#it’ll be faster then if I just drug myself

[probablyintensemuses]

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia – old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

[sebsxphia]

ugly cravings.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: rhett is there through the testing moments of your recovery.

￫ c/w: drug and alcohol use, recovery, cravings, swearing and sobriety.

￫ a/n: as i go through recovery, i’ve found it comforting to myself to write these pieces. i hope you enjoy it and it provides any level of comfort to you as well! <3 my ‘sobriety’ masterlist can be found here! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Rhett placed your dinner plate that was brewing with noodles and well cooked vegetables on the kitchen table in front of you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you thanked him before he sat down next to you, making a start on his own dinner in front of him. You scrunched your fingers in and out of your palms to steady your tremors before you picked up the chopsticks.

Your dexterity was wobbling as you poised the chopsticks to grab at the Chinese inspired dinner below you. You just about got two mouthfuls when you huffed out a deafeated laugh and dropped them to the table. “Can you get me a knife and fork please, cowboy?”

“Sure, darlin’.” Rhett fetched you a knife and fork with no hesitation and placed yet another light kiss to your forehead. Your new set of utensils made eating far more compliant as your hand vibrated. You both ate in peace, occasionally humming in pure bliss at how good it tasted and you complimented Rhett endlessly.

You didn’t notice his fleeting glances down at your hands. The domesticated silence was peaceful, but Rhett finally spoke up. “You know your support worker said this would happen, m’ love. You’re at three months, your body is adjustin’. It’ll stop soon, baby.” He reached over and gently squeezed at your quivering hand to guide your attention to what he was lovingly reassuring you about.

Your lips quirked upwards into a loving smile and you brought the back of Rhett’s hand, through shaky movements, to your lips, placing a grateful kiss to his worn hands.

One week later and Rhett crawled into bed next to you just gone midnight. You sank back a couple of beers at the bar, that was it. You could handle this. You had practiced it over and over, time and time again. It would be fine-

Until it wasn’t.

It always started in your fingertips and toes. A horrible twitch that anyone else would call, “a nervous twitch.” The ever growing feeling creeped up your nerve endings of your limbs and made them restless under the linen sheets against Rhett’s own limbs. It spread through your ribs and fisted at your ever beating heart, which was now pounding faster with every passing second. The all consuming feeling reached its ugly peak when it crawled up your throat and twitched through your nostrils, making your gums ache. It was a scratch that could never be scratched. Never reached. Never satisfied.

You were too consumed to notice Rhett shifting behind you and propping himself up on his elbow. “Sweetheart?” His voice, laced with the beginnings of sleep, cut through the dark of your room and called you back to him.

You grunted in response and shifted against him continually. “Fuck, shit. R-Rhett,” you stammered through gritted teeth, “m’ fuckin’ craving.”

There was a further shift from Rhett behind you and eventually his bedside lamp was illuminating your bedroom. “C’ ere, m’ love.” Rhett sat up against the headboard and pulled you flush against his bare chest. Your body wouldn’t stop withering and squirming under his grasp. The all possessing feeling of craving was wracking your body and making your muscles twitch and thrash against him. You could hear Rhett quietly shushing in an gentle attempt to pull you through this. He could feel the feeble groans of your frustration vibrate against his flesh.

“I know, darlin’, I know. C’ mon, you can do this, baby. Fifteen more minutes and you know the cravin’ will pass. ‘ere,” Rhett brought the tips of his fingers to your lips and you held onto them, pressing them firmly against your gums to relieve some of the ache. In between, you gently nibbled on them to soothe yourself. “There y’ go, angel. You’re doin’ so good for me. I’ve got you, my sweet girl.”

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch

[addictivepsychology]

Day 25?

It’s been awhile.

I’ve had a horrible day, these feelings

It’s like I went backwards

I’m not sleeping

I’m losing weight

I’m loving the way I look

Hating the way I feel

I don’t know why I’m crying again

I just want to feel safe again

Like everything is okay

But it feels like I can’t relax and I can’t stop and I have so much pressure

I got so used to going on your schedule and not doing much that I forgot how to do things

I always did things on my own, but I always had to think of someone else first

Finding myself takes a lot of tears and blood and fighting

I just wish it would happen faster

I want to be out of the house all the time, but I don’t have energy for that anymore

Sometimes I wish I was on drugs so I didn’t have to worry about anemia or potassium or multivitamins

I just want someone to cuddle with

And to tell me everything will be alright

Will it be alright?

I finally have friends and I love them so much, what could I do without them listening to me

I’ve been crazy for days now

Anxiety I’ve never felt before, how can I

How can I not want to leave the house

I need sleep and rest

But how can I rest without telling me that it’s okay

Because it doesn’t feel okay

And I’m living off fumes and adrenaline from outside sources

But that will kill me

Before long

I feel sick

I want to feel normal again, okay again

I’m so happy being alone and single

I’m so happy being on my own schedule

Doing whatever I want

But now I feel like I have to do years worth of stuff I’ve wanted to because you didn’t want to

I’ve started painting again. Almost done cleaning my room finally .

I’m so excited about the upcoming weeks and months

Almost too excited to sleep

I forgot what this felt like

I can do anything

And I’ll do everything

And it will be okay

Please tell me it’ll be okay.

[yesitsmewhataboutit]

So it’s 4am and it’s gotten to the point I’m like do I try to sleep or do I just drug myself and make myself gts but if I drug myself I might not wake up when my alarm goes off and I ain’t tryna hear it from the peanut gallery (my mother)

[mackenzielovee]

ambivalence blurb: love me back

a/n: hello <3 it's been a minute but i hope you guys like this anyway, it's some more context to their story. please leave me some love if you can! xoxo

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug misuse, mention of addiction

series masterlist

     Basketball, girls, parties, and college. 

The four things that Rafe Cameron is supposed to care about — even in that order. Topper, who now stands beside Rafe in the middle of the Club, spends the final minutes before his Monday night shift recapping the party they’d attended Friday night while Rafe half-listens, too busy scouting the lobby for a certain someone. 

“Anyway, where’d you and Kelce disappear to?”

Rafe freezes, only for a moment, before he looks up at Topper. Curiosity lines his features, and Rafe knows he’s going to have to lie his way out of this. 

“You know, just — we hung out upstairs,” Rafe shrugs, trying to play it off. 

Topper raises a brow, “You and Kelce hung out upstairs by yourselves during one of the greatest parties we’ve had all year?”

Rafe tries not to roll his eyes. To Topper, every party was the greatest. Before Rafe can say anything, however, Kelce comes up behind him and tosses an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a chokehold. 

“What’s up, Cameron?” Kelce questions as Rafe fights him off, “Thorton.”

“Glad you’re here,” Topper says, “I was just asking Rafe where the two of you ended up on Friday night.”

Unlike Rafe, Kelce shrugs easily, playing it off, “A couple of the girls wanted to take a late night dip in the pool. We’re nothing if not gentlemen.”

Rafe’s eyes close under yet another lie, and when he feels Topper looking between the two, he’s sure that the truth will pop out any second. 

“The pool, huh?” Topper repeats, keeping his gaze on Rafe, “That’s interesting, because—”

Rafe just about melts under the relief of Topper’s phone ringing out through the air. His eyes pop back open as Topper stares at the screen for one second before he starts backing up away from the boys. 

“New girl?” Kelce asks. 

Topper shakes his head, “Y/N. Promised I’d meet her in the parking lot before work. It’ll give you two some time to get your story straight.”

Rafe perks up at the mention of her name, at the promise of a glimpse. But as he watches Topper disappear out the door, he realizes he has no excuse to be out in the parking lot when he’s simply meeting Kelce for drinks. His chest deflates as he turns back to his best friend, wanting nothing more than a mai tai and a stronger stress reliever. 

“You should tell him,” Kelce says, stepping in closer to prevent wandering ears, “It was just a few lines. He’s not gonna flip out.”

“I don’t give a fuck if he flips out,” Rafe snaps back, “I don’t want him to tell her.”

Kelce groans just as Rafe starts walking toward the bar. He doesn’t offer a word, knowing Kelce will follow. 

“Come on, man, don’t even act like that,” Kelce grumbles, “I saw you replaying her Snapchat story over and over again.”

“So, what?”

“So,” Kelce continues, walking faster to keep up with him, “You just don’t want to admit that you gave into the fear that she’s out there fu—”

“Don’t,” Rafe spins, eyes wide as he stares Kelce down, “She’s not like that. Especially not with JJ fucking Maybank.”

“Right,” Kelce rolls his eyes, “Look, dude—”

“It was a one time thing,” Rafe promises, eyes darting around to make sure nobody is listening, “I have myself completely under control. I’m never touching that shit again. Just let it go.”

“I’ll let it go if you can tell me that you honestly did not lose it when you saw that picture of her and JJ on her story. Tell me that’s not why you suddenly wanted a line when you’ve never shown interest before.”

Clenching his jaw, Rafe shoves Kelce back, “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” Kelce spits, “At least admit it to yourself, Cameron. You’re letting her fuck with your head—-”

“One more word and I swear to God—”

“Whoa, guys,” Topper’s voice fills the air once more, drawing Rafe back, “What’s going on?”

Rafe turns, but his eyes don’t find Topper. They find you. In one second, he takes in the high ponytail, the ripped jeans, and the Led Zeppelin tee shirt that is so obviously not yours. 

“Y/N,” Kelce speaks behind Rafe, destruction present in his tone, “Just the girl we—”

“Everything’s fine,” Rafe interrupts, “We should go to the bar.”

“Not so fast, Cameron,” Kelce says, stepping forward and latching onto Rafe’s tee shirt, “It’s not everyday we get to relive our weekend with one of the hottest—-”

“Save it, Kelce,” you shake your head, “Doesn’t work when I’m sober.”

Kelce grins, “But it works when you’re not?”

“Enough,” Rafe growls lowly, only loud enough for Kelce to hear. 

 Kelce, ignoring his best friend, keeps that same grin plastered across his face as he looks over to you once more. 

“So, Y/N, how was your weekend? Do anything fun? Or anyone?”

Rafe swallows at the question, because he’s not sure he can handle the answer. Kelce’s grip on Rafe’s shoulder remains iron-clad, and Rafe doesn’t try fighting him off. 

“Not really,” you shrug, not noticing the silent game among the boys, “Not as fun as your weekend, from what Topper tells me.”

Topper nods, “Yeah, especially those two. Still a mystery where they ran off to.”

Kelce’s grin widens, “Oh, well, I mean, you know us—”

Rafe elbow connects with Kelce’s stomach, but Kelce brushes it off. Your eyes wander over Rafe as you register the movement, but you quickly turn your attention back to Topper.

“I’m gonna go change,” you tell him, “This ponytail is giving me a headache. Do you have any aspirin?”

“In my bag. I’ll go with you,” Topper replies. 

You nod, then look back to Kelce and Rafe briefly. 

“See you,” you mumble, unsure of how to excuse yourself. 

“Always a pleasure to see you, gorgeous,” Kelce doesn’t miss a beat, even squeezes Rafe’s shoulder, “Right, Cameron?”

Rafe tenses under Kelce’s grip as your eyes find his, just for a moment. 

“See you, Y/N,” he says quietly. 

You just nod and turn, letting Topper follow. He gives the boys one last, strange look, then shifts his attention back to you. Rafe watches as the two of you walk away together, laughing and talking in a way Rafe only wishes he could with you.

“Damn,” Kelce mutters once you’re out of an earshot, “Is it just me, or do those jeans work wonders for her?”

Wasting no time, Rafe shoves Kelce away. Kelce just chuckles, shaking his head at Rafe’s inability to ever let a comment slide. 

“Fuck off,” Rafe grunts before he turns and walks away, over to the bar where he knows Kelce will follow. 

     January turns to February, and each Friday that comes along, Rafe continues to swear to Kelce he has himself under control. Never touching that shit again turns into a line every other week, and Rafe silently excuses his behavior because of a social media post or a rumor he heard or something Topper told him about you. Each Thursday that changes brings only silence from Rafe as he sits beside you, noticing your change in nail polish, perfume, and your impulsive decision to dye your hair. 

The first Thursday of February, Rafe enters your home with the knowledge that tonight is your night to do the dishes after dinner. He’d helped Scott clean up last week, and with a vote of confidence from Topper, Rafe gives you a smile when he enters the house. He knows it’s unprecedented, and his palms sweat through the entire two second process, but you barely even return it before turning away to finish setting the table. 

Swallowing every instinct screaming at him to stay near Scott, to leave you alone, Rafe breaks away from his father and toward the dining room. Your mom disappears into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine, leaving you alone as you move around to set forks at various places. He leans against the wall to give the aura of collectedness, even though his insides are completely twisted and turned. 

Just as his mouth opens, sound crawling from his throat with the understanding that this could change everything between the two of you, Scott smacks Rafe on the back and enters the dining room. 

“Hey, Cam, you gotta check out the new hoop we got out back. I can totally dunk on it,” Scott beams. 

You snort, “That’s because you have it lowered to five feet high.”

Rafe laughs before he can help it, and when your eyes flash up to his, he draws back out of instinct. Your eyes fall as quickly as they rose, and before Rafe can recover, the dining room fills with adults. Soon, Rafe is shoved into his usual chair beside you, watching as you pick at your food and laugh at a joke Wheezie made. 

No part of him is able to focus. He can smell your perfume, one that you’ve now worn to dinner for three weeks in a row, and he wonders what prompted the change. Before this, you’ve always worn a light, fruity scent. This one, while loved by Rafe, seems more grown up. As much as he has to squirm to avoid exciting himself every time he smells it, he wonders who you’re really wearing it for.

As dinner comes to a close, you quietly rise from your seat and grab a few plates. Rafe waits until you’ve carried yours, Scott’s, and your father’s into the kitchen, then rises himself and picks up his and your mother’s. 

He follows you into the kitchen, stopping briefly at the entryway just to take in the sight of you with your back to him, standing at the sink. He racks his brain, trying to come up with something to say, but instead, he just carries the plates over in silence. 

You barely glance his way as he sets them down, and Rafe licks his lips expectantly, part of him hoping that a conversation topic will just appear. 

“Rafe, honey, come sit down!”

His shoulders fall at the call for his presence back in the dining room; your mother’s fear that a member of the Cameron family would feel obligated to work shining through. You look up at him once more and give him a half-smile, one which Rafe takes and appreciates wholeheartedly. 

As Rafe exits the kitchen, it dawns on him that Valentine’s Day is less than two weeks away. Briefly, he wonders if you have anyone in mind, because he sure does. 

     Valentine’s Day falls on a Tuesday, and it’s a day that comes all too soon for Rafe. It’s one of the many days he dreads, because each year, he fears that he’ll have to see you with someone. Luckily, Rafe makes it through the entire work day and manages to secure a seat next to Kelce at the bar of the Club before any more lonely, single people could snag a chair. To further his luck, both you and Topper are on shift today. Topper — who has plans with Sarah — is sneaking out three hours before his shift ends, with the expectation that you’ll cover him. 

“Hey, boys,” Topper smiles, hurrying behind the bar for a quick break

“Hey,” Rafe greets.

“How’s it feel to be the only one with Valentine’s plans, Thornton?” Kelce asks, smirking. 

Topper chuckles, “Sarah and I are going to the mainland tonight. I’m guessing you two will be downing a few and drunk dialing whatever girl you hooked up with last weekend.”

“Pretty much,” Kelce shrugs, “Cameron will just be sulking all night.”

“I’m not sulking,” Rafe argues, shooting a quick glance your way before clearing his throat and looking over to Topper, “What’s she doing tonight?”

Topper exchanges a glance with Kelce before he shakes his head, then sighs and gives in. 

“She’s going to some bonfire out on the Cut. But don’t worry, man, she doesn’t have a Valentine. I already asked her.”

Rafe nods to himself, then steals another look at you. Bright smile, hair wavy and framing your face perfectly, and he’s sure you’re covered in that new perfume that seems to be driving him crazy. 

“There’s something I have to take care of,” Rafe blurts, standing from his stool quickly, “Nobody touch my drink.”

“Cameron, don’t you dare ask her to be your valentine,” Kelce groans, “You’d literally never recover from that rejection—”

“Shut up,” Topper hisses. 

Rafe doesn’t respond, but instead, hurries inside to the main lobby of the Club. There are couples, single men, single women, and, much to Rafe Cameron’s luck, an older woman selling red roses to happy couples. Rafe trades her five dollars for five roses, then gives her an extra dollar for an index card and the use of a pen. He scribbles in a note, then hurries over to the door labeled Employees Only to execute the remainder of his plan. 

     Once the flowers are safely tucked into your locker, Rafe makes his way back outside. Topper is still at the bar watching basketball on the TV with Kelce, and Rafe spots you in the middle of passing out food to one of your tables. 

He sits down silently and tries to compress his smile in front of his friends by downing half of his drink. Neither of them ask, and Rafe doesn’t tell. 

A few minutes later, Rafe hears your voice off to his right. He perks up and looks over at you just as you call Topper’s name. 

“I’m taking a break,” you tell him, “You can go when I get back.”

Topper nods, “Thanks.”

Rafe’s stomach twists at the idea that you’ll find the flowers in a mere minute, causing him to squirm in his seat.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous,” Kelce calls, “Can I buy you a drink later?”

You chuckle as you back up, “You wish.”

Kelce laughs, then turns to Rafe as he sips on his drink. 

“Yes, I really do.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and elbows Kelce, then turns his attention back to the basketball game. He wonders if you’ve found the flowers yet. He wonders if you hate them. He wonders if he should’ve written more on the note. Writing more would have been creepy, he thinks. He should’ve done more. Maybe, he should’ve done nothing. 

It isn’t until you walk back out onto the deck thirty minutes later, biting down on your bottom lip to hide a smile, that Rafe realizes he did exactly what you needed him to do. 

You look over at Topper and nod your head toward the exit, “Go.”

“You’re an angel,” he says, giving you a quick hug before he bolts without being spotted by your boss. 

You take over Topper’s cleaning duties, then step over to Kelce and Rafe. Both boys look at you at the exact same moment, and it’s then that a smile breaks out across your face. 

“Anything you guys need?” 

Kelce smiles, “What’s got you in such a good mood all of the sudden?”

Rafe beams, but uses his glass to hide it. You smile, taking in a deep breath before pulling Rafe’s note out of your pocket and slapping it down on the bar. Rafe’s words, clear as day, are written across the paper. 

You’re beautiful. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Rafe’s smile widens, and he sits back in his chair, prepared to say nothing. Because he knows you’re not really showing him, you’re just gushing to the first people you know. 

Kelce side-eyes Rafe, and right then, Rafe knows that Kelce recognizes his handwriting. 

“Damn,” Kelce says sarcastically, “Got yourself a secret admirer, huh?”

“I guess,” you shrug, still smiling, “I should get back to my tables.”

Rafe smiles to himself as you fold his note and tuck it into your pocket before making your escape. He’s happy that the note and flowers mean something to you — even if he couldn’t give them to you himself. 

“Jesus, Cameron,” Kelce mutters against the rim of his glass, “You’re never gonna get that girl if you don’t stop doing all this anonymous nice shit for her.”

Rafe just shakes his head — because he knows Kelce just doesn’t understand. Rafe isn’t doing it to get you. No, he does it because he gets to see that smile. That pure, real, honest smile that reminds him how much he loves you. That smile that could bring him to his knees. The smile that, above all else, he’d do absolutely anything to see. 

Friday night finds Rafe quickly. As usual. 

Last night’s dinner had been the same as the weeks before — dead silent and absolute torture for Rafe. He noticed how you smiled more, though, and you’d been much more attentive to the adults when they asked you questions. Rafe tells himself it’s because of the flowers; that he’d made your Valentine’s Day and now you’re happy. 

Which is why he finds himself with his first drink in his hand on Friday night with no desire to get fucked up. All he wants to think about is you, your smile, and what you did with the flowers he’d put in your work locker on Valentine’s Day.

“So, since my birthday is on Tuesday, we’ll do a late celebration on Friday night,” Kelce rambles, four drinks in, “I wanna try that bar downtown. Nobody make plans, alright?”

Topper nods, “Sounds good, dude.”

“Yeah,” Rafe agrees, “We’ll be there.”

Rafe lets his eyes wander around the kitchen while Kelce rambles about the basketball games tomorrow — how he has money on certain teams and swears he’s gonna win this week. Topper, who is now wide-eyed staring at his phone, says nothing. 

“I’m just saying, Cameron, UNC is totally favored to win—”

“I don’t think you’re right about that,” Rafe argues, “Let me check.”

“How about,” Topper says quickly, yanking Rafe’s phone from his hand, “We stay off of social media. Just for tonight. Maybe tomorrow, too. I actually heard that the blue light is really bad for your sleep cycle—”

“Have you lost it?” Rafe questions, reaching for his phone, “Give me that.”

“No, dude, Rafe, I really think that—”

“Oh, shit.”

Topper and Rafe both freeze at the tone in Kelce’s voice. Topper, because he knows he’s seen it. Rafe, because he knows he hasn’t.

Slowly, Rafe turns around and looks to Kelce, who is definitely not on ESPN. Without saying a word, Kelce covers his hand with his mouth and turns his phone around, displaying your Snapchat story to Rafe.

Your smile — it’s the thing that draws him in. For that one millisecond, he feels calm. He feels happy and at peace. Then, he sees the remainder of the screen, and every ounce of that peace escapes him. 

John Booker Routledge smiles widely beside you — a selfie you’d taken with him while he holds up his beer, as if flaunting his prizes to the camera. He’s standing too close to just be a friend, Rafe thinks, and even if by some chance that’s all you claim he is, Rafe knows that’s not all John B thinks. 

Silently, Rafe snatches his phone from Topper and opens the photo up on his own phone, where he can analyze more details. He stares at it and dissects every inch until you wind up uploading a video of John B and JJ shotgunning a beer together on the beach. He can hear your laughter as you film, but it only breaks his heart further in two. 

Closing out the app, Rafe tucks his phone back into his pocket and runs a hand through his hair. His two best friends watch closely to see what he’ll do, how he’ll react, and debate what to say. Kelce speaks first; his voice hesitant and quiet. 

“Cameron, I, um, I think—”

“I think,” Rafe stops him, “I need a fucking drink.”

Turning around, Rafe snatches a Svedka bottle from the counter and pours the liquid directly into his mouth, then nods toward the back door. 

“I’m gonna see what they’ve got outside,” Rafe says, carrying the bottle with him. 

“Rafe,” Kelce says gently, “You really shouldn’t—”

“I shouldn’t, what?” Rafe questions, chuckling to himself, “I shouldn’t do a few lines to feel better? I shouldn’t drive out to the Cut and beat the shit out of John B? Come on, Kelce. Tell me what I shouldn’t do.”

“A few lines?” Topper recoils, glaring at Kelce, “You got him started on that?”

“Get off your fucking high horse, Thorton,” Kelce grunts.

“Yeah, just come do a line with us,” Rafe encourages, already picking Kelce up by the collar of his shirt, “It’ll be fun. Come on.”

Rafe downs another shot from the bottle before pulling both boys outside, where he tosses down a handful of bills and eventually feels so okay with everything that he can’t even remember how he landed himself at this house party. 

Kelce, who did only a few lines with Rafe, turns to Topper, who remains faithful to his beer. 

“He got her flowers,” Kelce mumbles, “For Valentine’s Day.”

Topper nods, “She told me. She thinks our boss put them in her locker.”

“Why don’t you tell her, dude?” 

Topper shrugs, taking another sip of alcohol as he watches Rafe shove his tongue down the closest girl’s throat. 

“If he falls apart like this when she posts a stupid Snap story, imagine how he’ll be when she rejects him. She doesn’t like him back, Kelceo. Telling her would destroy him.”

Slowly, Kelce nods, “So, what do we do?”

“We let him ride it out,” Topper replies, “Stick with him while he grieves, then help him move on. He’ll get over her eventually.”

Silence grows between the boys. Topper sips on his beer while Kelce crosses his arms over his chest; both of them staring at Rafe. 

“What if he doesn’t?” Kelce asks suddenly.

“He will,” Topper answers, “He has to. He’s got no other choice.”

Tags:

@witchwyfe @ghostselena @goldenjo @itsalexwin @onmykneesforrafe @lovedetlost @mardema @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @malums-trash-can @emotionalbruv @rosetintednorth @rafecameronswhore @wanniiieeee @sarahwasfound @lilgoddesshines @abrunettefangirlnerd @absolute-fcking-chaos @premixed-margarita @anonymousobxfan @samcaniglia @midnightanticss @iammirrorball @r0und3bitch @thesimpletype @notdisneychannel @gillybear17 @solllaris @i-is-for-inspiring @luversgirl @maybankxw @mattyskies @imobsessedsblog @ryswritingrecord @barbietiingz @sierraahhhh @pittbull-enthusiast @nourfine @outerbankspov @drewsephrry @elizabethrosecresswell @lienoec @luhdrew @localhockeygirl

[dracos-eternity]

J.J. Maybank X Reader

HIS

Anon Request- AU! Where the Royal Merchant treasure hunt didn’t happen. J.J. Maybank SUPER smut pls

 Summary- Just a J.J. Maybank smut

Warnings-SMUT, CURSING, DRUGS, PUBLIC SEX, DEGRADATION, GUNS, ORAL (MALE RECEIVING) 

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

Y/N P.O.V.

“J.J., don’t you do it.” I feel his arm’s leave my body and hold my breath, waiting for the impact of the water. I come up, climbing back on the boat and pushing him over the side. “Ha, that’s what you get.” He comes up, getting close to me and towering over me.

“Princess, your going to regret that.” I bite my lip, feeling heat between my legs.

“Guy’s, we’re all here.” Pope clears his throat, making J.J. back up. 

“Oh, Pope, calm down. You just need to get laid, I promise, it’ll relax you.” I sling an arm around his shoulder before he death glares me, making me raise my hands in defeat. I take the blunt from Kiara, taking a giant hit off it before passing it to John B.

“No, you two need to stop being so horny.” I smirk at J.J.

“Pope, we’re not horny, we’re in love.” J.J. says, grabbing my waist and pulling me onto his lap.

“If that’s what you call that.” He rolls his eyes, walking away from J.J. and I.

“They just don’t know.” He mumbles into my neck, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh. I push his hand off, turning so that I sit sideways. 

“J.J., everyone is here.” I nod my head behind us, motioning to the group of people behind us. 

“So, just be quiet and they’ll never know.” He continues to trail kisses on my neck, my breath becoming faster.

“J.J., stop.” I pull away, getting out of his lap. 

“Ugh, why?” He gets up, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, erection pressing against my ass.

“J.J., I can feel it.” 

“Good, now we’re both horny and as long as your quiet nobody will know.” He chuckles against my skin as I let out a sigh, silently giving in. He pulls me over, sitting me in his lap as he sits down. He pulls a blanket over us as I sit on his lap. His fingers soon find their way into my swimsuit bottoms, rubbing my clit. I bite my lip, trying to conceal the moans as he leans down kissing my neck. “Remember, babygirl, if you moan everyone will know how much of a slut your being for daddy.” He mumbles against the sensitive skin on my neck. I gasp as he slides two fingers in me, slowly pumping them in and out. 

“Shit, J.J., please.” I lean my head down and whisper, trying not to let our friends hear us. 

“What princess, what is it?” He begins pulling his fingers out of me, making me whine. 

“Please fuck me, J.J.” I beg. 

“Okay, calm down.” I sit up on his lap, just barely. He slides his swim trunks down enough to release his aching member. I gasp at the feeling of him against my ass and back. “Now remember doll, quiet.” I nod my head and he looks around, making sure no one is watching us. I whimper as he slowly slides into me, filling me up. 

“Fuck, J.J.” I lean back, pressing my back against his chest, slowly grinding on him making J.J. groan into my neck. 

“Fuck, Y/N, just like that.” He whispers into my ear. My movements stall as the boat comes to a stop and I look up to see us outside John B.’s house.

“Guy’s, you coming?” Pope looks at us.

“Yeah, give us a few minutes.” J.J. smirks and the other three run off towards the house, knowing what was going to happen. Once they’re gone J.J. lifts me up, turning me around and sliding my bottoms to the side again and slamming me down on him. I moan and grab his shoulders, holding myself up. My head leans back strings of curses and moans leave my mouth as J.J. relentlessly pounds into me. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He wraps his hand around my throat applying just enough pressure to make my eyes roll back as I release a high pitched moan. 

“Good girl, now cum for daddy.” I nod my head and he uses his other hand to rub circles on my clit with his thumb. I claw at his back almost at the edge. “What’s my name?” He grunts out.

“Daddy, fuck.” The name falls from my mouth multiple times as I cum on him, the tightening of my walls around him making him cum inside me. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me up. I let my body fall, sinking into him. He kisses my lips and chest, leaving hickeys. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too, J.J.” I smile at him as he leans down and places more hickeys on my chest. “What’s your obsession of marking me?” I giggle.

“So everyone can know your mine.” He places soft kisses each mark. “Now come on, lets go inside.” I get off his lap, fixing myself and stretching, trying to get my thighs to stop aching.

“J.J., can you pick me up?” He chuckles and lifts me, sitting me on his back. 

“That bad?” I smack his shoulder as his cocky smirk makes an appearance. 

“Finally, we thought you guys would be there forever.” Pope says as we walk in the door. I laugh and J.J. sits me on the couch, joining Pope and John B., who are play fighting in the floor.

“Why does he insist on so many hickeys?” Ki says, sitting next to me and examining my neck and chest.

“Because he wants to show that I’m his.” I smile and watch the blond boy, abs flexing as he wraps his arms around Pope lifting him up. Fuck his arms, his abs, his face, well shit, now I’m horny again. I stand up, walking to the spare room we’ve claimed as ours. I call his name and motion for him to come to me. He flashes his smirk at the boys and Ki before coming to me. He follows in behind me, closing the door and grabbing my hips, pulling me close.

“Round two?” He chuckles.

“Yes, please.” He smiles at me and kisses me, moving us towards the bed. He pulls the string from behind my back and neck, causing my breasts to fall free. He pushes me back on the bed and I feel myself getting wet as kisses up my thigh, stopping his trail as his face reaches my barely clothed core. He places a small kiss on my core and kisses above the hem of my bottoms, hooking his fingers in the side, he slides them off. He slides his own bottoms off and flips me over, causing me to let out a surprised squeal. 

“Do you trust me?” He questions.

“Of course, love, why?” He pulls something out the drawer and I feel the cold barrel of a gun on my temple, making me shiver.

“Is this okay?” He asks hesitant. I nod and smile at the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I whine as he arches my back and slides into me, quickly pumping in and out me, moving the gun so that the barrel meets the back of my head. I moan and lean my face into the bed, trying to muffle my moans. He grabs my hair, pulling my face out the bed and connecting the barrel of the gun to my head. “Let me hear how pretty you sound, show me how much of a good slut you can be.” I whine and let my moans erupt from lungs. 

“Ah, daddy, I’m gonna-” My sentence is cut off by a warm liquid coming out of my body.

“Aww, look, I fucked my pretty whore so good she squirted.” He flips me over so that I’m on my back, slamming back into me. He points the gun at me and I let my body take over, reaching forward and licking the barrel of the gun all the way to where his hand rested on the trigger. I smile at him as he lets out a groan, wrapping his hand around my throat. “Such a good fucktoy for daddy.” His hips stutter as he pulls out. “On your knees, now.” I do what he says, getting on the floor and on my knees, opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out. He stands above me, resting the barrel of the gun in the middle of my forehead as he jacks off, soon coming in my mouth and on my chin. He pulls on a pair of boxers and gym shorts, walking out the bedroom and soon returning with a wet rag. He cleans my face off before lifting me onto the bed and cleaning me up, taking the sheets from under me and replacing them. He slides me into some clothes, his shirt and a pair of shorts I had here. He lays beside me, pulling a blanket over us and pulling me close. I smile at him and he kisses my lips. 

“So, the gun?” I question. 

“Yeah, I don’t know man, I just dreamed it up and decided to, y’know, try it.” 

“I’m glad you did, it was hot.” 

“Yeah, now get some sleep.” He kisses my forehead and pulls me into his chest as I drift of to sleep.    

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Wrong Kind of Stardust (Legolas x Reader)

Synopsis: After taking Legolas, your partner, to visit your “Stardust” addict brother, things get a little chaotic.

A/N: I’ve been thinking about Legolas a lot lately, and one thought that’s recently crossed my mind is “what if Legolas got high on crack?” and my brain ran with the rest. Sometimes you just gotta write about an elf on cocaine.

Warnings: drug abuse, addiction, peer pressure, mentions of sex, a very crazy and over-the-top elf high on Stardust.

Dismounting your respective horses, both you and Legolas dropped to the pine needles below. You had finally arrived at your brother’s secluded cottage in the forest, away from the hustle and bustle of the cities.

“I can’t believe he actually managed to afford a place to live,” you scoffed, thinking of your brother.

He had suffered many years with addiction to “Stardust”—a white powder when once inhaled, made your body react faster and more impulsively than usual.

“Try to be optimistic,” Legolas soothed. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder and kissed your head. “Keep in mind how much you want your older brother at our wedding, and that’ll put things into perspective.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, supposing he was right. “This wouldn’t be the first time Franny lied about ‘being better’, though.”

“No,” Legolas agreed, walking you both forward towards the cottage, arm around your back. “But this is the first time he’s said so upon us getting married in a month.”

The grin he gave you was one brimming in lovesickness, as he studied your eyes.

You arched a brow up at him over his words, knowing exactly how elvish marriages were undertaken, and how you technically already were husband and wife.

Catching your expression, he cleared his throat sheepishly, and responded with, “Well…married formally, at least.”

You rolled your eyes away from him, but couldn’t fight the smile on your face. However, it soon ran away, as you both arrived at the closed front door.

You inhaled tightly, and spoke aloud. “Here we are, I suppose.”

Hearing the premature disappointment in your voice, Legolas looked down his side at you. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, he gazed into your eyes and reassured you.

“Hey,” he lulled, earning your full attention. “It’s all going to be fine, all right? You needn’t worry about your family embarrassing you in front of me, like you mentioned on the road. We’ve talked about this whole ‘prince and commoner’ thing at length. I wouldn’t have…married you if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Your heart melted and your knees turned to mush, as you smiled up at him—bursting with love.

He returned the look and brought one hand up to cup your cheek. Running a thumb along your cheekbone, he began tilting your head upwards.

Still feeling your stomach flutter after all these years, you eyed him in excitement, before steadily closing your lids.

Right before his lips could brush against yours, however, the door to your brother’s cottage slammed opened.

Jolting away from one another, you both looked at Francis in shock. He looked every bit like you, but taller.

A broad grin was on Francis’ face, as he eyed his sister up.

“Y/n!” he exclaimed, rushing forwards to tackle you into a hug. “I’m so glad you made it! Oh! I haven’t seen you in years! And to think that you’re now getting married! Speaking of which—”

He pulled back from squeezing you blue, to size up Legolas instead. He strutted forwards with a low, manly laugh, and gripped a suddenly rigid and wide-eyed Legolas tight on the shoulders.

“My future brother-in-law!” he exclaimed, quickly pulling the protesting elf into a bear hug. “An elf, AND a prince! I can’t believe how well my sister scored!”

Laughing nervously, Legolas awkwardly wrapped his arms around Francis, patting him on the back. The only person he’d ever truly been skin-to-skin intimate with was you. Everyone else got a closed fist to the chest, or a shoulder clasp.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Francis,” Legolas said, politely.

“Francis?” he exclaimed, pulling back and holding Legolas straight by the shoulders. “Who are you, my mother? Don’t be so formal, your highness! You can just call me ‘Franny’, like Y/n here does!”

He turned to you with a broad grin, and you returned it, though, in a lipped manner. Legolas offered a tight and confused grin back, unsure at the best of times on how to interact with humans. Francis was certainly the most bizarre one he’d met yet.

He almost regretted encouraging you to visit him, but the thought of your nearing wedding day ahead drove him forward, as well as one simple, repetitive thought.

Do it for Y/n.

Do it for Y/n.

Do it for Y/n.

“Well, don’t be strangers now!” Francis pressed on, ushering you both inside. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea? Moonshine?”

“Tea is fine, Franny,” you said in an almost scolding tone, knowing he shouldn’t drink at all.

As you stepped inside of the home, you inspected every nook and cranny with your eyes—expecting bags of Stardust to be lying around.

However, to your surprise, there were none.

“Tea coming right up!” Franny declared, whisking away to the kitchen. “Please! Make yourselves at home down at the table!”

Legolas thanked him with a smile, and sat you down in a gentlemanly manner, before taking his seat next to you.

Looking around the room, and pleasantly surprised with your brother, you voiced so aloud.

“Wow, Franny, this place actually looks amazing! I’m quite proud of you—it seems as though you’ve really cleaned up your act this time, as opposed to the last occasion.”

“I’m completely clean, sister!” his voice came from the kitchen. You could also hear the whistling of a kettle and the rattling of drawers.

You smiled up at Legolas with excitement in your eyes, as you truly believed your brother. He returned your smile, and offered a brighter one as you spoke.

“I think he’s really done it…should we invite him now?”

“Absolutely,” he encouraged. “Do you want to go get the invitation out of the saddle-bags?”

Nodding resolutely, you stood to your feet. You placed a peck against his lips, before leaving out the door again.

“Make friends with him,” you said, before leaving with a happy skip in your step.

He waved you goodbye, before Francis’ voice caught his attention.

“Y/n! Hey, do you think—oh, where’d she go?”

Legolas looked over his shoulder to find Francis’ head sticking out of the entranceway into the kitchen, as he looked left and right for his sister.

“She’s just stepped outside for a moment,” Legolas answered, politely.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Francis dropped his act, and his expression.

The change in demeanour chased the smile away from Legolas’ face, as he parted his lips in shock up at the man.

“I beg your pardon?” Legolas asked, already on the “what did you just say about my wife?” boat.

“She can be a real nagger sometimes,” Francis explained. He dropped to his knees and pulled a wooden plank out from the floorboards. Underneath, a brown bag of white powder lay.

He fetched it quickly, and came to sit on the couch next to Legolas, but a few feet away. Francis then began pouring a handful out, where he next went onto inhaling some.

“What are you doing?!” Legolas nearly squealed, jumping to his feet, as if a snake was just placed next to him.

“Elevating myself. What’s it look like, elf?” Francis sassed, quirking a brow up at Legolas.

“Are you insane?” the angry side of Legolas emerged. “Y/n just left to retrieve your wedding invitation, and you’re betraying her trust?”

“Relax, would you?” Francis complained, inhaling more of the dust from his hand. “What she doesn’t know won’t kill her.”

“Uh, I’m standing right here,” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his body.

Looking his brother-in-law up and down, Francis replied, using a very monotonous voice. “Uh, yeah, I can see that. You’re a real stud of a stallion, so what?”

“No, that’s not what I—” Legolas went to defend himself. However, he bit his tongue and pressed both hands together in a praying motion. He brought said hands up to his face, and rested his forehead against them.

Closing his eyes, Legolas took a deep breath of his own.

“Wow, you look really stressed there, my friend,” Franny pointed out, holding the bag up next. “Would you like to try some?”

Jolted back into his senses, Legolas gaped down at the man for a minute in shock, before anger gave way again. “NO, FRANCIS! I WOULD NOT LIKE SOME OF YOUR DRUGS! Y/n will be devastated when she finds out you’re using again! And I encouraged her to give you another chance—I see why she was so against it now.”

The frown and glare of Legolas only deepened, as Franny rose to his feet, squaring up with the slightly taller elf.

“Hey, pal, you have no idea what I’m all about,” he growled, nodding his head in gesture of the elf. “And besides, who are you to judge? You’ve never even tried Stardust before!”

“Oh,” Legolas scoffed, rolling his eyes, “excuse me for having never done drugs before, what a horribly ignorant elf I am.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Francis urged, holding up a handful to Legolas’ nose. “C’mon, just a little sniff! You’ll feel a lot calmer soon, I promise!”

“No!” Legolas rejected, swatting his hands. “Get that stuff away from me, Francis!”

“C’mon!” Francis drew out, trying to put it underneath Legolas’ dodging nose. “Just a little bit of Stardust won’t hurt you!”

“No, but it’ll hurt Y/n!” he protested, trying to move away from the adamant man.

“Just a little!” he urged again, chasing Legolas, as the elf was backed into a corner.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“YES!”

“I SAID NO!”

“Okay, you know what?” Francis rolled his eyes, now fully having the elf cornered. “Here!”

With one big puff of air, the entire handful of Stardust blew into Legolas’ face, entering his system almost immediately.

Legolas rapidly blinked his eyes open and shut, as he tried to get rid of the dust. The white powder danced between the man and elf in an equal amount, getting both high very quickly.

As the dust fluttered down to the floor, looking as though a bag of flour had just exploded, Legolas stared at his brother-in-law in shock.

“You…” he attempted to say, before he felt the pumping of his heart increase.

“Oh, yes, my friend,” Francis grinned, nodding his head. “You’re in for a good time…”

~

Outside, you had finally found the wedding invitation in your saddle-bag, now heading back on over towards the cottage.

You barely had time to announce your presence again, for the first thing you saw upon re-entering was your brother and husband kneeled on the floor, speaking fast and brooming up…flour?

“I feel like everything’s gonna work out, you know? Because I’m like clockwork!” your brother said, all in one go, to Legolas, as they quickly broomed everything up. “Look how fast I’m cleaning this mess up! Clockwork! I’m moving super-fast! Look at me go!”

Legolas nodded vehemently, and raised one finger to speak over the top of your brother, as they both continued vigorously cleaning the floor.

“Y-You know what’s funny? Can I speak? You know what’s funny?” he began, quick as a whip. “I feel like I should be panicking right now, and I am a little bit, but in a very, very good way—like a good kind of panic, because I feel like I want to die right now, but I also feel very, very good—”

“Hey!” you called, staring at them in confusion. “What on earth are you guys doing?”

“Y/n!” Legolas gasped, shooting to his feet.

Jumping over the couch in a way that made your eyes go wide, Legolas was instantly stood before you.

“I feel amazing!” he revealed, grabbing a chunk of blonde hair either side of his head, and pulling outwards. “LOOK HOW LONG MY HAIR IS! It’s growing out of my head right now—can you believe that? Isn’t that sort of disgusting? Ew, I’ve just made myself feel uncomfortable in my own body—”

Legolas gasped brightly, and met your eyes again. This was where you saw how dilated they were.

“CAN I BORROW YOUR BODY INSTEAD?” he asked, suddenly grabbing your waist. “THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA! And I know how to go inside, too, so it’ll all feel much better soon—”

“Are you high on…Stardust?!” you exclaimed, removing his hands from your waist.

Legolas blinked down at you rapidly for a few seconds, before slowly answering.

“No…?”

“I can’t believe it,” you seethed. Pushing past Legolas, you glared down at your laughing brother. “You’re absolutely deplorable, Francis! Don’t even THINK about showing up to the wedding!”

You tore up his invitation, and threw it down onto the ground below. You next began shoving a reluctant Legolas out of the house.

Fortunately, once he felt the pine needles on his feet (he was barefoot, for some reason), he gasped loudly and took off running.

“LOOK HOW GREEN IT IS!” he exclaimed. “HAVE YOU EVER NOTICED HOW GREEN IT IS? THE COLOURS ARE BURSTING RIGHT NOW ALL AROUND ME. I feel as though it’s sort of designed in my honour, you know? As in, nature really understands—SQUIRREL—what my name means.”

You rubbed your temples with a grinding of your teeth, as you watched your husband sprint off to climb a tree, where he beckoned you to join.

Growling, you spoke lowly under your breath.

“This is going to be a long ride home…”

Hearing a strangled yelp, you noticed that Legolas had already fallen out of the tree. You sighed, and began walking over—already knowing your words to be true.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Night Crawling

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Some explicit smutty goodness in a dive bar bathroom, some recreational drug use, some Sam feels. 

A/N: I really thought I was going to write PWP for once. As usual, some feels snuck in. Set at some vague point in Season 5. 

I’ve had the new Miley Cyrus album on repeat all day; inspiration, title, and bathroom graffiti quote all came from “Night Crawling.” Listen to that and “Gimme What I Want” if you want maximum ~atmosphere~ or whatever while reading. 

“Another?” Sam asks, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. He gives me a twisted, wicked version of his usual dimpled smile. There’s a drop of tequila clinging to his lip, and I want to lick it off. He’s so close. 

My head is still spinning from the last shot and from his attention. I shake it off. 

“Bathroom, I’ll be back,” I tell him. 

Sam’s in a fucking mood tonight. Not that I blame him. Time is ticking away, faster by the day it feels like; if Lucifer was after me, I’d take whatever escape I could get. 

Dean’s at the motel, hopefully putting some ice on his twisted ankle or maybe sleeping, and normally Sam would be fussing over him like an overgrown fucking mother hen. Instead, he suggested that we go “blow off some steam,” looking at me with this glint in his eyes, like he was daring me. 

So… here we are, getting fucked up in a grimy rock club, watching some Nine Inch Nails wannabes wail like a porn soundtrack over a dirty industrial bassline. 

Sam fucking Winchester. Always full of surprises. 

It’s one of those single-occupancy dive bathrooms where I don’t want to touch anything or, like, inhale too hard. It’s impossible to tell what color the walls originally were under the layers of concert flyers and graffiti. There’s probably enough cocaine residue on the chipped porcelain sink counter to get an elephant high. That kind of place. 

He wants me almost as much as I want him, I’m pretty sure, but I never thought either of us would act on it. Too many complications, too many ways to fuck it all up… now, though? The entire world is fucked. Might as well get laid before it all goes to shit.

Two lines of red Sharpie scrawl next to the mirror grab my attention: night crawling, sky falling, gotta listen when the Devil’s calling. 

Yeah. Well. 

I don’t think either of us will make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t want to. That’s what this is all about, really. He started this apocalypse. He’ll never forgive himself if he lives through it. I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t. 

I wash my hands and splash some water on my cheeks, bracing myself. I can feel the chemicals kicking up my spine, now.

If Sam fucking Winchester needs to indulge his self-destructive streak and get out of his head for a night, I’ll keep him company. Fuck knows I’ll never say no to him. I’ll stay with him til the end, if he lets me. 

It hits me again: this is the end. The world is about to end, and that sweet, sexy, puppy-eyed motherfucker out there is at the center of all of it. Heaven, hell, good, evil… and Sam. If tonight is what we’ve got — if this is all we’ll ever get — I’ll take it. I’ve always wanted more, but… this’ll do. It’ll have to do. 

He’s slouching against the wall, right outside the bathroom hallway. He gives me this dark, hungry grin when he sees me, and maybe whatever was in that pastel blue pill is making itself known, or maybe it’s just Sam that’s sending a wave of prickly heat over my skin… either way, it feels good. 

“C’mon,” he says, passing me a cup of ice water, and then he’s gripping me by the wrist, pulling me into the crowd. 

Sam doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t dance with me, but he’s not fucking around: hands on my waist, hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at me, cheeks flushed, moving with the beat. I rest my free hand on his upper arm, right where the swell of his bicep flexes against the soft cotton sleeve of his t-shirt, and I can’t help but squeeze slightly, feeling hot skin and muscle under my palm. I swallow hard. 

Sam leans in closer. I can smell him, the natural scent of his sweat under the spice of his deodorant, and it’s so overwhelming that I shiver. 

He gets his lips right up against my ear, the deep rumble of his voice a physical thing that I can feel as well as hear: “Ever just get sick of being yourself?” 

Jesus. 

“Yeah,” I mumble, mouth dry. I don’t know if he hears me but it doesn’t really matter. 

“I think too much. I don’t want to think tonight. Is that okay?” 

I suck in a breath. “Don’t need to explain, Sam. I get it.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, heavy-lidded, golden skin shining with sweat in the flecks of light coming off the disco ball. “Dance with me.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam, anything you want.”

I toss back the cup of water, gulping it down, too eager; some of it trickles down my chin. I don’t care. I drop the cup and run my hand up Sam’s chest. His eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, sinful, gorgeous. For a moment I think he might say something but instead he spins me around and hauls me closer, my back to his chest. 

The song is filthy, all thudding funk hooks and wild drums. There’s this frantic heat behind it that has me sinking under the surface, swimming through the riff, and the pulse of it wriggles down my spine and works itself out through my hips as I toss my head. It’s the kind of rhythm that’s made for sweating all over a stranger. 

Sam might as fucking well be a stranger right now. I never knew he could move like this. 

His hips swivel and twist, and his hands slide down to my thighs, pinning me against the solid muscled heat of his body. I feel reckless. I feel high and overstimulated and utterly fearless, and I can feel his touch echoing through me, inside me, throbbing down my belly to where I’m empty and suddenly aching. 

As soon as I think about it, the emptiness hits me hard. My cunt is clenching around nothing in time with the gritty slap of percussion. I arch my back and rub myself against Sam shamelessly. 

He’s hard against my ass, hard and getting harder with every shrieking lick of guitar, and the awareness of it sends a thrill down through the core of me, like a bolt of lightning striking between my legs. My breath catches and hisses out of my lungs like I’m a punctured balloon. I feel dizzy. 

It’s all so intense right now. Every inch of my skin is fizzing, and the simple curl of his fingers around my wrist has me shuddering like he’s stroking something much more intimate. 

On any other night I would try to step back, to get myself under control… I’d start thinking, and I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d get stuck in my head instead of giving in to the mind-blowingly intimate thrill of his fingertips pressing into my pulse. 

We’re not thinking tonight. I couldn’t think straight even if I wanted to. 

The beat changes, segueing into something low and slinking and goddamn obscene. I’m dripping with sweat — mine or Sam’s? I can’t tell — and my skin is on fire, and I want Sam in this awful, all-consuming way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone.

So I don’t think about it; I just turn, twisting in his arms until we’re face to face, or rather, face to chest. He’s biting his lip, expression almost pained as he grips my waist and slots a thigh between mine. I snake my arms around his neck and roll my hips, feeling the seam of my jeans dragging up the sensitive spot between my legs, and I’m absurdly grateful for the way the music drowns out any embarrassing noise I might make. 

There’s a drop of sweat sliding down the corded muscle of his neck. It trickles to a glittering halt right at eye level, in the hollow of his throat, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I could fall down and worship whatever god invented the v-neck. 

I don’t fall to my knees, but I do lean forward and taste his skin. Salt floods my tongue. 

Sam’s hand runs up my back, cups the nape of my neck, and he doesn’t so much guide me as yank, tilting my head to meet the rough urgent sting of his teeth and the soft slide of his tongue. I groan into his mouth, and his hands flatten at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I want to shove myself against him until I can burrow under his skin. 

His mouth. He nips and sucks and explores, lips on mine with crushing force one second, whisper-sweet the next. 

I’m melting. I must be melting. 

I hold on for dear life, delirious, drunk on the way he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this before, but I never imagined it like this. 

We’re still dancing, or something like it anyway; his hips swivel, and I rut against him, my entire body throbbing with animalistic need. Sam shifts his weight, grinding against me, and I can feel the fat stiff length of him right up against my center. I whimper, desperate and wanton. 

One hand slides up my back, around my ribs, up, until he can trace the curve of my breast with his thumb and then pinch my nipple through my bra. When I buck against him, he does it again. My knees don’t want to support me any more. 

I’m a half-second away from coming just like this. I’m shaking. 

“The fuck are we doing?” Sam says roughly. He nips my earlobe.

“Not thinking, remember?” I snap, and then I’m stumbling back, almost falling, tugging him by the wrist as I start to weave through the crushing press of bodies. My heart is pounding. Everything blurs together. My skin feels too cold without him all over it. 

There’s one open bathroom, no line, no reason to hesitate. The heavy door closes behind us and the deadbolt slides home with a metallic echoing thud. 

He’s already crowding me back, hands on my cheeks, tip of his nose brushing mine. I grab at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp fabric. My ass hits the counter and I surge up clumsily to kiss him. The angle’s off; our teeth clack together. 

We laugh and fit ourselves back together, bodies like puzzle pieces in that fucking song Sam would never admit he loves, and I could cry with relief at the way he feels under my hands. I can feel him breathing, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and I can feel the heat of him, blood and sweat and bone, solid and real and here and mine, at least for tonight. 

He fumbles with the button of my jeans and kisses me like he’s drowning. Then he curls two long fingers up and into me, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I lean back, heels skidding on the dirty tile as I try to brace myself and rock my hips up all at once. 

“Need you to fuck me,” I bite out, remarkably steady considering the way I’m trembling. 

“You gonna regret this tomorrow?” Sam asks. He twists his fingers, knuckles stretching me open, so good my eyes roll back in my head. 

Tomorrow… we’re not going to think about tomorrow. 

“Might regret waiting this long,” I groan. Understatement of the century. 

“You ‘n me both. You sure?” He’s staring down at me and he looks wrecked: pupils blown, lips swollen, hair clinging to his temples where his skin is streaked with sweat. 

“Do you feel how close I am?” I grab his wrist with one hand, holding him there, fucking myself on his fingers as I try to pull my jeans down with the other hand. 

Sam’s mouth drops open and his eyes go unfocused for a second. Whatever self-control he had left is gone. He pulls his hand away, and I whine at the loss, but together we get my pants down, and I kick them off as he gets his belt open. He’s just as big as I always imagined, proportional to those sinfully long elegant fingers, and my mouth fucking waters as I watch him stroke himself. 

He bites his lip, chest heaving, and tugs me up onto the very edge of the grimy sink counter. Before I can find my balance he’s right there, hooking an arm under my knee so that he can spread my legs wider, and he’s guiding the hot velvety head of his cock down my center and in, and the slick blunt pressure of it makes me claw at his back, trying to get him closer even though I can barely handle how good that first thick inch feels. 

“Fuuu - unnhhhhh - fuck, Sam, I need…” I choke out, and then all I can do is pant breathlessly, incoherent, as he rocks his hips and starts to stretch me open. I’m helpless like this, no leverage to do anything but sit there and take it, and he moves so maddeningly slow that I’m going out of my skull. 

“God, look at you,” he breathes. “So fucking good. Always wondered what you’d look like taking my cock. Always imagined you begging. Are you gonna beg for me?” 

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and give it to me, Sam, I swear —” 

“Yeah?” he growls. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise.

I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, leaning back on my hands, and then I can arch my back and pull him deeper, working myself onto his cock. 

“Sam —” I start, but before I can say anything else he slams home, grinding in hard and fast, and my voice cracks on a stuttering, incoherent whine. It’s blindingly good. He’s steely-hard and so goddamn thick I feel like I’m about to split open, like one wrong move is going to pull me apart. His first rolling thrust sparks this wrenching wave of pressure that fills me up and shakes me down to the tips of my toes, my entire body rippling with feverish heat. 

“That’s my girl,” he pants. He pulls me against him and twists up, rough and filthy, and I shudder against him, writhing, mindless and overwhelmed. 

“Sam,” I choke out. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky-thin, and the next sharp thrust makes me forget whatever I was going to say beyond, “Nnnnhhhhhyesohgod.” 

“There?” 

“Fuck. Yes.” 

He moans, low and broken, and finds that perfect spot again, grinding into it with eye-popping force.

I can feel it, pleasure cramping through me with every movement, coiling up, building around the deep throbbing ache where he’s fucking into me. I feel like a wild animal, primal and lost.

“Good girl. Fuck, feels so good.”

I clutch at his shoulders, muscles quaking, burying my face in his neck as all that white-hot pressure peaks inside me. I let out an ugly, anguished sob, can’t hold it back, and then all I can feel is the all-consuming spasm of my orgasm, tension rocketing through every inch of me, sending me out into space for a long paralyzed moment. The first pulse of it is so scary-intense that I can’t breathe, can’t control myself, can’t keep track of my own body… 

Then it all comes back at once, and I’m exquisitely aware of Sam against me as he fucks me through it, hips surging forward as I squeeze around him and urge him deeper. 

“Thought about this so many times,” he’s confessing, ragged and raw. 

“Me too,” I gasp.  

He sucks in a shaky breath, moving slower as I start to come down, and I can feel him holding back now. “Think about you so fucking much, I can’t —”

“Me fucking too, Sam.”

He kisses me, gentle in a way that could very easily destroy me. 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispers, forehead sweaty where it rests against mine.  

“Fuck, Sam, don’t — this is —” 

I feel so strange and strung-out, caught between the shivery aftershocks in my belly and the startling tenderness in his voice as he mumbles, “Wanted to take my time.”

“Sam.” 

“Wanted to take my time with you,” he repeats. He moves against me with this slow, snakelike undulation. “Wanted to lay you out and kiss you everywhere and fucking worship you.” 

“We can. We can — I want that.” 

“Never gonna be enough,” he chokes out. “I knew — I knew, if I did this, I’d never want to stop.”

My skin is lit up with the feel of him, liquid heat gathering in my gut as my body responds to every perfect touch, but I’m afraid my ribcage is about to split open with the way my heart is hammering. 

We’re in a goddamn dive bar bathroom, for fuck’s sake, and I’m fucked up, and maybe this will feel cheap and tawdry and silly in the morning, but… somehow I don’t think it will. Somehow this feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. 

“Why’d we wait this long?” I ask. There’s an embarrassing wobble in my voice. 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he grits out. “Because I was scared.” Before I can respond, he kisses me, all teeth and desperation, twisting his hips and swallowing my moan. He slides his hands under my shirt, sliding them up my back, and drags his fingernails down in trails of stinging heat. It’s pleasure and pain and fucking obliteration, and the sensory overload has me spiraling out again. 

“Fuck that,” I half-laugh. My back arches and my voice breaks, and I bite his lip hard enough that I taste copper. 

He groans, full-throated and shameless, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into the sweat-slick curve of my neck. He sucks, nibbles, and it sets off fireworks behind my eyelids. 

“Close, Sam. So close,” I babble, breathing harsh and heavy. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, and I can feel him moan. “Never thought it’d feel like this. It’s — this is so much better —” 

He shudders against me, lets out this long, guttural sound, and then he shifts and pounds into me harder, and all I can do is cling to him, pulling him closer like I’m never going to let go. “C’mon, then. Fuck. Tell me what you want.” 

“Please, Sam. Just — please. Please.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he growls. “You know that, right?” 

“Anything?” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t leave me,” I blurt out, as the unbearable tension starts to crest. “Don’t leave me, Sam. Please.” 

I know he hears it. He gasps like I punched him. I can feel him jerk, twitch, fingers clawing at my back, cock twitching and swelling inside me as he starts to come. I bite down on the meat of his shoulder as I let go. My orgasm feels like it’s ripping something loose, an earthquake in my core, and I don’t trust myself not to say exactly what’s on my mind. There’s a surge of pleasure, one glowing wave of it then another, and I’m dimly aware of shuddering against Sam as he rocks into me one more time, clutching him close… as if I could get close enough to keep him here with me. 

It’s impossible to be sad right now. I’m chemically incapable of sadness, still soaring high, but this is so much bigger than sadness anyway. I just feel like I’m about to break. 

“That,” he says, with an ugly sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “That’s what I was afraid of. That I wouldn’t ever want to leave.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s just — let’s not think about it. Okay? Can we go back to the motel and — can we do that again? Take our time?” 

“Just for tonight?” he asks raggedly. 

“Just for tonight. We’re not going to think about what comes next.” 

He nods. We both know it’s a lie. 

,

,

,

[deltastorm101]

things i learned about myself during my second year living alone.

- time management and good planning is everything. and i mean everything. - get in the habit of using an actual spectacle cloth instead of your scratchy shirtsleeve. your glasses WILL thank you. - you know how time and dates stop being real when you're on holiday and you sleep and wake and do shit whenever you feel like? changing work shifts are like that too, even if you do sleep roughly around the same time and just your free time slots alternate. you'll find this really cool for some time. stimulating. new. different. until it gets a little too blurry, but that's okay because your life isn't a complete pile of shards anymore and you can stomach minor inconveniences. - "eat healthy, be active, sleep enough, don't do drugs, take your meds"... it all sounds cliché but oh my GOD is it ever so true. fuck. some rules you just should not break and caring for your body is one of them. - don't eat too close to bedtime. - you can sleep longer when you get into the habit of getting out of bed faster. - i dislike tea with cherry in it. practically everything with artificial cherry. just,, ew. - train your intuition. be in tune. listen. - i can be cold-blooded if something is pissing me off for too long. - fruit is amazing. it's sweet, easy to eat, colourful, full of vitamins. mother nature's candy. it's great. - your time perception changes the older you get. a few years ago, a year seemed long. two years, three years, did you mean eternity? now it's like... oh going to uni might take 6 years? why the hell not, i've got time, it'll pass, let's go. - go outside! - things end. some things should end. letting go of bullshit is good. life has seasons, cycles, phases. embracing this is hard, but worth it. - i still hate vaccuuming, but i found out why... i don't know how to change a dust bag. the more i vaccuum, the higher the chance it'll be full and i can't do anything about it. is that pathetic? you decide. - my right knee is weaker than my left. i should probably get that checked out sometime lol - you’re doing great. cut yourself some slack. life is hard. compare yourself to others only if you think it’s doing you good, but stop immediately if it doesn’t. - maybe the people were right when they said heat is worse than cold. i still hate winter for how it makes me feel, but summer is definitely not as good as i remember.

happy september. i think i would really like to be awake for it this time, which is a huge step in the right direction.

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten ||  Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

“Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face.  “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

[somerpmemes]

Disenchantment S3 Starters

Change as needed

“Who can resist a creepy mom hug?”

“She’s not an ugly, evil bitch. But she is sluttier than I imagined.”

“When I last saw you, you were a lot more dead.”

“Is your life so awful you have to keep wrecking mine?”

“You were a model of regal barbarism.”

“Something’s going on.”

“Like any two numbers, this don’t add up.”

“You’re a bloodthirsty bastard.”

“I’m no decision-maker, I’m an action-taker.”

“Oh, I wanted to gloat directly over our victim’s corpse.”

“Hand me a murder stick.”

“For a dying man, he’s making a lot of noise.”

“World domination can wait.”

“I’m allergic to pandering.”

“Trust me, I’m not playing mind games with you.”

“Just promise you’ll think about giving me another chance.”

“Hallelujah, amen, and ka-ching.”

“You realize you’re all I have.”

“I know you’re lying but I hope one day you’ll mean that.”

“Is it still true love if your wallet is missing?”

“I just figured out this is a bad idea.”

“Oh, this ruins so many fantasies.. but opens up so many new ones.”

“Actually, pretending to care about your feelings was exhausting.”

“___, do what you do best. Take your mommy issues out on somebody else.”

“This is the sinister plot that just keeps giving.”

“Souls are meant for damnation, not soup.”

“Fooling foolish fools is so satisfying.”

“Oh, that’s delightfully craven.”

“Okay I get it, I have a hot mom.”

“It’s not even good cake.”

“Aww, he spelt it ‘yer’.”

“I believe it’s pronounced ‘skedaddle’.”

“I always wanted to get lost in a labyrinth. It's like a puzzle you solve with your feet.”

“If someone else is plotting without us, I will be really miffed.”

“Aren’t boots supposed to bend at the knees?”

“They’re just being really hurtful.”

“I’ll never fall for one of your tricks again.”

“I won’t say that doesn’t hurt.”

“And now, I just wanna lie down.”

“I think we’re getting away with it.”

“Ugh, I swear these tight, sexy clothes were designed to cut off cognitive thinking.”

“Disappointment’s a form of caring.”

“Who you are is a nobody and what you are ain’t nothing.”

“Stop being so agreeable!”

“I dreamed of this moment for so long, but I’m more worried than validated.”

“He looks so different with his head sliced off.”

“You have the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know how this could get any more degrading.”

“Don’t ever walk barefoot around here. And never eat at the strip clubs.”

“But often the craziest thoughts are the most true, you nutloaf!”

“This is a classy affair, more cleavage.”

“This means so much to whoever I am.”

“I’ve got a nice thing going. I don’t wanna mess it up by opening up my big mouth.”

“I would love to have you as one of my exes but I think it’s best if you think of me as your slutty grandma.”

“The faster you run the more beer you get.”

“Sorry, I’m a little damp and cranky.”

“I’m addicted to stealing wallets now.”

“A veritable sandwich of danger.”

“Neither of us are cats.”

��Yeah, well, I’m gonna knife you in your throat.”

“Now swim for it before the crabs swarm over you.”

“Wow! You can really taste the rage.”

“So it’s agreed, we don’t get caught.”

“Man, after-work drinks taste so much better than instead-of-work drinks.”

“If I were afraid I wouldn’t be here.”

“I know a lot of psychos.”

“Pretend like we planned on meeting here so no one yells at me for cutting in line.”

“It’s as educational as it is moisturizing.”

“Ha! That’s what you get for believing in love!”

“You were always good at sticking to things.”

“I know you don’t trust me, but whatever you do, do not trust him.”

“If I can’t trust you, how can I trust you to tell me who to trust?”

“What are you offering here?”

“This is big, I really need some time to drink about this.”

“Who is interrupting my insomnia!?”

“You act angry on the outside but deep down you’re lonely and inadequate.”

“I look like a macho flowerpot.”

“Like, I’ve hear of fashion disasters but you, sir, are a genocide.”

“Now to blend invisibly into the crowd.”

“I’m your knight in rusty armor.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but, shut up ___.”

“Oh my god, I’m insulting myself.”

“We’re all ashamed of some flaw we can’t change.”

“Nature is full of green.”

“I bring good old-fashioned psychological torture to the party, okay? Just like your grandmother made.”

“Wow! This malnutrition is really slimming.”

“Oh my god, enough with the romantic fantasies.”

“That hot trash is with me.”

“I will never find that boot again.”

“Love is risky. That's what makes it so great, it pays off!”

“All I have is nightmares now.”

“How do you want to die? Slowly or extra slowly?”

“We’re one step away from happily ever after.”

“___, who have you pissed off this time?”

“Everything is either trying to kill me or kiss me.”

“From what I’ve heard, I’m both obnoxious and amazing.”

“Chalk one up for ignorance!”

“Here, drink this coffee. It’s been boiling for hours.”

“I’ve got so much love and nobody to give it to.”

“Apparently I’m not film friendly… or friendly.”

“Tell me what drugs you’re on so I know what to do when you pass out.”

“I got a lot of experience with relationships coming to a grinding halt.”

“Wait sorry, what were we talking about? Oh, wait, yeah, your pathetic love life.”

“Stop looking at me like that! I’m so vulnerable and you’re so mean.”

“Why’d you come back for me?”

“I left because I didn’t want to get hurt again and I came back because... I’ll never learn.”

“I’m not gonna ask where you pulled that from.”

“___, I tried to get help but nobody wanted to.”

“I would say it’s good to be back but I can’t shake the fact that life is meaningless and I’m gonna die alone.”

“I’ve got a lot to do now. Like go to my room and cry in the fetal position.”

“Don’t say “wink, wink”. Just wink.”

“You can bother me again when I grow a new heart.”

“Wallowing is underrated. People no longer expect things from you and you get to stop showering.”

“Sweetie, you’re young and beautiful and sandy.”

“Someday the right man or woman or creature will mate with you. Then you must eat them.”

“Oh my god, I want to shower again. That means I’ve regained the will to live!”

“Love the homicidal impulse but no.”

“But I only like gratification when it’s instant!”

“Oh, this ain’t good.”

“Oh god, they’re getting uglier.”

“Hey ___, who do you think I should punch first?”

“Sorry, I tend not to notice things that aren’t me.”

“I’m crestfallen and I can’t get up.”

“Don’t you know you can’t trust anyone but yourself?”

“I’m not kneeling, I’m dying.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna die soon.”

“You know, you have an impressive number of enemies for a girl your age.”

“Don’t be a drama queen. That is my job.”

“Well those are mixed messages.”

“My needs outweigh your scorn.”

“It’ll either cure him or kill him.”

“You do not wanna go in there unless you’re a fan of, like, dying.”

“Any operating instructions or ominous warnings?”

“You’re afraid to let people in and you hide behind sarcasm.”

“___, work on your issues.”

“So, this isn’t gonna get more normal anytime soon, is it?”

“You don’t have to die at home but you can’t die here.”

“I’ve had a lot of people leave me in my life but I’ve never ever ever not had you before.”

“I always thought you’d be dead in a ditch by now.”

“Why is it, ___, that every time you’re braiding my hair you tell me I’m going to die?”

“Braids hurt my brain.”

“Oh, you’re so going to die.”

“The key to getting dumped is not knowing how to take a hint.”

“Stop tempting fate.”

“I have resting sinister face.”

“I don’t know who to disobey.”

“Haven’t you ever seen an enchanted broom before?”

“Wow. Brutal honesty, that’s true friendship.”

“She blindsided me. While I was looking right at her!”

“I don’t know why you always bring the good half out in me, ___.”

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.5)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, Robbery, Smoking

The smoke from the three burnt out blunts fogged the car. Erik’s head hung low as he tried to focus on the topic of discussion. Looking to his right he watched as Durk sparked a lighter to light up the fourth one and started a new rotation. Taking it from his hand Erik put the blunt to his lips and pulled. He had to admit that he was feeling high but yet nowhere near done with the session.

It was a Monday morning. Almost ten am to be exact. They were parked in Erik’s car in front of Frank’s Auto Garage. To a normal person it look like a regular place of business but it wasn’t. Durk used the shop to clean his money so he wouldn’t have anything tracing back to him. Erik glanced up and watched two corner boys walk out with a backpack each before getting into their vehicle and driving off.

“Aye man I appreciate you for coming through with this assignment. Once I get this nigga Shawn out the way I could finally do some business with the new connect.” Durk spoke before inhaling the blunt.

Nodding his head Erik slouched in his seat.

“I told you it’s nothing. Just don’t forget I’ma need one person to come with me. Someone who can watch my back.”

After going into almost two years without doing a job Erik felt a little rusty. He wanted to be certain that he could bring someone with him who could look out. Someone who he could trust that had to be skilled enough to keep up. The last thing Erik wanted was for this to go wrong and he end up in prison or even worst, dead.

If it was any other person coming to him to offer him work Erik would decline them with a quickness. This wasn’t something that he wanted to be a part of anymore. He had aspirations to become a better man. And with that, that means he had to give up the lifestyle to live a better one. But it was Durk. The man who had the opportunity to gun him down right in front of the trap house when they first met five years ago spared him. Gave him a second chance.

Erik witness Durk do way worst to people who didn’t do nearly as half as much compared to what Erik was going to commit that night. So he felt in a way obligated to come through for his best friend. There was no other option. He owe him his life.

“No doubt. Actually I got this one associate that’s in debt with me. Told him I could use his help whenever I needed him to pay me off. Heard he a shooter that don’t miss. Anybody who have your back I think it’ll be him.” Durk grinned confidently.

Erik nodded his head absorbing the information. Trusting his brother with whatever choice he went with he continue to ask him where the drop would be.

“Okay so what about this nigga Shawn. You got an address.”

Durk pulled out his burner. Going to a text message he clicked on it and passed the phone over to Erik.

He read over it. 4523 Lanely Rd. Pulling up his notes icon Erik typed in the address and saved the information. He gave the burner back to Durk. Realizing the area that it was in Erik shook his head. Nice suburban area where it was mostly Caucasian which amount to one thing. Nosy ass neighbors. It was a risk but he would just have to deal with it.

Hearing Durk sighed he studied him. His hands was rested over his eyes as he was leaned back in the chair. His boy looked stressed.

“You good?” A genuine tone came out.

“I think my sister fucking around with someone but I just don’t know who yet.”

Erik’s eyebrows lifted up. Glancing up to the ceiling as he listened carefully.

“I just really hope it’s not one of these fuck niggas. I might need yo ass for another job after this. We could rob this nigga together.”

The two chuckled.

‘Damn I can’t rob myself.’

Erik thought to himself before engaging back in the conversation.

“What makes you think she fucking with someone?” Erik curiously wanted to know. It would give him an advantage on what he should not be doing.

“Well the other night I walk in the livingroom and there she was sitting there with her titties all out, make up done like she was getting ready for a dick appointment or sum shit.” Durk replied in a stressful tone.

Daydreaming at the ceiling, Erik’s memory jogged back to her outfit from that night. He could still see the way her cleavage appeared in front of him as she sat across from him in the diner. The soft flesh looking at him. He had to control himself multiple times that night from staring at them so much. But he couldn’t with the way they would bounce a little every time she laughed.

Speaking of her smile. Erik adored that about her the most. He love how her lips curled up showing off those pretty white teeth. The way her lipgloss color made her lips appear more fuller than what they already were. The same lips that drove him crazy from the softness. If he could sit in the booth kissing her all night he would have. That was enough to satisfy him. Erik sucked in his bottom lip as if he could still feel hers on his. She just had to let him get a taste.

‘Why she let me do that?’

Erik berated himself with that question as he shook his head about his lack of self control. He felt guilty. He was the nigga who his best friend was worried about hurting his sister. Right now he was feeling like a pussy. It was like he didn’t have the balls to speak up and tell him the truth. He was feeling Amiyah.

“Why you don’t like her dating anyway? I get you trying to protect her but I mean she is 21, you can’t stop her from living bro.” Erik wanted to sound reasonable but without suspicion.

“I know she got a life to live but the fact that mine is tied up with hers don’t help.”

“What you mean?”

Durk paused glancing at his phone. “ I mean besides you I can’t trust none of these niggas man. What if whoever she talk to know that she my little sister? No telling what they’ll do to her just to get to me.”

Erik listened understanding his perspective.

“I done did some foul shit out here that I’m not proud of, you know this. This why I am what I am because if I don’t get them first then I know for damn sure they’ll try to get me. I’m just worry about Amiyah getting caught in between.”

To Erik it seem like Durk just wanted was best for his sister. To him family came first. It was important to him. He valued it and would do anything to protect the ones he love. Erik comprehend this.

“You worried she won’t be able to know who and who not to trust?”

“Every-fucking-day. That’s why I don’t want her going anywhere besides home and work. I just want the best for her.”

“You should that’s your sister. Just trust her. She not gon let you down.”

Durk looked at Erik, who gave him a sincere look. If there was anybody else he could trust with his life aside from Amiyah it was his friend. His brother. Erik.

____________________________

Amiyah leaned against the register as she wrote down her completed work assignment. Blowing the air out of her mouth she let the pen fall from her fingers and on to the counter. She was exhausted and ready to clock out and lay in her bed. Her mind began to wonder about the events that transpired over the weekend.

The last time she spoke to Erik was after he dropped her off. He sent a text asking if she made it in safely and that was it. Nothing else since then. His on and off again of inconsistency irritated her. She wanted him to be all about her just as much as she was for him. Of course under the circumstances they had to be cautious but he didn’t have to go another two days without hitting her up.

Checking the time on her Apple Watch she had an hour left before she was up and out of the boutique. She started cleaning certain areas and rehanging the merchandise back onto the racks to make time go by faster. Hearing the sound of the bell ring brought her back to reality.

“Welcome to Bella Ella’s.” She greeted them without looking up and only focusing on her task out of habit.

“Thank you. Hey girl!”

Peering in the direction of the voice she saw Alexis. She was going through the dress section. Amiyah sighed inwardly before walking over to her.

“Hi welcome back. Can I help you look for anything?” She faked a smile.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for something the same as last time just not too revealing this time. I want to tease him. You know?” Alexis sent her a smirk as she walked in front of one of the mannequins observing the clothes.

Hesitant but curious Amiyah asked her. “For another date?”

“Uh you can say something like that. It’s a surprise.” Alexis eyed her up and down.

“Well we have this ruched bodycon dress. It’s an off the shoulder long sleeve lace type of look. I think it’ll fit you. Check it out.” She handed her the dress.

Alexis put the dress up to her frame. Looking in the mirror she smiled at the choice of clothing. Shaking her head she grinned pointing her finger at Amiyah.

“See girl you get me. It’s crazy. Almost like we like the exact same thing.”

“You can say that again.” Amiyah whispered under her breath.

“Huh?”

“Oh I was just talking to myself. If you’re ready I can ring you out.”

They walked to the counter. Amiyah logged in and scanned the dress. Folding it up and putting it a bag she heard Alexis speak.

“Girl how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Amiyah answered confused.

“Work a nine to five. I mean don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just that I personally wouldn’t do it.” She smiled.

“ I like working honestly. I get to meet new people. I have fun here sometimes. This is where I met my best friend and I get to get away from home.” Amiyah shrugged her shoulders as she spoke truthfully.

Alexis nodded slowly. “Right. So are you seeing anyone? Anybody caught your attention?”

Laughing lightly Amiyah shook her head. “No. I met this one guy and gave him my number but nothing popped off yet.” She was talking about Cane.

“Hm if that don’t work out you should let me hook you up. I know a few niggas that’ll blow ya back out and then pay ya bills after.” Alexis grabbed her bag and started to walk away.

Before she could stop herself the question came out faster than she expected. “Is that what you do?”

She stopped midway before turning back around. Her face was contorted. Sizing Amiyah up as she stepped in front of the counter.

“Bitch I do whatever the fuck I have to do to get what I want. Even if it mean that I have to fuck around here and there. It keeps my bills paid and my nails from getting dirty. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.” She gave her one last look before she strutted out the shop.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. Taking a ‘How to get a man’ class from Alexis was the last thing on her list. Girls like her and Amiyah don’t mix too well. She just couldn’t understand how you could trade in time spent on a fake relationship just to get what you want with true happiness.

Her shift was finally coming to an end. Amiyah sent her brother a text fifteen minutes early just so he would be on time to pick her up. Looking towards the entrance her coworker Kacy was coming in to relieve her.

“Hey Kace, it was pretty much a slow day so there’s not any go-backs that you have to do. I would just try to act like you’re cleaning up. Look busy because you know Rhonda be watching the cameras.”

They both laughed.

“I know. She think she slick but go ahead and get out of here. Enjoy the rest of the day. See ya Amiyah.”

Waving goodbye Amiyah exited the boutique. There she spotted her brother waiting outside in his all blacked out Audi A4. She strolled in his direction and got in.

“Wow it’s been forever since you’ve been here on time.” She teased fastening her seatbelt.

Durk kissed his teeth as he pulled off driving to their home. “How was work?”

“Boring I do the same thing everyday.”

“So quit.” He took a quick glance at her.

She sighed irritated. “I’m not quitting my job Durk.”

“You the one who said it’s boring. Just quit.” He laughed.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. “Why? So you can keep your eyes on me 24/7. You always trying to babysit me, damn.” She snapped at him. The mood changed instantly.

Durkio’s jaw clenched as he turned looking at her with his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Babysit you? Where the fuck you get me trying to babysit you from telling you to quit-“

“I know that’s what your intentions are! Not that you care about me not liking my job but because you just want me to have to depend on you and ask you for everything!” Amiyah’s voice kept getting higher with every word.

“Miyah you already depend on me. That two thousand dollar bed that you sleeping on I brought that. Your whole bedroom set, I brought it. The apartment that you living in comfortablely without worry about having to pay one muthafuckin bill, is because of ME!”

Durkio’s hand gripped the steering wheel tightly as he parked in front of their building. He could feel his breathing began to spike as he felt himself get more agitated and angry. Getting out of the car he headed towards the entrance to avoid going any further with her.

Amiyah jumped out and followed closely behind going inside. The elevator ride going to their floor was quiet and tensed. Amiyah tried her best to not argue with her brother but she had more to get off her chest that she didn’t want to go unheard.

“You know you’re a fuckin control freak.” She slammed her purse and jacket on the couch one they made it threw the door.

Durk paused his steps from going into his room.

“How? Tell me what I do Amiyah.” He walked leaning against the counter with his hand folded over the other waiting for her to talk.

“Durk stop playing dumb. Everything that I do you have to be a part of somehow. Like the time I couldn’t take the job offer from the mall because it was ‘too far’. Or how whenever I want to hangout with Kelley you think I’m going to fuck some man-“

“That’s because you are! I know Saturday night you ain’t go out with no fucking Kelley dress the way you were. I’m not fucking stupid Amiyah.”

Amiyah got in his face. “Why would I go fuck someone and I’m still a virgin Derrick. I’m not dumb. I’m not just sleeping with any and everyone.”

Her eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

Durk used his forearm to move her out of his space. It triggered him whenever someone would walk up to him with disrespect. He knew he would never put his hands on his sister but he didn’t want to feel the urge like he would so he gave her a light push.

“Miyah back the fuck up.” His jaws were tensed and his nostrils became flared out.

“So you can speak your mind but I can’t? I’m not your girl Durk so stop putting rules and regulations on me like I am. I wish our parents were still here so I wouldn’t have to be in this shit hole of a place you call home.”

Amiyah’s blood was boiling. She spoke without thinking. She let her emotions get to the best of her before she could calm down to try and talk to her brother like the young adults they were. But it was too late. She’d gone too far.

Durk shook his head before releasing a dark chuckle.

“You an ungrateful ass bitch, you know that?” His voice spoke lowly but loud enough for her to hear.

Amiyah looked at him in disbelief as the tears came down her face.

“I had to put my life on hold to take care of you. I put myself at risk everyday just to make sure you’re taken care of. So that you won’t have to go out there doing anything you didn’t want to do just to put food in your mouth and clothes on your back. And this how you show some fuckin appreciation?”

He looked at her confused.

“Durk I do appreciate-“

“Get the fuck out my crib.” His voice spoke coldly.

“What?” She unfolded her arms before she walked towards him.

“You heard what I said. By the time I get back you better be gone. Good luck supporting yourself with that weak ass job.”

With that being the last thing spoken to her he brushed past her shoulder and left. Amiyah waited in the same spot hoping that her brother would come back and just tell her to forget this whole argument. But he didn’t.The tears that she thought she had control of were now cascading down her face nonstop.

“What the fuck did I just do!” She scolded herself as her hands covered her face.

She walked to her room. Pushing her door opened her eyes scouted around the room taking in all of her belongings. Where would she go? What could she take? How much could she take without having a vehicle of her own?

Walking over to her bed she sat in silence. She had to think. She had to find away to get her out of the mess that she put herself in. Picking up her phone she dialed the number of the only person she could run to without judgment.

“Hey, Kelley.”

_______________________________________

Erik rolled up to Frank’s Auto Garage. It was time for him to go on the mission. His attire was all black to make himself easily invisible in the shadows. Getting out and walking to his trunk he popped it opened and lifted his secret compartment befor grabbing a duffel bag.

Closing the trunk behind he locked it using his key fob and walked to the front door. He banged four times doing the code knock before he was invited in. One of Durks look out men opened the door.

“Oh shit, what’s good E. You working tonight?”

Giving a silent head nod of approval Erik dapped him up.

“Ok. Well boss is in management. I don’t know what’s going on but he definitely not in the mood. Tread lightly man.”

Taking note Erik walked to the room where Durk was. When he reached it he saw him sitting at his desk talking to someone that he never seen before. Erik tapped lightly on the door making his presence known.

Durk eyes shifted up. “Erik what’s good? Why you knocking? You my brother, you know you ain’t gotta do that.”

“Didn’t wanna interrupt. What’s good? How you doing?” Erik gave him dap with a hug. When they pulled apart he looked in his eyes trying to find an answer. Durk was hiding something.

“Yeah I’m straight. But I want you to meet the person who gon be going with you tonight.” He replied quickly before walking back to his desk.

The guy that sat there quietly got up from his seat. From Erik’s view he didn’t look too much younger than him. He seen his attire matched his as he seen that the young dude already had some leather gloves and a ski mask rested on his head.

Erik gave him a fist pump. “What’s up, I’m Erik.”

“Cane. Nice to meet you bro.”

Durk watched the two interact before interrupting.

“Alright it’s almost 3am. Just got word that nigga Shawn was at the club,which should be closing now. If y’all make it to the address before him-“

“That’ll give us time to find an area to stakeout and then bum-rush him. Catch him off guard.” Cane spoke.

Durk turned to look at Erik before smirking giving him a ‘I told you’ look.

“Exactly. Listen just make sure y’all get the M and dip.” He was referring to the million dollars stashed away.

“I know how this go. Just make sure this nigga straight before we go out there. You know what you doing lil nigga?” Erik questioned Cane.

He kissed his lips. “Look man this ain’t my first rodeo and if I didn’t know what I was doing I’m sure ya boy wouldn’t be calling me.”

“Whoa nigga you owe me a solid. Don’t act like I need you.” Durk stepped in to check him.

Cane waved the two off.

“Aight I trust ya judgment Durk but if shit hit the ceiling, you bailing me out nigga.”

Durk laughed. “Nigga get fuck and go get my money.”

They dapped one last time and Erik left with Cane trailing behind him. He went up to a shelf that had multiple sets of keys sitting on it. Erik grabbed one before walking to the back. There were five different cars out there. He hit the unlock button on the key fob that led him to a dark burgundy Toyota. It was the getaway car for the night. Erik never used his own when he had to do jobs.

He opened the back door and place the duffel bag in the bag. It had two Beretta M9’s, an Ak-47, as well as a roll of duck tape and rope in case the situation went left. Erik got in the driver side. He heard Cane slipping in the passenger seat as he place the address in. It would take them 37 minutes to get there.

Glancing at the clock it was now 2:24 am which gave them plenty of time to find a place for a hideout. Entering the highway Erik and Cane rode in a comfortable silence. Cane every now and then giving Erik a quick glance over before turning his head.

Some time had past when they noticed that they were arriving in the neighborhood of the house where Shawn stayed. The houses were a few yards away from each other but Erik knew that they would still be able to hear the sound of a gun if one went off.

“If you park on this side that bush will be a blind spot. That nigga won’t be able to see us when he pull up.” Cane pointed to the area.

Erik shook his head in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Pulling into the spot Erik parked the vehicle and shut it off. The light from one of the houses landscape slightly shined in the car to make it possible for them to see each other as they waited.

“So you the infamous Erik I heard about. Ya name got some clout to it with all them licks you did when you was coming up.” Cane broke the silence.

Ignoring his comment Erik reached in the back unzipping the duffel and taking out one of the Berettas. He began to load the clip.

“I never thought I see the day where I would be doing a job with you. Heard you was one hard ass nigga”

Chuckling Erik stopped to face Cane. “What you want an autograph or something. Damn nigga you sound like a fan.”

Cane smacked his lips and then laughed.“Aight you got it. But nah I’m just showing respect to an OG.”

“I don’t look that much older than you.”

“Still one of the OG’s.” Cane showed him respect.

“I appreciate the courtesy. I heard some good things about you as well.” Erik was referring to his previous conversation with Durk.

Cane shrugged. “I do a lil sumn.”

Reaching in the back Erik pulled out the Ak-47 and handed it to him.

“So then you should be able to handle this then.” He was testing him.

“What! This is personally my favorite. This thing could make any nigga dance.”

Erik laughed watching the thrill of excitement in Canes eyes. He reminded him of himself when he was first getting started. Ready and down for everything.

The headlights of a Cadillac SUV caught their attention. It was Shawn pulling up. They watched as he hopped out the driver side.

“Heard this nigga keep one on him. You think he gon try and pull it.” Cane took the safety off of the AK. He was talking about his piece.

“I don’t give a fuck what that nigga got. He better not flinch.” Erik pulled the mask over his face. He watched Shawn walk to his passenger side and opened the door.

“Oh shit! This nigga got a bitch with him.” Cane blurted out.

“Plans don’t change. It is what it is.” Erik spoke truthfully. He had to get the job done.

Cane nodded his head and pulled his mask down. They watch Shawn walk to the front door with the girl following close by. Three minutes later the couple went inside the house.

Erik and Cane exited the vehicle making their way onto the front lawn. Staying away from the security lights they crept on the side. There was a side door that they found that lead right into the kitchen. Peaking through the crack of the blinds Erik spotted the two in livingroom sitting on the couch facing the opposite way.

“Let me pick this lock.” Cane bent down to eye level with it. It took him nothing but a minute to get it open.

Quietly Erik turned the knob and entered. Both him and Cane slowly tipped toe to the livingroom putting a gun to both of their heads. Erik had Shawn and Cane had the girl.

“If you want you and your girl to make it to see another day I suggest you to comply with my instructions and not try anything stupid.” Erik threatened as he cocked the gun.

Shawn froze in his seat as the girl next to him started to scream. Cane hopped over the couch and snatched her up by the arm.

“Bitch shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in yo head. You know what get against the wall and stare at that muthafucka.” He pushed her towards the wall.

“Y’all niggas know who I am?” Shawn finally spoke up.

“Yeah nigga. Why else you think we here? We just want the money. It’s simple.” Erik negotiated with him. He pulled him off the couch by his shirt.

“I don’t know what you talkin-“ He was interrupted by Cane hitting him in the mouth with the butt of his gun.

“Nigga quit fuckin playing with us. Run that shit.”

Erik shook his head but smirked. This was one reckless ass dude and he liked it.

The girl screamed again. Erik could hear the terror in her voice. It sounded like she was going to cry.

“You got five minutes to give us that money or you and ya bitch die. Which one is it? Yo life or some dead presidents”

Cane started to run the show and Erik let him as he sat back and watched.

“Aight nigga. It’s in the fucking safe.” Shawn spit the blood out of his mouth.

“Lead the way then bitch.” Cane pushed him and followed him to the back.

Erik was left alone with the girl who was facing the wall. From behind she had a bad ass body. Gazing over her wardrobe she was Burberry down and her fire red locks fell down her back. He kept glancing back and forth between the dark hallway and her back before Erik finally heard a few words slip out of her lips.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

The moment her voice reached his ears his face scrunched up. Walking up to her he turned her around to face him. Backing up he put his gun down shaking his head with disbelief.

The bitch that Shawn had with him was Alexis.

____________________________

Please excuse any mistakes! I will edit this chapter soon!

Tag-list (If you’re not on it let me know and I’ll add you if you want to be added)

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @mymeira12universe-blog @bellanay

[outerbankspreferences]

Boat Day

2197

JJ MAYBANKS x READER (PRE RELATIONSHIP)

WORD COUNT: 2197

WARNINGS: underage drinking, drugs, language.

A/N: Y/N stands for Your Name and Y/L/N stands for Your Last Name. This is my first story, so send me some request!

.

.

.

.

.

Summers in the Outer Banks are the best. The days are long, the water’s warm and the fun never ends. The best thing about living here are my friends. We call ourselves the Pouges. A handed down name on this island for as long as I can remember. The Pouges are the poor kids. Work for a living to help your parents, cause trouble to have great memories to look back on when you’re older, but most importantly, a family. A lot of us don’t really have one of those. Our parents are to busy working for the Kooks to have time to spend with us.

It was another typical morning on the banks. I was getting ready to go out on the boat with my friends. It was a rare day that we all had no work and nothing to do. I was packing my cooler full of food and drinks because it was my turn to feed everyone. I was wearing my favorite t-shirt dress and I had my hair in a low ponytail and sunglasses on, my go to when it was this hot out.  I was walking onto the back porch the led to our dock right as the boat was pulling up.

“Top of the morning to ya’ sailors.” I greeted my friends. John B was at the wheel slowing down so I can hop on, Kiara was taking the cooler out of my hand and Pope was still reading. I turned to the back of the boat and saw JJ laying there, hat over his head. “What’s his problem?” I ask motioning to JJ. “He drank a little too much last night, and is now nursing a hangover.” John B explains. “Isn’t he always hungover? Here JJ I have something that will fix you, it’s my moms favorite cure.-“Oh yeah, what is it? Advil? ‘Cause I already popped like three of those before you got here.” JJ responded not moving the hat. I pulled another drink out of my cooler. “No silly, it’s to keep drinking. Can’t get a hangover if your always drunk.” JJ moved his hat slightly, looking up at me squinting, sits up takes the drink and smiles. “can’t argue with that logic.” He responds.

I finish passing the rest of the drinks out as John B steered towards the marsh with sun on our backs warming up to be a good day. As we get to our usual spot, Pope throws the anchor down and looks at me “What kinda’ sandwiches did you pack Y/N?” as he rummaged to the bottom knowing I kept them there so they would stay cold. “I packed PB&J for me and you, cucumber for our dear vegetarian Kie, and ham and cheese for these dorks.” He smiled, I always pack everyone’s favourite snacks. “That’s why we keep you around” Pope responds. I gasp, “what?” I ask dramatically. “and here I thought it was my charming personality and good looks.” Everyone starts to laugh, “Sorry sweetheart, but I already took that roll” JJ says to me with a pat on my back. I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Yeah whatever helps you sleep at night J” Kie says laughing with me. “wouldn’t you like to know” he says with wink. My heart flutters. That wink kills me every time.

I’ve had a thing for JJ since we started hanging out together. My family moved here in the eighth grade and I became friends with Kiara. We met volley ball tryouts, quickly becoming friends as if we’d know each other our whole lives. She introduced me to the Pouges, and the rest was history. When Kie started her Kook year, Pope helped me find my way around the school, and lucky for me, JJ always not to far behind.

After we’ve all had something to eat and smoked a couple of blunts it was time to go swimming. Everybody starts taking there clothes off, and jumps in. As I’m taking my dress off I can feel JJ’s eye on me. That’s when I remember I’m wearing a new bathing suit. It’s a simple pink bikini but it shows a bit more of my cleavage then normal. “That’s so cute Y/N! Where did you get it?” Kie asks while my head is stuck in my dress. “At that boutique-for fuck sakes-you know the new one-“Here let me help” I feel a pair of hands grip the dress and a small laugh, and I know the second I hear it , that JJ is coming to my rescue. My breath hitches when his hands brush against my back side. The heat of his hands linger for a minute, “You’re a dysfunctional mess Y/L/N, probably lose your head if it wasn’t attached.” JJ spoke, everyone laughing along with him. “Real comedian you are Jim Carry, I’ll have to come to one of your shows-anyways as I was saying, I’m borrowing it from the boutique that just opened on Main Street.” I tell Kie, “Do they know you’re borrowing it?”. She knew me too well. It was small habit of mind to shoplift clothes. We couldn’t really afford new ones, and I hated asking my parents for one. “No they don’t know I’m borrowing, but I’ll fix the tag when I’m done with it and return it. No one will the wiser” She scuffs at my answer. I take that opportunity to jump in the water with them.

After swimming and another round of snacking and smoking the sun is starting to set, and we are turning the boat around to head home. “Hey Y/N, do you work tomorrow?” JJ asks me. We work at the country club together. I work in housekeeping, and he works in the kitchen doing a little bit of everything. “Yeah I do, 8 to 4 cleaning the discharges. What about you?” I ask him knowing where this is going. I always pick JJ up on my way if we’re working the same shifts. Someone was to make sure he makes it there. “I go for 9 and work a 12 hour shift, think I can bunk at your place? Is your mom working night shift?” My mom is a nurse at the E.R. and when she’s not home I let him spend the night with me. My dad is away on a fishing trip so no one would know he’s there. “Yeah she’s leaving for work at 7 if you want to sleep on the couch. Just don’t smoke in the house this time. My dad could smell the weed when he got home” “sure thing”.

John B stops at Kie’s first, she’s the only one with a curfew for being out late one to many times. “Alright losers, thanks for the day, I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow. John B are you still coming by the wreck in the morning?” Kie asks him and I look at Pope, I can see him roll his eyes under his sunglasses. I was under strict orders from him not to say anything about his crush in her. “Of course, do you think you’re dad will still want me picking up shifts there, it’ll get DCS off my case for a little while.”. Kiara’s dad offered to help John B out after Big John went missing a couple of months ago. DCS was been on his case about his uncle and the bills. “He said he needed the help with the summer season starting, Charlie Hanson quit last week for his band so we’re short a dish washer” Pope finally looks up from the book he’s reading, “I’ll sleep at your place tonight and help you write resume out for him.” John B smiled at Pope. “Thanks man, I really need your wisdom” Everyone laughs. Kie gets off the boat and waves goodbye to everyone. “Next stop the Y/L/N home” JJ says, “I’m so tired I could fall asleep right here” He motions to the front of the boat. Dramatically laying across the hard plastic. It’s grown colder now that the sun has set and with that wind picks up. I’m only in my dress from earlier, cursing myself for not bringing a sweater. “Christ John can this bucket of bolts go any faster, I’m freezing my ass off” I ask with a hint of sarcasm. Moments later I watch JJ sigh deeply and throw a towel over in my direction. “You’re lucky I was too hungover to go swimming, that should keep you warm. We’re almost there.” After a short distance and many laughs we’re finally pulling up to the dock. I look up to my house, and see that my mom left the light outside on, she knew me to well. I hated walking up the yard in the dark. JJ grabs the cooler and waves goodbye to Pope and John B as they sail away.

I wave goodbye to them and turn around to see that JJ is already half way up the yard. “JJ wait up, I only have little legs!” It was our inside joke, we both love watching full house, and he was quite taller then me so I could never keep up. He was quiet the short walk up to the house holding the door open for me. As we walk into my kitchen, I lock the door, and turn the outside light off. “Do you want the first shower J?” I ask him walking to the closet to pull out the extra blankets for him to sleep with. I could hear him opening the fridge. “No, you take the first shower and use the hot water. I don’t want to listen to you complain about me using all the hot water again.” I couldn’t argue with that. My house had shit warm water. Normally enough for a quick shower, and then taking forever to reheat. After putting the blankets on the couch, I look at JJ coming out of the kitchen with just his swim trunks on. “I’m taking a cold shower anyways, it’s hot in here.” He comments taking another drink of his water. I smile and nod to him, walking to my room to get some clothes. I grab the towel from the closest hallway and a pair of pajama’s walking into the bathroom. I start the water and hop in washing my hair and body. Once I’m done I get out of shower throw my hair in a bun and get changed. I walk into the living and JJ is siting there rolling a joint and watching tv. “Did your mom upgrade from cable because I don’t remember you having this channel” he asked not looking up from his joint. Eyebrows knitted together in concentration. “Yeah she complained about the bill being to high, and they gave some extra channels for being loyal customers or something like that” I look at what he’s watching. National Geographic. “JJ since when have you liked national geographic? What are you even watching? Is that Naked and Afraid?” You hit the guide to confirm that he’s actually watching it. “Yeah, I thought it was actually going to show them naked, not blur all the good stuff. Too PG if your asking me. What’s the point of calling the show Naked and afraid if you don’t actually see them naked?” He did make a good point, honestly I never watch any the television, always opting for Netflix. “I don’t know why the call it that. But you should go shower, its getting late and we both have to work early. Do you want me to wake you up when I get up?” I ask walking into the kitchen to get myself a drink. “No you wake up at the ass crack of dawn, just wake me up before you go I’ll sleep in the car until its time for work” JJ calls as I hear him shut the door to the bathroom. Once I hear the water running, I sigh and start making the couch up for him. I grab some of the pillows from my room, and take his rolled joint and put it in baggie with his other. I put his book bag by the couch and a clean pair of shorts he left from last time.

As I’m getting into bed, I can hear the shower turn off, and shortly after the door open. As I’m lying in bed thinking about the day staring at the ceiling, I can hear JJ rummaging around the living room. My heartbeat quickens thinking that he’s in the other room. I wish I could get the courage to tell him how I feel, but the rules say other wise. When Pope told me about his crush, that’s what he said to me. “remember those stupid no pouge on pouge macking rules.” A small mantra as to not ruin our friendship together. As I’m slowing drifting off to sleep I can hear JJ call from the other room, “goodnight Y/N” and I fall asleep with a smile on my face and pain in my heart knowing the man I love is another room and not with me.

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 6

Title: A Different Type of High (part six)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: spicy fluff (RATED T)

Content Warning: swearing, talk about and allusions to sex, making out, mentions of dying, mentions of drug use (Dialiludid and Oxycodone), withdrawal and symptoms of withdrawal, attending narcotics anonymous, struggling with sobriety, mildly ooc spencer

Word Count: 3,637

Summary: Spencer and the team plan a dinner party to celebrate Reader’s 6-month anniversary of being clean. Reader and Spencer make a risky decision that could hurt their friendship 

A/N: Oh goodness, I’m so sorry this part took so long to be posted. I’ve had half of it written for a few weeks, and then I’ve been sitting on the other half bc it originally contained smut. I sat and thought about it for a few days, and I decided at extreme last minute to edit it and make it just spicy fluff, with a rating of pg13-T for the allusions of and talks of sex. I had my best friend proofread this and made sure it was a-okay to post with those ratings! i also edited all the parts so they could be for a gender-neutral reader! so please let me know if this part (or any other part) has an issue with pronouns. Again, im so sorry it took so long for this part to be posted. anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part   series masterlist   next part

{***}{***}{***}

"Six months," I looked down at the token in hand. My eyes stayed glued to it for what seemed like an eternity, only looking away when there was a knock on the door. It wasn’t for 6 months, though, it was still my 5-month token. We’d be going to get my 6-month chip in a little bit...

"I hope you're not doing something stupid in there!" Spencer spoke on the other side of the door. I smiled before pulling the door open. He was leaning beside the door, waiting for me to leave. “I thought you’d never leave,” he looked over at me with a smile. I stepped more out of the bathroom and looked up at him. 

“Nope, just going to the bathroom,” I lied, but still kept a smile on my lips. I try not to lie to Spencer, but for some reason, this one was different. If I had it my way, I would keep myself locked in the bathroom, and never having to leave again. “Do you have to go? It’s free now,” I gestured towards the door. Spencer looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. “Although, I’d give it a minute…” I looked down at the ground and shrugged.

“Are you okay?” He asked, following beside me as I walked towards his bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him as he stood right in front of me. "Six months, that's quite the achievement,” he whispered as he sat beside me.

“I’m just nervous… That’s all,” I shrugged as I looked over at him, “I already want the day to be over… Is that bad to say?” I rested my head on his shoulder after I leaned on him. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Spencer shook his head, “I think it’s totally valid. This is the first time that you’ve made it to such a big accomplishment… It’s exciting, it’s nerve-wracking…” he whispered. 

“I think it’s more than nerve-wracking…” my voice was hardly a whisper. “We should go. The faster we go, the faster we can get this over with,” I looked up at him and shrugged. 

“We should get going. It’s a very important meeting for you today. Gotta get that coin,” Spencer laughed, before standing up. I sighed deeply before standing up. I rolled my eyes. “It’ll be over faster than you think it will,” he wrapped his arm around me as he walked me outside. The weather drastically changed over the last six months, I’ve forgotten how nice Maryland can be when it’s not cold and snowy. And, as soon as we stepped outside, a warm breeze brushed across my skin and through my hair. I smiled, relaxing my shoulders slightly.

“It’s so nice out,” I looked up at Spencer and smiled. He returned the expression and looked around the street.

“Yeah, it is nice, isn’t it?” he looked back down at me with a soft smile. 

“We should go to the Washington Monument! I want to see the cherry blossoms! I’m sure they’re nice and bloomed and super pretty,” I suggested, hoping he’d want to go.

“I mean, if I have time. We have cases coming in left and right,” Spencer replied, making me feel sadder. I pouted.

“Yeah, that’s right. I guess I’ll just have to go,” I looked up at him with a sly smile.

“And, you’ll have to take lots of photos for me,” he smiled at me again. I rolled my eyes before tucking myself closer into his side.

{***}{***}{***} 

“I’m taking you out, come on,” Spencer grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet. I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows.

“What? Why?” I spoke, still staying on the couch. But, when he did finally get me on my feet, I yelped and fell into his body. Spencer wrapped his arms around my body to keep me steady. “We just got back!” I looked up as I tried to escape his grip.

“Because… You’re six months clean and that’s something worth celebrating,” he smiled as he looked down at me. “And, you deserve to be celebrated,” he whispered before poking my nose. I wrinkled my face and stuck my tongue out. “Please, for me?” he added. I dropped my shoulders. See, that’s not fair. He knows I’d do anything for him. And, if anything includes going out to celebrate something, then I guess I’ll have to do it.

“Okay, fine. You win. We can go out. But I don’t have anything nice to wear,” I spoke as I stepped away from Spencer’s embrace and towards his bedroom. I’ve basically moved into his place sometime over the last 6 months. So it could be our bedroom. But, it's an unofficial move in. I still have my shit in my shit apartment. “Granted, I don’t have much clothing here,” I looked back over at him and shrugged. It was just something to be planted in his head, maybe he’ll offer me to move in with him. Or maybe not. He’ll probably say that it isn’t very smart, me living with him. 

“I guess it’s a good thing that there’s something in the bedroom for you,” Spencer smiled as he dropped his head to his shoulder. I raised an eyebrow before looking into his room. “Jennifer and Penelope helped pick it out,” his voice followed me as I entered the room. 

“You didn’t have to get me this, Spencer,” I looked at him, awe in my eyes as I looked between him and the very nice clothing that was laid out on his bed. I honestly probably wouldn’t wear it out much. But if he takes me out to celebrate big milestones, then I’ll have an excuse to wear it.

“Of course I did. You should get to wear something nice on such a big night out. You get changed, I have to make a phone call real quick.” Spencer smiled at me before leaving me alone in his bedroom. I looked back down at the clothes and sighed deeply before changing out of my dingy sweater and jeans and into the dress. I looked down at my body before slowly leaving the room.

“I hate this,” I looked at Spencer, who was sitting on the couch, reading a book while he waited for me to finish getting dressed. He was quick to stand, nearly dropping his book to the ground as he looked at me. “Whaddya think?” I smiled at him before looking down at the clothes. 

“You look… It looks good,” Spencer looked up at me with a smile. I looked back up at him for a brief moment, only to look away. I could feel a heat grow on my cheeks as I walked towards him. “Oh, uh… Are you ready?” He watched as I grabbed for a sweater he let me borrow. 

 “Only if you are, you’re the one who planned this whole thing. I was fine just staying home,” I shrugged as I followed beside him. I didn’t want to argue with him on this one, though. He wanted to do something special for me, because this was a big milestone. And, it’s the first time I’ve ever made it to 6 months. Hopefully, it’s the only time I make it this far. But, who knows, bad things happen to good people. 

“I’m not going to be embarrassed, am I?” I looked up at Spencer as we walked out of his apartment. He grasped my hand as he led me out of the building.

“No, you… You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. 

I don’t know why, but all I could think about was going to a restaurant on my birthday when I was younger… And, you know how the waiters and waitresses would crowd around and sing you their lame version of happy birthday, while forcing you to wear a hat that dozens of other people have worn… Their stupid birthday schtick? Remember? Ah, those were the good times, when Mom wasn’t out of her mind. But, I don’t think Spencer would force people to sing me a stupid song and wear a stupid hat for being clean of drugs for 6-months...

“I’m trusting you on this,” I smiled at him as we walked towards his car, “no one’s gonna sing like a song or anything?” I looked over at him as I slid into his car. He looked down at me with furrowed eyebrows, confusion on his face. Then it hit me that he had no idea what I was talking about.  

“No…. No one’s going to sing to you,” he looked at me, his tone heavily confused. 

“Nothing to worry about then,” I smiled as he pushed the door shut. I quickly buckled in and waited for Spencer to get into the driver’s side. I looked over at him with a smile as he got in. “I was just thinking… On the rare occasion when mom wasn’t awful, she’d take me out to eat, and a lot of the times it was my birthday… You remember that? And then they embarrass the fuck out of you,” I sighed as I looked at him. 

“No… That never happened to me,” he glanced at me as he started his car.

“That’s a shame, we should change that,” I smiled evilly at him as he started to drive. 

“I hate that you’re looking at me like that,” he looked at the road as he drove to our destination, “Do I even want to know?”

“No, but you’ll find out someday,” I smiled at him.

{***}{***}{***}

Spencer and I were very quiet as entered his apartment. I think that goes to show just how exhausted we both were. Considering he had brought me to his friend’s house, where the rest of his team was, to celebrate. It’s not that the people were exhausting, it’s just that we were out late, and I’m very emotional.

Which was the reason why I found myself crawling into bed in just a shirt and underwear. I could hear Spencer’s laughter as I got comfortable, but struggled with the blanket.

“I’m so tired,” I sighed as I pulled the blanket over my body. The bed shifted as Spencer climbed in beside me. “Like, all the tireds… Sleepy, mentally, emotionally, psychically,” I looked at him as I pressed my head into the pillow.

“Rossi does know how to have a dinner party. Six months is a pretty big thing to celebrate.” Spencer hummed as he moved closer to me. I looked up at him and smiled. 

“You didn’t have to plan a party for me. I would have been okay staying here,” I whispered as I got comfortable in his form.

My back was pressed right to Spencer’s chest, just like many nights before. His arm was wrapped around my middle to hold me as close as possible to him. My legs were tangled up with his. I let out a deep breath of air before smiling to myself.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” Spencer whispered, his nose brushing over the shell of my ear. I rolled my shoulders and hummed happily. 

“Now it’s your turn,” I mumbled as I shifted slightly. I knew he was still struggling. It’s not easy… And Dilaudid seems like a kick to the ass drug. He’s trying though. He’s trying his hardest. I just wish there was a way I could help him. I knew he had been struggling more often recently. I would be too if my mentor left unexpectedly. It wasn’t fair to him, or the rest of his team. He gets to have a bit of a struggle, he shouldn’t have to though. The man who replaced Gideon though, David Rossi, is a nice guy. But I know Gideon was like his father figure to him. 

Spencer let out a breath of air through his nose. His air tickling my skin and moving my hair. “I couldn’t have done it without you, ya’ know?” I mumbled, nuzzling my head into the pillow more. It was Spencer’s turn to hum. “And, I’m more than willing to be by your side,” I whispered, hoping he didn’t hear me. But, he did, because he just hugged me harder.

I know it’s only 6 months and not the rest of my life. But, without Spencer, I don’t think I could have gotten to the 6-month point. And, to be honest, I might be dead. 

“That’d mean the world to me,” he whispered softly. I turned around so I was facing him. He looked down at me with a small smile. “I’m doing better, you know,” he spoke softly. I looked at him and nodded. “It’s just hard… With Gideon leaving… It just feels like everyone’s leaving,” he sniffled softly. 

“I’m not leaving… And, by the looks of it all, you have an entire family that isn’t leaving you, Spencer,” I kept my eyes on him, watching as he looked down at me. He stayed quiet, mulling over the words I had just said.

In fact, that left us in a comfortable silence. My eyes stayed glued to him, whereas his were closed. I knew he wasn’t asleep though. Spencer never sleeps. I knew our day wasn’t over yet. We always talked more before either of us fell asleep.

But... something scared me. The way he held onto me. He held me like I would go missing in the morning when he did eventually wake up. His grip around my waist and torso was tight, like I was a stuffed animal and he was the owner. Part of me wondered if he feared I was a drug-induced hallucination and would vanish in thin air. I wish there was a way I could tell him, to convince him that I wouldn’t ever disappear like that. 

His nose twitched as he rubbed his face into the pillow under his head. He slowly opened his eyes and looked back at me, the exhaustion of the day sitting in his eyes and expression. I understood that feeling. But, if he was anything like me, and he is a lot like me, I knew that even though he was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t find us in a while. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he pretended to sleep. I laughed lightly, causing him to glare at me. 

“I’m not tired, and I know you’re not either. You’re faking it,” I muttered as I shifted even closer to him. I still kept my head tilted up so I could look at him. “You know I’m right,” I whispered, a smile suddenly appearing on my lips. 

“I’m not arguing your statement, am I?” Spencer replied, a smile growing on his lips. I almost kissed him. At that moment, it felt right. Our sudden sarcastic banter just made me want to kiss him. 

“No, no you’re not,” I laughed lightly as I looked at him. Spencer kept his eyes on me, hugging me harder as he tried to bring me closer to him. But at this point if I was any closer to him, I’d probably be in him. “Can I ask you a question,” I whispered so softly. If it was daylight or any other time of day, with any sound, I wouldn’t be heard. Spencer laughed before reopening his eyes.

“You just did,” he retorted as he looked at me. I rolled my eyes as I readjusted, moving so I was more face to face with him instead of face to chest. 

“I meant a real question, Agent Reid,” I stuck my tongue out at him. The smile that grew on his lips made me feel warm, and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You can always ask me a question, and you don’t even have to ask,” Spencer replied, his smile becoming more genuine than before. I could feel my heart beating as I looked at him. My body felt like it was flooding with a feeling that I’ve never felt towards another person… I just couldn’t put a name to it yet.

“Can I kiss you,” I whispered. It just happened. The words fell from my mouth, like I had no control over my mouth and the words I was saying. And now that the words hung in the air, I was left just staring at Spencer, and my heart in my throat. 

The expression on his face told me he was thinking about it. But the long silence was beginning to make me feel nervous. What if I ruined it all? What if I just ruined my friendship with Spencer all because I wanted to kiss him? It’s just my luck though, I get something so beautiful and so precious, I ruin it, or it gets ruined. But in this case… It was my own fault and doing. 

The next thing I knew, Spencer’s hands were cupping my cheeks, and his lips were against mine. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me with the sudden action. I was a little caught off guard. I guess his prolonged silence just convinced me nothing was going to happen. But I was definitely happy that it did, indeed, happen. And, I definitely enjoyed it. 

His lips were soft, yet somehow slightly chapped. I could feel the moisture on his lips from when he licked them moments ago, and I could taste the tiny bit of wine he had just an hour ago. The warmth of his body made me feel safe as I gravitated closer into his body. My heart pounded in my chest, and I wondered if he could feel it against his. My hands gravitated towards his head, my fingers getting tangled in his hair. 

Spencer hummed as I gently tugged on the hair on the back of his neck. The breath from his nose tickled around my lips and nose. Every movement he made, my body was quick to follow. I just couldn’t get enough of him, and he knew that. 

He was gentle as he moved so he was over me. His arms were wrapped around my torso, holding me close to his body. I knew I wanted to further what was happening, and part of me could sense Spencer did too. I pulled my head away, pressing it into the pillow a little bit so I could look up at him. He returned the look, but a certain fire was in his eyes. 

“Can we,” I stopped myself from talking, worried that I was even more out of line for asking if we could have sex. At least I’m asking. “We don-” I continued, but failed when Spencer pressed his lips to mine. 

“Yeah… Yeah we can,” he muttered before going to take off his shirt.  

{***}{***}{***}

It was honestly better than any type of high I’ve had before. Definitely better than marijuana, or oxycodone, or Dilaudid. I wonder if Spencer thought the same about that. This was probably safer too. You can’t overdose on sex, can you? Damn, I guess if that’s how I go… That’s how I go.

“Hey,” Spencer looked down at me with a small smile. I swallowed roughly before returning the smile to him. He brushed my hair away from my face before holding both my cheeks in his hands.

“Hey,” I returned the smile with a small giggle. Spencer laughed before kissing me again. It was tender and passionate with this kiss, and I wanted to melt into him. His hands were still on my cheeks, holding my face.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you or anything? Did I?” He asked, his tone heavily laced with worry. He moved his nose so it brushed against mine, smushing it to my face. I laughed and shook my head. 

“No, no, Spencer. You didn’t hurt me,” I laughed as I pressed my hands to his chest. “I don’t think you could hurt me… No matter what you do,” I quietly whispered. Spencer looked down at me and smiled.

“I promise I won’t ever hurt you,” he returned in a whisper, "and I won't ever leave you." 

“In all seriousness, though, I didn’t know I had a sex drive like that…” I laughed, watching as Spencer sat up and away from me. “I mean, after all the oxy I’ve taken…” I shrugged, sitting up and wrapping a blanket around my body. Spencer looked over at me with a raised eyebrow as he stood up. 

“Considering it’s been six months, you don’t have it in your system anymore,” he looked at me for a moment before grabbing his boxers and an undershirt. “I’m getting you water, do you want anything else?” He walked around the bed and came to stand beside me. I looked up at him and pushed out my lips, silently asking for a kiss. Spencer smiled before pecking my lips quickly. 

“I’m okay with water,” I watched as he walked away. He nodded before leaving me alone in his room (Again, I would go as far as to say our room. But I don’t exactly live with him… full time). 

  When I finished cleaning myself up in his bathroom, I grabbed one of his shirts and a pair of boxers, and I sat on the center of the bed, waiting for him to return. 

I realized something while I was waiting for him to come back to bed. And it’s something I don’t think I could ever tell him. Because, if I tell him this, I’d probably lose him. I don’t think I could handle losing Spencer.

 I loved him. I loved Spencer Reid and that was probably going to be the thing that killed me.

a different type of high taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm​ , @itsametaphorbriansblog​ , @bxtchboy69​ , @sammypotato67 , @seninjakitey , @thatsonezesty13  , @thebluetint , @honestlystop​ , @herecomesthewriterwitch​ , @mediocrity-atitsfinest​ , @honeyboysteezy​ , @aluna190​

tags that didn’t work: @exilereid  , @mediocrehamiltrash  

(if you want to be a part of the a different type of high tag list, please reply or send me a message!)

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.15 "Torture Abroad"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, divorce mention, parent death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, foster care, beach setting, noncon/dubcon (explicit, 18+), general NSFW and sexual themes/language, broken bone mention, stockholm syndrome-type themes, self injury mention, bat used as a weapon, injury/gore (explicit), knife mention, taser mention, bondage/chains, torture with a bunch of different weapons, bystander watching torture, hallucinations, fire mention, panic attack, tics/tourettes (let me know if I missed anything!!)

"You're going to love it here," August was saying, one of his hands wrapped lazily around the wheel and the other placed on Elias's thigh, "I'm gonna show you so many beautiful places."

Elias was looking out the window at all the deep green trees and lush scenery, in utter disbelief that he was actually here. "You're really from here?"

"Yeah, after my parents got divorced my mom took me to America. I come back all the time though." He turned and smiled at Elias, squeezing his thigh gently. "Beautiful, isn't it? I'll have to teach you some French."

Elias nodded in agreement at the suggestion. "I cannot believe I'm in France." With literal Satan, he thought, then shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The car was nice, a deep red that Elias thought fit August well enough. It was something fancy and foreign, and August had laughed at his surprised face when he walked right up to it in the parking garage of the airport. At first, Elias thought he was going to steal it, but then August had the keys in his hand and inside of the car was a wallet that had one of his older licenses in it. Elias noticed that he drove it with ease, like it was where he belonged, behind the expensive leather wheel, driving much quicker than he probably should be on the winding roads. For a moment, he found himself thinking about how attractive it was, and the realization made him incredibly ashamed in himself, so embarrassed and disgusted that he felt physically sick at it.

They drove for awhile longer, then they arrived at a huge house on the side of a hill, overlooking a beach. When Elias stepped out of the car the chill breeze swept through his clothes and hair, and he took a deep breath. It was beautiful, and he guessed that if he had to be anywhere with August, it may as well be here.

He jumped as August grabbed him from behind, looping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. He placed gentle kisses against his neck, humming with content. "I'm so happy you're here, angel."

Elias sighed and tipped his head back against August's shoulder. "It's so pretty," he breathed, "just... breathtaking."

August chuckled and pulled off of him. "Come on, we'll go sight seeing later," he teased, taking his hand and pulling him down the drive to the house.

It was even more beautiful on the inside; there were large, open windows that the sunlight danced through and soaked over everything it landed on, intricate designs carved and painted on the ceiling and walls, and huge, exquisite paintings that were probably more expensive than everything Elias owned combined.

"This is your house?" He asked August, who was already making himself busy opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen. Elias could see from his spot in the middle of the living room that the kitchen was just as glamorous.

"It was my father's, yeah. He left it to my sister and I after he died. Maybe you'll get to meet her, if she comes around." His voice was lightly conversational, like he was talking about the weather and not his dead dad, but really Elias would have been more surprised if he'd let any emotion into the sentence.

Elias took the wine glass as it was handed to him, looking down at the dark red with his lip caught in his teeth. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, cueing August to frown at him. "What is it?" He asked.

"It's just... I dunno, my whole life I was just tossed around foster homes and group homes and this...this is something I never would have thought would happen." He laughed again, shaking his head. "I mean, I'm drinking wine in France. It's just weird."

August nodded his head, looking thoughtful before finally saying, "I didn't know you were a foster kid."

Elias shook his head, instantly wanting to change the subject. August had seen him crying, begging, screaming, bleeding, August had seen him dead, but talking about his past with him seemed way more vulnerable than all of that. He didn't want August to know about his selfish parents who decided that they loved drugs more than they loved their twitchy son, he didn't want him to know that Elias didn't have any friends until he was in high school because he moved foster homes and schools faster than he could blink, he really didn't want him to know about the way he used to stay up late trying to find his parents online so he could try and contact them, try to convince them to take him back, and cry when he couldn't find them. August had control over him in so many ways, and Elias was going to make sure that touchy, personal information was kept that way. August would never know him that intimately, if he could help it.

He tasted the wine, trying to stay in the moment. He focused on the lush fruitiness of the drink instead of the looming fear of being alone with August. He focused on the way the light illuminated some of the dust floating around the room instead of the despair he felt about being away from Tyson.

"Do you wanna walk down to the beach?" August asked him, stepping closer to him as he spoke. "It'll be dark soon, we can watch the sun set."

Elias smiled at him, drinking some more wine. He wished it was something stronger, being sober around August was just so unbearably frightening. "I never would've pegged you as a romantic," he chuckled, "this wine must be strong, huh?"

August shook his head, taking Elias's wine glass from him and setting them both down on the side table next to the couch. "I've just been too stressed out to be romantic." He looked Elias up and down with a grin, then scooped him up into his arms, laughing at the astonished squeal he let out.

He carried him out of the house and down a short walkway to the beach, setting him gently in the sand once they were close to the water. After Elias straightened himself out, he stared up at August with wide eyes. He looked like he was waiting for something, expecting something, and when August took his hand in his own he flinched a little.

"Why do you look so bothered, bunny?" He asked, stepping closer and running his thumb over the back of his hand. He knew, just from touching it, that this was his injured hand, the one he'd broken with a hammer. The tendons and bones hadn't healed right, they felt mangled and torn up when he pressed against them. The way Elias's face twitched at the reawakened pain was absolutely mouthwatering, August tried to imagine the noises he would make if he very slowly broke it all over again.

Elias plastered on a strained smile, looking out toward the waves wistfully. "I'm not used to you being so gentle with me. Trying to uh...to not let myself get so wrapped up in it."

August sighed at the words, trailing his fingers over Elias's cheek, leaning over and kissing him softly. "You're so smart," he cooed, "but don't worry you're pretty self too much, I'll be careful. You're more fragile than I thought."

A trembling breath shook Elias's shoulders, but he knew that if he allowed himself to cry he would be in trouble. So, he pressed himself flush against August and kissed him hard, desperate for something to numb him. He hadn't finished his wine, he hadn't had any drugs in who knows how long, and the only other thing he knew would distract him from the fear for a moment was...handing himself over to the very thing causing it.

At one point they ended up down in the sand, clothes tossed aside carelessly. Elias forgot how great sex could be, when he wasn't being choked or beaten or butchered. He was waiting for August to turn on him any second, for his tender touches to turn to harsh, aggressive punches, or his sweet words to twist into hateful insults. It would happen any second, it was a miracle it hadn't already. He couldn't even believe how much August seemed to be enjoying it so far, Elias wasn't bloody or bruised up or even crying yet.

"Ah, my angel," August hummed, his lips against Elias's neck, "oh God you feel so good."

Elias gasped, arching his back against the sand. He clutched at August's arm hard, whimpering softly. He was baffled when August began to jerk him off; he hardly ever touched him like that towards the end, before things got messy, instead trying to fuck him until he came, until he was shaking and in tears, begging for help, for friction, for something. He moaned out at the touch, writhing just a little underneath him.

"Ah, fuck, August," he breathed, "jesus christ!" August pressed closer against him, kissing gently at his throat, moaning against his skin.

Once August finished, he pulled off of him, and Elias thought that was it. Yet again, left bothered and unfinished. He sighed and tipped his head back, trying to steady himself. It was ok this way, he had gotten through it without any new bruises or cuts, he wasn't hurt, he could deal with blue balls. But then, August was kissing down his torso, over his hips, on the insides of his thighs. When he started to suck him off, Elias whined loudly and reached down to tangle his fingers in his hair. He could feel August's hands holding him steady, those strong, rough hands that were hovering on the edge of being gentle and inflicting pain on him. It would happen any second now, this time Elias was sure, with how his fingers were tight around his hips.

"Au-August!" He moaned, writhing underneath his grip. He hated hearing himself moaning that name, hated that he was receiving pleasure from someone who he wanted to hate so badly, someone who had hurt him and the people he cared about. Once again, he was repulsed by himself, and he would have pushed August off of him if he wasn't right about to-

He gasped sharply as he came, shaking in August's hands. His breathing was labored as he relaxed, looking up at August as he crawled back on top of him. He felt tears in his eyes, that heavy guilt and disgust in himself weighing him down, pressing him into the sand harder than August was. August took his face in his hands, running his thumb over his cheek gently.

"You're so beautiful, bunny," he hummed, "I missed having you all to myself."

Elias frowned, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to look at him anymore. "It's so weird without you." His voice was faraway, and when August pulled away from him he sat up. "No one understood. I was just fucking up all the time and no one would punish me and I just felt...I felt..." He trailed off, shaking his head. What was it that he felt? He was glad to be away from August when he was, right? So what else could he have been feeling besides relief? Why, when he was looking back on it now, did it all seem so shitty and hopeless?

August sighed, petting his hair gently. "That sounds hard, angel. I hate thinking of you all alone, so lost."

"I had to hurt myself," Elias whispered, "no one else would so I had to do it myself."

August fell silent, then he pulled away and looked at Elias for a long time. The look on his face was undecipherable, Elias couldn't tell if he was disappointed or delighted at what he told him, and he only grew more confused when he let out a short laugh and stood up.

"Come on, little one. Get your clothes on." As he spoke, he pulled his own sand covered pants back on, and Elias got up and did the same. August took his hand and led him back up to the house, now eerily silent.

Once they were inside, August sat Elias down on the couch, wordlessly walking down the hallway. Elias was overwhelmed by his sudden quietness, August always had something to say about everything, and Elias hated not knowing what he was thinking about. It was the same as when Elias told him what happened to his face in the car, the deafening silence that made him feel like any minute August would flip out and just start screaming. As he waited for August to come back and do just that, he grabbed the glass of wine that was taken from him earlier and downed the rest of it.

"Come here, Eli!" August was suddenly calling. Elias stood up with a groan, shuffling down the long hallway. He peered into the rooms he walked past, frowning when he didn't see August in any of them.

"Where are you?" He heard the sound of floorboards creaking distantly, but the all the rooms were too big to really distinguish where the noise came from. When he thought he heard some shuffling in one of the rooms, he ducked into it and looked around, sighing when he was met with silence and an empty room. "August?" He whined.

He cried out when something solid slammed into the back of legs, making him crumple to the ground with a thud. He turned to see August standing over him, a wooden bat swinging carelessly in his hand. Elias scrambled away from him, eyes huge and already full of tears.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" He cried. August stayed silent still, and Elias grew even more panicked as he got closer. He just wanted August to say something, anything at all, so that at least he wasn't as confused. The bat swung again, this time cracking against his shoulder. Elias screamed in pain as he hit the floor, his body lit up in a blinding ache. August dropped the bat soon after, then yanked Elias up to his feet.

When Elias couldn't stand and collapsed against him with a sob, August merely grabbed a fist full of his hair and forced him to stand straight. He couldn't stifle his sobs, they weren't even his own at this point, his pain and fear were ripping them out of him violently. "Ple-please stop!" His legs were weak and battered, but every time he wobbled and nearly fell again, August's hand tightened and twisted harshly in his hair and he forced himself to straighten out again.

August dragged him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, not waiting for him when he stumbled and tripped. As they approached a flight of stairs, Elias's panic grew further. He couldn't even walk right as it was, how was he supposed to conquer stairs?

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to try to wobble down them, because once they got to the top, August unceremoniously shoved him down the hard steps.

He landed hard at the bottom, breathless and dazed from the pain. He choked on broken gasps, his chest tight from not being able to breathe. When he heard August's steps coming down the stairs he let out a hushed whine of fear.

"That looked painful," he remarked, crouching down to inspect his face, "I thought you'd catch yourself."

Elias finally gasped in a breath, groaning in between coughs. August hoisted him up again, giving him more support since he really couldn't stand on his own this time. "Ah fuck," he sniffled, dropping his head toward his chest, "ow..."

After a few more steps, Elias's arm was yanked up above his head, earning an agonized howl. He felt cold metal wrapping around his wrist, snapping shut. When he looked up, his arm was raised above his head by a chain bolted into the ceiling. As he stared at it in horror, August secured his other arm as well, then let go of him completely.

Elias's shoulders and wrists were screaming, he couldn't stand on his own, and without August he was left drooped over, dangling by the chains. He began to rethink everything that happened before that moment, trying to figure out what he did wrong to warrant this painful and humiliating punishment. Had he spoken out of turn? Was it because of his behavior on the plane? Or because he had almost refused to come with August? He started to cry again, quiet whimpers now in replacement of his loud, panicked sobs from moments ago. When he ticced, a whole new pain coursed through his body.

"I'm s-so fucking sor...sorry!" He choked out, looking up at August as he cried. "Please August, please, I'm sorry!"

August grinned at him, at his desperate begging, at how ruined he looked, slumped over under the chains. "You're so gorgeous, Eli," he praised, turning away from him and beginning to dig through a bag against the wall. He pulled out a large camera, and Elias let out another hopeless sob. "You're so much prettier than Allen, you know that?" Elias didn't know why he would say that, he didn't care about Allen or how pretty Allen was or which one of them August liked more, he couldn't care about anything stupid like that, not when his world was painted bright red with suffering. He snapped a picture, and Elias flinched at the flash, just as he always did. "Stay still, bunny."

Elias did as he was told, hoping if he pleased August enough he could be let down. The flash went off a few more times, and as August lowered the camera, Elias collapsed in on himself with a quiet, agonized whimper. "Please Aug-August, it hu-hurts so bad..."

August began to dig through his bag again, and Elias screwed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. His shoulder, the one that took the blow from the bat, was on fire now, his fingertips numb. When he felt August's palm against his waist, he relaxed a fraction. It was over, he told himself, August was going to let him down and comfort him now. But then something cold was pressed against his ribcage, and just as he opened his eyes to see what it was, a burning pain jolted through his entire body. He convulsed at the shock, his teeth hurting from how hard he bit down. It seemed to last for hours, and when it finally stopped he collapsed further, now exhausted and in an insurmountable degree of pain. It couldn't get worse than this, and if it did Elias thought he just might die.

"Oh, you're so quiet now, little one," August sighed, grabbing his face and forcing him to look up. Elias caught sight of a small handheld taser in his other hand. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Elias sobbed, nodding feebly. "No m-more."

August smiled at him, then tased him once again. This time, Elias let out a guttural, agonized scream, writhing against the chains. This time it went on for so long that when it stopped, Elias passed out, only held up by the chains. When he came to, he looked up at August with tear stained cheeks and hopeless eyes. He wasn't begging anymore, couldn't get the words out, but the look on his face was just as good. August could have stared at him for hours, for days, if he kept making that face. He would give up food and water and oxygen and sunlight if it meant he could stay down here in the basement with Elias and just look at him forever, observe every inch of his body and how it reacted to the pain, memorize all the different ways he could scream and beg, taste his tears and see if there was a difference in the ones from torture and fear. He wanted to know Elias, inside and out, in all the most vulnerable ways, in ways that no human should ever know another.

But he couldn't do that, he had plans. That would have to wait. And besides, they had all the time in the world now, with no one knowing where to look for them.

"I've gotta run to the store, ok?" He said, his voice teasing. "You wait here and be good, and I'll let you out when I get back." He ruffled Elias's hair, watching his face sink further into despair.

"No, please! God please let me down it hurts!" He tugged against the chains, panic ripping through every muscle as he thrashed against his restraints. It was useless, August was already walking away, ignoring his pleading.

It felt like he was gone for hours, and Elias had a headache from the stress and how much he was crying. He was so exhausted, the pain was so intense he couldn't think straight, it was all a jumbled mess blurred together by the delirium of his injuries. Every now and then he forgot where he was, had to lift up his head, which felt like it was made of lead, and then remind himself that he had somehow found himself in a basement in France. Of course it would end up like this for him. Of course he would finally leave the country and go somewhere nice just to end up chained up in a basement.

When he finally heard footsteps on the stairs, he began tugging at the chains again, eager to get out before he even saw August. He didn't notice the other voice until August was at the bottom of the steps, a stranger at his side. Elias froze in confusion for a moment, then the insane aching all over his body pushed past that and he pulled at the chains again.

"August p-p-please let me down please I can't ta-take it anymore!" His gut twisted when August and the man laughed at him, and he had to try really, really hard to not start crying again.

"You look tired, angel," August teased, then turned to the other man, "je pense qu'il très fatigue." (I think he's really tired.)

The man nodded along with him, looking him up and down in curiosity. "Oui, mais il est beaux. Oh, regarde sa précieuse petite tête." (Yes, but he is beautiful. Oh, look at his precious little head.)

Elias let out an agitated sob, going weak at the hopelessness. He didn't know what they were saying, just that they sounded like they were talking about an animal they were discussing purchasing. August stepped forward. Elias noticed he smelled like booze, then he noticed his lopsided smile matched the one the man behind him was wearing. They were both drunk, and that meant Elias was undeniably fucked. August ran his hand through Elias's hair, pleased at the broken cries it caused. "Exhaustion looks so good on you, Eli." With that, he turned away and grabbed his bag, the same one he'd been hiding his camera and taser in, the same one Elias had kept wondering what other torture devices where hidden in while August was gone, prompting Elias to scream again.

"No! No more, please, please August!"

His begging was futile, August closed in on him quickly with a huge butcher knife, sliding it teasingly against Elias's chest before actually using it. When he started slicing into him, it seemed rather reckless and Elias was horrified he was going to do something irreversible to him. After he got bored of the knife, he sauntered back to the bag to look for another instrument.

Elias was covered in blood already, and he realized that his legs were completely useless by now, the chains in the ceiling were the only reason he was upright. He heard August say something in French again, and when he looked up to try and be as much apart of their conversation as he could, he saw that the stranger he had brought down with him had his phone held up, recording all of it with a satisfied grin on his face.

August used a belt, next, causing Elias to positively shriek in pain every time it made harsh contact with his already cut up body. Every now and then, he would stop what he was doing and step close to Elias, whispering so that only he could hear him, saying "you're so perfect like this, my love," or "you have no idea what it does to me when you scream like that, bunny" and it made Elias want to throw up.

He must've used everything in his bag on Elias. He'd hit him with the belt, cut him with a knife, shocked him, beat him with brass knuckles, burned him with a torch, and those were only the ones that Elias was present enough to understand what was being done to him. After all of that, he got lost in the waves of pain and the sounds of his own screams and begs, and then he was unaware of whatever tool August was using to cause it all.

They left the room without a word, or maybe they did say something and he was just too drunk on the pain to notice, when they were done, leaving Elias alone and trembling and lightheaded. His body felt fuzzy and disconnected from him, but the pain was still all too real, too intense. A flash of light caught his eye from the side, and it was nearly impossible to lift his head enough to see what it was. His vision was swimming at the movement, it made him instantly nauseous, and he had to squint really hard to be able to see clearly. When he was able to focus, he was even more confused. Was it...a fire? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the tiny flame started to grow bigger, slithering up the wall on the other side of the basement. Elias wasn't sure of the when or why or how the fire started, all he knew was that it was getting bigger so fast and he was chained up and couldn't move and he was going to be burned alive.

"August!" He tried to scream, his voice so strained and broken up that it was hardly audible. He doubted that August heard him, and then he was even more horrified. The fire was getting closer and he couldn't even call for help, there was nothing he could do. Then he wondered if August had done this on purpose. It made sense, he had chained him up and hurt him so bad that he couldn't move even if he wasn't chained up, made him scream so loud that no one could hear his cries for help, then he lit a fire so he could kill him. It was a well orchestrated plan, Elias had to give him that, and he never even saw it coming.

What he did see coming, though, was the fire, now climbing up the ceiling and creeping across the floor toward him. As much as he could in his broken state, he scrambled back toward the wall, the chains rattling uselessly above him. He was going to die, he was going to die and there was no saving him this time.

He was surprised when he heard himself scream another time, he must've been so scared he forced his shredded vocal chords to work for a moment. "August please help me!!" He shrieked, closing his eyes tight so he wouldn't see the flames that would engulf him any second.

When he felt hands on him, he let out a measly, horrified squeak, cowering away from it, thinking it was the flames he was so horrified of. "Elias what is wrong with you? Why are you screaming?" That was August, talking to him now. But why was August here if he was trying to kill him? And why was he asking him why he was screaming?

When he worked up the courage to open his eyes, the fire was gone, August was standing in front of him. Elias gasped a few times, he didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. "The...August..." He sobbed as August began to take the chains off. "There was a f-fire. A hu...huge fire, in the corner." He collapsed right against August's chest as soon as the chains were off, felt his arms wrap around his ruined body to catch him before he fell right to the floor.

August lowered him to the floor, then pulled away and pushed his hair out of his face to inspect him further. He was frowning as he looked into Elias's panicked eyes. "Oh, you poor thing, you're hallucinating," he spoke like he was talking to a child with scraped knees, "there's no fire, angel. It's all ok, you're ok."

Elias looked around the basement again, there was no fire, no burn marks anywhere. "B...But I saw it." Thanks to the final scream he'd let out, his voice was just barely above a hoarse whisper. "I saw it, August."

August sighed heavily, then he stood and hoisted up and over his shoulder. Elias whimpered at the harsh movement, but he didn't mind the pain so much when he realized that August was taking him back upstairs. He was so relieved when he realized that going upstairs meant that the punishment was over, that he wasn't going to be engulfed by flames or simply left to dangle under the chains all night. It was over, he told himself. He counted to ten, it was over. He was set down gently on the couch, it was over. August was speaking to him, but he wasn't listening because it was over, and that was all that mattered.

[randomideasmybrainhas]

Prompt 6 - Kya

For: @helplesslezbeean - hope you like it, thanks for reading!

Prompt 6 - Kya : ’God her smile could light up the world, and her toned body would sweep me off my feet, and her eyes, the window to her soul, which are looking at me, which are glaring at me, which are getting closer?’

---

We’ve been practicing for hours, and I no longer can feel my body from the frigid temperatures as we continue to bend the water back and forth. Korra is surely out to kill me for whatever apparent reason, since we’ve been practicing all day, and I’m sure I’ll end with a head cold soon enough. I continue to pull and push the water back to Korra thinking of warmer things, like hot cocoa, and sitting by a fire place, and under a blanket reading a book, and Kya… 

God, her smile could light up the world, and her toned body would sweep me off my feet, and her eyes, the window to her soul… which are looking at me… which are glaring at me… which are getting closer? I watched as Kya approached covered head to toe wearing an angry face, even though she seemed pissed at me, and I have no idea why, I don’t think she could get more beautiful. I know it’s wrong to view my mentor in anything other than a professional manner, but I’ve had it bad for Kya for as long as I can remember… She’s just always been there, and she’s such a strong bender. Hence why I’m out here in the frigid cold with Korra training to get better to match her skills. 

“What the hell are you two doing out here?!” Kya shouted over the howling wind, while taking the water and turning it into ice and putting it straight into the ground. I was stuttering out a response while trying to act like I wasn’t absolutely frigid and trying to contain all the body heat that I could muster. 

“We’re training, it was (y/n)’s idea anyways.” Korra said as she sent me a wink. I glared at her as Kya turned her undivided attention towards me with a glare. Any other time I would’ve died on the spot, instead I just kinda stood there trying to come up with a response. Kya simply shook her head and pointed back towards the huts. I sighed and hung my heat in defeat. Korra just laughed and hopped onto Naga and ran off. Great I thought, I was hoping Naga could get me in faster, and provide warmth. I looked towards Kya, and followed like a puppy with it’s tail between its legs and my head hung low.

“I don’t understand why you come and train in the worst conditions possible, do you think it’ll make you stronger somehow?” Kya asked as she kept her arms close to her body to preserve warmth. 

“Well yeah… Then I can fight in anything, and beat my opponents.” You replied sheepishly, while trying to look away from her impending glare. 

“Why on earth would you need to defeat someone so bad you would get sick for it?” Kya asked while she continue to trudge through the snow. You kept following, but whether it was because of the cold, or you were so sick of beating around the bush, you just blurted out, “I do it for you.”

You could die in that moment. You really wanted to.

Kya stopped in her tracks and stared at you while slightly shuttering. You wanted to say something, something better. Brush it off as a joke, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t. You just stood there and stared back at her. 

“What?”

“I- I do it for you. I want to be as good as you. I want to be better, and prove to you I’m capable of protecting you.” You stutter out in-between shivers and trying to not just implode on yourself. It was now or never, and honestly, how hadn’t she noticed before. You only but oogled her every chance you got. 

“For me? Geez (y/n). You are as good as me, and what protecting do I need? I’m quite older than you, I think I can handle myself, I’m not some weak old woman.” Kya huffed out. 

“I didn’t say you were, and never implied it either. You’re magnificent Kya. All I could hope to be and more. God Kya, I’ve been in love with you forever. You not only inspire me to be my best self, but you create this spark in me where all I can hope to do is impress you. I seek your attention and approval constantly, to where I’m out here for with Korra for hours to get better.” You shout over the wind, and step closer so she can hear you better. You were so close you could kiss her, and man did you want to. So badly, but you weren’t sure how this was going, and if it would be safe for you to do so. 

“(y/n)… I… I don’t know what to say.” Kya replied while staring at you, and your lips? Fuck it. You leaned in and brought her close to your body. You were an inch away from her lips and you whispered quietly to where you weren’t sure if she could hear you, “Then don’t say anything. Kiss me.”

And she did. She leaned in and her cold, soft, amazing, honey like, filled with all things happiness and sunshine kissed you. She kissed the life out of you, and if you died from you heart stop beating, you would be okay with that, because this was all you could ever ask for. She was so gentle, and hesitant, but firm and powerful, and it oozed her her pores how much she could dominate you in any way. If she asked you to run to the ends of the earth for her, you would. If she asked you to kill a whole army for her, you would. If she asked you to give you her life, well, she wuoldn’t have to ask, she already has it. After years of crushing on her, this was all you could ever ask for. You pulled her in even closer, and deepened the kiss. 

She continued to kiss you back as you fell more and more in love with her. It wasn’t until after a minute she had to break for air, though saddened, you knew it wouldn’t be good to have her actually die on you. 

“I’m freezing, can we please finish this back at the cabins?” Kya shivered out while shaking in your arms. You just grinned and kissed her quickly once more and instantly took her hand and started walking back to the cabins. No matter what happened, it was all okay, because Kya was here, and you were never shying away or letting go. 

“Oh, and (y/n)?” Kya asked.

“Hmm.” You replied with a grin.

“Never train in the fucking blizzard again. Not even for my attention, I’ll give you plenty if you stay in the warmth.” Kya said while giving you a quick wink and smirk. Her words floated right up to your brain like a drug, and man, you were never training with Korra again… 

—-

Hey, so I tried to keep this a little shorter with only 1,200 words, hopefully you liked it!! Please leave a like and comment!! Love you guys!