisses against her core.

He shifted them around so that she was sitting up on the couch, her legs spread open. He released her arms, fingers immediately hooking onto the waistband of her panties. She wiggled her hips, fingers tugging against his pull. Their eyes met.

“Can you get my panties off?” She licked her lips before pouting. “I won’t make it easy for you…daddy?”

His smile was sweet, his softened gaze drifting down and then up her body slowly. Her back shook as adrenaline rushed through her when their eyes locked.

“Daddy’s for another day. I like you screaming my name, slut.”

“Perv.”

She sniveled, bucking her hips against him as his fingers fisted around the sides of her panties. He grunted as she wiggled her hips, trying to jerk away from his pull, her knees knocking against his shoulders and chest. Hooking his fingers at the waistband on the left side of her hip, he yanked down.

“You’re ruining my lucky panties!”

Jaehyun’s hold on her loosened, lifting his head to look up at her. His lips thinned as the right side his of mouth curved up into a smile, teasing her. Releasing the side of her panties, his index finger glided down to her pelvis, tucking under her panty line as it moved further down her crotch.

“You’re such a dirty perv.” She exhaled loudly, hands trying to grab his wrist. Her fingers stung as he swatted her hands away with the flick of his long fingers.

“I’m not taking your panties off, slut.”

Heat rushed up her back as the pad of his finger pushed against the hood of her clit. Her fists were at her sides as she fought the urge to grab his wrist and shove his hand away. She liked making things hard for him, but she also wanted more of his insatiable touch.

“Look at that sweet pussy getting wet,” he said softly, finger pulling the front of her panties aside. Thumb pressing against her clit, he looked up at her. “Do you like this?”

“Yes, Jaehyun.” She bucked her hips against the push of his thumb. She took a deep inhale as he circled the pad of his thumb furiously against her clit, her insides turning hot. “Jaehyun!”

His touch was gone. Fingers hooked at her hips. He tugged her panties down. She squealed. As she tried reaching for her panties, he tugged them down to her knees before gliding them down her calves and tossing them aside.

Hands under her knees, he pulled her legs wide open, lips kissing the inside of her right thigh. His tongue glided up toward her pelvis before he kissed the inside of her other thigh. She grabbed his hair as his mouth hovered over her slit, tugging his head back.

He groaned, pulling away from her, hands grabbing her wrist. He had the both of them stand before he sat down on the couch, forcing her to lay face down on his lap, positioning her ass against his hand. He palmed the inside of her thigh before moving up to massage her ass.

“Naughty slut.”

Thwack! Thwack!

She shut her eyes as she felt two sharp slaps on her thighs, right below the curves of her ass. The backside of her left thigh flared before her right burned. Her insides shook, making her wetter.

“Think I won’t punish you?”

“Jaehyun!”

His palm slammed against the curve of her left ass cheek. Giving her only two seconds to savor the deep vibrations of the impact, he punished her again. Continually, without a break, he smacked her ass with his massive palm. She yelped, stuttering out his name. Her skin flared up, ready to burst into flames with every impact of his palm on her ass.

“Had enough?” he asked, his voice gentle, flat. She’d lost track of time but her ass felt hot enough to light a cigarette for Jaehyun. Another hard impact hit her stinging skin, making her back arch. “You keep making things hard for me, I’ll throw you down and smack your ass until you can’t sit.”

“Yes, Jaehyun.” She sniffled. His job was to carry people out of buildings during emergencies, she was outmatched.

He grabbed her by her waist, shifting to get off the couch. She yelped with a laugh, feeling her body swing over his shoulder. Grasping the back of his shirt, she tried to push herself up to get out of his hold, but his arm hooked over her waist was steadfast.

Thwack!

Her ass cheek burned and she shut her eyes, savoring the deep vibrations inside. Her head was feeling heavy and she couldn’t tell if her ass was in the air or if he was shifting her upwards. Her mind floated and spun in the air, delaying the pain of Jaehyun throwing her onto her bed. He was pulling her unhooked bra off her shoulders when she hissed at the throbbing sting on her left ass cheek being pressed against the mattress.

“Jaehyun,” she exhaled into the air. His lips were sucking on her nipple, left hand teasing her right breast. The weight of his body over hers made her vibrate from head to toe, his touches tingling her skin.

He planted kisses on her cleavage with his tongue gliding out to taste her skin, making her chest glow. His fingers drew circles down her sides, massaging her hips as his wet kisses landed on the bottom curve of her breasts. When he kissed the underside of her left breast, he licked it before sucking on her skin.

Hands shooting to his head, she entangled her fingers into his damp, silky hair. Her skin was becoming so sensitive, everything Jaehyun did was lighting her whole body up. His teeth tugged at her skin before he sucked hard on it, raking his teeth over the bruise he’d created when he finished marking her. Heat rushed up to her head, tingling her temples.

His kisses traveled down her front, his tongue flicking and pushing into her belly button as the tips of his fingers glided over her thighs. Hooking his hands under her knees, he spread her legs open with his tongue sliding down her stomach. Her muscles felt weak, her thoughts lost in a sea of booze-filled heat. His fingers grazed over the inside of her thighs before a middle finger slid down her slit. He pushed the tip against her entrance, sinking into her folds.

“Naughty slut, you’re so wet.” His voice was barely above a whisper, sending chills across her chest.

He glided his finger up against her slit, pushing against her folds. Eyes still shut, she focused on the heat he created when he slid two fingers up along her slit. Pressing the pads of his fingers against her clitoris, he kissed the inside of her thigh.

“Jaehyun.”

She took in a deep inhale as he began to suck and bite her delicate, barely touched (barely seen) skin. Arms feeling heavy, she released his hair to touch her breasts, her fingers pinching her nipples. He licked the throbbing spot he’d assaulted as he captured her clit between his index and middle fingers.

“Jaehyun!”

She tugged her nipples as he tugged on her clit, sending a sharp jolt into her core. Squeezing her clit between his fingers, shifting them in a scissoring motion, he chuckled. She was panting heavily, bucking her hips against him. Her whole body was on fire.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He released her clit, stroking the pads of his fingers down her slit. Mouth open, she inhaled deeply as he pushed one finger into her cunt. He pulled out before reentering with two digits, pushing in deeper, making her arch her back as his touch stung like a needle pushing into her skin. “You like it hard like this?” Chest shaking, she exhaled through her mouth. Her hands shot up over her head to grab a pillow. Fingers fisting tightly into the fluffy pillow, she moaned.

“Jaehyun!” His fingers were pushing in and out fast, the sharp heat still hot but the pain twisting into the sweetest ripple of pleasure that rode up her body. “Yes! Jaehyun!”

“Such a slut,” he said softly as his fingers were deep inside of her, rutting furiously like a jackhammer in very shallow motions. “You’d still want me to fuck you until I break your back if I make you come right now. Is that right, slut?”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” she panted, her lower abdomen flaring up and shaking. “I’m your slut.”

His hands were gone, her slick heat gliding down toward her ass and thighs. Breathing heavily, she took a moment to recover, having been so close to her orgasm. Opening her eyes, she saw him getting off the bed.

He opened the drawer to her nightstand, and she sat up. The hallway light shone a warm glow from the open door. It made the shadow of his figure hover over her, sending prickling heat down her chest to the tips of her hard, aching nipples. He was naked except for his frayed black NCTFD shirt clinging to his body.

“Let me help,” she said, crawling over to the edge of the bed. As she took the condom out of the silver packet, Jaehyun sat down beside her. “How’d you know I have condoms in there?” “Lucky guess.” His hand palmed her breast, sending heat into her. She took hold of his cock, and carefully unrolled the translucent rubber over his cock. “Your panties are lucky.”

“This,” she touched the thickness below his mushroomed tip, fingers encircling around the wide length, “is new to me.” She glided her hold down the subtle curve that happened after about an inch, the rest of his cock’s girth less intimidating. “Even your cock is special.”

He planted a kiss on her neck, fingers caressing soft touches down her back. Their lips met, and she felt a warm surge rise in her chest. He broke the kiss when she pushed her tongue against his lips.

“Get on your hands and knees, slut.”

He stood on his knees on the bed and she turned around to face the headboard, widening her legs as she planted her hands onto the mattress, shoving the pillows aside. His palm pushed down her slit, spreading her slick fluids around. She gave a soft moan as his tip pushed against her entrance. His hips shook as his hands massaged her.

“Jaehyun.” As he pushed more of his girthy inch into her, she bent low, grabbing the metal bars of her headboard. Her fingers stung as they tightened around the smooth metal, his push heavy and sharp. “Fuck me, fuck me, Jaehyun.”

He grunted as he pulled back. They moaned together as he thrust forward. The strong hold on her hips made her muscles ache as he pulled her against him.

“Who’s fucking you, slut?” Her scalp and neck burned as he grabbed her hair, his hold tight. One hand on her hip, he began pushing long hard strokes into her, continually tugging her head back with every push in. “Who’s fucking you, slut?”

“Jj-Jaehyun!” He was deep inside and he began rutting faster, his thick inch sending a new stinging sensation into her, making her think of nothing but Jaehyun. He gave a low grunt as his hand at her head pushed her head down onto the mattress, his pace continuing to build. “Jae-Jaehyun!”

Her scalp throbbed in sweet relief when he released her hair. She hummed low when his palm pushed down on the back of her neck, keeping her head and shoulders planted against the mattress. A stinging heat radiated up her back as his thigh continually slapped against her ass cheeks, burning up her bruised left ass cheek. The building, heavy heat between her legs brought her close to her orgasm.

“Turn around.” He was gone, her insides shaking as Jaehyun withdrew from her. Letting go of the headboard, she gently laid down on the bed and turned around to rest her back on the mattress. Fingers encircling around her ankles, he spread her legs apart as he continued to stand on his knees. “You’re beautiful.”

His eyes were heavily hooded as looked down at her. Fingers stroking up her left calf, he dropped her leg onto the mattress. His fingers continued toward the inside of her thighs. Adrenaline coursed through her body, making her back shake as his fingers circled the bruises his mouth created. He shifted so that his cock lined up against her slit, free hand grabbing his cock to slide his tip back and forth against her clit.

“Jaehyun,” she breathed out, mind filled with fire, her hands reached out to grab the front of his shirt, “I want you-”

He grunted as he pushed into her, cutting her off. She hiccupped as she arched her back, fingers grasping onto his shirt, the pressure of his cock making the world spin. His grip on her ankle tightened, her skin stinging. He bent over her, cock driving in deeper, her world spinning faster as his hand grabbed the front of her throat.

“Your shirt,” she breathed out before his grip tightened, “take-off.”

Chuckling, he pushed down against her throat a little harder before his cock pushed in deeper. Tears leaked out and she quickly blinked them away as her hands released his shirt to stroke his abs. His skin was smooth, and his abs were firm.

“You can only touch my shirt,” he said calmly, softly, the pads of his fingers digging into the sides of her neck, the pressure building. He pushed in deeper with a gentle thrust. “Do you hear me, slut? Hands on my shirt.”

She grabbed the front of his shirt at his stomach, bundling the stretchy fabric into her fists. He groaned as he began a slow rhythm, seeming to savor how the thickest part of his cock stretched her insides, pushing back in every time his thick inch was barely out of her entrance. A smile slowly appeared as his eyes squinted. He licked his lips as he picked up his pace, the hold at her throat loosening as his fingers caressed down her neck.

“Maybe later I’ll let your greedy hands touch me everywhere. Maybe.”

Her hands reached for his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. Her leg fell down onto the mattress as he grabbed her wrists. Pinning them over her head, his tongue flicked and swirled around her mouth before capturing her lips into soft, wet kisses. Their lips remained locked as he rutted fast into her, his fingers digging deep into the skin of her forearms.

Her left hand was freed, and she moaned against his lips as his thumb found her clit, flicking it before pushing hard against it. His rotations on her clit had her lower abdomen flaring up, and she wrapped her free arm around his neck to keep his lips pressed against hers. Her tongue swirling around his, she gave a soft cry as she came.

He continued fucking her, thumb still teasing her clit, with her legs squeezing his hips. As her pussy walls clenched and unclenched around his cock, he slowed his pace, breaking the kiss. He grunted into the crook of her neck as he gave a handful of hard, fast pushes into her, his cock flaring up her insides with its heat.

Her temples were throbbing angrily as he withdrew from her. He breathed heavily, releasing his hold on her. She turned onto her side, watching Jaehyun get off the bed. Heat prickled her cheeks as she watched him remove the condom, tendrils falling over his forehead as he glanced around her room. His skin glistened with sweat, his face glowing with the warm hallway light. Once he discarded the condom into the small trash bin beside her night stand, he got into bed with her.

Frustrated, but tired, she ran her hand over the bold white NCTFD letterings across his chest as he pulled her front to his side, tucking his arm under her body. Her hand drifted down and patted his stomach as she looked up at him, resting her head on his shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling his smoky musk.

-- Song Rec: “Cruisin” - Smokey Robinson: 🍑

* It was the sounds of birds chirping that woke her. She threw her comforter over her head, groaning as her eyelids felt the sunlight in the room. Her mind began running when she heard music playing. The funky bass plucking, gentle guitar rhythm and soft steady drumming started Smokey Robinson’s “Cruisin” filled the room, making her pull the comforter away as she opened her eyes.

As the groovy, sweet song continued, she sat up, seeing Jaehyun standing beside the window behind her nightstand, lit cigarette in his hand. He was nude, resting his shoulder against the wall as he blew smoke out of the open window. His milky skin cascaded with sunshine had him glowing.

He looked deep in thought as he brought the cigarette up to his lips, his cheeks hollowing as he took a drag. His lips were flushed, almost as red as blood as he blew out a thick cloud of smoke. She slipped out of bed, and bent down to pick up his NCTFD shirt from the floor. Putting it on, she inhaled deeply, appreciating that she was enveloped by his smoky earthy scent.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked, walking over to him. He held his hand out to her, which she took immediately to be by his side.

“Sorry I’m not oiled up,” he said as she ran her free hand over his shoulders. She drew small circles over his collar bone with the pads of her thumbs, her hands slowly drifting down.

His skin was soft and silky, but as she pushed her pads against him his body was very firm, like touching a warm boulder. The curves of his abs under her fingertips turned her on, sending heat into her core. She licked her lips as her index finger touched the line at his hip, his perfect inguinal crease, following it in toward his pubes. He hummed, goosebumps forming on his skin.

“I meant the song.” She placed both hands on his hips, eyes focused on his cock. It was twitching, hardening up. “Johnny and Mark were terrible at hiding their laughs when we sang this song at karaoke.”

“Is that why you get weird whenever I bring up that night?” He laughed, touching her cheek with his free hand. “Johnny and Mark were laughing at me, not at you.”

“You’re the one with the good voice. Why would they laugh at you?”

He stared at her, raising his eyebrows for a second as the tips of his ears flushed. Smokey Robinson was crooning away as she felt her heart beating fast, her face turning hot. He looked away as he snuffed out the cigarette. Jaehyun had selected the song, saying he thought of her whenever he listened to the song.

“...Baby, tonight belongs to us Everything’s right, do what you must and inch and inch we get closer and closer To every little part of each other…”

“Jaehyun,” she said, hand touching his cheek. The heat from his cheek warmed her hand, shooting straight to her chest.

“I really like you,” he said as they locked eyes, their foreheads touching, “if it isn’t obvious by now, you freaking brat.”

“I like you so much,” she said softly, running the pad of her thumb down his jawline, her head fuzzy, Smokey Robinson’s breathy crooning consuming her senses, “I had to be sure you liked me too.”

They kissed, the tobacco from Jaehyun’s breath infiltrating her mouth and nose. Her fingers slid down his front, caressing over the curves of his chest and abs. Their tongues pushed against each other, his tongue swiping her bottom lip as she ran her fingers through his pubes. He hummed into her mouth as her fingers stroked his cock before wrapping it in her hand. It was growing hot and hard fast. Jaehyun’s breathing was erratic as he cupped her face in his hands, pulling away from her kisses.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he panted. His chest heaved, hips thrusting, as he groaned.

She dropped down to her knees, left hand stroking the bottom of his shaft. Sticking her tongue out, she flicked it against his tip. It flushed red as it warmed up against her lips. She wrapped her mouth around his mushroomed head, making him moan as his come shot into her mouth.

She pumped his cock as he shook gently, his back pressed against the wall, one hand running through her hair. Swallowing, she inhaled the scent of his musky, salty come. Carefully, she kissed and licked his cock clean, eyes closing for a moment as his fingers massaged her scalp. Her tongue swirled around his soft head before planting a sweet, wet kiss onto it.

Their fingers intertwined as he helped her stand up. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her neck, hands reaching under the shirt. She hummed as he sucked on her neck, his fingers caressing her sides.

“I did a number on you,” he said, holding her forearm up in his hold, titing his head slightly. Long blue and purple marks were where he’d held her arms down. “I’m sorry, baby.”

His touch on her neck was delicate before peppering kisses over her bruises. He took a step back, and ran his fingers along the inside of her thigh. She winced, her skin stinging at his touch. She cupped his face into her hands to give him a wet kiss.

“That’s the sort of sex I like,” she said, her thumb and index finger massaging his earlobe. “What sort of sex do you like, Jaehyun? Show me.”

He laid her down on the bed, hands on her thighs as he placed himself between her legs. His hands massaged her as they moved up from her thighs to her hips. He licked his lips, eyes focused on her breasts as he lifted the shirt up. Giving a dry exhale as he pinched her nipples, she arched her back, heat rushing down to her clit. He flicked her nipple with his tongue before wrapping his mouth around it to suck on it, sending heat right to her core.

“Jaehyun,” she breathed out.

“Am I too soft?” he asked, fingers digging under the shirt.

“Shirt stays on,” she said, her hands on his wrists. She kept the fabric of the shirt hiked up at her neck, keeping her body exposed. “Be as soft as you want. I like everything you do.”

He grinned, sitting up on his knees as he got off of her. He turned, reaching behind him. She propped herself up to watch him tearing open a condom packet. His cock looked just as impressive in the daylight, and she felt her clit throb in anticipation. She'd taken it just hours before.

“Ready, baby?” he asked, massaging the inside of her thigh, running his thumb over the bruises his hands and mouth created the night before. He hissed as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit. “Does this feel good?” “Yes.” She thrust gently against his tip, enjoying the heat shooting deep inside. “Jaehyun, yes.”

“My two favorite words.”

She shut her eyes as he pushed his tip into her. His body was over hers, and they kissed, his heat enveloping her. One of his arms wrapped around her waist as he thrust deep into her, his other hand caressing her breast. Their tongues were entangled as she hooked her feet together around his waist, making sure she had Jaehyun locked in her embrace.

He broke their kiss to suck on her tits, and she moaned as she grabbed his hair, thinking of nothing but Jaehyun’s lovely touches. His tongue glided over the bruise on the underside of her breast before he planted wet kisses on there. As he sped up his thrusts, she squeezed her thighs around his hips, digging the heel of her foot into his back. She came as the heat building inside of her rushed up to her head and clit.

Their lips connected as he continued rutting into her. Toes curling as she squeezed her walls around his cock, her orgasm surged adrenaline up her back, her stomach flaring in heat. He grunted against her lips as his fingers at her waist curled into her skin, his hips shaking as he stilled deep into her. Breaking their kiss, he grunted as he gave a few pushes, both hands on her hips.

Spent, they laid down in bed, breathing heavily as “Cruisin” played on continually. She shut her eyes as she heard Jaehyun move around, cleaning up. Exhaling long and slow when she felt him spoon her, she ran her fingers over the arm holding her back to his chest.

“How was that?” he asked softly into her ear before his lips wet her neck. “Did that feel good?” His hand caressed her hip, lips back on neck. “Do you like it when I’m soft?”

She had him let her go so she could turn around to face him. He rubbed his nose against her cheek before running it down her neck to plant a kiss at the front of her throat. Gently combing her fingers through his hair, she rested her forehead against his.

“I love it.” She kissed him. “I love everything you do, Jaehyun. Soft or hard, you care so much for me. I want to lay here with you. You do everything right, and you’re always so worried that you’re not. I like that you care a lot.”

He smiled, his eyes closed for a few moments. Slowly opening them, he brushed her loose tendrils over her ear.

“Why are you so…” He kissed her, their lips innocently pressed together for a couple seconds, “you’re amazing.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “You care about me, and you don’t even have to say it. Obviously, you’re the sexiest person alive, too.” Another kiss, the apples of her cheeks turning hot. “So fucking kinky, baby. I had no idea.” Another kiss, one hand caressing her hip. “It’s fun to fuck around with you, you’re always down to fuck around with me too.”

He wrapped his arms around her back and blew raspberries onto her chest.

“Jaehyun!” She squealed, hands grabbing his hair, as she felt his fingers pinch her bruised ass cheek.

“Beautiful baby,” he said before planting a kiss on her shoulder, “I want to care for you, make you happy.”

“Jaehyun.” All she could do was breathe out sweetly, her mind flooded with the heat from his lips on her skin. Night or day, hard or soft, he was everything she wanted. “Jaehyun.”

“Let me kiss all your bruises,” he said, hand palming her ass, sending a pain so sharp it seared up her back. She grunted as she pulled his face to hers. “You deserve to be taken care of. Will you let me adore you?”

“Jaehyun.” She laughed before pulling him for a kiss. “Yes.”

--

Thank you so much for reading!!!

[h0tchner]

Worth It (college AU!aaron hotchner x fem!reader)

pairing: college AU!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron and reader are both students together at George Washington University. although Y/N needs to study for her upcoming exam, her boyfriend aaron has other plans for their afternoon... other, sinful, plans... ;)

word count: 3k

includes: SMUT, fluff, hotch has a silver chain (adsfhkjdhskfhkjsd), spitting!kink, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cigarette mention, PDA, slight bratty!reader, lots of eye contact and kissing, creampie

rating: 18+ (this is basically pure SMUT so pls dni if you are uncomfy with explicit sexual content, or if you are a minor).

a/n: tysm to my besties in the discord server who put the idea of college!hotch with a silver chain in my head. this thing practically wrote itself. i hope you all enjoy, and that it's what you imagined! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

It’s the first beautiful spring afternoon of the year. Considering you and your boyfriend Aaron have both been cooped up in the GWU library all winter long, the choice to study outside in the fresh air today was a unanimous no-brainer.

After a full morning of classes, the two of you waste no time racing over to the courtyard at noon, in serious need of some sunshine. Hand in hand, you navigate the throngs of students and teachers, pushing your way through the sea of people toward an old oak tree at the far end of the outdoor common area. You and Aaron settle underneath the sturdy branches happily, study materials in hand.

His back is up against the tree, and you’re nestled between his long legs, resting comfortably against his warm, firm chest. In your hands are a pile of colour-coded flashcards that you’re memorizing for your Shakespeare 101 test that’s later this afternoon. Well… trying to memorize, that is. Aaron is making it kind of impossible to concentrate.

Although he’s supposed to be looking over notes for his Political Science class, he is decidedly… not. It takes all of five minutes for him to put his notebook down with an exaggerated huff.

You flick your eyes up at him. Aaron’s head is tipped back against the tree trunk, his eyes screwed shut, dark eyebrows furrowed. Something has him riled up and restless; he’s angstier than usual… more impatient than usual. You can’t quite put your finger on why.

You let out a soft sigh of concern, making a mental note to talk to your boyfriend about it later tonight, and turn back to your flashcards.

About 10 minutes later, just as you’re starting to leaf through the literary symbolism of Hamlet, one of Aaron’s large hands begins to tease the hem of your yellow sundress.

You blush lightly and swat his touch away, playfully, cheeks flushing wildly at your boyfriend’s overtly public display of affection. You say nothing, and neither does he. He doesn’t exactly stop… and it’s not like you exactly stop him.

You re-read the same flashcard over again as Aaron’s hand continues to toy at your dress. His other hand comes up to rest on your hipbone.

You fidget a little on the grass under his touch, adjusting your hips to move backwards, feeling something hard pressing into your... OH. So that’s what has him so worked up.

He sucks in a breath, fingers digging into your hip a little harder, the hand on your dress inching further up your thigh -

“Aaron!” you whine, breathy and bewildered. “There are so many people out here you seriously need to control yourself.”

You let your head tip back to rest on his solid chest. Looking up at him you can see the glimmer of arrogance in his darkened, hazel eyes. There’s something else there too… something more… lustful.

Predictably, he says nothing: but lucky for you, his eyes say everything.

“You made me stop studying,” you fake a frown, placing your flashcards onto your lap.

He gives your hip another squeeze.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, smirking, brushing a few strands of hair off your neck before attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out. You bring a hand up and card it through his thick, black hair. You can feel him smiling against your skin, pressing light kisses up your neck, all the way up to your ear.

“You just look so good today, Y/N, I can’t help myself,” he whispers, deep and rough yet full of youthful horniness. He takes the soft skin of your earlobe in his teeth and pulls on it gently, making your eyes flutter shut and your hand pull hard at the hair on back of his head.

Aaron groans into your ear at the feeling. You shudder at the sound. He loops his arms around you and lets his head drop onto your shoulder. You stretch up slightly to the side and softly peck his cheek, moving one of your hands to cover both of his where they rest over your midsection, the other still playing with his gorgeous, raven hair.

“Babe, what in the world is going on with you today?” you ask, knowing full well what the answer is.

He lifts his head from your shoulder and glances at you, warm, golden-brown eyes shining. The expression on his face makes your heart do backflips.

You take the flashcards from your lap and toss them into your bag, twisting around in his arms so that you’re on your knees, facing him.

“Aaron,” you say again, this time more deliberate and confident, “what is it that has you so side-tracked?” Your fingers reach out to play with the silver chain he wears around his neck. You loop it around one of your fingers and pull him closer to you. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“You,” he shrugs.

Aaron lunges forward and catches you in a hungry kiss. It’s wet and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

“You’re insufferable,” you jest, lips pulling apart, fingers still toying with his chain.

“Yeah, I know,” he tilts his head cockily, grinning against your mouth as he captures your lips again.

“Dorm?” you ask him softly when the kiss breaks, dropping his chain back to rest on his black shirt.

He nods, letting his thumb brush over your cheek. He steals another kiss and then stands, suddenly, pulling you up with him. Before you can even register what’s happening, Aaron has both of your bags on his shoulders, and he’s scooping you up in his arms. With haste, he starts striding across the grass towards the dorms.

You throw your arms around his neck and grin up at him wildly as he apologetically barrels through the crowd. What a sight it is; you: cheeks flushed and laughing, yellow sundress billowing, and him: sexy as hell in dark blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt, practically sprinting with you in his arms across the campus.

You giggle as he elbows open the front door of his dorm building, and bury your face in his neck. You breathe in the faint smell of his guilty-pleasure cigarettes and clean, musky cologne. When you reach the elevator, he finally lets you down, but his touches never cease.

Aaron pushes you up against the wall of it and kisses you until you’re moaning into his mouth, legs practically jelly.

He continues this until the door opens on his floor, and you’re whisked away, again. He’s pulling you behind him at record speed down the hallway, your hand in his, until you reach his room.

The moment the door closes behind you, Aaron throws down the backpacks and is all over you again.

“Oh my god Aar,” you gasp, as he spins you around and traps you between him and the door. He pushes one of his denim-clad legs in-between yours and flexes up lightly, brushing over your core.

“So,” kiss, “fucking,” kiss, “hot,” kiss, “in,” kiss, “that,” kiss, “dress,” he breathes into your mouth in between bruising kisses.

“Do you have any idea what you looked like? Sitting between my legs in my favourite sundress of yours?” Aaron tilts your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. He is completely undone. A self-confident smile plays on his red, puffy lips. His dimples make your heart ache. His thick eyebrows are quirked up, and his eyes are nearly black, blown out with pure lust.

You answer his question with a whimper, bringing your hands up to his chest to tug at his black tee.

Aaron steps back a little bit, letting you pull his shirt up and over his head. You toss it to the side, bringing your hands back up to run over his broad, lightly toned chest.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” he admits smugly, letting his hands roam over your body.

“Yeah, and why’s that my fault?” You pant, teasingly, egging him on. You like to get a little bratty with him during foreplay, knowing that it always comes back to bite you in the ass later on in the best way possible.

He growls at you, licks his lips and dives back in, kissing you with unparalleled passion, rocking his leg up into your underwear-covered pussy.

“You were right there in my hands, but I couldn’t touch you,” he utters.

“You can touch me now,” you say, “and I can touch you.” You move your fingers down to the waistband of his jeans, eager to feel him. Aaron’s hands stop you.

“Not yet, babe,” he breathes out, shaky, touching his forehead against yours. “Need to taste you first.”

Your mind goes blank at his audacity.

“Aaron, fuck, please,” you whimper, eyes wide. You grind down on his leg, eliciting a grunt from your boyfriend.

You move to grind down on his leg again, but he removes it, leaving you to shudder at the loss of contact. He scoops you up again and carries you into his bedroom.

Aaron throws you down onto the bed, his black and white plaid sheets still rumpled from last night’s restless sleep.

He stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at you, his silver chain resting on the tufts of dark hair on his bare chest. His cock is straining at the fabric of his jeans, and his chest is heaving. He is lean and muscular, and oh so perfect.

“Baby, you’re so hot, please touch me, I need you to touch me,” you plead, pressing your legs together for friction.

“Fucking beautiful,” Aaron whispers as he kneels, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you toward him.

You yelp as he drags you down the bed to him, the skirt of your sundress now around your waist. You look down at your gorgeous boyfriend as he nips and kisses your thighs.

“Aaron,” his name falls from your mouth like a prayer as you reach one hand down to tug at his hair. He tightens his grip around your legs, inching closer and closer to where you need him the most.

He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the underwear covering your clit, making your back arch off the bed, chasing more.

“Aaron please,” you grip his hair with one hand and the sheets with another.

This time he sucks lightly on it through the fabric, and you cry out.

You squirm and moan under his touch as he licks your slit through your panties.

“Oh my god Aaron if you don’t to- OH!” Your frustration is drowned out by the sound of your moans as Aaron pushes your underwear to the side, eating you out like his life depends on it.

He laps at you with vigour, alternating between flat strokes and gentle sucking. Your hand in his dark hair is unfaltering as he hums between your folds, sending shockwaves throughout your whole body. You reach down with your other hand to hold onto Aaron’s, which he unhooks from your thigh and entwines with yours effortlessly.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess underneath his lips. He adds a finger, curling it just right inside of you. You can’t help but thrash, riding his face, begging to cum.

Aaron moans into your folds as he adds a second finger, scissoring them inside you.

“Aaron, baby,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

He peeks up at you under thick eyelashes from his spot between your legs. You lock eyes and he winks. The smug bastard winks.

That wink is all it takes for the dam to break, and your orgasm to overtake you.

Aaron continues to suck, kiss, and lick you through your high, letting you guide his head and ride his tongue until your body is still. He finishes you off with a gentle kiss just above your pubic bone.

“Come here handsome,” you breathe out, finally releasing the hand from his hair, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.

Aaron wastes no time climbing up the bed as you push yourself into a seated position, taking off your sundress and throwing it across the room. His pink lips are wet with your arousal, and it makes your toes curl. You reach out and pull him to you, sealing your mouths in a searing kiss. Aaron groans into your mouth as you palm him over his blue jeans. He swiftly undoes your bra and lets it join the growing pile of clothes on his bedroom floor.

“Open,” he commands, rising onto his knees, running a finger over your parted lips.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue as Aaron tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back. He spits into your mouth, and you swallow it, never breaking eye contact.

It’s hot and dominating. You can’t get enough.

“Need you,” you whisper, your hand finding the button of his jeans.

“Y/N,” he grunts, one hand reaching to grab your bare breast as you unzip his pants.

He shimmies out of them, and his blue boxers too.

Finally, finally, Aaron is naked in front of you. His thick cock is red, hard, and pulsing, erect on his lower stomach.

You gaze into Aaron’s eyes as you spit into your hand and wrap it around his dick. You pump your hand teasingly, and his eyes slam shut, a string of expletives leave his mouth.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans as you swipe your thumb over the tip.

You move your hand a few more times, each more purposeful than the last. You’re just beginning to find a rhythm when your boyfriend pushes you down lightly onto the bed.

“Aaron?” You gasp, questioning.

“Need to be inside you,” he rasps as he hovers over you, pressing kisses to your neck as he lines himself up.

Aaron rubs himself over your pussy a few times, coating his dick with your arousal, driving both of you insane. You both look down as he finally pushes himself inside of you, the image of his thick cock splitting you open almost too much to bear. Your eyes snap closed in bliss at the sight of it.

“Oh Aaron, oh my god,” you breathe out as he bottoms out.

“Look at me, Y/N” he orders, unmoving.

You open your eyes to find his, dark and shameless, right over yours. His hair is soft and messy on his forehead. The silver chain around his neck touches your lips lightly as it dangles from his neck. He is the most beautiful sight in the whole world.

“Fuck me, Aaron.” You sigh, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in even deeper.

With a low, sinful, groan, he does.

The pace is perfectly rough; with every thrust of his hips into you, you grind yours halfway to meet him. You let your hands wander over the expanse of his back and shoulders, and then up into his hair. The sound of your hips snapping against each other is delicious. With every stroke, you whimper into his lips, his neck, his chest; any piece of skin you can find. It’s all free real estate.

“You feel so good, babe, I’m so close,” Aaron whispers into your mouth. You squeeze around him in response, letting him know it’s okay to take what he needs. The movement elicits a deep moan from your boyfriend.

With that, he picks up the pace, lifting your legs up and over his shoulders, and you dissolve into a pile of whimpers. This new angle allows him to go even deeper, even harder.

His silver chain passes over your lips again and again, as his thrusts become more frantic. You take the necklace between your lips and bite down, muffling the sound of your mewls. The metal is cold and hard in your mouth, and the sensation makes you moan.

Aaron’s eyes scan yours and then your lips, finding his chain in your mouth. His eyes all but roll back into his head.

“Holy shit Y/N,” he pants. You watch as he starts to devolve, clinging to him as he throws his head back and goes over the edge.

He spills into you loudly, pressing against your body, filling you up with hot cum.

You release the chain from your teeth and pull Aaron down onto you, needing to feel the weight of him.

“Aaron, oh my god, baby, yes, oh my god,” you whisper into his ear as his thrusting slows and his hips stop, his cock deep inside you.

You pulse around him, holding him close, rubbing your hands up and down his back. He is collapsed on top of you, and both of you are breathing heavily. Your chests are pressed together, sweat is sticking to your skin.

Aaron lifts his head from your shoulder to look up at you through hooded eyes and thick lashes. He gives you a dopey grin and his signature wink, before letting his head fall back down.

You laugh into his hair, pressing a soft kiss there.

You two stay like that for a minute or so, revelling in the closeness, before you decide to speak.

“Aar?” You say, nudging his head with your nose.

“Mhhhmmm,” he mumbles, still nuzzled into your neck, his breathing still slowing.

“I still have to study for my exam.”

Aaron groans into your shoulder, and then picks his head up again so you two are eye to eye.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll just pull the fire alarm,” he grins, all dimples.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculously adorable proposition, pulling at the chain on his neck to bring him in for another kiss.

“You’re so stupid,” you mumble against his lips.

“Only for you,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip.

Well, it’s only one test. If I fail, I fail… you tell yourself as Aaron slides his tongue into your mouth again, and you feel his cock hardening inside you, ready for round two.

For this? It’s worth it.

taglist:

@ssahotchie @laurensprentiss @arsonhotchner @heliotropehotch @agent-laufeyson @mrsh0tchner

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Remembrance-Chapter 5

Latest chapter of my Daniel/Armand fic. Read it below or here

Daniel needs a fucking smoke.

After watching Louis suck off Damek and reliving the memories it brought up, he needs something. It's not only that, but remembering his past is also making him remember how much he was using. Remember how it good it felt. He's getting the itch, and he hasn't gotten it in a long time. He's mostly settled in his sobriety after this long.

The worst thing is, it isn't even for smack. It's for that sweet vamp blood. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. Once an addict, always an addict.

So yeah, he needs a fucking smoke.

He's not enough of an asshole to smoke inside Louis house without asking. He goes to the balcony off the living room. It's still dark outside, only around ten. Truthfully, he could fit in more of the interview tonight, but he's tapped out. Thinks Louis is too.

Daniel pulls a single cigarette out of the crumpled pack he keeps for emergencies. He only smokes when he needs to settle his nerves now. Digs his lighter out of his pocket and thumbs the wheel. It sticks, and he flicks it again and again. No luck. To top it off, his hand starts to shake.

“For fuck's sake,” he swears, nerves frayed.

“Allow me to assist you,” comes a voice from his left.

Jesus! The asshole scared the shit out of him. Daniel hadn't even noticed Armand was there on the other end of the balcony. He sweeps over to him and plucks the lighter from his hands. Daniel thinks he'll never be able to light him up with those gloves on, put the lighter flicks to life for him on the first try.

It brings him intimately close to Daniel, and Daniel's chest aches. Armand steps back and hands him the lighter. There's a polite amount of space between them now, but it feels like an ocean. It pisses him off that he wishes he could close it.

“Thanks,” Daniel says, then because he can't help needle Armand a little “What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be serving your god?”

“I'm on my break,” Armand says easily. Lying comes as naturally to him as breathing. As breathing did when he was a human. Daniel is loosing the metaphor. Armand nods out to the skyline. “I like to enjoy the view.”

Daniel takes a drag and looks out. “It's something.”

He takes another drag and out of some ingrained force of habit, passes the cigarette to Armand. It's ridiculous; Armand doesn't even smoke, really. He only smokes when Daniel and Louis do, and only then because he wants to be included. At least, that's what Daniel had assumed. He was never so presumptuous to ask.

Armand blinks and takes it. Wraps his lips around it and pulls and lets it dangle from his fingers as he exhales. Daniel thinks smoking wouldn't be so popular if it didn't look so sexy. He wordlessly passes it back to Daniel. Daniel sucks on it and imagines he can taste Armand's mouth.

Because even pretending to be someone else, Armand is a little shit, he says “Should a man in your health be smoking, Mr. Molloy?”

“Hey, do I criticize your poor life choices?” Daniel says. He passes the cigarette back to Armand.

Armand takes it with a roll of his eyes. He takes a long drag and tilts his head back, blows the smoke out. It exposes the long line of his throat. Daniel looks away. “You know nothing of my life choices, Mr. Molloy.”

Armand passes back the cigarette. Their fingers brush and Daniel has never hated a scrap of leather more. What is wrong with him? He feels like he's a twenty-something chucklefuck again.

“I know fucking your boss is typically a poor choice,” Daniel says, because he wants to press his buttons. He always did love winding up Armand.

He's expects indignation and denial. What he gets is a wry smile from Armand and, “Am I really so obvious?”

Daniel shrugs, keeps going, “Powerful men like fucking their secretaries. Assistants. Whatever they call it these days.”

“You think Mr. de Pointe du Lac is so unoriginal?”

Daniel decides to really try his luck. Go big or go home, right? “Maybe you're just that irresistible.”

Is he flirting with his ex? His ex who probably erased his memories? This must be what going mad feels like.

Armand laughs, and it's as seductive a sound as it always was. “Careful, Mr. Molloy. One might think you were flirting.”

“Mm, and what might one think of that?”

Armand smiles ever-so-slightly and grabs his Ipad off the railing. “One thinks their break is over.”

Then Armand strolls back inside and Daniel watches him leave. He's got goddamn butterflies in his stomach. Oh, he needs to be careful here. It's too easy to get caught up in nostalgia.

Nostalgia, that shit's better than smack.

/

It's the next day, after a long, fitful day of restless sleep.

“Hold on there,” Daniel says, holding up a finger. They're in the living room, working on tonight's part of the interview. “You're saying Lestat wrote the 'Wolverine Blues'?”

“I can't be definitive,” Louis says, “So much of that year as a blur.”

Daniel lets Louis drone on while he searches for the song on his laptop. “This.”

He plays it and Louis bops his head along. It's kind of adorable. Daniel's not going to think too hard about that thought.

“Yes, that's it.”

“Uh-huh.” It's time to address the issue. “Yeah, you know, I gotta say, it's not so much the minute details, Louis, rather the total rewrite that's giving me pause here.”

Daniel brings up his recordings of the tapes. “I mean, 1973.”

He presses play and Louis voice rings out “He was a sow's ear out of which nothing fine could be made. I was his complete superior, and I had been sadly cheated in having him for a teacher.”

“2022.”

“It was a cold winter that year, and Lestat was my coal fire. And I found myself, for the very first time, to anyone other than Paul, confiding my struggles to another man.”

While it plays, Louis picks up his copy of Daniel's memoir. He thumbs through the pages.

“San Francisco.”

Louis voice again. “He appeared frail, and stupid to me, a man made of dried twigs with a thin, carping voice.”

“Dubai.”

“I had never allowed myself to feel emotionally close to anyone, much less a man. Lestat had surrounded me.”

Daniel pulls off his glasses and looks at Louis expectantly.

“The version we speak of now is a more nuanced portrait.”

“Hmm. Or the more rehersed.”

“Perhaps I was mistaken about the 'Wolverine Blues.'” Louis says.

Daniel wants to laugh. Does he really think this is about some damn song? “Fuck the 'Wolverine Blues.' Ken Burns can choke on the footnotes.”

Daniel leans in a little. “It's the abused-abuser psychological relationship I'm talking about.”

Which, Daniel knows is pretty rich coming from him. He fell for a guy that at one point did intend to kill him. He likes to think after they crossed that bridge it ceased to be abusive. Toxic, yes. Abusive, no.

“I do not consider myself abused.” Louis cuts in.

“I mean, usually when you're a little too close to it, the abused still loves the abuser, but you flipped it completely on its head.”

“I'm not a victim.”

Daniel realizes he's pissing Louis off, but maybe he needs to be. How can be reconcile his relationship with Lestat, when he can't even acknowledge what it was?

“Fifty years later, you talk like he was your soul mate, like you were locked in some fucked up gothic romance. Why?”

Pot meet kettle. No wonder Louis is irritated. He flips open Daniel's book and begins reading. “I'm in my Buick, staring in the rearview mirror at my daughter in the car seat, an hour after I gave Derek, a guy I don't know, the last thirty bucks I had. My editor reminds me, it's seven years before car seats are mandatory. My ex-wife reminds me, I never owned a Buick.”

Daniel looks away. He can't look at Louis. He's so angry he's practically shaking. His memory is fucked up, yes, but it's not his fault. He knows with a certainty that he feels down to his soul, either Louis or Armand are responsible for him not remembering them. And what does the brain do, when it's missing memories? It creates false ones. It fills in the gaps.

“This is the odyssey of recollection,” Louis finishes. “The tapes are an admitted performance. This is the premise of our interview. Half a century later, allow me my odyssey.”

Yeah, and where does Daniel fit into his fucking odyssey? He can't do this right now. He's close to lashing out and ruining everything. He needs some air to clear his head. Daniel rises to his feet. “Let's take a break.”

His hands are shaking when he fumbles his cigarettes out of his pocket. Louis eyes him with concern. “Daniel are you alright?”

Daniel drops the pack of cigarettes. Fuck everything. “Shit.”

Louis moves to pick them up for him. Daniel barks, “I'm old, not decrepit.”

Louis sits back down. Daniel picks up the packet and moves outside to the balcony. He lights up and takes a shaky inhale. The nicotine is like a balm to his nerves. A moment passes, then Louis joins him. “Got a spare?”

Daniel wordlessly passes him the pack. Louis pulls one out, then holds it in his hands. The end suddenly lights in flames.

“Neat trick.”

“Being dead has it's advantages,” says Louis. “Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”

“You gonna pull it from my head if I don't?”

Louis frowns, almost looks offended. “Of course not, Daniel.”

Daniel glances over at him. Keeps smoking while he thinks. “I'm old, I'm dying, and I slept like shit last night.”

Louis is observing him closely. Too closely.

Daniel snuffs out the cigarette. “Let's get back to it.”

Daniel brushes past Louis back inside. Louis still seems mildly concerned, but not pressing. Daniel needs something to distract him. “You want your odyssey, fine.”

He plucks the tapes up and drops them in the trash before sitting back down. Louis returns to his seat and opens his mouth. Daniel holds up a finger and slips his glasses back on his face. Goes to his laptop and deletes the audio files of the tapes. He has backups at home, but they won't help him here. Besides, it's the gesture that matters.

Louis smiles then focuses his gaze on the trash. It lights on fire, flames dancing high.

Daniel doesn't let it distract him, even though he wants to. He'll have to comb through his memories later to see if Louis ever used that particular trick in front of him. “You were the prince of your district. Lestat chased an American icon outta town because he loved you. 1917 doesn't sound like it was such a bad year.”

“Ridged to burn, Daniel.”

Louis tells how Lestat filled in for Jelly, how he and Miss Brown brought dazzled admirers back to the Rue Royale. “So the last one to leave never left.”

“No. He would do his killing away from me now, out of respect, he said, for the choice I had made.”

Well, that sounds like bullshit.

Louis goes on, talking about Lestat and this woman frolicking. About how his new diet affected his libido. How he let it happen. It sends a sharp stab through Daniel's heart. Was Daniel himself just something Louis let happen?

/

The thrill from them finally confessing their feelings is still fresh for Daniel. It's only been a few months, and it's been a whirlwind. He's thinks that he's never been happier than he is right now, lying beside Armand in bed as the sun is just beginning to rise into the sky. They've been out most of the night, first the opera, then some up and coming painter's debut show, then the after party of that show. He's a little buzzed on champagne and lack of sleep, but he's happy.

So naturally, something has to ruin it.

“We should visit Louis tomorrow,” Armand says while idly stroking a hand down his arm.

Daniel freezes and his heart pounds heavily. “Louis attacked me.”

Armand wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him back against him. “That was before you were mine. Louis would rather harm himself than harm someone I love so dearly.”

Daniel says nothing. He's not sure what to say.

“And of course, he's ashamed of what he did. He wants to apologize properly”

Daniel turns over and looks up into Armand's eyes, “You want me to meet with him.”

And Daniel doesn't really think Louis is a bad guy. He's a nice guy, really. But so was his high school girlfriend's dad, until he lost his temper. Then he would smack around her and her mom. Not that he thinks Louis would hurt Armand. Daniel is a mortal and a stranger and he loves Armand.

“You'll be there?”

“Yes, I'll be there,” Armand says and kisses him on his forehead. “Don't be afraid, my love. Louis will never harm you. We'll both keep you safe from all else.”

Armand won't force him, Daniel knows that. If Daniel says no, Armand will let it go. For now. But Armand always does find a way of getting what he wants in the end, doesn't he? Might as well get it over with. “Okay. But first I gotta ask—Is Louis okay with this? With us?”

Daniel can't figure out why he would be. Why isn't he jealous? Is Daniel that inconsequential? Armand cups his jaw. “Never think that, beloved. Louis isn't jealous because he knows he is one of the great loves of my life. You are the other.”

Daniel's hear skips a beat. He feels himself smiling like an idiot. “I am, huh?”

“Yes, Daniel.”

Daniel leans forward and kisses Armand. His lips are still warm from feeding earlier. Daniel lingers a moment, then says “Okay, let's do it. Let's meet with Louis.”

/

Daniel listens without interruption as Louis talks about Lestat's affair, his own encounter with Jonah. About seeing mud on Lestat's shoes. While he's speaking, Armand comes in. He's preparing drinks. He's wearing all black again, and he looks as good as ever. Even if his eyes are wrong.

Daniel lets himself get distracted, just a second, but tears his eyes away once Armand glances back at him. If he's reading his mind, all he'll hear are thoughts of how pretty he looks. There's the smallest of smiles on his face when they meet eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Daniel places his focus back on Louis.

“...weren't paved at the time. The mud on his boots could have come from anywhere,” Louis says. He's standing now, walking toward Armand. Daniel hadn't even noticed him get up. He needs to focus.

“Was it raining that night?”

Louis is quiet a second, lost in contemplation.

“Did it rain?” Daniel presses.

“I don't remember now,” Louis says. “It could have been dry on the bayou and wet in the Quarter. It's Louisiana.”

“The odyssey of recollection.”

“Hmm.” Louis turns his back to him, moves to the drink cart. “I would meet Jonah decades later.”

That's probably a lie.

Louis takes two drinks and strolls back towards Daniel. He pauses and says, “You're lingering, Rashid.”

It's dismissive and sounds exactly like a boss speaking to an employee. Daniel wonders how Armand feels about this whole thing. Whose idea was Rashid? He can't help but glance back at him.

“Apologies, Mr. du Lac.” Armand begins to leave. Daniel finds his eyes drawn to him, silently watching him go. Louis clocks his interest, glances back at Armand himself then back to Daniel.

“Have I introduced you to Rashid, Daniel?”

Armand pauses near the door. Daniel gets his shit together. “We've met.”

Louis nods at Armand, and Armand walks out. “You seem interested.”

His voice is neutral, but there's something curious in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“He's easy on the eyes,” Daniel says, taking the drink Louis offers. Time to change the subject. “What did he say when he met you again, when you were young and he wasn't?”

“What they all say eventually say in one articulation or another,” says Louis, going back to his story. He seems to have moved on from any curiosity regarding Daniel and 'Rashid.' He tells of visiting his family and how poorly it went, of coming home to a house full of soldiers, power being cut at his club, finding out Tom sold him the Azalea because he knew the end was coming.

Louis is sitting across from him again by now, long minutes having passed. Daniel is mostly trying to reconcile his memories of Louis and what he hears now. Louis heard the alderman's thoughts, loud and clear, but years later, he had trouble reading Daniel's. Either Louis had been starving himself longer than he thought, thus weakening his powers or Armand had lied before. Either is equally plausible.

What's the vampiric equivalent of an eating disorder?

“When your mother sees the Devil in your eyes, it's a hard assessment to abandon. Am I from the Devil? Is my very nature that of the Devil? I had hedged against the question, but now it completely overwhelmed me.”

Daniel gets it; nobody likes letting down their parents. Everyone wanted their mother's love. Though if his mother was like Louis', he'd have probably given up long before Louis did.

Louis goes on to talk about hanging a sign on the door saying it was for colored folks only. How it invited chaos, how the hubris on display caused him to neglect his thirst. How his temper rose and eventually he could stand it no longer. Animals would no longer suffice.

“Take a black man in America, make him a vampire, fuck with that vampire, see what comes of it.”

He kills the alderman, of course. Daniel could see that coming a mile away. The gruesome way he did so and the garish display of the body aren't as expected. Lestat's reaction seems perfectly in character, though Daniel supposes Louis was too close to it and expected otherwise. The violence it wrought is equally predictable.

“And then...one of those inconceivable moments where who you were before and who you would be forever after is marked in time.”

Daniel understands that. For him, that moment came with meeting Louis and learning he was a vampire.

“A rooming house, now a fire trap. I could not save the Azalea. I could not save Storyville. I could not save the aunt on the wrong side of the wall, but I could save her. My light. My Claudia. My redemption.”

[221bshrlocked]

Okay. Here me out. Leaving Javi a note telling him to meet you at your place around midnight 😏

Bruh, you’re killing me and you know perfectly well I am incapable of not writing something down when I get these kinds of messages. ugh. now i’m hot and bothered. Again. I blame you for this and for not being able to start on the Pedro/Sebastian/Reader fics...but enjoy this.

He was already having a hard time ignoring you during debriefing, ignoring the side glances and the smiles and the way you constantly moved just so he could spare you a look. But then you had the audacity to slip a note in his back pocket as you left the meeting and he all but lost it, ignoring Steve’s teasing remarks and almost cussing him out when he heard him laugh at his blush.

Waiting until everyone left the room, he fished the note from his pocket and unfolded it, smiling like a schoolboy when he read your words and shoving it back in his pocket as he returned to his desk. You were standing next to Steve discussing something about the meeting and Javier narrowed his eyes at you when he saw you lean over and whisper something in Steve’s ears.

As soon as you left, Javier sat down and crossed his legs, lighting a cigarette and waiting until Steve turned his way before warning him.

“Fucking watch it.” It was more of a growl than a hiss really and Steve snorted at his partner before holding up his hands and pointing at his wedding ring.

Javier wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep his mind from steering towards you all day long but as the sun set and the moon rose in the night sky, he was sure he has never been edged for this fucking long. As the clock struck eleven, he decided to hit up the bar near the building where you stayed, hoping to relax before making his way towards you.

He should have known better. As soon as he walked in, he saw you sitting and chatting up the bartender, swirling a clear drink around before throwing it back and asking him for another. He walked towards you, pulling out the chair and lighting a cigarette before nodding towards the man.

“Whiskey por favor...” It was a forced request and you shook your head when you remembered how much he hated it when you laughed at others’ jokes.

“You know, jealousy isn’t an attractive trait Javi.” You winked at him before paying for the drinks, downing the vodka in one sip before standing up and leaning towards him.

“But you make it look so sexy baby.” You whispered in his ears, letting your hands trail down his chest before grabbing his inner thighs. He groaned against you, dragging a breath from his cigarette as you kissed his cheek before walking away.

Javier watched as you sauntered out of the bar with an extra sway to your hips, turning around before exiting and winking at him.

“Pinche puta madre,” he whispered under his breath before mirroring your actions and chugging down the whiskey, forcing a smile at the bartender and leaving a tip right before leaving. He wasn’t a desperate man, far from it, but he felt that it would be rude to keep you waiting.

Running across the street, he pushed the code to the gate and went up the stairs two at a time, strutting straight to your door while attempting to calm his nerves.

He shook his head when he saw it was cracked open, slamming it behind him and not caring how loud he was being as he made his way to your bedroom.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? The hell were you thinking leaving the door unlocked?” Javier didn’t expect to see you almost naked and he hated how distracted he became whenever he saw the expanse of your skin.

“Left it open for you mi amor.”

“Anyone could have walked in.” He was finding it harder to stay in control of his voice, clenching his jaw when he saw you walking towards him in nothing but a bra and panties.

“You’re not anyone Javi.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and stepping on his shoes to reach his cheek.

“And how did you know I was going to come now bebé?” His voice was much lower now, hands hovering against the skin of your hips to try and hold off just a little while longer.

“You’ve been undressing me with your eyes all fucking day Javi, that’s how I knew you were going to follow me.” Licking his neck, you stopped right at his Adam’s apple and kissed it before sucking on the cartilage until you felt him wrap his arms around you.

“And you’ve been eye-fucking me all day sweet girl.” He didn’t push you away, enjoying the attention you were giving him and finding it uncharacteristically calming. He thought it was hilarious, the first time you told him just how much his neck turned you on. No one has ever said that to him. Previous lovers usually complimented his lips, his tongue, and not surprisingly, his dick. But then you came along and refused to stop talking about the way his fingers were the right size, and he wasn’t sure if that was in reference to the way he fucked you with fingers sometimes or how he loved to keep hold of your throat as you rode him. And he truly enjoyed those days where you were somehow hornier than him because you went on and on about his mustache and his neck and his jaw and his fucking thighs. It drove him mad.

“Guilty as charged Agent. Now, you wanna put those cuffs to good use or should I just call Steve t-”

“Don’t you fucking dare querida.” You giggled when he growled in response, turning you around and throwing you on the bed. You didn’t bother to turn around, looking over your shoulder to watch him as he stripped down to nothing and joined you.

“Oh, what do we have here?” You smiled when you felt his cock hit your ass cheeks, shaking your hips when you felt him pull down your panties and push them against his nostrils.

“Smell so fucking sweet, all the god damn time.” Javier was talking more to himself than you and he narrowed his eyes down at you when he saw the way you were eyeing him.

“Javi please, I need you. Just fuck me already.”

“You sure you don't wanna call Steve cariño?” He was teasing you, unhooking your bra and trailing his eyes down the curves of your back as you took it off and threw it away. He pushed the head of his cock in your cunt and held himself there, waiting for you to beg for him.

“Please Javi, lo siento...I don’t want anyone else baby. I want you to fuck me, please...missed this cock. Missed having you fill me up with your cum...don’t you wanna feel me baby?” You knew what your words did to him, even if he didn’t tell you. That was the thing with Javier, once he heard you begging for him, he’d forego all plans of teasing you. And just as you knew, Javier was bottoming out and throwing his weight on you, hissing in your ears as he slowly bucked his hips against your ass and filled you up.

“Fucking shit sweetheart. You’re always so tight around me. So warm and tight and fucking heavenly.” Javier bit down on your shoulder, sliding his arm beneath you and cupping your breasts to keep some semblance of control. You were panting under him, occasionally gasping his name when you felt him pinch and roll your nipples in between his fingers.

He alternated between deep and slow thrusts to quick and shallow ones, enjoying the way you whined and moaned every time he changed his pace just to deny you of your orgasm. With each pass of his cock, you felt your cunt squeeze tighter around him, the wet, squelching sounds you were making letting him know just how much you wanted him tonight.

“Come on querida, don’t fall behind.” Javier moaned against your ear, snapping his hips again and again until the only sounds in the room where your combined heavy pants and his navel hitting your ass cheeks.

“Just want your hands Javi, I- ah fuck, I’m so close baby you fuck me so good. No one- oh god, no one fucks me like you Javi. Please, I wanna cum. Wanna cum on your cock oh god, oh fuck- right there, right fucking there.”

“Fucking hell baby that’s it. Taking my dick so deep...so well. Cum on me, let me feel this sweet cunt clench around me. Milk me dry mi cariño..fuck, ah fuck- cum on me. Now!” His pace faltered, and he felt your legs shaking beneath him just as he pushed his cock one last time inside you before coming, and you bit his wrist when you felt him coating your walls with streaks of warm cum. He rubbed at your clit furiously, hissing when you violently squeezed around him as you reached your peak. When you tried to reach down and stop him, Javier shook his head against you and bit your back, continuing his assault on your pussy until you were begging him to stop.

When he finally pulled away and rolled to his side, you turned your face towards him and let out a deep sigh of relief. He reached down to his pants and took out another cigarette, lighting it as he sat up against the headboard and motioned for you to come to him. You grabbed the covers and haphazardly threw them over the two of you, nuzzling into his side as he drew random patterns on your shoulders.

“Next time you want me fuck you querida, don’t give me a twelve-hour heads up.” He looked serious but you knew this was as close to him being playful as he could get.

“Well, I just wanted to give you something to look forward to...”

“Yeah well, I barely got anything done today...’ve been fucking hard since I read your note.”

“I mean you can always just fuck me on your desk.” You smiled when he raised an eyebrow at you before blowing out smoke through his nose. Only Agent Javier Peña could make smoking look this sexy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Showing everyone how much of a good girl you can be.” He finally cracked that infamous toothy smile at you and you swore your heart was close to leaping out of your chest and flying out the window.

“Only for you Javi, only for you.”

[elenamiria]

Boyfriend Pt. 2

Javier Peña x Reader You and Javier both seem content not to acknowledge what happened between the two of you making work awkward. To solve this Javier goes back to his old habits causing you a great deal of jealousy. However when you seek out someone to push Javier out of your mind things don’t quite go according to plan.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Swearing, minor angst, drinking, smoking, fem reader, smut - unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), no pulling out, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, nipple play, possessive Javi, aftercare

Boyfriend Pt. 1   -   Pt. 2   -   Pt. 3 

 Quick little note for the content, in this fic I discuss Bachata. Bachata is a dance that when danced with the right partner can be intimate and sexy however as a dance it itself is perfectly innocent, it’s a very common dance now though in the 80′s when this fic takes place it was only just rising to prominence as it was looked down on when it first came out. There’s a lot of political history behind the dance and if you’re interested in learning more about it there’s an excellent article about it here. Also if you have no clue what Bachata looks like or is I recommend watching this video before reading the fic! This is an example of great chemistry in between partners.  Also thank you all so much for the support on the first part of this fic!! Everyone was so sweet, I’ll be responding to everyone later tonight, for now enjoy!  I love each and every one of you who read this fic, whether or not you like or lurk - it’s all welcome and appreciated so much!! Tags: @blxwjobsforclones​ @fishswimbetterunderwater​ @aeryntheofficial​ @corrupt-fvcker​ (just in case you wanna read the next part🥺) 

The second time you and Javier Peña fucked was about two weeks later. Though only after both of you couldn't contain your jealousy any more.

A few days after the car incident Javier still couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you. Your words kept replaying over in his head, ‘it wasn’t anything’, and he kept replaying his own stupid words over and over too. He should’ve said something to you about how you made him feel, about how when he saw you go down he swore his heart stopped and how when you kissed him nothing had ever felt so right before. Instead he chickened out and brushed you off like it was nothing, which is what he convinced himself it was to you - nothing.

Things had grown tense between you two where normally easy quips filled the air, leaving Steve to roll his eyes, there was silence. And when he tested the waters with a gentle compliment you simply said ‘thanks’ and went about your day. He couldn’t lie he missed the playful flirting that always flowed so naturally between the two of you and when the silence between the two of you didn’t seem to change, causing his stress levels to skyrocket, he turned back to what he was used to. That just so happened to be dealing with his feelings through sex, though not with you that would be too simple. He turned back to fucking informants, he hadn’t stopped once he realized his feelings for you but it had definitely slowed him down but now it was like a dam broke and he couldn’t stop himself.

You had been slightly suspicious when suddenly Javi was bringing more info to the table, remembering when you first arrived to Colombia Steve giving you a warning about your other partners unusual methods, but you pushed any concerns aside as you threw yourself into work. You had started bringing work home to distract you from the object of your affection who, in an unfortunate turn of events, lived directly below you. Noise didn’t carry much from below up but you were sure he could hear you moving above him, as you could always hear the person above you. So, you weren’t aware of Javier’s steady stream of lovers until a poorly timed cigarette break.

You didn’t smoke often so you weren’t sure why you couldn’t shake the need for a cig, sighing you put aside your tedious task of the night (combing through call logs for a specific number) and fetched your carton and lighter. Locking your apartment and double checking you hustled down the steps and out of the lobby, only sparing a glance at Javi’s door. With another sigh you leaned against the building and lit up, taking a deep drag you let your eyes close before exhaling. Maybe it was good to take a break, your eyes were struggling in the poor lighting and you had started to re read the same numbers accidentally, the fresh air was reviving your brain somewhat. Taking another deep drag you started to plan out the rest of your night but we’re distracted by the noise of the opening lobby door. Opening your eyes you glanced over preparing a polite smile as you exhaled but when you spotted who it was you instead choked on the smoke. Turning quickly you prayed that he wouldn’t notice you.

As you continued to choke you tried not to think about how you had just witnessed Javier shoving his tongue down the throat of some skimpily dressed beautiful girl. Finally catching your breath you were quiet just long enough to here the girl purr out “when can I see you again Javier?”

You hated the way your heart clenched at that and angrily took a deep inhale of your cigarette, though inhaling so sharply only caused you to choke again. Swearing you tried to cough as quietly as possible though that clearly didn’t work when you heard Javier call your name, clear concern in his voice. You turned to him with a shaky smile as you caught your breath. When he saw you weren’t dying he laughed softly and raised his brow questioning, “First ever cigarette?”

You laughed as you finally caught your breath though you’re eyes were watering and responded with a simple, “Nah, surprisingly it’s not”

There was an awkward pause where both of you stared at each other for a bit though you broke contact blinking quickly and before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “Should I be concerned?”

Javier frowned at you, confusion blanketing his face as he dumbly responded “What?”

That should’ve been your cue to drop the topic and your brain was screaming at you but your big mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as you gestured towards the road where the girl had just caught a cab, “You just fucked her, right? And we- ya know, but you didn’t use a...”

You felt your face grow hot and took another drag as Javier stared at you, face tight with tension. He seemed like he was going to respond before he shifted, placing his hands on his hips and questioning “You really wanna have this conversation out here?”

You felt your embarrassment growing and you shook your head as you groaned. Your hand came up to rest on your forehead in stress as you backed down, “No Javi, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said anything, ignore me. I’m a mess.”

“You’re gonna be more than a mess if you don’t move your hand, Jesus you’ll set your hair on fire.” Then his hand was on yours gently moving your lit cigarette from it’s precarious position over your hair. Letting out yet another groan you let your head fall onto the brick building, which hurt far more than you cared to admit due to your still healing head wound, as you whined “What’s wrong with me?!”

In your self pity you failed to notice the way Javier staying tenderly clasping your wrist, affectionate smile on his face and this time it was him who spoke without thinking, “Do you want to come over for a drink?”

He expected total rejection considering what you had just seen but when you offered a happy little grin at the opportunity he felt a warmth fill his chest. The two of you headed to his apartment and it was only then that he remembered he only had whiskey but luckily you told him that was fine. Once you had a drink in hand the tension that had plagued you seemed to melt away and the two of you were back to your usual teasing. You spent the night laughing together and sharing intimate details of your lives that you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about at work, though it was mainly you doing the sharing. When you were thoroughly tipsy you swung the conversation back to what you had originally asked and were relieved, and secretly pleased, when Javier told you that he always used condoms. The tables were reversed when he thought about it for a second then in a panic asked you if you were on birth control to which you responded with a laughing yes.

Time flew and it was soon far past time for you to go to sleep and still get a reasonable amount before work, you knew you were going to regret your decisions when you spent the work day half asleep but it was worth any grief you would go through. When you said you should go to bed Javier insisted on walking you to your apartment despite your protests that nothing was going to happen on your return which involved walking up a flight of stairs and that's it.

When you reached your door and unlocked it you turned to find Javi standing much closer than anticipated, staring down at you with his warm brown eyes. A small gasp left your throat and your hand absentmindedly came up to play with the buttons of his shirt. You swallowed deeply when you realized how desperately you wanted to kiss him, your lips part slightly and your head tilted inhibitions lowered by the steady thrum of alcohol. It wasn’t until you felt yourself moving forward that you snapped yourself out of it. Pulling back like you were burned you bit your lip before softly muttering, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Javi.”

As you started to enter your apartment you paused, turning towards him with an enamored smile “and thanks for the drink, I had a really great time”

Javier gave you a genuine smile back as he replied, “Me too cariño, I’ll see you tomorrow”

The two of you continued this routine frequently, your body always sending you on a smoke break right when Javier was escorting out his latest ‘friend’ - you swore your brain was trying to torture you into quitting. You still felt your jealousy flare up every time but you were able to quell the flames knowing that you were the one who was over every night and you were the one bringing genuine smiles and laughs to him. It wasn’t until you saw the same girl leaving his place three times in a row that you snapped, jealousy swirling inside you. When he asked you over for a drink you brushed him off storming back to your apartment and calling up one of your only friends outside of work. She had started out as an informant, a journalist who stumbled onto a trail, but she quickly became a friend though to maintain your friendship both of you agreed to no work talk. Luckily the next day was a weekend and with minimal begging she agreed to go out with you.

At work the next day Javi could tell something was up, you were antsy the whole day and kept glancing at the clock. When Steve questioned you, “got a hot date or something?”, Javier felt himself tense but when you responded that you were going out with your friend he relaxed slightly, though he still wasn't fond of the idea. As soon as you were able to leave you bolted, stopped only by Javi grabbing your hand and a quiet reminder to be careful and then you were on your way to get ready. You chose a silky slip dress that complimented your curves and you carefully applied makeup for the first time in forever. When you were ready you called for a cab and headed to the nightclub, intending on finding someone to distract you from one Agent Peña.

That ended up being just what you did, finding a handsome stranger to dance the night away with and you invited him back to your place, determined to finally push thoughts of Javier out of your mind.

When you arrived to your building you both stumbled out of the cab, he paid as you keyed into the lobby. Grabbing his hand you pulled him into you to press a messy kiss to his lips as you backed up, this plan backfired when you tripped on the stairs and you let a burst of giggles past your lips.

Unbeknownst to you this caught the ear of a certain DEA agent who had stayed up to make sure you got back in one piece. He was about to open his door to tease you when he heard a male voice echo in the empty hallway. He cracked the door open just in time to hear you huskily laugh out “Callate la boca y dame un beso”

His heart lurched at your voice and he wished you were speaking to him instead of the man who was eagerly kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t watch but he couldn’t help it while jealousy reared its head as you broke apart and pulled the man up to your apartment. Shutting his door aggressively he sighed and poured himself a generous amount of whiskey before sinking onto his couch, contemplating calling one of the girls he had seen recently.

He could hear your footsteps above him and thankfully they grew fainter as you moved to the bedroom. Taking a deep swig he lit up a cigarette, mouth twitching in annoyance. He knew he was being hypocritical but seeing someone else with their hands all over you made his blood boil. He took a deep drag from his cigarette before freezing and exhaling sharply. He could hear your bed frame rattling.

Practically downing his drink he knew it wouldn’t take the edge off, the only thing that could soothe him tonight would be you. As he angrily puffed at his cigarette he paused, in all the time you had lived above him he couldn’t remember having to listen to you fuck someone else, had he just been ignorant to your activities or had you never brought anyone back before.

Getting up for more whiskey he sighed running a hand over his face, he was such an idiot. He couldn’t believe he let you see all of those girls leaving his apartment, though did it even matter to you? He didn’t know, part of him hoped it did but another part realized if it did matter to you then that made him a massive asshole. He was so focused on his thoughts he hadn’t realized that the rhythmic scraping noises had stopped. It wasn’t until he finished his cigarette that he realized your apartment was quiet. Pausing he listened more intensely, he thought for sure he was going to have to listen to you cry out in pleasure as you had been very vocal in the car.

Hearing footsteps and noises that were decidedly not fucking he frowned, puzzled, as he sat there until he heard what sounded like the two of you leaving the apartment. Sure enough a minute later he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs and the lobby door opening. He frowned, he was sure of the noises he heard but they had only lasted a few minutes, there was no way you had gotten off that quickly. Hesitantly he made his way to the lobby and watched through the frosted glass as a cab pulled up and the blurry figures standing outside came together in a kiss before the taller one walked off.

You lit up a cigarette at frustrated tears filled your eyes. Not only had you not cum, your body still humming desperately, the whole time this man was fucking you the only thing you could think of was Javi - which was the exact opposite of what you were trying to achieve. Frustration filled your body at the thought that Javier was moving on with his life like normal and here you were hung up on a man who had no idea your feelings for him. Taking a deep drag you felt a tear slip from your eye and a moment later the door opened to reveal Javier. You frantically turned your head to the side, trying to hide what you were sure was a miserable expression on your face.

When he called your name you shook your head in response though this only caused him to worry and in a second he was at your side. His hands gripped your bare elbows tightly, voice coming out in a deep growl “Did he hurt you cariño? I’ll kill him I swear.”

You sharply turned to him, a small smile filling your face at his protective nature. You weakly responded,”No, it’s nothing like that he was a gentleman. I just...”

You trailed off not knowing what to say, I mean what could you say ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you and thought screwing a stranger would distract me but I wished it was you the whole time’ that would go over well. So, Instead of coming up with anything productive to say you took another deep inhale of your cigarette, tilting your head so you wouldn’t blow smoke in Javi’s face.

In your silence Javier’s hand slid to your back, lightly trailing up your spine as he murmured “Did he make you cum hermosa?”

You shivered at both his touch and his voice, eyes darting to meet his darkened pools. Entranced you shook your head as his other hand came to wipe a stray tear away. He pulled you closer to him as his voice dropped to a whisper as he asked, “would you like to?”

A whine left your throat as you needily breathed out “Yes”

Then he was cupping the back of your head and tugging you into a slow sensual kiss. You responded eagerly though he kept his pace leisurely and you let out a low moan as his tongue swiped at your lips. Parting your lips he slipped his tongue in light and teasing before he pulled back, leaving you chasing his mouth. A deep chuckle left him as he gently pulled you back into your building and he took a drag from the cigarette he had stolen from your fingers while kissing you.

Javier walked into his apartment moving to extinguish the cigarette and you followed tentatively. You were suddenly nervous entering his apartment, even though you had spent most nights here for the past two weeks it suddenly felt so intimate. The last time you two had been together it was so spur of the moment there wasn’t time to think about what was happening. Now all you could focus on was what was about to happen and your mind moved to all the girls you had watched leave this very apartment, how could you even compare to all of them. You startled out of your thoughts at the sound of music, Javi having turned on his radio before making his way over to you.

You stayed frozen to the spot, staring with wide eyes as your partner walked over towards you. As if sensing your tension Javi gently took your hand in his and the other came to rest on your waist, pulling you slightly closer he began to sway you to the beat of the music.

At this you started to relax, dancing made sense and dancing you could deal with. As you softened in his arms and began to mimic his movements he allowed himself to take lead in a basic salsa. You smiled up at him with a teasing, “I didn’t know you could dance Agent Peña”

“Oh, I know how to dance” he quipped back before turning the two of you in a slow circle, when you followed without problem he started to test the waters with a few more complicated steps. As you continued following his lead he cocked his head, “Now either I’m missing something or you spend a lot of time in clubs, how do you know how to salsa so well?”

You laughed responding, “I used to dance at home, I did ballroom for a long time so I had a leg up when it came to learning. So you don’t have to hold back if you really wanna lead.”

At your words a devilish smirk lit up Javier’s face and he pulled you closer as he let himself flow to the music leading you in a spectacular array of moves, you had a feeling he just wanted to show off. It was exhilarating dancing with him, he was an excellent lead always hinting where you would go next before the move and a smile covered your your face at the freeing sensation of letting go.

When the song ended you reluctantly parted as the announcer started talking, Javi turned towards the kitchen calling over his shoulder to see if you wanted a drink.

As you were about to respond the next song came on and you instead asked, “Javi do you know bachata??”

Starting into the rhythm - three steps to one side and a hip raise then repeat the other way - you danced with yourself as Boca Rosa filled his living room. Javier had come back at your question a stern look on his face, he knew that you had definitely learned bachata in clubs and was intent on questioning just how many strange men you had danced with, until he watched the sway of your hips. The drinks in his hand were quickly set aside in favor of coming to pull you into him. You easily fell into the sensual closeness of the dance, Javi’s knee coming between your legs and you went back and forth for a few beats before a growl built in his throat. Spinning you forward away from him he then pulled you back to him so your back was pressed firmly to his chest. As you continued the basic step his hand rested on your ribs just below your chest, the other pushing your hand to swing around and rest on the back of his head. His face pressed into your neck as your hips rubbed against his, he couldn’t help the possessiveness that overcame him as he growled out, “Do you dance like this with other men cariño, did you dance with him like this?”

Grinding his hardening cock into your ass you whined when both his hands came to your hip as you swayed to the beat before he spun you away again. Once you were facing him again he grabbed your wrists trailing your own hands up your body and tugging you firmly back into him. You were practically kissing, noses bumping, and as his hand rose to bury in the hair at the nape of your neck you couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth. Your upper body swung in a half dip at the firm tug on your hair, Javi’s lips taking the opportunity to trail down your neck nipping lightly. When you came back up he teased at your lips with the quickest brush of his lips before swinging you out to the side and giving you a solo turn before he led you back to him. His leg slipped in between your legs again and in a non-bachata move pressed his thigh hard against the junction of your thighs, a pleased moan leaving your lips. You were already slick and after the mediocre sex you had earlier you had forgone underwear, clit catching as he rubbed his leg back and forth. Once he felt you creating a damp spot he pulled away hungry eyes trailing your body.

“Turn around, bend over the couch arm.”

His tone left no room for debate and you were eager to have him take control after your dance. You could feel your skirt rising as you bent over the couch and you were certain at your angle it was barely covering your wet pussy. You heard a sharp exhale and then large hands were sliding up the back of your thighs. Letting out a small whimper as Javi pushed your dress up over your hips you were unprepared when a hot breath hit your cunt and a yelp flew from your mouth. His hands came to grope at your ass, harshly grabbing handfuls as his mouth covered your lower lips. His experience was obvious as he absolutely devoured your pussy, nipping sucking and licking in all the right ways. Trying to hold back the noises that were pushing at your lips, the sheer amount of noise you were involuntarily producing was embarrassing, you only allowed small whimpers out. At this a loud clap rang out as Javi brought a hand down on your ass, instantly soothing the sting with gentle strokes of his hand. He pulled away slightly to growl out, “Let me hear you hermosa, you sound perfect”, before diving back into your pussy intent on making you cum.

Your mouth fell open in pleasure letting your noises flow freely and when a hand came to play with your clit your noises grew to pleas as your orgasm rapidly approached. Whining you arched back towards him, burying his face further in your cunt and another slap to your ass had you falling apart as the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the slight pain. Javier’s name flew out of your mouth as you almost sobbed from the pent up release, you ground back against his mouth and you felt him moan into you. He continued to play with your clit prolonging your pleasure as you heard him undoing his belt.

He finally pulled away once he was satisfied he licked up every bit of your cum and started unbuttoning his shirt. Hazy with pleasure you stood, wobbly in the heels you still hadn't removed and turned towards him to assist in removing his clothing.

As his shirt was ripped off you bit your lip and moved closer in order to pull him into a searing kiss, body heating again at finally being able to see him bare before you. Before he could deepen the kiss you pulled away trailing your lips down his neck, down his sternum and finally allowed yourself to nip your way down his stomach.

Landing on your knees before him you tugged his zipper down before pulling his pants down. You were surprised when his cock sprang free, it seemed you weren’t the only one going commando tonight and you licked your lips at the way his cock bobbed in front of you. Biting your lip your hand rose to stroke him gently, the other hand teasing at his balls.

A moan flew past Javi’s lips as you kissed his tip and what sounded like a low whimper came from him as you licked up and down his length getting him nice and wet before you finally took him in your mouth. Teasingly you kept a slow pace, only taking his tip, until a hand buried itself in your hair and Javi’s deep voice commanded ‘enough teasing, cariño’. You gave him the best innocent look you could when his dick was in your mouth before starting a faster pace, this time taking as much of him as you could. He was long and you couldn't fit him all in your mouth, hand stroking the portion left out, choking slightly whenever you would eagerly take him too deep. Whenever he hit the back of your throat his hips involuntarily bucked forward and stuttered gasps flew from his mouth. You knew you would absolutely hold yourself there, choking on his thick length as long as you could keep hearing those noises he was making. You kept your pace for a few minutes, varying how long you held him in your mouth sucking lightly until you bobbed your head again, before he pulled you off and you looked at him confused, his eyes were practically black in need as he purred out, “When I cum it’s going to be in your tight little pussy hermosa, are you wet enough for me?”

Reaching a hand between your legs he groaned in appreciation to find you absolutely soaked for him. Pulling you into a deep kiss he backed you up to the couch though rather than setting you down right away he allowed his hands to slide under your dress and gently tugging it over your head, moan leaving his throat as you were fully exposed to him. His hands traced your body reverently as he soaked in every inch of your skin, your name leaving his lips delicately before he whispered “You’re so beautiful, you know that cariño?”

He captured your mouth in another passionate kiss as he lowered you onto the couch, making sure your head was resting comfortably as he situated himself in between your thighs. Once you were settled he teased the tip of his cock up and down your slit, thumbing at your clit, drenching his cock in your juices. Your back arched slightly desperate for him to stop teasing, instead a small smirk found his face as he tapped his cock against your clit sending sparks down your spine. Your hands grasped at his arms as a pleading look crossed your face whining his name out desperately.

Both of you moaned as he gave in and slid his hard length into you, pushing until his hips were flush against yours and you were filled to the brim with him. You were convinced you would never see anything more beautiful than Javier Peña throwing his head back in pleasure at the way your walls clenched around him and the way his neck tensed made you want nothing more than to suck a mark into his tanned skin.

He started pumping into you slowly but every thrust was deep, hitting spots in you that you were certainly no one else had ever touched. His hands stayed on your thighs, squeezing slightly as he steadily pumped into you, and his dark eyes roamed your body savoring everything you shared with him. His whole face twitched in pleasure as his hand relocated to rub lightly at your clit and your walls clenched around him, the sight of his hard length disappearing into your soaking cunt causing his breathing to become ragged.

Before the sight could make him cum prematurely he leaned down to capture your lips as he picked up his pace, the thrusts were still deeper strokes than fast ones but it was effective, your orgasm building quickly within your lower stomach. Your hand buried in his hair as he broke the kiss to groan out lightly and you nuzzled into his neck, nipping lightly before sucking slightly. This caused Javi's hips to stutter as he whimpered your name out, voice raising slightly and your body buzzed in pleasure at his broken sounds.

You sucked a mark into his neck, biting gently, while he picked up the pace and as your tits started bouncing in time with his thrusts he arched his neck in order to suck a nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your nipple and as it hardened he lightly tugged it with his teeth, you whined at his treatment and he repeated his actions on the other side. Your walls fluttered around him more rapidly now as his hips slapped up against yours, cock slipping in and out coated in your juices as he neared his peak as well.

Pulling away and sitting up straight Javier watched you as you got closer to to your orgasm, the new position allowed him to rock deep into you even faster. He shifted your legs so the one pressing into the couch back was now resting on his shoulder as he pounded into you. As soon as the leg was secure his hand flew to lightly grip your neck, not cutting off your air supply but just resting there reminding you that he was in charge, his neck straining at the exertion as he slammed in and out of you. As your back arched in pleasure a growl left his throat as he pressed, “He didn’t fuck you like this did he? He can’t fuck you like I can cariño. After this you won't be able to fuck anyone without thinking of me.”

His words lit your body up as you cried out for him, writhing as your pleasure started to reach its peak. Sensing this his hand tightened slightly in order to slam his cock into your drenched cunt even faster, breath coming out in harsh pants, his other hand grasping at your tits playing with your nipples. As he thrust into you he ground out, “You have such a tight little pussy, you take me so well cariño. You’re absolutely soaked filthy girl and all for me, who does this cunt belong to? Tell me baby”

His words sparked your submissive side and you cried out “You Javi! I’m all yours, my pussy is all for you Javier!”

You squeezed him tight as you teetered on the edge though you couldn’t quite tip over it, desperate you grabbed his hand that was rolling your nipple lightly and pushed it towards your clit before grabbing his wrist and squeezing tight nails digging into him, desperate for an anchor. Javier breathed out rapidly as his hand shot down to your clit and firmly tapped with his fingers. The light sting mixed with his firm commanding words of “Cum for me hermosa, cum all over my cock and I’ll fill up your tight cunt” was enough to shove you over the edge.

You were vaguely aware of hoarsely screaming his name as your back arched high, eyes squeezing shut. You grew impossibly tight around him and his hips stuttered as he began to coat your walls with ropes of his cum. He pinched lightly at your clit and your walls fluttered rapidly, a heavy shocks shooting through your body, milking his cock as he spurted into you. You saw white at your prolonged pleasure and you felt something wet at the corner of your eyes, which you realized were tears of pleasure as you started to come down.

Both of you stayed frozen, chests heaving as you fought to regain your breath, his hand moved to rest on your sternum lightly tracing your collarbone.

After you both became aware of your surroundings after floating down from your highs he gently eased your leg off of his shoulder and you had a feeling you were going to be sore. A dazed smile came over your face as you softly pulled him towards you to share a kiss. You couldn’t hide the affection that shone in your eyes as you took in his blissful face. As you shared another kiss he stroked your face softly before sighing into your lips, pressing his face to the side of yours he spoke your name hesitantly.

“If you ever need to...blow off steam like this again you come to me.”

His words made your heart beat faster but not wanting to get your hopes up you muttered jokingly, “you’re still inside me and you’re worried about next time?”

You tried to turn your head to look at him but he gently held your face in place before speaking quietly again. “I’m serious, if you don’t want to let me know but, if you want me, I need to hear you say you’ll come to me.”

You could tell that he wasn’t comfortable with this conversation, he had said once emotions weren’t his strong suit, so you responded quickly. “I’ll come to you Javi, as long as you’ll have me.”

You felt like there was something else he wanted to say but instead he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and your eyes slid shut happily. Slipping his softened cock out of you a whimper left you as you felt his cum start to leak out of you.

Javier swore at the sight, cock twitching in interest and he wanted nothing more than to gently finger his dripping cum back into you but he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered “Let me clean you up hermosa, I’ll be right back”

He disappeared before returning with a cloth to gently clean you up, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he worked, he couldn't help but lick one stripe up your pussy tasting himself on you and causing your whole body to shake as an aftershock flew through you.

Pulling away he grabbed the drinks he had discarded earlier and took a swig before offering one to you. You accepted it, throat hoarse from all the use it got - you prayed Javier’s walls were decently soundproof. Shifting up you let out a groan when you realized how tired you were. At your noise Javi looked at you and gently grabbed the blanket strewn across the back of the brown couch covering your shoulders with it and questioning softly, “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You shook your head shooting him a another smile, “No, I’m just tired is all. I should probably head to my apartment”

You absolutely hated the idea of leaving him so soon but you didn’t want to impose and so you stood on wobbly legs, cursing the fact that you were still wearing your heels, but before you could get anywhere you were stopped.

Javier gently grasped your wrist and his eyes softened, other hand raising to smooth down some stray hairs on the side of your head before his deep voice met your ears, “You can stay if you want”

You froze not believing what you were hearing and then he spoke again so quiet you barely heard it, “Please stay, I don’t want you to go”

Your heart soared and you smiled broadly nodding happily. You sat back down in order to take off your shoes and as you did Javi’s hand continued to play with your hair. As you smiled sweetly up at him he felt like his heart was going to burst, seeing you with someone else had pushed him to his limit. He knew he was going to have to tell you how he really felt but as he guided you to his bedroom he let a smile cover his face, he could get it right this time.

Seeing you in a spare shirt of his and pressed up against him sleepily pressing a kiss to his chest he knew he wanted more with you. He wanted you to be his girlfriend and for the first time in a long time he could see a life beyond Colombia, settling down with you and if you wanted starting a family. Pulling you closer to him he drifted off into sleep Javier knew he would have to ask you to be his girlfriend, but for now you agreeing not to see anyone else was enough.

[tintinwrites]

Sunday Morning With Pedro Characters but I’m Only Slightly an Asshole to the Characters

I love Pedro and everyone’s fics and headcanons for him and I’m kind of nice in this one anyway.

Agent Whiskey

you have brunch every Sunday and yes it is at Denny’s

it’s a little nice, though, listening to the mixed conversations of all the other people in the restaurant as the two of you quietly enjoy a meal

Jack keeps smiling across the table at you and it makes something in you flutter

“You make a man like myself enjoy Sunday morning like a black-bellied whistlin’ duck enjoys a quiet swim in the crick.”

you’re not sure how much a black-bellied whistling duck enjoys a quiet swim in the crick, but he reaches across the table to hold your hand over your Grand Slam and runs his thumb gently over your skin and you then understand everything about black-bellied whistling ducks

brunch is followed by a drive in that thing he calls a car

sometimes you go back to your or his place and canoodle (his words, not yours), but then there are times when he parks his car in a secluded little spot and you “come across the goods” (HIS WORDS, NOT YOURS) in the backseat

Sunday mornings with him are relaxed, but you are going to end up with your legs above your head thanks to that Southern charm

Comandante Veracruz

he sleeps in for an entire half hour

wakes you up with a smack to the ass so hard you wake up in another dimension

you mumble something to him about being a normal human being as he presses sucking, biting kisses along the side of your neck

“Your breakfast is ready.”

you know exactly what he means don’t even pretend you don’t it’s pressing into your thigh

and you suck his dick bc it’s fun and it makes him real soft afterwards (in two ways!)

he pounds two orgasms out of you with his fingers then gets up to get ready for his day

Sunday mornings with him are sexual obvs and then you lay in bed watching him gel his hair until he pats your ass and tells you to get up

Dave York

he’s never in bed when you wake up and that includes on Sundays

always sitting over a desk working on something that he won’t tell you about

it doesn’t really matter that you’re wearing his favorite sexy little nightgown and pouting in the doorway bc he doesn’t even look at you

“Go for a walk or something, I’m busy.”

you usually end up alone eating bland af eggs bc he doesn’t own seasonings since, and you quote, “Salt is spicy enough.”

but then he comes into the dining room with a self-satisfied smirk and he kisses your temple and takes you over the dining table real quick

do i mean quick

Sunday mornings with him are lonely and then sweaty...so sweaty...you don’t understand how he can sweat so much from thirty seconds of sex

Din Djarin

whatever the Star Wars equivalent of Sunday is, no one is the same with Din

sometimes you’re with him on a hunt for a bounty, sometimes you’re alone on the Razor Crest to watch the Child as he works, and then there are your favorites

no bounties, no running, just a handful of credits and some good food and lodging on the nearest good planet

“He likes it here.”

this is something Din muses as he watches the kid play with other younglings or explore or happily eat a new food

but sometimes you look up to find he’s staring at you as he says it and you wonder if he’s talking about himself without really telling you

you’ll probably tell him you love him on one of these days

Sunday mornings with him are different, but nice just because you’re with him. You especially like the ones where he’s happy and almost calm and let’s you in his room once the Child is asleep

Ezra

you’ve been up for an hour and he’s still passed out, face down in bed, snoring his head off

I don’t know if ‘noon’ exists in this world but that’s when he’ll be up

you’re walking around doing what needs to be done when you see him looking up at you with a little smile

“Your inimitable beauty is even more prominent in this morning light.”

you tell him it’s not morning and roll your eyes when he says he’s hard either way

he seems sleepy but he WILL jump out of bed if you try to walk away and drag you back in with him

yes he eats your pussy without you needing to ask him

Sunday mornings with him are lazy for him as you occupy your time, then both of you stay in bed all lazy until it’s time to go prospecting

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

the only way you’re waking him up before eleven is by wiggling your ass or hips into his dick, depending on the position you were sleeping in

he works hard and Sundays are his day where he does nothing but you

a little sleepy and mumbling things, he’ll take you slowly and sweetly

“G’morning. So beautiful. You like that?”

he’ll make sure you both cum then promptly pass out for another ten minutes

he pads into the kitchen with his hair stuck up all over the place and wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your neck for a few minutes before helping you make breakfast or lunch

you pretty much eat and bang all day

Sunday mornings with him are soft and sensual and the most loving thing e v e r

Javier Peña

you woke up alone before Javi and when you first started sleeping with him

you couldn’t really blame him for being scared of attachments in his line of work. you were scared too

then one day you were shaken from a stakeout and you begged him to stay when he was still inside you, and he started falling asleep in your bed a bit more often

“You need some good dick in the morning?”

he teases you with this when he's sitting up in bed, turned away from you as he takes a drag of a cigarette, and you crawl over to kiss his back

you need him in the morning but you don’t want to scare him off

the two of you usually end up with some sort of pastry or street food for breakfast, which you eat in a comfortable silence

Sunday mornings with him are lonely even when he’s standing right there by the window with a cigarette or a drink, and yet he finally makes your Sundays enjoyable and fulfilling

Marcus Pike

he’s an early riser, but he let’s you sleep as long as you need to when there’s nothing to be done

sometimes he accidentally wakes you up a little when he’s kissing your nose for the eight time and he quickly backs away to let you fall back asleep

he does try to wake you up before noon just to be sure you eat something, presenting you with some kind of breakfast whether he made it or bought it from the nearest cafe

“Hey, sleepyhead. You need to eat something, beautiful.”

you nibble on a doughnut or a bagel as you lean into his chest, and he mostly steals bites because it makes you laugh

morning sex with Marcus is the best sex with Marcus

okay any sex with Marcus is the best sex with Marcus because he cares so much about your pleasure but morning sex is so soft and gentle

Sunday mornings with him are like...a breeze on an empty beach with the waves crashing gently on the shore. Perfect. Also he wants to give you a life, and a home, and a family if you want it

Maxwell Lord

wakes up at six AM exactly, works on his hair until seven, and is in a suit and downstairs by 7:15

he reads the paper. the business pages. yes.

you come down to the kitchen at eight and as you gently tell his personal chef what you’d like to eat, he snaps his fingers at them to speed it up

“Someone’s lazy today. Where are my slippers?”

he’s a fuckin jerk but hey he puts his hand on your thigh as you eat breakfast and maybe his thumb rubs little circles sometimes

your Sunday sex is scheduled for 9:30 and he will do it wherever he’s flexible and there’s enough mirrors in the house for it to work for him

the one day of the week he decides you can orgasm tbh

Sunday mornings with him are rich. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like being married to a rich man in 1954. There’s waffles.

Max Phillips

this man wakes up pretty damn early for a vampire thanks to his executive bullshit

an actual Sim who stands in front of the mirror for an hour practicing his speech

he finds blood to drink somewhere and you just let him as long as it’s not from you

“Selling is service. Service is selling. Sex sells. Oh, hey!”

that’s him realizing you’re standing there and thinking about sex with you

he mentions making a sex tape of the two of you to sell and you ask if he even shows up on film and the boy POUTS

a handjob fixes that tho so

Sunday mornings with him are...interesting.

Oberyn Martell

you’re probably still fucking from Saturday night

I don’t even know if days of the week exist in Game of Thrones thanks

there are other people in the room including Ellaria so it’s not just you and him alone

“I’m starving for you.”

yes he eats pussy for breakfast and someone else is probably sucking on your titties

you’ll probably end up sucking his dick for your own breakfast

and you’ll be riding him too

Sunday mornings with him are like any other morning with him; fuckin’.

Pero Tovar

he wakes up an hour before sunrise

doing men’s work I DO NOT KNOW WHAT MEN DO

you wake up and make him his breakfast because that’s what a good 1100′s wife does

“Good morning, woman.”

he eats like he’s angry at the food but you know he loves it

there wasn’t much to do back then so some good ole baby-making sex is next

then you cook his second breakfast duh

Sunday mornings with him are very Middle Ages.

[internalsealpanic]

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (1) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary:  Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.

The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.  

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do: 

Your skin itches as you make your way through the crowd. It wasn't the suit. After all, Alfred Pennyworth was incapable of doing wrong. It was the sea of hands patting your back, petting your head, and pinching your cheeks made every inch of skin want to slough off. Tim owed you. He owed you big time. Then again he's back at the manor tackling your physics project and making sure Gotham doesn't set itself on fire while Batman is on  ‘vacation’.

You should be fine. It’s not like Brucie asked you to investigate a suspected criminal who also happens to be Roman Sionis’ heir. Nope, no pressure there. Thanks Bruce. You’re clad in blue contacts, a black wig, makeup, and a stolen suit. As safe as you felt in someone else's skin, you still felt like you were gonna fall over. Maybe it's because you were dumb enough not to bring your cane.

The room was dizzyingly full of people. Your mind goes haywire. Jumping from one mind to the next. Dipping into every emotion it could stick itself into. It was almost overwhelming enough for you to forget about the ache in your leg. You knew this night was gonna be far longer than you could stand.  You needed a drink. Or 9.

"Hey, no drinking! You're underaged!" Dick nearly shrieked, plucking your fifth(?) flute of champagne. You wouldn't be in a few months. Really he was being quite unreasonable to the drunk person in front of him. Looking him dead in the eyes,  you wave another server over and take 2 flutes of champagne.  "I'm fine Dick. I've drunken harder stuff than this."

"No," Dick said firmly snatching the 2 flutes from your hand.

"Big bro pleeeaaasee" You drawl sweetly knowing Dick was a sucker for that move.  Dick tries to look unmoved but you could see in the slump of his shoulders that he wanted to give in.  "I'm having an episode," The word episode felt strange and wrong but there really was no other way to describe it. "and I don't have any painkillers on me." You added hastily.  

"Fiiine-" Dick whines, resolve crumbling to dust. Handing back only one flute of champagne, he scolds: "Just don't get shit faced. We're here on a mission."

"Yes, motheeeer,"

Without missing a beat, you down it, feeling the tearing in your head beginning to fade.

"Jesus, calm down," Dick said taking the now empty flute from you.  

You are less than surprised by the fact that he isn't fazed by being called mother at this point. It might just be the alcohol. The Powers might not understand the concept of fun but they sure do have taste in alcohol.

While Dick lectures you on safe alcohol consumption and Babs laughs unhelpfully, You feel the press of another person's mind.  The other 2 seem to notice it too. Being pulled out of their reverie, they turn to greet them.

"Target at 2'oclock" Babs whispers but your mind had for some reason forgotten how English worked. Instead, it drifted to the simple mind coming closer to them. Almost too quickly,  you dropped down to your knees. Your joints complained but you could feel your mind smooth as you placed a gentle hand on the dog's fur.

The dog whuffs with glee as if to say "Yes! There! Pat there!".

Absorbed in the dog's uncomplicated happiness, you began to piece yourself back together and the pain in your head receded.

" Who's a good girl? You are! You are!"

The dog yips happily. Its smooshed face pressing into your hand. You forget the party until-

Dick coughs clearing his throat, laughter bright in his blue eyes.

You, for the first time, notice the person beside the dog. It was their target, Jason Sionis,  stretching out his hand to shake yours.  

"Oh- Uh- it's just your dog- She's- Hi, I'm Tim Drake." you shoot up to shake his hand. You notice the patches of scabs and scars on his knuckles. You’re pretty sure Dick or Tim could give him a run for his money if they didn't have makeup on. Though that just might speak more to their-as Damian puts it- incompetence.

Your eyes flicker to Dick momentarily as he tries so hard not to laugh.

"Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance," Jason says flatly as he turns his attention to Dick and Babs for a more coherent discussion.  You weren’t entirely certain that you offended him but you were probably close.

You want to say that it's his eyes that you notice first. They were a striking shade of ultramarine,  a terrifying facsimile of the ocean. They made you shudder. You would have rather noticed how nicely he filled out his suit. The man was made of muscle under that well-tailored suit.  You file the image for further appreciation later.  But, unfortunately, you are far too accustomed to checking your brothers for wounds for your eyes to not immediately flicker towards the scar on his face. It takes everything in you not to stare at the scar cleaving down the flesh of his cheek rigging the right side of his face into a permanent grin. Thankfully, he leaves them saying something about having business somewhere else.

Sure, the guy falls into Gotham’s pattern of ruining your face and turning to a life of crime but so far he hasn’t really shown anything concrete.   Plus, he’s really nice to his dog. No one that nice to a dog could possibly be the Red Death, Black Mask’s shiniest, and rumored to be his most brutal, new enforcer. Then again, your mother always did treat Anatoli like a king.

"Tim was right. You can act like him. You even got him shoving his own foot in his mouth down pat. Great job. " Dick chuckles patting you on the shoulder jostling you out of your thoughts.

You sigh. "The next time I go undercover I'm going alone. I don't even know why you're here."

"I think you've demonstrated why."  

You- annoyed, embarrassed, and feeling the marching in your skull coming back- jab "Alright Fabio , you befriend Mr.Pretty boy-" .  

"That's pretty mean eve-"

"I didn't mean it to be mean-"you honestly didn't but you were byelingual at this point.  "-I think he's pretty. Scars are sexy and all of that carp. "

"I am very concerned."  

"You should be. I'm out of booze and the dog just walked away. " you hissed rubbing the side of your head before stomping off to look for more drinks.

You feel your head jack rabbiting again. The staff had, as per some evil person's request (Likely Dick or maybe Babs), cut you off from the booze. You find yourself wandering around until your feet take you outside. The cool night air and the nearly freezing bricks sooth you warmed skin as you slide against it.  

"What? Did you come out 'ere to watch my dog piss?" a slightly familiar baritone voice chuckled.  

"As fun as that sounds, I just escaped Dick Grayson. I believe that, in itself, is reason enough to go outside and take in the 'fresh' Gotham night air. " you snark, looking up expecting him to grin at you but was greeted with a look of concern. You’ve seen it before. Your hand almost automatically makes its way to your nose.  You felt a thick liquid brush against the pads of your fingers. If you looked at them, you’d likely see them covered in blood.

You shrug and brush your deep red sleeve against your face. You probably didn't get all of it based on the crooked grin on his face.

"Shit kid, they'll think I punched you." Jason chuckles good-naturedly. You know he's not nervous. He’s charming enough to talk his way out of it.

"Relax, Dick will likely say I deserved it if they do think you punched me but that is highly unlikely seeing these episodes are an open secret after I bled on Mrs. Yavorski's satin dress a few years ago. "  

"Well, in that case, you want a smoke? Should take the edge off." Jason says it as a joke holding out a pack of cigarettes to you. Everyone knows Wayne kids are good kids.

You, feeling particularly cheeky, take the cigarette between his lip and take a long drag, inhaling and letting your eyes slide close.

He makes a quiet choking noise. Away from the sea of minds, you can feel his eyes on you. Wide and disbelieving. A cocktail of interest, embarrassment, excitement, and delight swirls in his mind. It might have been attraction or it might just have been amusement. You shouldn't be too surprised by the reaction. Tim is quite the knock out even when he looks dead on his feet. His confusion only lasts five seconds before you cough out   "Christ, it's just as bad as Bruce said it was."

You hand him back the cigarette laughing and coughing into your sleeve.

"So, did your brother tell you to apologize?" He says, clearing his throat not really looking you in the eyes. You can still see the faint speck of color on his face.

"Well,  he didn't say it. He doesn’t really have to and I do have manners contrary to popular belief. Plus! In my defense, your dog is cute. "

"Lizzie is, isn't she?" Jason smiles patting Lizzie on her head. It was a soft gesture. Something you really didn't expect from a supposedly hardened criminal let alone someone raised by Roman Sionis.

You crouch down to Lizzie's level and put your hands on the dog's face. Lizzie happily nuzzles into your hands.  

"You have a dog?"

" Depends, does Dick count?"

Jason snorts. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Not when I'm drunk and bleeding, no."

"How drunk are you?"

You mime counting.  "As far as Dick knows, I'm 1 to 2 flutes drunk. As far as the staff knows, I'm 7 flutes drunk."

"I should probably get you back to your brother then" Jason laughs, pulling you by the arm. You notice for the first time just how big his hands really are.  

"No, I-"

Gunshots. Pain. Panic. They ring in equal measure to you as a black van pulls up in the alley.

"Fuck! Box!"

A man in a dark suit crumples to the ground. You recognize him. He was part of Jason's security team. In a flurry of movement, Jason's by his side. You think he's checking the injuries- which in your opinion is at once the smartest and dumbest move you could do in this situation- but he-is in fact-checking for a gun.  

Gun in hand, Jason begins shooting at the men.

You think to grab a stray brick or something but you knew your best chance was to crouch low and maybe convince Jason to do the same. But based on the murder radiating from him, that was highly unlikely.

Lizzie runs out in front of them to protect Box and Jason. It goes as well as expected.  

Lizzie whines into your touch. The tendrils of your mind desperately trying to keep Lizzie there. You want to scream. Your mind surges trying to dip into someone else but Jason's anger and grief consume you. You want to charge at them, rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb. But it's Jason who does it. His body launches forward faster than you could speak.

The men in masks were just as fast. One of them incapacitates him with a well-placed metal pipe to the head. His whole body hits the pavement with one loud thud. Your breath catches.  

"There's two of them,"

"What do you mean there's two of them?"

"The boss said black hair, blue eyes, and a fucked up face"

"Did he say what kind of fucked up?"

"Not really"

You want to squawk about how nosebleeds don't really count. Given,  it is bleeding like it’s auditioning to be the next Niagara falls.

"Just take them both!" barks a rough voice from the van.  

You think to make a break for it but fast as you are(not really). Your head was still ringing and you couldn't really take them out on your own.

You hold your hands up in surrender. "I'll go quietly. I know the drill. "

The men look at each other clearly confused by your cooperation but not really willing to question it.

They throw cuffs on your wrist and literally throw you into the van like a sack of potatoes. Not that they treat Jason any better. He looks dizzy and pale.

"Are you-"

With a heave, he throws up on "your" shoes. You want to laugh. You really do. You also just want to cry.  

Tim is going to kill you. No, Alfred will. If you’re lucky-which you never are- Dick will suffocate you with a hug before they ever get to you.  

Maybe just maybe, the kidnappers will do it for you.

Yeah, right.

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House Part 5.1

Vikings College AU, Dom/sub/Dom 

This fic is so far away from canon that it should be accessible to anyone that can imagine being in college and wanting to be submissive to two hot frat bros at the same time. Read from the beginning here

Ivar x Reader, Ubbe x Reader

In this installment: Ubbe is finally getting his turn with you! Hope this scene gets us all back in the mood, warnings for mention of choking kink, public sex

Previous scene

You’re definitely distracted the entire next day. It’s Friday, and you had plans to go shoe shopping with your friends. After that it was a flurry of pre-gaming and dressing up for a house party which was supposed to be a real rager. Prior to last night, these events had been things you had looked forward to. Now, it’s hard to focus on anything your friends have to say. You float from one pre-arranged plan to the next, all the while just dreaming of Ivar’s hands, and Ubbe’s eyes.

Things had changed last night, and yet they hadn’t. The arrangement in your apartment was still, essentially, what it had always been. It’s just that now you’re getting orgasms out of it. You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to feel about the two boys now, though. And you find it too hard to explain the situation to your friends, so you can’t even get their take on it. You’re sitting together on the big couch at this house party now, and you still can’t imagine just how to begin to talk about what happened last night. You shift in your seat as surreptitiously as you can, ass still sore. You’re not sure they would get it. No one else seems to share this submissive little kink you have. It would be a long fucking night, to get these girls to understand well enough to be there for you.

Your friend Lauren bumps your side and points toward the door. “Isn’t that your roommate?” You feel a slight rushing in your ears as you see the tall blonde frame of Ubbe Lothbrok shouldering his way into the place.

“He just graduated, yeah?” asks Sonya, who’s sitting on your other side.

“Mhm,” you nod quickly. Your limbs are tingling as you can’t help but think about where his hand had been the last time you saw him.

“He’s cute.” Sonya waits a beat. “He seeing anyone?”

You shake your head, faintly. He had made some kind of declaration of his intentions toward you last night, hadn’t he? And yet if you bring this up to the girls, you’d need to talk about Ivar, too, and there’d be so much to explain.

Lauren saves you. “What, Sonya, I thought you were into that guy Aethelred.”

She leans back, contrite. “I am. I just… Oh! I forgot to tell you! Last week I ran into him at the gym, and his form was all off on his deadlifts. He was about to really hurt himself. So I went over there…”

Sonya went on, telling yet another story about how easy it is for her to talk to boys, and how she has no problem telling other people what to do. Usually you love that about her, but today it’s just making it harder for you to imagine she could understand the nuances of your own situation.

Your eyes rush back to find Ubbe. He’s already staring at you, even as he pretends to be engaged with the short blonde girl that’s greeting him. Your hand freezes before you can wave him over. You don’t really want your friends to hear whatever he might have to say, given the dark look in his eyes. And you’re hesitant to expose him to Sonya’s current mood.

As he moves through the party, you keep meeting each others’ eyes. There’s no nod, no smile, no greeting or invitation of any kind. Something deeper than that kind of politeness is going on, and it fills you with a bubbling anticipation even as it glues you to your seat.

He disappears through the door to the balcony.

You had already been hopelessly distracted; now it’s impossible to be even sitting still, faking it and nodding along with your friends. Now one of the boys is actually here, and though you can’t see him right now you somehow feel him, a seething presence dragging your eyes over and over toward that balcony door. Your heart jumps every time another body walks through it, though it’s never him.

You don’t even make an excuse for yourself when you finally stand. Maybe your friends can guess what’s going on, maybe the don’t have a clue, but you’ll just have to tell them the whole story later. Not now. Now is the time to step out onto that balcony.

The night air is only a little bit cooler than the packed room inside. There’s a trio of people you don’t know standing right outside the door; you step forward and lean over the railing, pretending you just came out the check the view, get a little fresh air. There’s no one to your left, and to your right you can’t quite see past the group of students chattering excitedly. You catch them saying the word ‘refills,’ and then they’re pushing past you back into the loud party.

Ubbe’s leaning into the dim corner at the far end of the balcony. Whoever he had been talking to must have left him out here to finish his smoke. He doesn’t say anything at first, just takes another drag, the cherry blazing on his inhale with about the same heat that the sight of him makes you feel between your legs. “Hey.”

You turn your body toward him, still leaning on the railing, trying to look casual. “Hey.”

He reaches out to flick his ash over the edge, but doesn’t take his eyes off yours. “If I tell you to come here by me now, would you do it?”

You take a deep breath, already nervous about what might happen. It immediately feels like you’re back in the darkened living room, the last time he made this request. “Try it and find out.”

Ubbe sucks on his cigarette again, lip curling into a smirk that looks a little heavy, a little bitter. He looks down at the tip, mostly burned down, and tosses it into the alley below. Then his low voice rumbles the command at you. “Come here.”

You walk over slowly. You’re not dressed as sexy as a French Maid costume now, but the scoop-necked sleeveless top and pencil skirt you’re rocking tonight are pretty flattering. Ubbe’s eyes rove over you as you approach, like they did that morning he found you on your hands and knees in his kitchen. You stop when you’re just about within arm’s reach of him, leaning on your elbow against the balcony railing and waiting to see what he’ll do.

Ubbe steps away from the wall, moving in close. The only good word to describe what he’s doing is ‘looming,’ as he stands up way too straight, way too close to you.

You let out an involuntary, nervous laugh. He’s not saying anything so you let your gaze float off the edge of the balcony, exploring the entirely boring alley below. “Nice night out here.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” Ubbe counters.

Your eyes flash up to meet his. His face is a little ragged, a little wild.

“The way you looked, under that fluffy skirt.”

Two guys step out through the balcony door, the screen sliding loud in its track. Ubbe puts an arm around you, not really grabbing you, just reaching for the railing behind your body and shifting his weight to put himself between you and the other partygoers.

He drops his face closer to yours, making sure no one else can hear what he’s saying. “Do you know how hard it is to hide a hard-on in business slacks?” he asked, his voice just a little reproachful. “I could barely get up from my desk all day.”

Some sort of strangled, chortling noise comes out of your throat as your pussy explodes at that particular mental image. You lean back against the railing behind you.

Ubbe closes the small distance you created right away, caging you in with his hands squeezing the railing to either side of you. One of his legs brushes against your bare thigh. “You like that? Knowing what you did to me?”

You bite your lip, looking up at him shyly. “I don’t want to make you suffer…”

“You don’t?” Ubbe challenges, leaning in closer, bringing his mouth to your ear. His voice drops low and intimate. “I’m going to start touching you now. Unless that’s not okay.”

Ivar’s words ring in your ears. You can do whatever you like with Ubbe. I can tell that it excites you, to become a plaything for both of us. But only, only, when I am not around. You had better not let me catch you with his hands on you. The new rules of the game. One of the many wonderful yet confusing things you’d been mulling over all day. But it means that you don’t have to feel guilty about nodding right now, and breathing a little “yes” against Ubbe’s neck.

A warm and firm hand scoops against your lower back. It’s the kind of touch that might happen during any casual conversation, but this one feels anything but casual. “Speaking of suffering,” Ubbe rumbles, that hand traveling down over the curve of your ass, “I was surprised to see you sitting down when I walked in here. After what I saw last night, I thought for sure you’d be so sore you’d have to stay on your feet, all day long.”

“I couldn’t bear to put on underwear this morning,” you confess.

“Really.” He explores along your cheeks, confirming for himself there are no panty lines. The injuries hidden under the smooth skirt make you exquisitely sensitive to even this light touch. Your breathing speeds up, and you’re sure he can tell from the way you’re exhaling into his neck. “Mmmmm.” The appreciative sound vibrates the shell of your ear. “How does it feel now.”

“Better,” you whisper, a little self-conscious because there are still people out on this balcony with you. A quick glance shows they are paying no attention, however. “Still sensitive.”

Ubbe makes an interested noise at that, and starts pulling up the back of your skirt.

You draw in a slightly scandalized little breath, but you don’t stop him. He’s angled in such a way that no one in the party will be able to see what his hand is doing. His fingertips trace up the back of your thigh once he manages to slip under the hem of the tight skirt. The mild ache of your bruised flesh turns to a prickling even before his touch reaches you there.

“Your skin is still hot,” he observes. He’s tracing little circles on one cheek of your ass, and his lips dip to kiss the side of your neck. “Did you think about me too, today?” he murmurs into your skin between nips. “Or was I suffering alone.”

“I-I did,” you stutter, remembering the idle fantasies of what Ubbe would have done to you had you followed him back into his room last night. His finger is so close now, to the place where you had imagined him assaulting you.

“I hardly got any work done today,” he complains, and nips a bite at your earlobe that he then soothes with a swipe of his tongue. “Just the sight of your pussy, throbbing while you cum, could drive a man insane.”

You moan a little, a tiny sound next to his ear, and hope the other people on the balcony will just go away soon. Then you yelp, much louder, because Ubbe has decided to pinch you right on one of Ivar’s welts, at the fullest part of your ass.

“Sorry, sorry!” He’s laughing at your indignant sound, but you push him away from you anyway. He doesn’t back off very far, trapping your forearms against his chest as he keeps apologizing. “I couldn’t help it.”

The two dudes also hanging out on the balcony are definitely looking at you now. You stick your tongue out at them and then fix Ubbe with an exaggerated glare. “Not nice.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to be nice.”

The other guys on the balcony decide they’d rather be back inside the party.

You can’t think of anything clever to say. While you’re grasping for words your eyes drift down to Ubbe’s mouth, tempting lips framed in a close-cropped beard, and then you don’t need to say anything at all. He leans forward over your trapped arms and kisses you right there, bold as you please.

All awareness of your surroundings drops away. Ubbe’s kiss is firm and confident, and with just a few sucks worked against your lips as he’s already coaxing you to open up to his tongue. The grip of his hands spasms over your wrists, and he uses them to pull you in closer.

When the kiss breaks you stare up at him, watching triumph and curiosity light up his pale eyes. Then, with a playful growl, he tugs at your arms and whirls you around, so your back is against the exterior wall of the apartment. He captures your lips again, hungrier this time. Your head spins as you try to keep up, welcoming the crowd of his body against yours. Ubbe wants you bad. That much is apparent from the heavy drag of his caresses along the sides of your face, the way he can’t seem to make up his mind between tasting you and devouring you with his kisses.

“I’ve been waiting for you to be ready for this”—he cuts himself off in his need to nip at the corner of your jaw—“since Ivar first said the word ‘thrall.’” Ubbe’s teeth scrape down the column of your neck as he pins you into the wall with his hips. He’s panting against your skin, and winding his fingers into your hair. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, nuzzling behind your ear. “Sweet thing. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You draw in a shaky breath of your own. “I think I’m starting to get the idea.”

Ubbe rumbles a laugh into your throat, nipping at you again. “If you can make jokes about it, then no, you don’t have a clue.” He presses you harder into the bricks, his knee firm between your thighs. “I would fuck you right here if it was socially acceptable. Hell, even though it isn’t.” He starts pulling up the side of your skirt.

“Ubbe!”

“Fuck, yes,” he croons. “Love it when you call my name.” His hand slides up your skin, rooting under your skirt shamelessly. You stiffen and he slows. “Let me have just a little taste, while I’ve got you out here.”

You are just about burning up to be touched at this point. While you have no intention of climbing onto his cock out here on this very public balcony, it’s hard to see the harm in a little surreptitious finger play. Something that could be hidden quickly under the pretense of “making out” should anyone interrupt you. You make a yielding noise and relax your legs, angling your hips just a little closer for him.

With a pleased little growl Ubbe recaptures your lips, kissing you deeply as he angles his own hips back far enough to make room for his marauding hand. Something long and hard rubs on your left thigh. Your pencil skirt is so tight that he’s having a hard time getting his hand up high enough underneath it to reach the apex of your thighs. He’s also making the job harder on himself, because he’s started grinding his erection against your thigh, pinning that leg open wider and back against the wall.

You let him struggle to sort it out, enjoying the frenzied feel of his movements, the little grunts that seem equal part pleasure and irritation as he fights no one but himself to get to his prize. Even the slight sting of the way your welted ass is being ground against the brick wall is enhancing the experience, making you feel like a thing that’s been thoroughly used once and is under threat of being thoroughly used again.

When his fingers do finally press up against your pussy, you whimper into Ubbe’s hungry mouth. He pets it once, a curling slide along your outer lips, then presses between them with a twisting motion that has you crying out louder.

You squirm a little, and Ubbe’s other hand is at the top of your chest, holding you steady against the wall. His fingers find the path to your entrance wet and ready, and he slides them in and out slow, up to the knuckle and down again. You hum your pleasure into his kiss. His hand creeps higher on your neck, bridging your throat. It’s a gentle caress, but it makes you think about how amazing it would be if Ubbe were kinky enough to want to choke you.

He pushes your collarbones toward the wall again, while kissing you deeper and vocalizing his eagerness in another growl. You wonder if he even knows he’s teasing you with this pressure near your neck, or if it’s just a mindless side effect of his lust.

The stretch between your legs increases as Ubbe adds another finger. “I know you’re not sore here,” he teases, and thrusts in a little more roughly, “because despite all the abuse you went through last night, no one actually fucked you.”

You get a little defensive of Ivar. “How are you so sure?”

“Because I would have heard you, princess. You’re loud.”

You forgo any kind of response because the movement of Ubbe’s fingers is far more interesting than any conversation. Pleasure blooms up through your core, until it starts to cloud your good sense. You start moving to meet him, fucking yourself over his hand, no longer worried about appearing innocent to anyone that might step out onto this balcony.

But alas, with one particularly ambitious flourish of his fingers inside you, Ubbe withdraws his hand. Pulling his face back only a few inches from your own, he lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them deeply, letting you watch the pleasure light up his eyes at the taste of you.

You slump back into the wall, giving him your best pout. Ubbe grins smugly, then leans in to bite that puffed-out bottom lip.

“Y/N?”

The voice belongs to your friend Sonya. You turn your guilty head and see Lauren crowding behind her, both of them looking more than a little surprised at finding you in such a compromising position out here, crowded into the wall by your upperclassman roommate.

“We, uh,” Lauren says, her apology indicated only by her tone, “we want to go to this other party.” She flashes the screen of her phone vaguely toward you. “It’s kind of lame here.”

“Only for some of us, looks like,” Sonya observes, smiling a little lasciviously at you and Ubbe.

You stand up a little straighter, and Ubbe makes way. “Oh.”

You kind of stare at them for a second, waiting to see if they were saying goodbye or what.

“And you’re our DD.” Sonya might be glad for you and your chance to Get It out here, but she’s also not one who’s willing to let her own plans for the night be inconvenienced by a change in yours.

“Oh. Yeah.” You take a deep breath, running a hand over your cheek as you try to come down a little from this ridiculous high Ubbe was making you feel. You look up at him, apology already ready in your expression. “I guess I’m leaving, now.”

He looks over at your friends for all of one second, then his baby blues are locked back on you. “I’ll drive.”

 Now your friends are crammed into the back seat of Ubbe’s hot little sports car. They would have had more leg room in the back of your vehicle, but there’s no way he would choose to drive that old beater when his own car was right there. And your girls don’t seem to be complaining about showing up to the next party in a ride like this.

You’re in the much roomier front seat, sitting on one hip so you can keep up a conversation with your girls in the back. And maybe also so that you can have an easy excuse to keep looking across at Ubbe. It’s kind of sexy to watch a guy drive, and Ubbe definitely does it with a swagger. His left arm drapes over the top of the wheel, while his right works the stick-shift with precise, powerful little movements that ripple the little muscles in his forearms.

Ubbe keeps stealing glances at you, too. His eyes are heavy with promise; you get the impression of looking at a lion in a cage. One that knows the bars will give way soon, with soft flesh to sink his teeth into on the other side.

A vague anxiety about your friends and one of your crushes together in the same car has turned you suddenly into a chatterbox, though you’re barely cognizant of what you’re even saying. As you prattle on with the girls, Ubbe’s shooting you dark looks at every red light, driving your excitement ever higher.

His hand catches your eye, dropping deliberately to his lap, palm smoothing flat over the hardened length of himself trapped along one thigh inside his pants. The sight of it sends a shock through your belly. Just listening to you giggle, just watching you twist half out of your seat is enough to do that to him? Or is he imagining what he’s going to do to you once he gets his next chance.

The urge to reach over and touch it is almost overwhelming. But the girls would see, wouldn’t they. Ubbe’s fingers and thumb sculpt around the outline of his erection, knowing you’re watching, giving you the tiniest show of him stimulating himself before he scoops it up into a less restrictive angle toward the top of his pants. The light turns green. He shifts gears with his methodical little movements and drives on.

When he pulls up in front of the next house party you’d love to linger, just staring up at him, but your friends can’t get out of the back seat unless you hop out of the two-door car first. So you tear yourself away from Ubbe’s eyes and let them climb through.

Ubbe’s not getting out. Your friends look at you as your gaze flits from the car to them, and back to the car again. “You know what, actually I have to get up kind of early tomorrow,” you tell them. “Family brunch.”

The two of them nod, knowingly.

“You good to find another ride home tonight?”

Lauren loops her arm around Sonya’s. “Sure thing! But you are definitely calling us tomorrow. I can’t take the suspense much longer. You’ve got some stories to tell.”

“Tomorrow,” you agree, your cheeks already heating up. You still have no idea how you’d explain what’s going on in your apartment.

You watch them walk up to the noisy house, the subtle bump of the bass spilling out into a louder dance anthem when they open the door up and step inside. You’re almost nervous to get back into the car with Ubbe. Or maybe you’re just savoring the anticipation, of what will happen when you settle into the leather seat of his sports coupe and the two of you finally have something approximating real privacy together.

“You’re not going in,” Ubbe says, after you’ve closed the door.

“Neither are you,” you point out.

He reaches over and takes your hand. “I’m not going to find anything in there more exciting than what I already have.”

You giggle a little.

His fingers curl between your own, tugging with a playful little jerk to pull you closer to him. He leans in and kisses you, slow and deep and dizzying. He breaks the kiss with one last little suck on your lower lip, then catches your eye with a mischievous little twinkle. “So let’s go.” He brings your hand to his lap, pressing your palm into the iron firmness of his continued erection. He leaves it there and puts the car in gear, driving off toward home.

Part 5.2 Here!

Taglist is open: @walkxthexmoon​​   @swagmonstertoes @hanhanxx @perfectus-in-morte​​ @xxdearlybeloved​​@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg​​ @rekdreams247​​ @inforapound​​ @creepshowzombae​ @tomarisela​​ @vladsgirl@youbloodymadgenius​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch​ @justlovelifeblog​ @earl-aive​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​ @ceridwenofwales​ @grungyblonde​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @hvittysmutanon​ @honestsycrets​ @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @writingfromasgard​ @tootie-fruity​ @tgrrose​ @amy8220 @laketaj24​ @lordsexmachine​

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Come On So Heavy || Joe Mazzello x fem!Reader

summary || you like your friend joe. you really like your friend joe. but you don’t know if he likes you back. maybe all it takes to find out the truth is a little (a lot) of liquid courage.

rating || explicit (18+ only). do not read if you are under eighteen. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, sex while under the influence of alcohol

word count || 3.8k

author’s notes || i stumbled across this half-finished fic while looking for something else, and decided to finish it off and post it! hope everyone is doing all right with social isolation. the title is from ‘get down, make love’, bc of course it is. this fic is... she’s a real messy one. i usually don’t write or post unprotected sex, but both people in this fic are very drunk. enjoy their shenanigans, but please don’t use this as guidance as to what safe sex is lmao. also this gif just too good not to use for a drunk joe fic sdfjsdflkdfsa

masterlist

     You raise your hand, and rap your knuckles on the door. You can hear the sounds of a pregame coming from inside, and, in a few seconds, the door in wrenched open.

    It’s Joe, unexpectedly - this isn’t his house - and your heart leaps so dramatically in your ribcage that it feels like it almost jumps out of your body entirely. “[Y/N]!” he crows, throwing his hands into the air, and you immediately know that he’s already had quite a bit to drink.

    “Hey, Joe,” you say with a grin.

    “Come in, c’mon.” He takes you by the wrist and tows you inside, and you have to kick the door closed behind you, because he just keeps on dragging you until you’re in the living room. “Look who it is, everybody!”

    You wave hello to your group of friends, and everyone greets you enthusiastically. The room is scattered with empty bottles and cans, and there’s a half-finished bowl of chips on the coffee table.

    “Can I get you a drink?” Joe asks, and he’s standing closer than he normally would, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and you suddenly forget how to speak.

    “Um– uh, y– yeah– no, actually, I brought my own. But thank you.”

    “Okay,” Joe says with a chuckle. He shoves a hand into his pocket, cradling his beer close to his chest. “You look, um– I like your…” He gestures vaguely to you with his beer.

    You giggle, and you kind of hate yourself for giggling. “My…?”

    “Your, like, everything,” Joe says with a grin.

    Oh, God, the butterflies. The butterflies in your stomach. They’re unbearable.

    “Thank you,” you say. Play it cool, play it off as a joke, don’t make it weird. “I also like your, like, everything.”

    “Oh, well, thank you very much,” Joe says, holding out his arms a little, like he’s presenting himself. He’s wearing nothing too unusual, just jeans and a nice collared shirt, but he could be wearing nothing but moth-eaten rags and you’d still be stupidly attracted to him.

    The way he looks at you makes you think that maybe he feels the same way about you. But you’re never quite sure. You’ve been crushing on him for over a year now, but you’re too scared to initiate anything. He broke up with his last girlfriend, Trish, almost a year ago, but it was pretty messy, and you don’t want to make him feel pressured. He hasn’t really tried dating anyone since then, so you’re fairly sure that’s an indicator that he’s still recovering.

    Which is fine. You’re fine with that. You’re fine to just be hopelessly in love from afar.

     The problem is you’re not very good at hiding it. Maybe Joe likes the attention, maybe he likes you back, you don’t know. You don’t like to think about it too much if you can help it – it’s too confusing.

    Whatever. You’re just happy to be around him.

-

    By the time you’re all heading to the club, not a single person is sober. Barely anyone is just tipsy anymore – you’re all drunk. Not blackout by any means, but the security at the door gives you all the hair eyeball before reluctantly letting you into the club.

    You can’t remember the last time you went out clubbing. As soon as you walk in, you suddenly remember why. The ear-splitting music, the crush of people, the sticky floors, the stupidly long lines to the bar. Not to mention the price of drinks.

    But then Joe’s hand is on the small of your back, and he’s leaning in to yell into your ear, “Want a drink?” and suddenly maybe the club isn’t so bad anymore.

    Joe buys you a shot, and you knock it back in one. He raises his eyebrows, impressed, and you give him a scathing look that you hope conveys, That really isn’t something to be impressed with. He has a shot himself, and pours it down his throat, and only coughs and winces a little bit. He gives you an expectant look, and you make a face and shake your head. He pouts and gives you the finger, and you laugh.

    You lean into him as you laugh. Luckily, you can blame it on the alcohol. You end up on the dancefloor. Joe likes to pretend that he can dance, but it’s not really the sort of dancing that suits a club, and he always takes himself a little too seriously when he does it. But you think it’s sweet that he puts in the effort.

    Then he gets that look in his eye – that look that tells you he’s about to do or say something that he thinks will be hilarious – and he shimmies closer to you, and then turns around so his back is to you, and pretends to grind on you.

    You scream and flail away, laughing and pushing him off you. “Joe!”

    He grins delightedly, ever so pleased with himself, and you hide your face behind your hand. He takes your hand and tugs you a bit closer. “Not up to scratch?” he teases.

    You shake your head. “Terrible.”

    “What?”

    “I said, you’re terrible.”

    “What was that? You said you’d show me how to do it properly?”

    You gape at him and take your hand back to smack him in the chest, and he laughs.

    “You couldn’t handle it,” you say.

    Joe’s eyebrows raise, and he says, “Think I could.”

    Oh, no, now you’re getting turned on, and you know you should diffuse the situation, because it’s probably just the alcohol talking and Joe doesn’t really like you that way, he’s just flirting for the fun of it, and you don’t want him to do anything he’d regret, and now you’re taking this far too seriously when all he’s doing is just having some fun, stop overthinking everything and just relax for once.

    “Oh, you couldn’t handle anything I do,” you say challengingly.

    You’re almost nose-to-nose now, and your body feels hot, and your heart is racing like a stallion. You’ve stopped dancing now, but you don’t even feel the people moving around you, bumping into you.

    Joe’s eyes drop to your lips, and half of you is screaming that you should stop this, and the other half is screaming at you to go for it, but then the decision is taken from your hands when someone spills half their drink on Joe, and he flinches away from you, spitting out a curse.

-

    “Yuck,” Joe whines. You’re both in the outside section now, where all the smokers hang out, but at least it’s marginally easier to talk, and the cool night air is helping dry Joe’s shirt. The beer’s all down his side, and on his arm, too, although he’s already been to the bathroom to wash it off.

    “What a jackass,” you say in sympathy.

    “Yeah.” Joe grimaces, and shifts. “Gonna smell of cigarette smoke too.”

    “Yup.” You sigh. “This is why I don’t go out anymore.”

    “Mm.”

    The tension from before is gone entirely, which, despite yourself, is really fucking frustrating. You’re still horny, and the alcohol is not helping, but you’d gotten yourself all worked up, and now there’s no outlet for it.

    You rub your hands over your thighs. “Do you know where the others have ended up?”

    Joe watches a group of people across the way laughing and talking. None of them can even stand up straight. “Nope,” he says.

    “Just us, then.”

    Joe looks to you, and there’s still something lingering in his gaze. “Could be worse.”

    Your stomach flips. “Guess so.”

    “Can I buy you another drink?” he says.

    You snort in amusement. “You wanna go back in there?”

    “I want some more alcohol. Gotta make some sacrifices.”

    When you re-enter the inside area and the crowd is once again suffocating, he reaches behind him and takes your hand.

    When you reach the bar, it takes him a while to let go.

    You buy the drinks this time, despite his protests, and you find yourselves on the edge of the dancefloor, not quite in with the crowd, but still very much in the dancing zone.

    The extra alcohol really starts to hit you a few minutes later, and you definitely feel unstable on your feet. It looks like Joe’s in a similar boat, and you’re both dancing, but it’s more just shuffling around, bopping to the beat, trying not to trip over your own feet.

    It doesn’t take long for you to find the nearest wall to lean against, pretending it’s all part of your plan to try to do something sexy, some hot sliding down the wall or something, but really you’re just tired of standing properly. Joe’s still swaying in front of you, and you don’t think he’s really on beat anymore but it’s hard to tell.

    He tries to do some silly dancing against you again, but a blind man could see that it’s just an excuse to get near you again and make you laugh, and he’s only really half-committing to the joke. You laugh anyway and push at him lightly.

    “You don’t like it?” he says.

    “Hate it.”

    “Oh, man,” Joe complains. “I can’t win. What do you like?”

    “I like–” But, somehow, you manage to swallow the end of the sentence.

    “What?” Joe says, and he moves in close to you, and you know he could hear you just fine before, but it thrills you to know that he’s wanting to stand this close to you.

    Unthinkingly, you slip a finger into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him even closer. “I like a man who takes charge,” you say into his ear, although you’re not quite sure why you say it.

    Joe pulls back, searching your face with somewhat glassy eyes. “Yeah?”

    You nod, biting your lip. The world swoops and swims around you.

    Joe licks his lips. “Bit stereotypical,” he says, and it’s a joke, but he seems too distracted – or too drunk – to put in the proper effort to play it up for laughs.

    You shrug a shoulder. “Just how it is.”

    Joe props his hand against the wall beside your head, and, his eyes watching your face, his other hand brushes over your side. Your breath catches, and, seeing your reaction, his hand comes to rest more firmly on your waist. 

    You know that alcohol is a depressant, it’s meant to dull your senses, so why Joe’s hand feels more real and warm and firm that anything else you’ve ever felt in your life, you don’t know.

    “I’m…” But, luckily, you swallow that sentence too.

    Joe’s other hand moves from the wall to your other side, and you instinctively pull him closer. He’s pressing you against the wall, and you can barely remember how to breathe. You’ve never felt more turned on in your life.

    “What?” he says.

    Your hands rest against his chest. “I’m– I–”

    Then he kisses you.

    It’s not gentle, either. It’s rough, and hot, and messy and desperate, all right off the bat. You whimper against his mouth, wrapping your hands around his neck, and his hands tighten on your waist.

    Now you’re those people. Those people who make out in a club, far too passionately to be appropriate where a whole room full of strangers can see, but, Jesus Christ, you don’t care.

    Joe’s a good kisser, even as drunk as he is, and when he pulls away to kiss your neck, you think you might die.

    “Joe,” you say breathlessly. “Joe, I–”

    He hums against your skin, and raises his head. His lips are kiss-swollen, his hair a disaster from your fingers.

    In that moment, the only thing you can think to say is, “I’m really– I’m so– I’m really fucking... turned on. Right now.”

    Joe laughs, and kisses you once, then pulls away. “Don’t ask me why, but you’re really cute when you’re desperately horny,” he says.

    You smile sheepishly.

    Joe kisses you again, and one of his hands brushes along your ribs, just under your breast, and you whine shakily, needy, pressing into him. He moans, and you can’t hear it over the music, but you can feel the vibrations, and he reluctantly pulls away again to say into your ear, “C’mon.”

-

    You burst into the disabled bathroom, stumbling, and Joe grabs your arm to steady you. You fall into him, giggling, and he wraps his arms around you, trying in vain to shush you, but he’s laughing himself. Twisting in his arms, you throw hook your elbows over his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss, and the two of you stagger blindly to the nearest wall, teeth colliding, noses bumping.

    The breath is punched out of you when you hit the wall, but you barely even notice, clawing at the back of Joe’s shirt, rucking it up, getting your hands on his bare skin. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you moan breathlessly into his mouth.

    “You gonna fuck me?” you ask him as he breaks away to press sloppy kisses to your throat.

    “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough, and it sounds so hot that you have to close your eyes. But then the world spins, so you wrench them open again.

    You paw at Joe’s jeans. “Off,” you demand, and Joe sways away from you, frowning down at his jeans, yanking at the button. You shimmy your underwear down to your ankles, and when Joe glances up at you, his eyes immediately latch onto your bare cunt. “Oh… my God,” he mumbles.

    You absentmindedly, impatiently, start fingering yourself, just a bit, just wanting to feel good and get some relief. “Come on,” you urge Joe. “Want you in me.”

    Joe finally manages the button, and only undoes the fly halfway, shoving his jeans and underwear down to his knees, and pressing himself to you, kissing you passionately. His hand replaces yours, and you fumble for his cock, pumping it, playing with it, getting it hard, and Joe’s panting shakily against your lips, his fingers clumsily circling your clit. His other hand tugs at the strap of your shirt, pulling it halfway down your arm, followed by your bra strap, and he yanks your bra down your chest a little, shoving his hand inside to knead your breast. You arch into him, moaning his name, and he responds with yours, bucking into your hand.

    “Turn around,” he mumbles, and you do, shuffling, and he grabs your hip with one hand and pushes on your back with the other, bending you over, making you moan far too loudly, the sound echoing in the bathroom.

    You feel the head of his cock sliding through your cunt, just teasing, and you push your hips back. “C’mon, do it,” you say.

    “Tell me you want it,” Joe says. “I wanna hear you say it.”

    “I want you to fuck me,” you say. “Please, come on, I’m so…”

    “You want me to fuck your tight little pussy?”

    “Yeah, I want it.”

    “Fuck.” Joe moans. “You’re so wet.”

    You whine. “Joe, please.”

    Joe breathes out shakily, and then he pushes into you, and you both moan at the sensation. 

    You hold yourself up against the wall with your arms, and your legs are already trembling. You’re about to beg Joe to move, but then he does, pulling out and driving into you again, and you gasp, and then it’s all you can do to stay upright as he fucks you hard and fast. Moans and pleas and whines are tumbling from your mouth of their own accord, and your fingers grapple for something to hold onto on the wall, and every grunt and moan of Joe’s makes you weak.

    Then he’s slowing down, and he draws away, pulling at your shoulder. “Wanna see your face,” he says breathlessly, and you let him manhandle you, turning you around again, and he presses you against the wall, kissing you deeply.

    You try hiking one leg up over his hip, but it’s too hard to stay balanced, so you shake your head, and mumble against his lips, “Sink, sink.”

    “Huh?”

    “Fuck me over the sink.”

    You both stagger over to the sink, and the reasonably sturdy-looking island it’s built into, and you hop up onto it, grappling with your underwear, pulling it off over your shoes. You tug Joe close to you, between your legs, hooking your ankles over the small of his back, and he wraps an arm firmly around your waist, sinking into you again.

    You lean back against the wall to find a better angle, keeping one hand on Joe’s shoulder, and he leans forward, mouthing at the swell of your partially-exposed breast.

    “Fuck, Joe,” you moan, and your eyes focus on where his cock is disappearing into you, and you find yourself fixated on the sight. It makes your whole body feel hot, like your blood is on fire.

    Joe takes your arm, tugs you forward again so he can kiss you, and he pulls you closer by your hips. “Shit,” he gasps against your lips. “You feel so good.”

    You press your forehead to his, occasionally nipping at each other’s lips, like you’re trying to kiss but you’re too focused on the movement of your bodies together to really try. He speeds up, his hips snapping against yours.

    “You gonna come?” you pant.

    “Yeah,” Joe grunts. “Shit.”

    You wriggle a hand in between your bodies and start touching yourself, and your pulse spikes, and you whine.

    “Fuck, I’m…” Joe’s arms shake, his rhythm stuttering. “Where– where d’you want it?”

    “In me, want it in me,” you blurt out.

    “You sure?”

    “Yeah, it’s fine, just wanna feel it, fuck.”

    Joe presses a searing kiss to your mouth, and you’re rubbing your clit furiously with one hand and clawing at the back of his shirt with the other, and then he breaks away to bury his face into your neck, moaning brokenly as he comes inside you, and you grip him to you, wanting to milk every so drop from him, feel it all inside you.

    He pants against your skin, kissing your neck, and then he lifts his head to kiss your lips. “Shit,” he sighs, and his mouth is soft and pliant, his eyes warm on your face when he draws back to look at you.

    You haven’t come yet. You don’t know whether to say anything about it or not. But you give Joe a smile anyway, and give him a brief kiss of your own.

    He pulls out of you, and you make a small sound at the emptiness you feel. Joe kisses you again, and then his fingers find yours, and you moan as you realise he’s wanting to feel his come leak out of you, all over his fingers.

    You twitch, breaking the kiss. “Joe, touch me,” you beg.

    He does, his fingers clumsy in his drunkenness but confident and just the right amount of pressure, and he watches your face closely as he makes you tremble. He fucks you with his fingers, and the wet sound of it is obscene.

    “So fucking hot,” he breathes. “You’re so perfect.”

    “Joe, please,” you whine.

    “Yeah, baby, I got you, just relax.”

    You try to kiss him, but he pulls back. “No, I wanna watch you.” His mouth hangs open slightly, and you want to bite at his pouty bottom lip. “You look like a mess.”

    “I do?” you say.

    “Yeah,” Joe says. “Everyone’s gonna know that you’ve just been fucked in the bathroom. No way you can hide it.”

    His thumb plays with your clit, and every so often his fingers slide completely out of you, dragging up to your clit, rubbing it, teasing it, and then he presses his fingers back into you. Your orgasm is building slowly, bit by bit, and you’re powerless to do anything but let Joe do as he pleases. All you can do is moan and squirm.

    “Please,” you whine. “Please.”

    “Shh, you gotta keep quieter than that,” Joe whispers.

    You shake your head. “I– I can’t.”

    “You gotta try.”

    He massages your G-spot, and a gasping cry tears from your throat, your body shaking. “Fuck, please!”

    Blissfully, Joe speeds up, and you’re so close. “Joe, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

    He speeds up even more, and you grip his forearm, sobbing, and then finally you tumble over the edge, your orgasm pulsing through you, and you cry out, your hips bucking.

    Joe shushes you again, surging forward to kiss you, to swallow every noise you make, as he eases you through it.

    Your orgasm seems to take forever to settle, but when it does, you sigh on a small whimper, and your kisses grow deeper, less frantic, more controlled. Joe draws his hand away and tucks himself back into his briefs, then sets his on your thigh. His fingers are wet, sticky, but you don’t care.

    Finally, you and Joe break apart, and you meet eyes. You bite your lip, and glance away, almost embarrassed.

    Joe kisses your cheekbone. “So hot,” he breathes. “I’m so obsessed with you.”

    You laugh again, and bury your face in his neck.

    “Go on a date with me,” Joe murmurs, and you lift your head.

    “What?”

    “Go on a date with me,” he says again. “I wanna take you out to dinner.”

    Surely this is a dream. “Yeah,” you say with a grin, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Course.”

    Joe presses a quick kiss to your lips, and then there’s banging on the bathroom door and someone yelling something incoherent.

    You groan. “I don’t wanna go back out there.”

    “Then come over,” Joe says.

    You give him a look of suspicion. “What about that dinner first, hm?”

    “I’ll buy you food on the way home,” Joe says with a cheeky smile. “Or I can make you breakfast in the morning.”

    You sigh, and hum in approval, leaning in for another kiss. There’s another round of banging on the door, which interrupts you, and you frown at the door.

    “C’mon,” Joe says, and helps you down from the counter. You both tidy yourselves up as best you can, and then Joe takes your hand, and you wobble out of the bathroom. Joe’s head is held high as he muscles past the line of irritated people, and you hide your face in his chest.

    You both elbow your way through the club and out the door, and Joe calls you both a ride.

    “You’re so obsessed with me?” you ask him.

    He wraps his arm around your waist, and presses a kiss to your hair. “Mm-hm. Have been for months now. Glad you noticed.”

    “I… I didn’t think you liked me in that way,” you say. “I wasn’t sure.”

    Joe huffs a laugh. “Don’t know how I could’ve made it any more obvious,” he says.

    “Well, you made it pretty obvious tonight.”

    “And I’m about to make it really obvious a couple more times when we get back to mine.”

    You scoff, and shove at him lightly. He laughs, and ducks his head to steal a kiss. You twist in his arms to kiss him back.

[madfatty]

the finn nelson agenda - an mmfd  fic #27

Long time, no see. I come bearing gift.  Consider this my woefully inadequate attempt to distract you for a few moments from the shit-show that is now.

The plan is for this to be one of eight or nine stories about Finn falling for Rae, as told by the people who watched it happened. The collection is tentatively titled, ‘Why Are You So Blind?” and this one is from Finn’s POV.

What I’ve learned is that I can’t write it in the order that it ought to be read, so they’ll go up as they’re finished (if they’re finished). This is probably third or fourth from the end, so for the time being, we’ll pretend it’s a stand alone.

My thanks to the most lovely and much missed @bitchy-broken for planting the seed and my dearest @slitherouter for listening to me read it in many of it’s various forms and for the words that inspired both me and the title

..  my secret agenda is actually just to sit in your room and show you my favorite songs while you explain different things you have on your wall or your desk to me

Things Finn Nelson says

(a thing that Shiri said. I mean, *GAH* right. I love her SO much.)

Ta very much to @late-to-the-sexy-party for her thoughts and enthusiasm.  Big love and thanks to the wondrous @endemictoearth for giving it a twice-over and the benefit of her talent and experience. She made it infinitely better. Thank you, my gorgeous.  

And finally, thank you dear reader, for giving this a go.

the finn nelson agenda

It’s one of those lazy, late summer days he’d spent all term daydreaming about, slouched in the back corner of some classroom, tapping out bass lines on his desk or scribbling band names and song lyrics all over his binder.  Staring out the window while elaborate fantasies built of music, football and girls, all vividly drawn, played out against the white noise of his reality. He feels the waste of it; counting down the seconds to the end of the hour, the end of the day, the end of school.

None of that matters now.  There are still weeks left of the holidays and each day is filled with even more promise now that Rae’s around. Days like today. While there are thousands of elsewheres he imagines himself being between nine and three during term, today Rutlands will do just fine.

All his mates are here, there’s tunes and booze and a sense of time being stretched out and suspended in the liquid amber of the golden afternoon. It’s almost perfect. The only thing missing is the girl. And fingers crossed, she’ll be here soon too, because Finn’s beginning to realise things are just better when she’s there.

Where was she though? He’s been a twitching mess the whole time they’ve been here, checking his watch every few seconds, never registering the time, but still feeling the drag of it.  Not toward the end of something now, but the start.

Ever since the party, he’s tried to find time every day to get her on own, but it isn’t easy. She’s quickly become the centre around which they all revolve, so competition for her attention is huge. This means he spends a lot of his time waiting to share hers. He prowls an invisible periphery, ever watchful for his chance. They don’t come up nearly as often as he’d like so he’s had to get creative.  

Now, depending on how late he gets in from a long day of almost being together, there’s a new nightly ritual he follows; home, a quick shower and something to eat, then he makes a mug of tea and a cosy nest and dials her number with shaking hands. The last of his preparations is pressing ‘play’ on the carefully curated backing tracking for their conversation while he listens nervously for her to pick up.  

Even then, he has to share her with her family. The sniping and the bickering between her and her mum, the deep warm tones of a hesitant male voice, a rumble in the background.

He can hear the life she complains about going on behind her, crowded and noisy and messy; the chaos and the lack of privacy, he can’t help feel how much he wants to be in the middle of it.

What he’d really like is to show up at her door with a bag full of music and a couple of sneaky cans of lager. He’d happily listen to her mum bitch about the ladies she works with at the hospital and watch football with Karim or help out with the birds if it means that eventually, they can escape upstairs to her room, because even though Finn’s only really been to her house the once, (if you didn’t count the apology), he likes it there. Finn’s got a secret wish; to sit in her room, sharing his favourite songs while she talks about her books, and her posters and all those weird little toy things that cover her desk. He wants to find out about all of it. To know everything about her.

However, despite his best -obvious, desperate - efforts, she hasn’t taken any of the heavy hints he’s dropped to ask him over again, so he’s going to invite her ‘round to his. He’s going to ask her today because he wants so badly for her to come and fill his house with her smile and her smell and her stories and yeah, to make some stories of their own.

He’d tried again, last night at the pub. Just as they were all getting ready to leave, with his heart in his mouth - ‘cause that’s always where it is when Rae’s around, when it’s not in his eyes or on his sleeve, - he’d stuttered out an offer to collect her this morning. His plan was to get there super early so they could just hang out on their own. He’d been prepared for her ‘no’ but it didn’t stop the curl of disappointment when she gave it.

Sometimes he worries that that night at hers didn’t mean as much to Rae as it did (hell, still DOES) to him, that it was just a random kindness, not the revelation that he’d felt, and to her he was just a guy having a bad night that she’d taken pity on. Other times, he believes she can feel this thread between them too. A delicate thing but he thinks it’s getting stronger, can feel it getting tighter somewhere around his ribs.  No longer nothing, but not quite the something he’s hoping for.

Finn doesn’t want to test that thread, in case he tugs too hard and it snaps. He can’t help feeling that he needs to do something though, because it doesn’t matter what Archie says about it, there’s this niggle inside him that says all it would take would be for Archie to finally decide that he really did want her, and with the crook of his finger, Rae would come running.

He’s separated himself slightly from the others, coiled up tight in the shade of a nearby tree, his back to the bark, the pinch and bite of it through his t-shirt not enough to distract him from his vigil.

Cigarette butts lie in an untidy circle around his feet.  His ears are straining past the drone of the radio and the fat buzzing noise of insects, tuning out the prattle of the others for the first sign of her. Her name caught up in the pulse behind his eyes.  Everything is so loud inside his head.

He’s about to risk asking Izzy for a third time if she’s sure Rae knew exactly where they’d be when Rae appears. The anxiety of her absence is replaced with the relief of her proximity. The physical response is exactly the same. The next breath he takes is easier than the one before.

He doesn’t care what it looks like. It’s not enough to be near her anymore; he can’t bear any distance between them.  It makes him brave. Or crazy.  

Without consultation, his body moves with deliberate intent. He turns the music up, up, and reaches for another can, trying to fill his belly with something other than butterflies, hoping that his counterfeit swagger hides the jelly of his knees.  Finn lets himself fall – continue to fall, he’s been falling for a week, pushed from a plane without a parachute – to land beside to her.

He must have lost his mind. It’s the only way to explain his behaviour.  He’s got her pinned to the ground from shoulder to ankle like some sort of lunatic but that’s not the insane part. No, the insane part is his brain trying to convince him that if he doesn’t grab hold of her hand like he so desperately wants to, she won’t notice that he has her pinned to the ground from shoulder to ankle like some sort of lunatic. For fuck’s sake, it’s screaming, don’t hold her hand because then she’ll know. Like that’s where all his subtlety would disappear. He holds fast to his wrist, pinning the would-be offending hand to his chest; a single idiotic attempt at self-restraint.

It’s all he can do to lie here, outwardly calm while inside he’s vibrating so hard his teeth are rattling, his heart bouncing so fiercely off his ribs any minute now he’ll come loose from the ground. His tongue lies thick and useless in his mouth, dry despite the beer.

He hopes his deafening silence reads like casual confidence to her.  

The weight of the sun and the heat from the ground beneath him, simultaneously seeps in and rises up to meet in the middle of him. Yet neither burns him like the length of her body under the press of his arm and the cage of his legs.  A sheen of sweat covers his body, caught between his skin and his clothes. It tickles along his hairline, behind his ears and slides down the sides of his neck.

Everything inside the moment is sharp and highly defined. He can feel each breath that fills her lungs. Everything outside of a three foot radius blurs in his field of vision. It’s coming in waves, all at once and he doesn’t know which bits to savour, which bits to focus on and what to put away for later. He has to keep sneaking looks at her just to make sure this is really happening. Rae on the other hand, has her face turned skyward, barely acknowledging his presence, unmoved by the miracle that’s changing his life.

He’s filling up with her. His head, his heart, his bones. Every nerve is exposed. It’s all stinging nettles and ants itching under his skin.

He couldn’t have stood if you paid him. Dizzy from the blood roaring in his ears before it raced south.

She hasn’t pushed him away.

What would she do, if he just stopped thinking and did what his body was screaming out to do; if he rolled over and covered her body with his own. What would she say? If he gave in to the impulse and kissed those maddening pink lips, lush and full, and coaxed her sharp acid tongue into his own mouth, to taste the sweetness he’s seen her gift to others?

What she must feel like under the long cotton sleeves of her shirt, and  what might that do to him; finally touching her skin. He’s never fantasised about forearms before, or calves or even feet. Her pale wrist under his thick fingers, or the crook of her elbow beneath his lips.  The curve of her shoulder, the tip of her ear, the back of her knee. To see and touch and memorize. To know if his hands have guessed the way of her correctly.

Lying here, so close to everything he longs for, his thoughts slide inevitably to those most recently taken up residence in his brain, a divine carnal loop he indulges in almost hourly, the heavy press of her breasts against him, the torment of that smug mouth around his cock, the taste of her cunt, should he ever be blessed enough to be invited.

He has to stop that line of thought before his body gives him away. Before he can’t help himself anymore and he takes hold of her hand and places it on his hardening cock – do you see now? This is what being near you does to me. This is me, all the time, thinking about the back of your neck and the length of your leg and what sort of knickers you’re wearing or if you’re wearing any knickers at all. Look at me Rae, I’m trying to tell you that I … that I’m a mess about you. My head and my sheets and my record collection. The smell of green apple makes me hard, costs my dad a fortune at the green grocers. I can’t sleep, can’t leave myself alone, imagining your hand down my pants, your tongue in my mouth, the sounds that you’d make with my fingers inside you. I… I… Even in his own head he can’t say the word. Even he knows it’s too soon, but… Like is not enough, although he does like her. Desire is a stupid overused word, a song lyric that rhymes with ‘fire’. Want. He definitely wants her.

Can you see, Rae?

He can’t tell which one of them is trembling.

She still hasn’t pushed him away.

She’s quiet. He doesn’t like it as much when she’s quiet; it makes him nervous. Everything about her makes him nervous but at least when she’s talking, he has some idea of what she’s thinking and right now he needs to know what’s going on in her head. So he asks.

Her answer makes him laugh. It’s not exactly what he was hoping for until she laughs too. It’s treacle over his jangled nerves. They take the same breath and he feels her relax beneath him, which is when his brain detonates.

With the shittest timing in the world, Chop’s hissing Kendo’s name.

Kendo’s a mate of Chop’s older brother Robbie and a wannabe hard man.  He’s also a prize dickhead but that doesn’t stop Chop trying too hard to look cool in front of him, although Finn can see he’s shitting himself in case Kendo makes him look like a twat. Right now, Finn thinks Chop’s doing okay on his own on that score.

Rae stiffens. She sits up and Finn can’t help but follow, caught up as he is in her gravitational pull. All the ease from a few seconds before is gone. Everything that’s said in the next two minutes sounds like it’s being spoken underwater because Finn can’t focus on anything but the distance she’s trying to put between them without physically moving.

The damage is done by the time Kendo finally slithers off, dragging the corpse of the mood he’s killed behind him.

Finn’s still up in his head about how he’s going to get Rae to lay back down with him or if that moment’s gone for good, so he’s not really listening when Chloe asks her question. He says ‘yeah, course’ two seconds before his brain catches up with his mouth and just as he’s trying to scramble back from his offer, Rae’s telling them she can’t go. The ground drops out from under him and his heart is flailing, doing a Wile E. Coyote over his gut.

Wait, wait, a minute ago we were on our way to perfect. Fucking Chop. Fucking Kendo. Fucking fuck.

He’s reeling but before he can find a way to get them back to where they were, a shadow falls over them and Chloe’s voice, brittle and insistent.

“Rae, can I speak with you? Privately.”

Fucking Chloe.

For a moment hope soars because he can feel Rae’s reluctance to move but it’s only for a moment; she’s pulling away now and she’s taking all the warm and the hope with her. He sits there among the shattered bits of the beautiful bubble they’d been floating in, with his unasked question filling up his throat and his eyes closed because he can’t stand to watch her walk away.  

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Four): Through The Gates

Notes: We’re inching closer and closer to the Seed’s arrival, I know it’s a slow burn to the game events, but I’m enjoying building up to it and hope it will make the impact of it all just that much more meaningful. 

Word Count:  9098

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Belligerent Drunk Man, Drug Overdose, Pratt and Dahlia being dumbasses

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

A tall bearded man is on her porch; leaning against the railing. The familiar snake tattoos that curl down his forearms give him away; Lonny. The Eden’s Gate member who showed at the station to give her and Whitehorse a hard time. What is he doing at her trailer? There’s no reason for him to be here.

“Can I help you?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she steps up onto the porch.

“Just figured I’d stop by, make a friendly visit to the new deputy,” he expression is somewhere between a smile and a predator baring its teeth.

“And, how exactly did you figure out where I live?”

“Small place, loose lips, word spreads fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, now, if we’re done with this ‘friendly’ visit-”

“Word spreads especially fast within our congregation, when someone starts arresting our members.”

“Maybe, your congregation members shouldn’t commit crimes?”

“The law of man matters little compared to the law of god.”

“Well, I get paid to enforce the law of man, so unless god starts signing my paychecks, I’ll be sticking to that.”

“Greed isn’t a pretty sin.”

Goosebumps prickle and creep up her skin at the word sin, making her throat tight, as the word settles over her. Memories of her stepfather claw at the back of her mind, phantom pain of beatings past making her body ache, the guilt and shame of being a sinner pitting in her stomach. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands and grits her teeth.

“Yes, so greedy, as you can tell, I mean just look around, ” she gestures around the dilapidated trailer park, “the used needles a foot away from the kiddy slide cost me extra, but I think they really bring the place together.”

“Charming.”

“I do try.”

“Look, I’ll make this stupidly simple, for you,” Lonny creeps closer, nearly standing on her, glowering down at her, “don’t step on our toes and we won’t step on yours.”

“Is that so?” She grins and literally steps on Lonny’s toes, crushing her boot down as hard as she can, until he finally grunts in pain and takes a step back.

“Don’t make a problem out of yourself, deputy….” His dark eyes flicker around, until finally landing on the shed behind her trailer, “that where you keep your bike?”

“Maybe, maybe not, whats it to you?”

“You know, a little generosity goes a long way to mending relationships, deputy. That motorcycle of yours would be a nice little gift to the flock and most importantly, me.”

“Get bent.”

“It’s important that we all do our part, deputy. That everyone gives a little, so that we all can flourish. As we inch closer and closer to the brink; that becomes even more important. What’s yours is mine, so,  which is more important, keeping your motorcycle or helping others?”  

He’s in her space again, hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder in a pseudo-friendly gesture; that not even almost friendly smile on his face again.

“I’d sooner watch the world rot than give up that bike. Now, get the fuck off my property.”

She shoves his hand off her shoulder and marches into her trailer; slamming the door shut behind her. Dahlia could scream, could tear apart her entire trailer in rage. Where the hell does that guy get off? Demanding her bike; the motorcycle she slaved over. Her and Lloyd rebuilt that thing from nearly scratch after his son wrecked it; left it abandoned in their shed, a muddle heap of metal left to gather dust. She helped rebuild it; just a project at the time, something to keep busy while she was waiting to see if she got accepted to the police academy, meant to stave off the anxiety. And when it was done, perfectly functional and shining like it was brand new, Lloyd told her to keep it, she deserved it.

There’s not a lot of things Dahlia’s felt she earned; feeling every success has been a fluke, a mistake, a moment of luck. But, she earned that bike. She nearly fought Lloyd’s son when he visited that holiday season; trying to reclaim the bike now that it was fixed and she refused. Lloyd sided with her; because she earned it. Because she put the work and hours into it. And she’ll be damned if she’s going to let some bearded zealot barge in and demand she give it up.

The more she learns about Eden’s Gate, the less she likes them. Stealing booze, trying to take her bike, trying to scare her. She needs a cigarette; she decides and pulls the pack from her pocket; only to find it empty. Damn it. Dahlia starts digging through tossed aside pairs of pants and jackets; she has to have a half empty pack somewhere. She grabs up her duffle bag, still mostly unpacked other than what she’s worn or used this week, rummaging through the pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

A crumpled piece of something brushes against her hand and she yanks it out; only to find a scrunched up white pamphlet. She straightens it out a bit and groans when she reads the front; Eden’s Gate, We Love You surrounding a cross like symbol. Why is this group all over everything?

Giving up on finding a cigarette somewhere in her mess; Dahlia changes into some comfy clothes and plops herself down on the couch, turning the small tv on as background noise more than anything. She finds herself fiddling with that pamphlet again, placed aside before she changed.

Dahlia opens it; if this damn group is going to haunt all her days here, she might as well read their crap. It seems to be fairly standard religious fare. Casted out? Rejected by society? Try Jesus. Take a leap of faith, wash away your sins, confess, atone, and become stronger by joining their family. There are mentions of how corrupt the world is and how it’s all going to end; nice appeals to fear mongering, always have to appreciate that approach. Every word of the dribble reminds her of darker days, of her step father and his asinine sermons. The type of people who’d probably make a PSA about how Dungeons and Dragons is satanic, Harry Potter should be burned at the stake, and Pokemon is an evil atheist agenda to push evolutionary theory on kids.

The leader; man bun guy, calls himself The Father. Those goosebumps and bad memories come back. She knows assuming that all strongly religious people are like her step-father isn’t the best practice. But mentions of sin and calling himself something regarding father, just… doesn’t help.

He calls his siblings heralds; a sister and two brothers.

Her eyes glaze over as she absorbs the same crap she's had spewed at her for years, thoughts of making a donation to planned parenthood in their name pass through her mind. She doesn’t know for certain if the group is pro-life, but one can assume. The picture on the second page of the little pamphlet catches her eye and she sputters out a laugh.

Who the hell runs the PR for this church?

First the creepy statue, then the serial killer-esque drawing on him to open their book, and now a family portrait so awkward she might cringe herself into a coma. Three men and a woman; siblings according to the text. Man bun is in a chair in the middle; not even making eye contact with the camera. The woman, Faith, the siren she’s seen at the hotel and accidentally grabbed outside the diner is on the floor beside the chair. She looks annoyed, like a teenager being dragged to an awkward family dinner. Behind them are the two brothers. One with slicked back dark hair in a coat that appears to be covered in planes; which is… a look. And the other a mountain of a human compared to his sibling; ginger hair with the sides shaved, in camouflage, holding a red rifle.

It all looks ridiculous, from their expressions to their poses. Whoever thought this was a good way to market them is the epitome of human stupidity. Dahlia crumples the little pamphlet and tosses it into the trash; thankful for a laugh to cap off her night. She spends an hour or so watching tv, drifting off to sleep on the couch as she’s done every night.. Eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each second, until black blankets her mind. 

Her bladder wakes her up during the middle of the night, causing her to turn and flop around, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stares at the ceiling contemplating if she has to pee bad enough to warrant making herself physically stand up; the effort feeling herculean in the bleary twilight hours of the night.

“What if I told you, you could be free of sin,” a male voice drifts from the tv and she groans; this shit again?

She sits up on the couch, sliding down onto the floor with the clumsiness of her sleep leaden body. On her tv, at four am, amid commercials for sexy single phone lines is an infomercial for Eden’s Gate.

One of the brothers; the one with slicked back hair in the plane coat, John Seed as the text on screen tells her. He dramatically talks about how all you have to do is say Yes, the power of Yes, walking around what looks like a red carpet covered in flowers; terraces laced with them around him, a crowd gathered around as he talks.

Is he the reason for the Hollywood style YES sign in the valley?

The crowd around him starts to chant the word yes; he’s saying ‘yes, I will be saved’, ‘yes, I will confess’, ‘yes, I will atone.’ And he gestures upwards; revealing a lit up sign of the word YES and she bursts out laughing; her stomach aching and her bladder upset with her for it. Once her laughter subsides, she does what any good decent young adult would do. She rewinds  it to the start of the infomercial, grabs her phone from the table, and records the cringefest to post online before finally going to the bathroom.

She goes back to sleep after,  still cracking up about this dumb religion and their dumb advertisement.

Dahlia wakes up around noon or so the next day, checking her phone while still curled up in the couch.  The post of the religious cringe has gotten some traction; someone making a reaction gif out of the guy gesturing to the yes sign. Jokes about how the guy must get off on the word yes, how insane it must have felt to be working on this, ‘imagine having a grown man in a plane coat telling you to chant yes while he dramatically touches his own tit’. The internet truly is a beautiful place sometimes.

She stretches out her muscles and decides to call the clinic, the one she gave  info about to Tweak. Dahlia wants to make sure he actually reached out and didn’t just use her good graces to avoid trouble and call it done.

“Hey, I’m Deputy Hale of the Hope County Sheriff’s department, I referred someone to contact your clinic about rehabilitation. I was calling to see if they contacted you.”

“Of course, could I have their name?”

“Aaron Kirby.”

“Yes, we did receive a call from Aaron Kirby, he’s been placed on our waitlist as our drug counseling services are currently at capacity and we can’t take on any more clients.”

“Understood, thank you.”  

She sighs; she can’t fault him for that. Hopefully, they’ll be able to get him in soon. Dahlia stretches, making her back pop, now what to do with the rest of her day. Maybe it’s Lonny trying to take her bike or maybe it’s the mention of those Clutch Nixon stunts yesterday; but she has an itch to go riding and do some stupid shit.

A quick shower and change of clothes; then she’s grabbing her helmet.

Music reverberating in her skull, the rev of her motorcycle engine beneath her, the wind whipping around her, and she’s healed from everything if only for a moment. Dancing and riding her bike are the only things to do this for her; or maybe it’s the music itself that does. But when her blood is pumping, her ears are ringing, and her throat is raw from screaming along to the songs; nothing else matters.

She’s not lonely as she takes a sharp turn right at the chorus.

She’s not sad or pathetic as she cruises down the road, passing cars.

She’s not a disgusting sinner as she takes one of the paths that goes through the woods.

She’s not rejected, worthless, and tossed aside as she hits one of the many ramps across the county, catching air before hitting the ground again.

Everything is pure chaos and adrenaline in her veins; no room for guilt or doubt or

Deer. Big deer, in the road, it isn’t moving.

She hits the brakes; the sudden jerk of a stop, pushing her body forward, losing her grip and being ejected forward. Dahlia hits the ground in a heap, head rattling but thankfully not split on the road. She forces herself to roll over on her back, body aching in protest. Her eyes close and she takes deep breaths, trying to gather herself.

Something fuzzy pushes against her hand, glancing down to see the large deer sniffing at her. It’s no worse for wear, so that’s good at least. She forces herself to sit up, body protesting,  and she peels her helmet off. The deer shuffles back a little but when she extends a hand it tentatively presses against it. She scratches its nose.

“You’re very lucky you’re cute.” She digs around in her pockets, finding a pack of crackers, she always has food on her if she can help it and she offers the deer a cracker. It eats from her hand. Maybe she’s just trying to avoid moving her bruised body, but she spends a few moments finishing the little pack with the deer before finally forcing herself to stand.

Her motorcycle is in good shape, a little scuff on the side, but nothing she can’t buff out if needed. Dahlia’s baby remains the most stable part of her life. She rides it back to her trailer, a bit more carefully. She’s managed to burn through most of the day with her reckless bullshit.

She calls Lloyd and Caroline that night; telling them about her first week, skirting around details that might sadden them. Going to the F.A.N.G Center is reduced to just going there, nothing of being overwhelmed and leaving. No mentions of Pratt tricking her when she talks about Peaches, just an old lady with a cougar Dahlia got to carry. No mention of being left out everytime Pratt and Hudson go to the Spread Eagle. No mention of Lonny, the threats, the religious group that seems much more involved with the community than she originally thought. Everything is fine, perfect, ideal.

The pain of her little crash has mostly faded by the time she shows up to work the next day; uniform properly on when she comes into the station bullpen.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hudson calls out and Dahlia can’t help the heat crawling up her face at the attention. Her forearms and some of her upper chest that’s exposed are covered in bruises; mottling blues and purples.

“Oh, uh, I had a little bike crash yesterday.” She shrugs.

“Jesus christ,” Pratt grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Rook, you need a hobby,” Dahlia starts to say something, but Hudson continues, “one that doesn’t injure you.”

She likes to dance, but dancing completely alone isn’t as much fun, not awful but not as fun. And there's not exactly dance clubs in Hope County. Hmmm. Unfortunate. She shrugs, if her hobby kills her, it kills her.

During patrol, Pratt and her don’t talk about the F.A.N.G Center, they don’t talk about him being angry at her. An awkward cloud hanging over them as they patrol. She doesn’t even bother to ask to give tickets when they pull people over; already knowing Pratt won’t let her and not wanting the conversation. An emergency call to what’s called Sergey’s place breaks up the monotony, suspected overdose.

She digs her nails into the leather of her seat as Pratt flips on the sirens; what if it’s Tweak? Doubts of if she did the right thing running through her head. She wanted to help him; but if he ended up just being put on a waitlist and overdosing right after, how much good did she do?

Sergey’s place is a wooded area filled with abandoned train cars where homeless people and drug addicts gather. Dahlia rushes to where she sees a group of them gathered around; screaming and crying coming from the center.

“Clear the way, so we can help,” Pratt tells them, the crowd dispersing, a woman is seizing. Her entire body jerking and drool pooling from her mouth; another woman holding her close, crying over her.

“Did she take anything?” Dahlia asks.

“We were shooting up and then she was on the ground, I, it’s all my fault, I-”

“Understood, we’re gonna do everything we can to save her.”

Dahlia holds the seizing woman as still as she can, getting out the syringe of narcan that's kept in patrol cars. She plunges it into the woman’s arm, forcing the medicine into her system, watching as her seizing slowly starts to lessen. Removing it, she notices the large bruise and cut on the woman’s forehead.

“Dispatch,” Pratt radios in, “we need an ambulance out to Sergey’s place, confirmed overdosed, head trauma, female early twenties. Junior Deputy Hale has administered a dose of Narcan, over.”

Dahlia stays with the woman, to make sure she doesn’t seize again and hurt herself further. Meanwhile, Pratt clears the way and helps get the ambulance into the area when it arrives; the woman being taken away on the stretcher. They find out the one who was holding her was her sister, allowing her to go with her to the emergency room, while Pratt asks some questions of those who were around. Nothing suspicious; just an overdose, no one to blame.  

The younger deputy sighs and a hand clamps down on her shoulder; gently squeezing. Pratt is next to her and she raises an eyebrow at him. 

“We got here quick, she should be fine.” 

“Maybe, lets get going.” 

The conversation is still more than a little stilted as the day goes on; but it isn’t quite the awkward silence of before. Pratt making little comments and saying things, while she nods or hmms along.

Later in the afternoon, when they’ve stopped back at the station, for lunch and paperwork regarding the overdose. She yawns and stretches her arms, standing up from her desk to get coffee. Maybe she needs caffeine or maybe she’s just tired of sitting in one place; but either way she’s up and moving. 

She rubs a hand down her face as she enters the kitchenette where the fridge and coffee machine are. Dahlia grabs her mug; one that was bought for her by Lloyd and Caroline. It’s a little embarrassing, the picture of a black cat with the message, ‘horrible and adorable.’  

Warmth presses in close to her back, looming over her. The smell of Pratt’s cologne hits her just as a large hand plucks her mug off the counter. Pratt holding the mug high above her head. 

“Hey!” She tries to grab it from him but can’t reach, Pratt grinning as she makes the effort to stand on her tiptoes but still can’t quite get it. 

“Something wrong?” he smirks, “you can’t reach your kitty cat mug?” 

“Can you go five seconds without being an ass?”  She turns to face him, glaring at his shit eating grin, the mischief in his eyes as he crowds her and holds the mug just out of reach. 

“Hmmmm, no. Can you go five seconds without pouting?” He reaches up with the hand not holding her mug hostage and cups under her jaw to squish her cheeks together and force her lips to pout out; laughing at her. 

She smacks away his hand, making a grab for her mug, knocking against his chest in the attempt before he jumps back. 

Dahlia whines and he just laughs, dodging her again as she tries to take her mug back. Her fingers can barely reach his face, let alone high above his head where he’s holding her mug hostage. She clambers to grab a hold of his bicep; trying to pull herself up high enough to grab it, laughing at the ridiculousness of trying to essentially climb her coworker to get her mug.

“Jesus christ, you fuckin’ spider monkey!” He nearly falls over, but catches himself and switches the mug to his other hand, placing it on top on the cupboards.

She glares for a beat, still hanging off of Pratt’s arm before letting go. Dahlia can’t even reach the top shelf in the cupboards.

“I’m actually going to strangle you.”

“Something wrong, Thumbelina?” He taunts and ruffles a hand through her hair, the gesture far more rough and teasing than when Whitehorse does it to comfort her.

“Yeah, my coworker is an ass.”

“Not my fault you’re short.”

“If I get dirt on the counter, you’re cleaning it.”

“What do you-” he bursts into laughter when she box jumps up onto the counter, grabbing her mug. The deep rumble of it makes her smile, it’s ridiculous, but he’s left her no choice.

“The hell are you doing, Rook?!” Whitehorses’ voice cuts through Pratt’s cackling and she jumps down with a yelp.

“Pratt did it.”

The older deputy straightens up, after nearly bending over doubled from his laughing fit. Whitehorse pinches the bridge of his nose, Dahlia swears she can see the migraine forming in his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Pratt defends himself,  “she managed that all on her own.”

“I, I just...no feet on the counter, that's where food goes, for fucks sake, ” Whitehorse looks from Dahlia to Pratt, “and no whatever you did.”

With that the sheriff leaves; weary of their bullshit. Dahlia jabs her fist into Pratt’s ribs, hard enough to jostle him but not enough to truly hurt.

“You got me in trouble!” She yells, sounding every bit a kid who just got ratted out to the teacher, and Pratt only snickers.

By the time Dahlia manages to get her coffee, her face hurts from smiling. The ache of happiness followed throughout the day, until Hudson and Pratt cap off the night with another day of chatting at the Spread Eagle, Dahlia left to go home alone. 

The next day a call comes in from Adelaide Drubman, Hurk Sr’s ex wife who owns the marina as Dahlia’s been told. She’s seen advertisements around for the older woman’s real estate business, telling people to call Addie. The woman pictured on the signs of those advertisements is a fair representation, albeit maybe a little more airbrushed, of the woman standing before them when they arrive. Older with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, a red bandana tied in her hair. She’s all sly smiles and winks when she sees the two deputies walking towards her.

“Well, hey there, hon’,” she greets them, the southern Montana accent one of the strongest Dahlia’s heard since she’s arrived here.

“Hey, Addie,” Pratt replies in kind and Dahlia gives an awkward wave, “what’s wrong?”

What’s right, Dahlia can’t help but wonder as she looks at the property, clearly abandoned and dilapidated.

“Well, I think some squatters might have moved in on me, sweetheart. And, apparently threatening them with my gun is illegal, but having y’all run ‘em off with yours is fine. Go figure.”

“Yeah, the law is pretty picky about that kind of thing,” Pratt says with a laugh.

“I mean, I’m not complaining , at least I get a  chance to see some young pieces of ass in uniform.”

Dahlia chokes and coughs; heat flooding up to the apples of her cheek. That was blunt. Really blunt. Pratt doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, maybe he’s just used to this. Despite her embarrassment, she’s smiling. Something about Adelaide is comforting, warm and friendly, the kind of person who doesn’t know a stranger. Dahlia remembers the gross curmudgeon of an old man that use to be her husband.

“Speaking of which,” Adelaide continues, looking at Dahlia, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, honey.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m new at the station.”

“Our probie junior deputy.”

“Adelaide Drubman, pleased to meet ya.”  

“Uh, this might be impolite,” she pauses, rethinking for a moment, but she needs answers, “but were you seriously married to Hurk Sr?”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.”

“Did you lose a bet?”

Adelaide starts laughing and Dahlia can’t help but smile, the sound absolutely heartwarming.

“I’m serious; lose a bet, piss off a witch and get cursed, broke a mirror and had seven years bad luck… It’s gotta be something, ‘cause that just don’t add up.”

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” the older woman tells her, “word of advice, don’t let anyone tell you you gotta stay with a man just ‘cause he knocks you up.”

“I’d rather die.”

“Good, keep that mentality, save you years of suffering.”

“Okay, enough chat, let’s go check out the place,” Pratt says, nudging Dahlia to get a move on. She sticks her tongue out at him as they walk into the rundown house.

There’s trash strewn around, thankfully no needles or sign of drug users here. Adelaide must have a lot of trust in whoever she has cleaning these places up for resell. They pass through rooms, looking for anyone who’s not meant to be there, knocking on doors and calling out. Most of the house is cleared through and the two of them head to the attic, a good place for any squatters to hide.

The stairs creak under her feet as she takes them two at a time, moving ahead of Pratt in minutes. She hears him grumble, he tells her to slow down, but she doesn’t.

It’s dimly lit, some abandoned furniture and old antique crap littering the area; blocking the window that might have let in even a glimmer of sunlight. She flicks on her flashlight. The light illuminates the dust that hangs heavy in the air, drifting across her vision. Something rustles, a box shuffling across the floor.

“What was that?” Pratt asks as he finally joins her in the attic.

“I don’t know, yet.”

Scratchy noises echo through the room and she walks towards where she saw the box move. She crouches down and shifts the boxes out of the way, finding nothing but a dusty floor beneath them. Then something presses against her leg, a soft sniffing noise. 

“Oh my god!” She gasps as she looks down at the cute opossum staring up at her; baby pink nose sniffing at her jeans. A white face, tawny gray almost black body, with big soft dark brown eyes, its wiry whiskers curling at odd angles. 

“Is something wrong?!” Pratt yells out and comes rushing over, feet stomping across the floor; the heavy thuds making the opossum hiss and creep backwards. 

“You scared it, jackass.” 

“I,” he looks down at the hissing opossum, “I thought something happened.” 

“Shhhhhh…”

Dahlia reaches out; tentatively brushing her fingers against its narrow snout, feeling the short slightly rough fur. The hissing stops and it sniffs at her hand, letting her scratch up its face to the top of its head. It relaxes into her touch and she scratches behind its ear. 

“You can’t pet every animal, you meet, Rook.” 

“Watch me,” she says before scooping the opossum up in her arms, holding it close to her chest. A tongue licks over her cheek, the marsupial content in Dahlia’s arms. 

Pratt shakes his head and leaves the attic; Dahlia following him down the stairs. Adelaide is waiting outside the home when the two deputies exit. 

“Good news, Addie-” 

“I acquired a baby.” 

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt rubs a hand down his face at her interruption, “there’s no squatters.” 

“’Preciate ya coming out to check and taking care of the opossum problem.” 

“I fail to see the problem.” Dahlia’s new friend is trying to climb up her head, licking her scalp. 

“You really gonna try to sale this mess?” Pratt asks, rolling his eyes and ignoring the younger deputy’s new pet. 

“It’s my best chance of making any profit anymore; those fuckin’ Seeds are buying up any place thats actually worth a damn thing.  Flipping run down places is the only way to even hope of making money anymore. You know those bastards even tried to by the Marina.” 

“They’re gonna own the entire county before we know it.” 

Deputy Pratt shrugs his shoulders and Dahlia chews her lip; unsure if she likes how casually they talk about the local religious nutjob owning the county. The older deputy doesn’t even seem bothered by the thought; the idea of them buying everything just thrown out as blasé as one would say the time of day. 

“I swear to god, I can’t figure out what I wanna do more; punch John Seed’s face or ride it.” 

Dahlia raises an eyebrow at the older woman; she’s unsure what that means…but it sounds vaguely inappropriate… Her nose scrunches, brows furrowing as she tries to reason through this. Riding…like sitting on someone’s face? So, oh… Heat flares up Dahlia’s cheeks as the meaning hits her; definitely inappropriate. Very inappropriate. She covers the opossum’s ears, as if to protect the innocent being from the filth, meanwhile her own ears are burning. 

“Addie…” 

“I know, I know,” Adelaide waves her hand dismissively, “but you know what they say, the pussy wants what it wants.” 

“Not sure that’s the saying.” Pratt laughs

Dahlia raises an eyebrow before looking down at the opossum in her arms as if the little critter could answer her unasked question. Instead, its doe eyes just stare up at her. What cats have to do with Adelaide wanting to fuck John Seed is beyond Dahlia’s comprehension.

“You alright over there, hun?” 

“Don’t worry about her,” Pratt dismisses Adelaide’s concern, “she’s probably just wondering what cats have to do with anything.” 

“Oh lord.”

“How did you know?” Dahlia whispers, wide-eyed at Pratt, only getting a throaty laugh in response. 

“How old are you again, sweetie? Pussy, vagina, cunt; what’s between your legs. Well, maybe not yours, I ain’t got a chance to check y-” 

“I would like to change the subject!” Dahlia blurts out; face feeling like it’s been set on fire and no doubt a vivid flush a red. Adelaide’s little grin and Pratt’s laughter only serving to make her face more crimson. 

“Well…if we’re on the subject of faces I wanna ride, the Ryes are having their barbecue next Saturday, you and Hudson gonna make it out?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“I’ll be seeing you then, Pratt, and hopefully you too, junior deputy. I gotta call my remodeling guys.”

They say goodbyes and wave off Adelaide, going back to the patrol car. Dahlia cuddling her new opossum friend as she goes. This is her baby now and will comfort her through humiliation at the hands of Hope County’s sex perverts. 

“What are you doing?” Pratt asks, when Dahlia opens the car door. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Fuckin’, put the opossum down!”

“No.” 

“You’re not bringing that thing into the car.” 

“I’m not abandoning my child.” 

“It’s literally a wild animal.” 

“It’s a opossum, not a bear, calm your tits,” Dahlia tells him firmly, opening the door and plopping down with her critter in her lap. Pratt groans and jumps in the driver side. 

“So, what, you’re gonna take it home and make it a pet?” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” 

“You know how some stations have like animals and stuff?” 

“You mean K-9 units, trained dogs? You wanna train a fuckin’ opossum?” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she rolls her hand flippantly, “I’m not gonna train her, she’s perfect the way she is.” 

“Have fun getting the sheriff on board with this, that thing could be rabid for all you know.” 

“Opossums don’t carry rabies; like they physically can’t have rabies.” 

“Okay, fuckin’, opossum expert.” 

Dahlia spends a mile or two, just watching out the window at the world passing by as she scratches at her new friend’s ears. Passing by a sign for Rye and Son’s Aviation, she remembers the conversation with Adelaide. 

“Who’re the Rye’s?”  She turns her head towards Pratt, head cocking to the side in curiously. 

“Huh? Oh, they’re a couple who live not too far from Falls End. They have these big barbecues that basically the entire county shows up to; everyone brings some food, it’s a whole thing.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“You should come.” 

“I don’t know them.” 

“It’s open invitation, you live in Hope County, cook some food, show up. It’ll be fun.” 

“Just like the F.A.N.G Center?”  She raises an eyebrow 

“Well, if you don’t freak out and run off halfway through, yeah, things can be fun.” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at Pratt. 

Side eyes and double takes are taken at Dahlia as she walks into the station carrying a opossum. Dahlia just nuzzles her face against the top of the opossum’s head as they reach the office, plopping down in her chair and propping her feet up on her desk. Pratt walks past with his lunch and Dahlia grabs a handful of apple slice off his plate; making the older deputy stop and glare at her.

“Can I help you?”

“I gotta feed her.” Dahlia shrugs, letting the opossum munch on one of the slices of fruit.

“Feed her your lunch.”

“My lunch is an energy drink and a twinkie.” She ate the last of the lunches Caroline sent with her; an empty fridge and a sink full of Tupperware waiting for her at home. 

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“The world’s too cruel to end my misery.”

“Jesus fuck,” he rolls his eyes, “calm it down, Hot Topic.”

“What are you doing, Rook?” Heat zings up Dahlia’s cheeks when she hears Hudson’s voice and sudden fear that being the weird opossum girl might not be what she wants.

“Is that a fuckin’ rat?” A guy next to her, dressed in the standard officer uniform asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Feeding...opossum…Who are you?”

“Rook, this is Brennan, he’s one of our officers, Brennan this is-”

“The rookie deputy, I know, I’m officer Beau Brennan, nice to meet ya,” he says, extending a hand and she moves the opossum to properly shake it.  Beau Brennan, possibly the most southern sounding name she’s ever heard, especially this far up North.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“But, uh, Rook,” Hudson looks at Dahlia, “should you really be bringing a wild animal into the station?”

“Maybe not...she’s friendly, though.”

“So, Joey questions you and she has a point,” Pratt swings his hand in an angry gesture, “but I do it and I get mocked?”

“Yes.”

“Well, why don’t you tell Joey, how you want the opossum to be the station pet?”

“Do you?” Joey raises an eyebrow at Dahlia, the younger deputy’s face turning a deeper shade of scarlett.

“...yes..”

“If you want the thing so bad, why not just take it home as your own pet?”

“That’s what I was asking!” Pratt butts in.

“Five seconds ago, you were asking how the hell I kept myself alive, you want me in charge of keeping something else alive?”

“She’s got you there,” Hudson looks back to Dahlia, mirth lighting up those olive green eyes, “what's her name gonna be?”

Dahlia suddenly has no coherent thought in her head. Just cricket noises as she realizes she’s never actually named an animal in her life. Every time she’s ever had a pet or something close to one, she just refers to it by species or someone else names it. The cat’s name is cat, dog’s name is dog.

“....Opossum…?”

“Not how names work,” Hudson pets behind the opossum’s ear, “Petunia?”

“Petunia, it is,” Dahlia flusters to say grinning, she’s actually okay with this, Hudson doesn’t mind the weird opossum girl.  

“Why are you encouraging her!?”

“‘Cause it’s annoying you.”

“I think the girls have you outnumbered, Staci.”

“Staci?” Dahlia looks over at Pratt, is that his first name? She’s never actually heard it before. His face completely falls, hazel eyes harsh and angry.

“Shut up.”

“Your name is Staci, oh my god.”

“Spelled with an ‘i’,” Beau adds, grinning as Dahlia starts cackling.

“Oh my god, you have a sorority girl name!”

“Laugh it up, you know when Whitehorse comes back, you’re gonna have to say goodbye to your new friend.”

“Eh, it’s Rook, so he won’t mind much,” Joey says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Huh?”

“You don’t know?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at her, “everyone knows that the sheriff is soft on you. Been hardly a week and it’s like he’s adopted you.”

Her cheeks hurt from grinning, Whitehorse sees her like his own child? She knows she’s lucky to even have gotten the job; let alone the way he’s been going the extra mile to make her feel at place here. But knowing he may see her like family lights up her heart. The sheriff already reminded her of Lloyd before, but hearing that cements the comparison.

“Dear god, if you were a dog, your tail would be wagging,” Pratt-Staci, grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It's cute,” Brennan defends her, “we don’t even need a canine unit with her around. Ow!”

Brennan jumps when Dahlia kicks him in the shin, hard enough to bruise she’s hoping. Hudson and Pratt laugh. Petunia is content and nuzzling into Dahlia’s neck as the four shoot the shit, the topic of the Rye barbecue coming up. Hudson and Brennan both plan on being there as well.  Dahlia finds herself sinking deeper into her chair, holding Petunia closer. Taking her phone from her pocket and checking the notifications on John’s little video. Other than someone claiming he looks familiar and another person saying he’s hot; it’s mostly more taunts. 

“What’s going on here?” Whitehorse’s voice cuts through the chatter, the sheriff coming through and spotting the gathered deputies and officer. His eyes landing on Petunia within a second, “Rook?”

“Yeah?” She scrolls past someone using a gif of John’s light up yes sign as a reaction gif. 

“Why are you holding a opossum?”

“She likes being held.” She doesn’t bother looking up from the phone. 

“She?”

“Her name’s Petunia.”

“You can’t have a opossum.”

“She’s the station opossum.”

“Rook,” Whitehorse sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “just go put her outside.”

“So, she’s an outside station pet?”

“I don’t care as long as she’s outside.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Dahlia says, finally looking up and grinning ear to ear. Whitehorse shakes his head and just waves her off before going into his office, no doubt looking for some Tylenol or Aspirin at this point.

“That’s it,” Pratt lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head at Dahlia.

“Told ya, soft on Rook.”

“I’m gonna take Petunia outside, to her new home.”

“Do you think she’ll stay around?” Hudson asks, as her and Pratt follow after Dahlia, towards the little lot of land behind the department.

“If I keep feeding her, she should, right?”

“I’m gonna have to start bringing two lunches, aren’t I?”

“Nah, you don’t wanna overfeed her.”

“Hilarious.”

The wind is blowing just a bit; breezing by and shifting the grass around them. The sun starting to set as the evening arrives. Petunia licks her cheek and then runs up on Dahlia’s shoulder, little hands grabbing at her skin as she clambers up onto her head; curling up like she belongs there.

“Pffft,” Hudson sputters out a laugh, “look this way, Rook.”

Dahlia faces Joey, grinning with the apples of her cheeks flushing red. The older deputy has her phone out and snaps a photo of Dahlia with Petunia perched on her head. She’s not sure why the moment is worth catching, but she’s glad it was.

“Send that to me, if you don’t mind…” Dahlia asks as she puts Petunia down in the grass.

“No problem,” she taps away and Dahlia feels her phone buzz, “and don’t worry I’ll send it to you, too, Pratt.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Dahlia sits down on the ground, petting Petunia as the sun sets. As always Hudson and Pratt leave that evening for the Spread Eagle, she catches Brennan talking about going to the Hollyhock Saloon with some fellow officers before she leaves. Everyone has their friend group, their routine. And it’s time for her own; going home to an empty trailer. 

And an empty fridge, she remembers. Oh god, she has to go shopping doesn’t she? It’s a break in the monotony but she’s not sure it’s a welcomed one. She also has to do dishes at some point…and laundry…  Adulting sucks. 

There’s a little family owned market in the Henbane River region; just a bit more to it than the general store in Falls End. The fluorescent lights irritate her eyes as she pulls off her helmet to look around. Never the cooking type; Dahlia’s hoard comprises of things that don’t require more than a microwave to prep. Frozen meals, snacks, and absolute garbage pile high in her cart as she scours the shelves for more. This might get her through for a week. 

Her phone buzzes, another Twitter notification, she’s sure someone else reacting to the Eden’s Gate commercial. She tugs her phone from her pocket; just like she thought a Twitter notification, but the message beneath it catches her eye. A text from Hudson, where she sent the photo of Dahlia and Petunia. The young deputy hasn’t gotten around to opening it; mind preoccupied. She opens the message. 

Dahlia doesn’t take pictures of herself and has never been particularly enthralled with her own appearance. But, she likes this photo of her. Petunia is perched on her head, dark eyes warm and soft. The evening sun setting behind Dahlia illuminates her in golden light; dark hair mussed, brown eyes lighting up amber where the light hits, and a wide grin on her face. 

Beneath the photo is a message from Hudson captioning it; 

‘cant tell who looks better here’ 

 Heat makes it way up to her hairline. Is…did Hudson call her cute? She’s comparing Dahlia to Petunia, a opossum, both Petunia specifically and opossums in general are cute. So if Hudson’s saying Dahlia’s looks are on par with a opossum; does Hudson mean she’s cute? But, not everyone thinks opossums are cute… Some people think they’re gross little trashy goblins, does Hudson think she looks like a trash goblin? She seemed to like Petunia, but just cause she was nice to the animal doesn’t mean she thinks opossums are cute. Dahlia leans her forehead against the freezer section for a moment; letting a turkey meal cool her flushed face as she forces herself to not agonize over this. 

A few deep breathes and a concerned passerby make Dahlia straighten back up, getting her bearings before heading to self-check-out. She quickly rings up her items and bags them, leaving the market with her grocery bags in tow. 

“Leave me alone…please…”  A soft demure voice whispers, a woman about Dahlia’s age stands beside the road a man towering over her with a beet red face. The smell of liquor coming off him on the wind. His hand is wrapped tightly around her wrist, her skin indenting under his grasp as she tries to fold in on herself to avoid his touch. 

“Wh-what, you scared daddy Joe’ll call you a sinner for spending some time with me?”

The stench of alcohol wafts off his breath with every drunken slur; even at a distance, the smell churns her stomach.  She drops her bags on the cement and makes a beeline towards them, she needs to keep this from escalating, or someone will get hurt. 

“Leave me alone!” The girl’s voice shakes as she tries to pry herself from the man’s grasp. 

“Fuckin’ peggie whore!”  

“Hey!” Dahlia yells out and runs as his other hand starts to raise and pull back. 

She gets between them just in time to feel the crack of his hand striking her face. An ache and echo of pain rings through her jaw; a metallic taste where her cheek scraped the inside of her jaw.  Glassy eyes widen, the man shocked at the interruption. 

“Wh-who-”

“I’m a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, and unless you want some jail time for assault, I recommend you get the fuck out of here.” 

“Pssh,” he scoff, whiskey scented spittle spraying into the air, “li-”

“I’m giving you to the count of three to get out of my sight, sir. One,” she leans into his space, glaring him down and sneering as she counts, “two, th-“ 

“F-fine, fine, fuckin’ bitch.”

He makes a dismissive hand gesture as he grumbles a curse, but he stumbles away, leaving the two girls alone. Dahlia rubs absent mindedly at her cheek before turning towards the girl; a peggie, he called her. One of the followers of Eden’s Gate. She’s beautiful, five or so inches taller than Dahlia, with long black hair falling in waves down her shoulders. Delicate fine facial features, the deputy can’t help but feel the girl’s face might have shattered has it been struck.  Like the handful of peggies she’s seen, traces of tattoos and markings are on her. ENVY etched across her chest and a delicate tattoo of vines with blue flowers curling up her forearm.  

“Are you okay?” Dahlia asks her. 

“Oh yes, yes, I’m fine, but are you?”

The girl reaches out, fingers nearly brushing over Dahlia’s cheek. She instinctively ducks back, avoiding the touch. Strangers touching her is never something she’s been fond of, though she can’t imagine many people are. 

“I’ve taken worse from better; I’ll be fine.  You be careful and have a safe night, ma’am.” Dahlia nods at her and makes the quick walk to her abandoned groceries and bike. 

She stoops down and begins to collect the food that fell from her bags. A pair of slender hands join in, helping gather up a bag of microwave meals for her, the girl offering it to Dahlia once it’s secure. 

“Thanks,” Dahlia murmurs, taking it from the stranger, stashing her groceries in the little storage space under her motorcycle’s seat. 

“It’s the least I can do…I’ve never seen you before.” 

“I started here about a week ago.” 

“Really, that’s incredible…The Lord placed you here at the exact right time.” 

“Nah, I just needed groceries,” Dahlia shrugs, “well, hope you have a nice night.”

“Wait,” she knots a hand in the deputy’s shirt, “I’m Layla…” 

“Nice to meet you,” Dahlia offers, Layla’s dark brown eyes are darting around, avoiding eye contact. 

“I…was on my way to a sermon at Father Joseph’s church and-”

“Look, Layla, if you need my help just say the word. But, if this is the beginning of a conversion spiel; save your breath and my time, ‘cause it ain’t happening.” 

“I don’t feel safe, going there alone, right now. What if he comes back?” Her arms cross over herself, the thin cardigan not doing much to protect her from the night chill. 

“Oh, uh, you don’t have anyone who can go with you? Aren’t religions like, community things?”

“I was gonna walk there by myself, but…” 

“Fuckin’ hell, where is it?”

“Up the north bridge, one of the island’s in the middle of the county, it isn’t far.” 

“Here,” Dahlia shoves her helmet at Layla, “I got one helmet and if anyone’s brains are splattering on the road, I’d rather they be mine.”

Layla pulls the helmet on over her head, body still shivering. Dahlia shies and shrugs off her leather jacket; it’s only going to get colder on the ride there with wind whipping around. She hands it to Layla who smiles and takes it, pulling the worn black leather jacket on. Oversized on Dahlia and still marginally so on Layla. 

“Thank you,” Layla murmurs as Dahlia straddles her bike, then climbs on the back. Dahlia takes in a deep breathe when arms wrap around her midsection, Layla pressing in close to the deputy’s back as she starts the engine. The familiar nature of the touch contrasting with the fact they’re strangers. 

As Dahlia makes her way up to the bridge, Layla lifts the visor just a smidge so that she can whisper directions in the deputy’s ear. Once she’s past the bridge coming from the Henbane, the roads have fencing and barbwire, making it nearly impossible to go from the road into the woods on the island. She rides down the winding road, taking a left turn off the paved road onto a beaten path, rounding the corner she sees it. 

A cold sweat builds on the back of her neck, heart dropping into her stomach. It’s a collection of small white buildings, dark roofs, with Latin scrawled across some of the buildings; Luxuria, Acedia, and more she’s sure. All of it on a large piece of land, within she can see picnic tables, bundles of white flowers, where they might gather for picnics or barbecues. She pulls her bike to a stop just a distance from the white gate; Church of Eden’s Gate etched in the upper arches. 

People are all around, getting out of white trucks and cars, greeting each other with hugs and waves; throwing side eye glances at Dahlia when they notice her. Dogs are barking somewhere; she doesn’t know where from. Layla clambers off the back of Dahlia’s bicycle, pulling off her helmet and handing it back to her. 

“Sister Layla,” a deep masculine voice rumbles out, a familiar man standing by the white gates. Tall with a thick dark beard, his deep dark eyes are focused on Dahlia as he speaks to Layla. Theodore is what the other man called him that day when Dahlia caught them stealing from The Spread Eagle. He looks a moment away from ripping the deputy’s head off her shoulders; his shirt dipping in a way that exposes the way PRIDE etches across his chest, crossed out as are all sins the church members wear. 

“Brother Theodore, this is-”

“The new deputy, we’ve met, why is she here?” 

“I was just getting ready to leave, don’t worry.” 

“What,” Layla’s eyes widen and she grasps Dahlia’s arm, “you can’t.” 

“I can’t…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow and shoots a pointed look where Layla’s grabbing her, making the girl let go. Layla’s trying to rope her into this shit, isn’t she?

“You came all this way Deputy, why not just come in, listen to the sermon.” 

“Not happening, I already told you, not my scene. Just give me back my jacket, so I can leave, okay?” 

“But,” Layla chews her lip, gears in her head turning, “how am I suppose to get home?” 

“I saw at least thirty people go in that church, I’m sure someone will be willing to give you a ride home.” 

“Oh, uh, I-” 

“Brother Theodore, Sister Layla, service will be starting soon!” Someone calls out from within the compound. 

“I have to go, I’ll be right back, Deputy!” Layla rushes to say and then runs off towards the church, Dahlia’s jacket still on her shoulders. 

“Hey, wait!” Dahlia jogs after Layla, hurrying through the little compound, but the woman vanishes into the steepled church ordained in cross symbols. 

She stops, just before entering the door and takes a step back. The crush of boots in dirt echoes beside her before coming to a stop, the looming of someone nearby. Body heat lingering near her side as she looks up at the cross on the topmost steeple of the church. 

“You going in?” 

“No.” 

“Have fun out here,” Theodore tells her, moving to press a heavy hand against the church door. 

“Those dogs,” she starts, listening to the barks ringing out around her, “they friendly?” 

“Why don’t you go find out?” He leaves her with a smirk, walking into that church. 

Dahlia lets out a harsh breath and pushes her hand back through her hair. A breeze pushes through, her t-shirt and thin uniform shirt does nothing to keep out the chill. She’s not leaving without her jacket; her wallet and phone all in the pockets.  Music echoes from inside the church as she plops down onto the ground outside it, balancing her helmet on her knees and resting her chin on it. 

If your soul has grown weary, and your heart feels tired… 

She fidgets with her helmet, chewing her lip. Please let this Joseph guy be short winded, she just wants to leave. The entire place sets her on edge, makes her skin crawl and she wants to hide away. 

Let the water wash away your sins…

A cool breeze passes by, a soft whipping sound mingling with the singing. She scans the night sky, searching for her favorite and only known constellation, she has a feeling she’s going to be here a while… 

[mander3-swish]

Glow In the Darkness

Roswell New Mexico Week: 

Day 3: Fic Prompt: Quick and dirty

Also using the Smut Prompt List: 13. “Are you going to eye fuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?”

Summary: Alex is back in Roswell after his first tour and Michael is reveling in the changes. 

Headcanon: Alex is stationed at Cannon Air Force Base in Curry for a special ops training course that's 12 weeks long with 6 to go. It's just under a couple hours away. They had a break, time-off to unwind from a particularly grueling week, and his friends convinced him to show him the sites and sounds of Roswell. When in Rome…

Read on Ao3

Michael had tried for two of the longest years of his life to forget Alex Manes, racking up a clandestine sexual history that rivaled the most prolific lotharios of the world. But the second he heard his laugh from across the bar at the Wild Pony, it was like no time had passed in his heart. 

They had stumbled through a long goodbye the last time. There had been sad and sloppy tear-filled kisses that had left him feeling hollowed out inside, that Alex was taking every ounce of himself he could offer, and only leaving the empty shell of Michael's body behind. He didn't begrudge him one bit for that. In the end, he hadn't heard from him or seen him until now, but it's not like he tried either. Being tragically miserable was more character building than sitting by the phone or the computer waiting for scraps, right?  

Michael watched him all night, endless hours of torment since he hadn't had a sip of alcohol once he realized Alex was there. He wanted to be sober enough to keep his options open.

And Alex knew he was there too, their eyes catching every so often, both holding out from looking away as long as possible before Alex was inevitably pulled back into the conversation. He was there with his Air Force bros, from what Michael could tell, but he didn't know why or for how long Alex might be sticking around this time. 

He noticed Alex slip out of the booth and head outside. None of his buddies followed, so he hoped Alex meant for him to follow him out into the night. He waited a couple minutes by the bar, and tried not to be too obvious when he slipped out the door as well.

He found Alex casually taking a drag off of a cigarette. Definitely not something he was used to seeing. 

"When the hell did you start smoking anything other than pot?" It was sexy and alluring, Alex's mouth wrapped around the slender cigarette held between his fingers. It was very different from the Alex he remembered.

"You pick up all kinds of nasty habits in the military." Alex replied. He eventually flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and exhaled a steady stream of smoke. 

Michael walked closer and was in an arm's reach of Alex, his gaze never leaving his face as he tried to see what else was different from the last time Alex was home.

“Are you going to eye fuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?” Alex came off braver, bolder than he'd ever heard him before. Michael hoped they'd have time to tell each other dirty stories of memorable hook-ups, get each other worked up. But then again, maybe not. Might be too telling or too devastating to hear about Alex in far off places with exotic men that weren't him.  

Michael pulled him around the corner, out of sight of the main entrance, and pushed him back up against the wall, harder than he meant to. "Sorry," he said.

Alex's reply was to crash their mouths together, his fingers tangling in Michael's curls. He had a thigh wedged between Michael's legs, and Michael didn't hold back seeking contact with his groin. Their moans shared in the space between kisses as they frotted like the hungry desperate men they were. 

Michael's right hand, the one that still had enough dexterity to do unspeakable things to Alex, managed to work the fly of Alex's jeans open. He slid his hand inside, applying just the right amount of pressure and twists and teasing that had Alex's grip tightening in his hair, teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain.

The hot and grimy desert air surrounded them as the sheen of sweat built up on their skin. They were lost in each other as the pleasure built, touches and kisses trying to say everything they were likely not to speak out loud.  

Alex came in Michael's hand, shuddering out stilted groans of pleasure. 

Michael brought his hand to his lips, and with a flick of his tongue had a taste. He'd wanted to see if that was different too. He wiped the rest of Alex's come off on his jeans; they were filthy already and he wasn't planning on going back inside the bar, so no big loss there.

"Do you want…" Alex started to ask once he came back to himself, his hands trailing down to Michael's belt buckle.

"Not here."

"I can't leave the guys. We're heading back to base at 0800."

"I can drop you off...later." Michael wasn't above begging. He was about to say something more snarky about Alex being good at leaving, but he knew that would not get him what he wanted.

***

The headlights of the truck washed over the side of the Airstream, making it glow in the darkness. Michael was proud that his hard work had earned him this new home. It had been a consolation prize kind of dream after the shit that went down at the end of senior year, but it was still better than nothing.

He silently led Alex up the steps and inside. It was hot as fuck, the air was stifling in the trailer, so he spent a few quick moments sliding open the small windows and turning on a fan to help circulate the air. "There, that should help cool things off a bit."

"I thought you brought me here with every intention of heating things up," Alex joked.

"That is certainly true," Michael replied. He pulled his shirt over his head and moved closer to Alex where he'd left him by the door. 

Alex met him halfway, this time pushing Michael against the nearest vertical surface. The cupboard doors rattled, and Alex's mouth was on his in a bruising kiss. 

"It really is too damn hot in here," Michael managed to get out between gasps of air. "And we're still wearing way too many clothes."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" Alex challenged. He started unbuttoning his shirt, but Michael quickly took over and used his telekinetic powers as covertly as possible to assist in making it all happen a little more efficiently. Alex was luckily distracted, roaming his hands all over Michael's exposed skin.

Once Michael had them both naked, he pushed off the cabinets and backed Alex towards his tiny bed at the end of the space.

Laid out beneath him, Michael was free to explore Alex's sweat slick skin with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. Alex's body too had changed over the years, muscles hardened and defined, morphing into the man he'd always wanted to be. It was at times overwhelming. Michael felt like he was drowning or that this was a dream that might turn into one of many recurring nightmares at any second.

He had Alex turn over, couldn't handle having Alex's gaze on him just right then. His fingers traced patterns onto the exposed skin of his back, connecting the little scars and freckles into constellations. And then he placed a kiss to everyone of those scars, hoping his reverence could take away any painful memories that might still linger for Alex. 

Michael licked and sucked at the tender flesh, working his way lower and lower until his tongue swiped across Alex's hole and teased at the rim. He took his time, teasing and licking, pressing his tongue past the tight ring of muscle, opening up Alex, making him squirm beneath him. He added a spit soaked finger, tortuously pressing it inside. When Alex pushed back slightly, he knew he was ready. 

"Roll over."

As Alex repositioned himself, Michael rolled on a condom and stroked his cock liberally with lube. Then he found his way back between Alex's legs and slid inside. A quiet, 'Fuck, yes,' escaped from between Alex's lips. It was scattered between the slap of skin on skin as Michael picked up the pace. He was lost in the rhythm of their bodies, and the ability for him to be both so lost and so profoundly found at the same time, well, it undid him. But only with Alex. It was only Alex who had the power to do this to him, or maybe he was only willing to let Alex do this to him.

Michael came with a shout, his orgasm crashed over him nearly unexpectedly. Alex had a hand on his own cock, and Michael felt when his come splattered a bit on his torso as he gently fucked into Alex, riding out the last waves of pleasure.    

They laid there together wrapped around each other in the sweltering heat that was barely abated by hints of a breeze through the open windows. As they tried to catch their breath, Alex shared the details of his current visit home, pretty certain that his squadron would be shipping out not long after this last bit of special ops training. 

"So maybe we have time to do this again, then, before you go?" 

Michael had wanted to say, "Let me let you go," but the words wouldn't come. He didn't know if he could go on forever in this seemingly endless cycle, but he'd be here for every goddamn piece of himself Alex was offering. 

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 1)

Gif by @classic-rock-roller

The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Original Female Character

Summary:  Rayne moved to LA a few years ago and has never really fit in.  While most of the Sunset Strip girls were movie star beautiful, with thin builds and blonde, Rayne stood at 5′10 in flats, had curves that no diet would make disappear and had big red curly hair.  The only person that ever made her feel normal was her best friend and room mate Jo.  One night Jo talks Rayne into going to a house party on the strip that promises to be a circus.  Rayne never expected to catch the eye of the ringleader himself.

Authors Note:  Hello everyone!  I’ve been so inspired reading so many of the amazing works people have written since The Dirt came out.  I’ve had this story in my head for a little bit and finally got the courage to put it to text and post it.  I’d love to hear any and all feedback anyone has, my asks and inbox will always be open!  It is my first time ever posting a fic, so if I do anything wrong or against the rules please let me know.  I think the community of people writing and reading these Dirt fics are amazing and supportive and I hope you all find some enjoyment in my story!  

I am also extremely inspired by music when I write so I’d be happy to post any and all songs that inspired chapters, or that I use in chapters.  Our first chapter is absolutely inspired by Stranglehold by Ted Nugent.  

On with the god damn show….

Word Count: 1,800

Chapter 1

Rayne looked herself in the mirror one final time before spraying a few more pumps of Flexnet into her voluminous red curly hair that fell down to the small of her back.  Rayne took the teasing comb to her roots one last time before using her hands to fluff her hair into place.  Her eye lids rimmed in black eyeliner smoked out with blacks and browns.  Her makeup was absolutely fitting of the place she was going tonight.  

Her best friend Jo had talked her into going over to a house party on the sunset strip.  Jo had gone to the Whiskey earlier this week to see a band and when she laid eyes on the singer she knew she wanted to fuck him.  Rayne had to give it to her friend, when she had a goal she achieved it no matter what.  As a matter of fact Rayne wasn’t even completely sure they were exactly invited to the party, but that wouldn’t stop Jo from getting what she wanted.  

“Ray!  Are you about ready I want to get over there!” Jo banged on the bedroom door.

Rayne looked over herself one final time in the mirror pulling her leather jacket on.  Rayne didn’t hate her body but she looked very different from most of the women she saw on a regular basis out on the Sunset Strip.  Rayne had curves, major curves, despite going to the gym on an almost daily basis.  She had large hips, a big ass, smaller waist and her boobs we’re much more than a handful.  Rayne also physically stood out on the Strip, standing at 5'10.  Most of the women on the Strip were stick thin, athletic, and flat as pancakes (except the strippers who loved their fake tits).  

Rayne knew she would get stares tonight and probably a few comments.  Tonight she chose leather pants that laced up at the crotch, they didn’t really fit her properly but she masked that with a loose fitted off the shoulder mesh top.  Around her neck was a leather collar with a D ring and her boots also had chains on them and jingled as she walked.

“Ray!  Come on!” Jo shouted once more hitting the door louder.

“Coming!” Rayne huffed opening the door sarcastically asking,  "Well, are you ready to go?“

“Oh Ray!” Jo whistled opening the front door.  "You trying to snatch up a dirty rocker boy tonight too?“

“Last thing I want.” Rayne laughed walking through the door locking it behind her.  "I’m going as moral support and hopefully some decent alcohol.  If they’re in a band they better have some decent booze.“

"Sure, sure.” Jo fiendishly smiled.  “Booze is good for you, it makes you more flirty.  Remember that time you got up on the ba…”

“Yes!”  Rayne raised her voice hushing her friend, “I remember it, although I wish every day that I could forget it.”

It didn’t take them long to walk to the apartment where the party was happening.  They were cat called multiple times on the way there, mostly aimed towards Jo, which she loved. Sometimes Rayne wish she looked like Jo, she was an average height, platinum blonde and a body to kill.  Jo could’ve been a Playboy bunny if she wanted to, but instead was in school to be a dental assistant.  Jo was also so confident, it was like she walked on air.  Where Rayne used her wit and sarcasm to deflect people, Jo used flirtation and charm to draw them in, together the two were ying and yang and had been friends since Rayne moved out to LA three years ago.

“I can hear the music from here, we’re getting close.”  Jo turned toward Rayne.  "We have to use the window, the door is apparently nailed shut from the cops.“

"Oh yeah I’m sure this is a good idea.” Rayne shook her head laughing to herself.

As they approached the apartment was crawling with people around their age.  It was a good mix but definitely leaned towards female.  Not a shock, especially if the rest of the band were as good looking as Jo described the singer to be.

“At least the music is good.”  Rayne complimented while they climbed the stairs and through the window.  Stranglehold by Ted Nugent had just started playing.  Rayne always thought it was a sexy song.  The apartment was small and packed with people, couples making out on the couch, guys puking in trash cans and girls leading men through various doors.

“I’m gonna go find Vince.” Jo purred into my ear, a devilish smile on her face.

“Alright I’ll be around.” Rayne said heading towards what she believed to be the living room.  To say it was sensory overload was an understatement as she looked around trying to take everything in.  Rayne saw one guy lighting himself on fire, and a group of guys doing lines off a plate before her eyes landed on a girl pulling on the arm of a brunette sitting at the table in the center.

“Check this out dude, you’re gonna fuckin freak.” The guy said before dropping to his knees going down on the girl in front of everyone.

Jesus Christ.  Rayne thought to herself before her eyes landed on a counter lined with alcohol bottles.  She took a step towards the counter, basically stepping over the two putting on a show for everyone.

There were plenty of bottles of Jack Daniels, which Rayne always thought tasted like piss.  But at the end of the line was a bottle of Jameson, still not her favorite whiskey, but she would have to make due with it.

The room was now filled with loud moans as everyone’s attention was on the act happening in the middle of the room.  Rayne unscrewed the lid and took a swig from the bottle.  Ah fuck it.  She heard the guy say people were gonna freak so she might as well stay and watch what was going to happen.

“Alright dudes, here it goes!”. The brunette said happily before standing up, looking over the room with pride before his eyes locked on the redhead across the room, the smile dropping slightly from his face.  His hand quickly went up to wipe his mouth of any remnants of cum from the girl.  The woman’s hand went straight to where his mouth had just left continuing to work herself until she screamed and a stream of liquid shot out of her.  Rayne stood there eyes wide she had never seen that outside a porno, and in all honesty didn’t even think it was actually possible.  The blonde woman kept her legs spread sounds of pleasure still coming from her as she came down from her high.

Deciding that she had seen enough, Rayne took the bottle of Jameson and grabbed for her pack of cigarettes.  As she turned to walk towards an outside balcony she saw she noticed the brunette man staring at her from across the room.  Or maybe not her.  Rayne didn’t know why he’d be staring at her when he obviously had a girlfriend.  She put a cigarette between her lips and made her way toward the balcony.  As she got outside Rayne lit her cigarette taking a long drag from it, blowing a steady ream of smoke from her lips.  She placed the bottle of Jameson on the ledge of the balcony and leaned over on her arms bobbing her head and hips to the music.

“Wow.” She heard from behind her, causing her to turn around startled.  Standing behind her was the brunette man from before, she didn’t realize how tall he was.  He towered over her, almost unbelievably so, she was used to standing taller than most men.  He was in a leather jacket and a black and red shirt with leather pants.

Taking another drag from her cigarette Rayne looked questioningly at the man in front of her.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” The man said.  

“Yeah well,” Rayne exhaled smoke.  "My friend is here to fuck your singer.“

The man chuckled, "She’ll have to get in line.”

It was Rayne’s turn to let out a healthy laugh this time, “You’ve never met my friend.”

“What’s your name?” He took a step closer to Rayne.

Rayne smiled up at him leaning in closer to him.  "Shouldn’t you be getting back to your girlfriend?“

"She’s not my…”

“TOMMY!  WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” A shrill voice shouted for him.  Rayne watched as he closed his eyes and sighed.

Taking a final drag from the cigarette and stubbing it out Rayne said again a smug smile on her face, “You should get back to her, Tommy.”

As she went to step around him to go back into the apartment she felt him gently grab her hand to stop her. “Tell me your name, give me that at least.”

Hm, so this is what Jo must feel like.  "I’ll see you around.“ Rayne said simply before walking back inside the apartment being immediately grabbed by Jo when she got back to the kitchen, Rayne was glad to see her friend it made her forget about the tingling sensation in her hand from Tommy’s touch.

"Oh my god Ray, I haven’t been fucked like that in my entire life.  You ready to go?  I accomplished my mission.” Jo smiled big, hair more messy than before and lipstick smeared.

“Yeah, let’s roll.  I want details.”  Rayne smiled at her best friend.

“Oh and you’ll get them.  Copious details.” Jo giggled happily wrapping her arm around Rayne’s waist.  "Anything of interest happen while I was getting off?“

Rayne looked around the apartment, eyes landing on the man she now knew was named Tommy who had just come in from outside.  His eyes were still locked on Rayne.  "Nope, nothing to report.”

“It’ll happen for you one day Ray.  I know it.” This is why Rayne loved Jo, she had a heart of gold when it came to her friends.  Rayne was a bit of a romantic but had sort of given up on the idea of romance since moving to LA.

“We shall see.”  Rayne looked down smiling softly.  "Come on let’s go home.  I’ll pour us both glasses of actual good whisky.“

Tommy watched the two girls as they exited through the window until they were out of sight.  "Tommy!  My man!  You know I can’t stand Bullwinkle but I’ll never tire of watching her squirt.”

“Nikki, I think I’m in love.”

“What with Bullwinkle?  No you’re in love with her pussy.” Nikki smacked Tommy on his back.

“No not with her.  Someone else.”  Tommy spoke as if in a daze.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy stood up straighter, “but I’m gonna find out dude.”

[turtle-steverogers]

you’re fuckin (coco)nuts

idek, @suddenly-im-respecsable told me i should become a coconut engineer and then we astral projected for this and somehow it turned into “WRITE A CRACK FIC FOR THIS” and then i did

warnings: dumbassery

ship: platonic sprace, ralbert

editing: nooooo its about FUCKING COCONUTS

word count: 1250 ish

-

“God this is just what I needed,” Race smiled serenely as he settled onto his towel, handing Spot one of the pina coladas he’d gotten from the small stand by their resort.  

A long year spent working extra hours and saving up money had lead the two boys to Oahu, Hawaii for their Spring Break.  Admittedly, it’d still put a significant dent in their wallets, which wasn’t entirely ideal considering they were graduating college in a few months and probably couldn’t afford to go bankrupt.  But, things had been stressful recently and this was self care.  

“Me fucking too, man,” Spot agreed, sitting up and pushing his sunglasses up his nose as he accepted the drink from Race, “and this weather is fucking sexy.”

Race choked on his pina colada, spluttering for a moment before looking at Spot, “Did you just call the fucking weather sexy?”

Spot shrugged, “You got another word for it?  It’s sunny and warm with that perfect cool breeze.  Sexy.”

Race stared at him for a moment before facing the ocean again, shaking his head, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Spot laughed, shifting around on his own towel to look at the ocean.  It truly was beautiful.  The ocean was almost impossibly turquoise and the clear water shimmered softly in the sunlight.  Palm trees surrounded them on all sides, giving the area a pleasantly enclosed feeling.  Like they’d found their own little universe, completely separate from everything else.

Race hummed as he became acutely aware of the sun beating down onto his shoulders and he reached around to fish a bottle of sunscreen out of his bag.  He squirted a fair amount onto his hands and began lathering it onto his skin.

“Lil’ bitch,” Spot coughed, clearing his throat.

Race froze in his actions and shot an incredulous glare at Spot, “You think you’re tougher than the sun? The fucking sun?”

Spot pursed his lips, looking like he wanted to make a comeback, but falling short of an intelligent sounding one.

Race sat up straighter and continued to rub the sunscreen into his shoulders, “That’s what I thought.”

The lapsed into silence, drinking in the view and allowing their stresses to slowly drain from their minds.  At one point, Spot pulled out a book and Race found himself dozing.  They stayed like that for what could have been hours until Spot shut his book pointedly, using it to prod Race awake.

Race opened his eyes slowly, raising his eyebrows, “Can I help you?”

Spot stood up, shaking out his towel and successfully spraying Race with sand, “I’m bored, let’s explore.”

Race huffed indignantly, wiping the sand out of his eyes before standing as well.  He rolled up his own towel and shoved it into his beach bag.  He hastily slipped on his sandals before shouldering his bag and jogging to catch up with Spot, who’d already set out towards the main street of the resort.

They made it all the way to the path that led them away from the beach when a war cry sounded above them.  Alarmed, they froze, heads jerking upwards in search of the source of the cry.  Before Race had a chance to see anything, a large object fell out of the palm tree directly above them, nailing Spot in the head.

Spot let out a grunt, careening forwards onto his knees as his hands flew to his head.

“Spottie!” Race exclaimed, rushing forward to kneel next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders.

“Son of a bitch,” Spot bit out, voice gravelly.  He lifted his head slowly, unfocused eyes fixating on the ground in front of him.  

“What the fuck,” Race muttered, picking up the object that had hit Spot.  It was a fucking coconut.

He looked up again, startling as he made eye contact with a guy.  He had red hair and was wearing a grass skirt over a pair of floral swim shorts.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but a large lei was secured around his neck, swaying slightly in the breeze.  If Race squinted, he could see a small twig crown resting on his head.  As weird as he appeared, there was an unconventional attractiveness to him.

“What the fuck,” Race repeated.  He raised his voice slightly, “Hey! Who the fuck are you and why did you throw a coconut at my friend?”

The guy smiled and flipped down from the tree, landing gracefully in front of Race, “The name’s Albert, I’m the coconut engineer here.”

Race blinked, completely bewildered, gaze landing on the pair of weed vans that Albert was wearing, “You’re...you...what!?”

Albert hopped down into a sit, crossing his legs under him and propping his chin on his hand, “Coconut engineer.”

“Yeah but what the fuck is that and why did it include concussing me,” Spot snapped, still sounding pained.

“I make sure coconuts don’t fall out of trees and injure tourists,” Albert said matter-of-factly, “But you had a bad aura, so I threw a coconut at you.”

“I had a- wait what?” Spot looked vaguely like he wanted to strangle Albert and Race wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t if he were feeling up to it.

“Bad aura,” Albert said, picking up the coconut that he’d thrown at Spot and breaking it open with his bare hands.  He took a long sip of the water inside before continuing, “Looked kinda bruting and I saw you shake sand on Hottie McHottiekins from the spot in my tree.  You deserved it.”

Race choked, “What’d you just call me?”

Albert looked at him innocently, “Hottie McHottiekins.”

Race blushed and Spot groaned, “Oh, no no no, please tell me you’re not considering going out with Mr. Coconuts over here.”

Race ignored him and held out a hand, “The name’s Antonio, but Race is what I go by.”

Albert shook his hand, his grip firm and confident, “Nice to meetcha, Race.  Wanna go get sushi or something later?”

“Sure thing,” Race said, taking out his phone and handing it to Albert, who put his phone number in the contacts, “text me.”

XXX

Spot blinked open his eyes, the bright morning sunlight bleeding in through the blinds.  His head still ached from the coconut fiasco of the previous day, but after icing it for a bit and taking some ibuprofen, it was feeling significantly better.

He rolled over and dragged himself out of bed, stumbling down the hallway a few paces to Race’s room.  He knocked once before opening the door.

“Morning, I was thinking we could-” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing when he realized that Race wasn’t in his room.  In fact, Race’s bed didn’t look slept in at all.

He pulled out his phone, hurriedly pulling up Race’s contact.  Had Race even made it home from his date with Albert last night?

He was about to phone Race when the door to their small beach house opened.  Spot whirled around to find Race staring at him, wide eyed with a hand still on the doorknob.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt and a few small hickeys littered his chest.  His hair was sticking up on top and we was wearing a pair of pajama pants that Spot was certain he didn’t own.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the air thick with anticipation.  Then Spot lowered his phone from his ear, which he belatedly realized he was still holding up.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “You fucked the crazy coconut guy.”

Race’s face turned bright red.

-

lmao welp i told myself i’d finish some greaser au shit and chap 10 of fugitives but this happened instead LOL at least im finally on break and can grind some shit out,,, maybe titanium too o.O

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[darkangeldesignstudio]

Cherry Pie

summary: You have been working with the Winchesters for a couple of years now. Weird since you were once their target. Who would have ever thought a Kitsune could be friends with Hunters. But you wanted more than friendship, you wanted Dean and you would do anything to get him.

pairing: Dean x female reader

warnings: death, magical powers, and dirty dancing!

word count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello again! This is my second entry for @tilltheendwilliwrite‘s “T Shows Her Age: Songfic Challenge.” My song? Oh just a little number named Cherry Pie by Warrant, one of my favorite songs to dance to in the club. I saw this song on the list and thought, “who better to dance for than a sexy Dean, who just so happens to also be a fan of pie?” lol. First of all, I want to give a big thanks to my Beta @sexykitty96 for all of the encouragement and support. I really appreciate it love! This was the most frustrating fic I have written to date and I have thoroughly enjoyed the challenge it has posed for me. No smut this time, unfortunately, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. Much love and happy reading!

Cherry Pie

It all started with a phone call.

Two female dancers from a local club, called Mischief, were dead. Both found in inconspicuous places near the club, but upon examination, neither case pointed to foul play. The police wrote both off as natural deaths and closed their case.

Luckily, the local coroner was a friend, and he noticed something that nobody else ever would have. “To the mortal eye, they appear as if they collapsed and expired from a heart attack.”

“Marvelous thing we aren't completely normal, then.” Your little quip caused Dean to chuckle. You smirked over your shoulder at him, flicking a fluffy black tail teasingly at him. Thinking back, it was somewhat funny how much your relationship had changed now that the brothers weren't trying to murder you.

Reminiscing on that fateful day made you smirk, but that was a story for another time. There were urgent matters to handle.

The team split. Sam left to stake out Mischief while Dean, moving as a private investigator, prepared to interview the locals. You, on the other hand, moved straight to the crime scenes.

Both were in alleys near the club, only a few blocks apart. You were met by overflowing dumpsters and the acrid stench of tobacco, vomit, and piss in the first alley. Since it was the older of the two sites, by a few weeks, it came as no surprise you discovered no magical residue. So, you decided it would be best to move on to the most recent scene before you became nose blind.

You got most of the same. The stink of moldy cigarettes and trash violated your senses as you went by a scrap of yellow police tape fluttering in the breeze. You sighed in relief. This alley was cleaner than the last. Only half a block away from Mischief, it appeared to have been thoroughly picked over by police and was only just starting to accumulate trash again. Lucky for you, because you could lock onto the slight notes of magic easily.

The scent was fading, but potent. The delicate smell held bittersweet notes of sexual pheromones. Only a specific creature could produce that smell.

You sent a text to the boys. “Meet me at the Motel. I found something interesting.”

Once you reached your motel room, you filled the guys in on what you’d found: “It has to be an incubus. But I've never known an incubus to execute its victims in this manner, most of them die quietly in their beds from multiple encounters.” Your tails, free of your magical glamor, swished around your frame as you paced the room.

Dean watched you pace, observing your body language as Sam asked questions. “What makes you suspect an incubus? Couldn't it have been just a regular vampire?” Your tails stiffened slightly with Sam's prodding, as if they were taking his doubt as a personal insult even though he knew you would never think that. This was business. You had to cover every base to be positive you were prepared for all probabilities.

Still, Dean didn't want you to think they doubted you. “Don't push so hard, Sam. You know she has a better nose for this sort of thing than we do. If she says it’s an incubus, then it is an incubus.”

You grinned at them. “Don't worry guys. I realize you are only sifting through all the possibilities. But the creature we are hunting is definitely an incubus, the smell in that alley was unmistakable.”

Sam nodded, pulling his notebook to his lap to look for any clue on incubi and how to slay them. Dean smiled sweetly and patted the bed next to him. You needed to rest, and he saw it. “It will take at least a day to get a plan worked out and get everyone into Mischief to stake it out. You should rest [Y/N]. Remaining in your human form drains you too much and we will need you to be in top form for what’s about to happen.”

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled, touching your hand to his shoulder as you reached him. “I'm gonna grab a shower first. I smell like a dumpster.”

Dean laughed when you wrinkled your nose, making you giggle. He began to put his jacket on and walk towards the door. “I'll go out to grab us some food while you guys do your thing. What's it gonna be?”

You settled your order with Dean. By the time he returned, you had showered and Sam had a complete strategy in place for the next day. Tomorrow would be eventful; you just hoped they wouldn‘t bust up your plan before you could execute it.

The next morning, you set out towards Mischief. You and Sam would apply for jobs at the club while Dean, functioning as a wealthy patron, came in after the club was in full swing. You had to admit, Sam's idea was great, but you had a better plan.

A few hours later, you exited the club triumphant. The hostess practically dragged you to the back room when you said you wanted a job as a dancer. She never even glanced at your fake resume. You had a dance routine and song picked out within the first ten minutes of meeting her. She even provided you information on the two dancers that had died, while still assuring you that there was nothing to worry about. She showed you a costume that Dean was sure to drool over and granted you the stage name, Vixen.

It took every bit of control you had not to laugh at the irony. A kitsune called Vixen. Who could have guessed you’d receive a name so ironically exact? Picking up donuts on your way back to the motel, you informed the brothers of your success and sent Sam on his way to apply. Dean seemed suspicious of your chipper mood. Good thing you bought sweets to distract him.

It wasn't pie, so you wouldn't be safe from his queries for the long run. But if you played your cards right, he would be more than happy to have pie later.

You left for Mischief around five with Sam trailing behind you. It was better if everyone in the club thought you strangers. Less suspicion towards you meant more opportunity to catch the incubus in action tonight.

You entered through the front door and met a tall, gangly man in a monkey suit more fitting of the fifties. He leaned over your frame, raking his eyes over your body. Your hackles went up. This guy was a creep, and he made you suspicious, but his cologne made it impossible to tell if he possessed magic. It was frustrating.

The hostess from the night before sauntered towards you, putting her hand on the man's back to catch his attention. “George, this is our new dancer Vixen. Vixen, George is the owner of Mischief.” She smiled as she looked between the two of you. You shook George's clammy hands before he nodded and walked back towards his office.

You released the breath you didn't know you had been holding, looking up at the hostess. “Sorry, hun. George is a bit strange.”

You shrugged your shoulders, as nonchalantly as possible. “It's okay, ma'am. I've dealt with my fair share of strange in the past.” You both laughed.

“You are the first dancer here, dear. Once the other girls show up, I will call you to the back to introduce you.” She wandered off to the rear of the club.

Turning towards the bar, you locked eyes with Sam. If his expression was any indication, you knew he had overheard. “Shit.” You tried your best to appear innocent as you went towards the bar, hands in your pockets.

As you took a seat, Sam picked up the glasses from behind the bar and wiped them down. He plastered a fake smile onto his face. The perfect semblance of a coworker greeting a new friend. His eyes were another story. “A dancer? Really, [Y/N]? What the hell are you thinking?”

You growled at him. It wasn't the most menacing since you were in human form, but his questioning pissed you off. “It‘s the best course of action, Sam. I am a better use to you as bait than I am as extra eyes.”

He sighed. “Are you going to tell Dean or am I?”

“Neither.” You sighed, preparing to spill everything to Sam. "This is as much for him as for the case. We love each other, but he won't admit it because he doesn't want emotions to impede his duty. This is the best way I could think to show him I can be an asset to the team and care for him.”

“I understand.” He shook his head, smirking at you. “He‘s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

You smiled deviously. “His anger won't last long when I'm through with him.” Sending Sam a wink, you stood just in time to hear the hostess call you from the back.

“Good hunting, Sam.”

Dean walked into Mischief at ten and made his way towards Sam. His eyes scanned the bar for [Y/N], expecting to see her there or waiting tables. Nerves seized his heart when you were nowhere to be seen. He perched himself on a stool at the far end of the bar, watching the rest of the club through the mirrors on the back wall, still scanning for you.

“She's not there.”

Dean looked up at his little brother and saw the smirk on his lips. “What did she do, Sam?”

“You will just have to wait and see, Dean.” With that, Sam opened a beer in front of his brother and pointed him towards the tables in the center of the room. “Just go with it.” He walked over to the other patrons.

Dean huffed, annoyed at his brother's cryptic answer and your absence. Why didn't you follow the plan? He stalked towards a small table towards the center of the dancer's stage to sit and nurse his beer. If you had changed the plan, you had a good reason for it. But why didn't you tell him?

As you donned your costume in the dressing room, you were giddy with nerves. Sure, you’re on a mission to kill a dangerous creature that could take the bait and attack you. But you’re also on a mission for the man you loved. A cool hand on your shoulder made you shiver.

“Hey Vixen, do you need anything before you go out on stage?” The blonde's voice was sickening sweet and her smile was as fake as her double D breasts and her icy blonde tresses. Diamond was a veteran and your costar for the night. The hostess had introduced her earlier, and you hated her immediately.

“I'm good, Diamond.” You smiled brightly up at her. “I may be new here, but I'm no novice to seducing men.” You almost missed the flicker of hate in her eyes. To her, you appeared young, beautiful, and delicate. An advantage of your magic; it made you irresistible to others. They never knew the threat you posed until it was too late.

The hostess walked into the room, cutting your conversation short. “Ladies, it's the last number of the night. I want you to give your best, go out there and show these men what they are missing.” Looking pointedly at you and Diamond, she smiled. “Vixen, you and Diamond will be the first to walk the floor. Pick a patron and show him a wonderful time. Everyone else will follow. Good luck, girls.”

When the hostess left through the curtains, you glimpsed Dean before a chilling voice whispered in your ear. “Break a leg, Vixen.” Diamond's smile was almost predatory, but you just smiled as the lights dimmed onstage.

You stepped out, this was your moment, and the music kicked on with that all familiar scream.

You smiled as the lights illuminated the girls on stage, one by one. Dean's jaw went slack and you giggled. Where the rest of the men saw the sexy leather bustier and leggings, you know Dean saw more. He saw the true you underneath the magic.

Dirty, rotten, filthy, stinkin....

Dean felt a surge of possessive energy take over. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. You personified beauty and danger and all he thought was, “MINE”.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry Sweet Cherry Pie

Your beautiful black tails swung with the beat of the music. Your waist length, purple black hair flowed like silk as you rocked your hips and tossed your head to the rocking beat. The song was sinful and sexy and you never took your eyes from Dean's for more than a second.

Well, swingin' on the front porch, swingin' on the lawn Swingin' where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right If I think about baseball, I'll swing all night, yeah Yeah, yeah

All you ever wanted was for Dean to look at you the way he was right now. Eyes blazing like an inferno. It was exhilarating.

Swingin' in the living room, swingin' in the kitchen Most folks don't 'cause they're too busy bitchin' Swingin' in there 'cause she wanted me to feed her So I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater

You walked from the stage first, heading straight for Dean's chair. Diamond tried to cut you off, but Dean only had eyes for you. He waved her away from his chair. Her face was one of pure rage, but he didn't notice. You did, but you ignored it for now.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for her Don't even try 'cause you can't ignore her

You danced and swayed around his chair, touching him with light, sensual caresses. You wreathed your tails in icy, blue fox fire, running them around his arms, over his hands and under his chin. Leaning over the back of his chair, you tipped his head back and placed a sweet kiss to his lips, smiling when he groaned an impatient sound.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, make a grown man cry Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah

Dancing in front of his chair, you enticed him. Dean had been struck dumb by the immense power you were demonstrating under everyone's noses. Where everyone else saw a pretty blonde, he saw a striking kitsune in all of her dangerous glory. It was astonishing, but all thoughts of your power had flown out the window when you kissed him.

She's my cherry pie Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye Sweet cherry pie

He watched your body writhe like a snake in front of him, blue fox fire spread over your beautiful tails as you teased him. When you straddled his lap, his hands moved to grip your hips, but you used your magic to tie his hands to the arms of the chair. Much to his surprise.

Swingin' to the drums, swingin' to guitar Swingin' to the bass in the back of my car Ain't got money, ain't got no gas But we'll get where we're goin' if we swing real fast

Your hands were on his shoulders as you ground your hips into his. A little preview of what you would do to him tonight, you thought. His heated expression made you smile as you rolled your chest into his.  Stroking your tails over his arms and legs, you heard him groan as the cool sensation of your fox fire connected with his heated skin.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for her Don't even try 'cause you can't ignore her

You tossed your head back, giving him a full view of your exposed abdomen and tight leather leggings as you did a back bend over his knees, placing your hands on his ankles for balance. You skimmed your fingers over his legs as you rose over him.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, make a grown man cry Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah

Grinding your pelvis into his as you stopped mere centimeters from his lips. Smirking, you flicked your tongue over his lips causing him to growl. The sound shot to your core and you gasped as Dean's hands escaped your magical hold.

She's my cherry pie Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye Sweet cherry pie, yeah, pie

Dean's hands grazed your thighs, leaving a trail of heat up to your hips where he gripped you hard. He leaned into you with a devilish grin. “You are gonna pay for that sweetheart.” You gasped when his hands pushed you down hard, rocking your clit roughly over his hard cock. It felt so good, you almost lost the hold on the illusion you had made for the rest of the club. Dean chuckled when he saw your focus wavering. “Don't drop that illusion, babe. You are mine. I don't want to share this sight with anyone else.”

(Swing it!) All night long (Swing it!) Like a trained professional

His words struck a chord in your soul and you smiled. “You ready for the finale, love?” Dean nodded his head slightly. Unsure of what you had planned, but ready for anything as long as you never left his lap.

Swingin the bathroom, swingin' on the floor Swingin' so hard, we forgot to lock the door In walks her daddy standin' 6 foot 4 He said, "You ain't gonna swing with my daughter no more"

You gave him the most sensual lap dance of his life. It was clothed sex. Dirty as all hell and he couldn't have asked for more. His hands roamed your body. Touching every inch of skin he could find. It was heaven and you couldn't wait to get him alone later.

She's my cherry pie Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise Tastes so good, make a grown man cry Sweet cherry pie, oh yeah She's my cherry pie Put a smile on your face, ten miles wide Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye Sweet cherry pie Sweet cherry pie, yeah, huh

You ended the song with a kiss as Dean's hands stroked through your hair. It was everything you hoped for. Your tongues battled for dominance as he explored your mouth. He was like a man starved and you were more than happy to be the one he was starving for.

Swing it!

When the song ended, you were both jolted back to reality. The applause was loud and boisterous as the rest of the dancers stood. You smiled down at Dean. He smiled back, squeezing your ass when you stood to walk away with the rest of the dancers. You winked over your shoulder at him as you walked away, missing the hateful glare that Diamond shot your way.

In the back room, the hostess congratulated everyone on a job well done. “Vixen, you are one of the most phenomenal dancers I have seen in a long time. I hope you can stay for a while. Having you here will definitely bring in more customers.”

You smiled gratefully at her. Thanking her for giving you the opportunity. You lied, telling her you would love to stay, even though you had no desire to dance for anyone but Dean ever again and would be gone by morning. She was none the wiser.

Once she exited the room, you began to change into your normal clothes to go out onto the floor and speak with Dean and Sam. When you saw Diamond glaring at you, you just smiled and continued gathering your things. She was a small fry, no need to let a jealous bitch impede your case.

You met Dean at the bar and called Sam over. As he poured you both a drink, you told them of your suspicions of the club owner. He was the only male, so far, that had your instincts screaming at you. He was your most practical suspect and he would be the target at the end of the night.

Sam's thoughts on the matter made you pause. “I haven't seen him all night. He hasn't even left his office.”

“There are cameras everywhere in here. Maybe he's just watching the dancers from inside to discourage any suspicion.” Dean's point was valid, but something didn't seem right. What if you were wrong?

“There is one other person who could be involved.” Dean and Sam looked at you quizzically. They had never heard you doubt yourself this way. “Diamond. The dancer you waved off earlier. She's been acting weird since the moment she walked in today.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, she looked pretty pissed when I told her I wasn't interested earlier.”

“Wait. What?” You were astonished. “She tried to get to you twice?” He nodded and your blood started to boil. “I'm gonna ring that bitch's scrawny neck.”

Both brothers chuckled and Dean stroked his fingers over the back of your clenched fist. “Don't fly of  the handle now, [Y/N]. You will need your energy to fight later.”

Sam laughed a bit more. “So, what's the plan for catching this thing? I'm assuming you have a new one since you changed your plan without telling us.”

You nodded and filled them in on the new plan. All thoughts of strangling Diamond gone, for now.

After closing time at Mischief, you left out the back door to wait in the alley. You pretended to play games on your phone as if you were waiting on a friend to pick you up. Half an hour passed before someone joined you in the alley. You looked up, expecting a hideous monster, but all you saw was Diamond. You pretended to ignore her, acting as if she was an insignificant bug under your shoe. No threat.

When she sauntered up to you and began talking, you sent an SOS to Dean's cell. “So, Vixen. You planning to take my place here?”

You gasped as if her question hurt. “Why would you ever think that, Diamond? I am only trying to make money like every other person in the world. I have no desire at all to take your place.”

She laughed maniacally, her face morphing into an ugly scowl. “Sure seemed like you are. That man should have been mine tonight. I could have made him mine.”

“So, that's what happened to those girls. You got jealous because they kept taking your prey?” You laughed darkly at the creature in human skin standing before you. “You are one nasty bitch.” Your smile was smug as shock filled her, now monstrous, features.

She screeched in rage, grabbing you by the throat and lifting your feet from the ground. You only smiled as you released your hold on your own powers.

The succubus dropped you to the ground. Backing away as your sleek black tails, wrapped in fox fire, fanned out behind you. You pulled your hair into a quick ponytail, exposing your pointed ears as the creature watched you. “I'm confused though.” You stared at her. Your prey. “How does a succubus mask their magic with the same scent as that of in incubus?”

She offered no explanation, only crouched into a fighting stance and running full speed towards your body. You blocked her with a wall of blue fire. Lighting up the dark alley around you.

The succubus shrieked as her flash began to bubble like melted wax. It was nasty. She fell to the ground raking long furrows into the flesh of her face, trying with all of her might to remove the fire before it killed her.

Her shrieking was deafening in the otherwise silent night as her flesh slowly melted away from her bones. As Sam and Dean rounded the corner, into the alley, a beautifully grisly sight met them. A black kitsune, wrapped in blue fox fire stood over a succubus, flesh melted from her bones as she was reduced to a begging and pleading mess on the ground.

Dean approached calmly, motioning for Sam to stay back. When he reached your side, your eyes connected with his and he gasped. The blue of your fox fire was reflected in those haunting eyes. This was a kitsune's power. The power to protect and the power to destroy.

He drew his gun, aiming at the half-dead creature's head without ever taking his eyes off of you. The sound of the gun made you both jump and you watched as the ashes of the succubus floated away on the breeze.

“Let's go home, [Y/N].”

You took Dean's hand and followed him back to the motel where you all gathered your things. A few hours later, you, Dean, and Sam were on a plane headed home.

When Dean asked you what happened in the alley, you only smiled. “Nobody gets to claim what is mine, Dean. That's a kitsune's promise.”

He laughed, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you breathless. You made it home soon after that and spent days in bed together. Exploring each other’s bodies and loving one another from sun up to sun down and throughout the night. There was no place you would rather be.