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whimsicalpolitical · 1 month

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Night out - Ross Macdonald x Reader

in which ross and you are out and drunk and only have one thing on your mind

content warning: 18+ mdni, public filth, alcohol obv, smut, p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), public make out, teasing

You and Ross are crammed into a booth with Polly, John, and some of their friends. The bar is loud and dimly lit, with the kind of buzz that comes when everyone’s had a bit too much to drink.

You’ve definitely had too much to drink, because Ross‘ arm around your shoulder makes you feel more than normally.

His fingers lazily play with your hair. He’s warm, and you can smell the whiskey on his breath. Polly’s telling some wild story, and everyone’s in stitches, but you’re too tipsy to follow. You just keep giggling, feeling light and happy. Ross looks at you, his eyes half-lidded and smiling.

“You alright, love?” he mumbles, leaning in close.

“Mhm, perfect.” You turn your head so you’re face to face with your boyfriend. You can feel his beard scratching your chin and cheeks and if you just move one tiny bit forward your lips would be on his.

But you don’t only want his lips on your lips, you want to feel him everywhere.

“Scoot closer,” you say, which is ironic cause your thighs are already sticking to one another.

“Closer?” Ross chuckles, his breath warm against your face. “I don’t think we can get any closer, love.” He shifts slightly, pressing his body more into yours, his knee bumping against yours under the table. The closeness makes your head spin in the best way, like you’re melting into him.

You grin, feeling playful despite the fog of alcohol in your mind. “I think you can try.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.” You tug at his shirt, pulling him even closer until his lips brush against your ear. His beard scratches your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re dangerous when you’re drunk,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “S’ dangerous.”

You laugh, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging gently. The bar and everyone in it seem to fade into the background, the sounds blurring into a distant hum. It’s just you and Ross, wrapped up in this bubble of intoxicated warmth.

“Now what?” He asks, “any requests?”

You turn your head back to the round realizing that no one cares what you do, so you don’t even think when you grip Ross’ wrist from his knee to yours.

“Kiss me first,” he murmurs.

So that’s what you do, but it’s a gentle generous peck, your hand finding his cheek and then as fast as it begins it’s over.

“That wasn’t a proper one.”

“I can’t give you a proper one, MacDonald. M’ gonna give you proper ones the second we’re home.”

Ross groans softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. “You’re gonna make it real hard to wait, you know that?”

You smirk, feeling bold. “That’s the point,” you tease, letting your thumb trace the line of his jaw.

He narrows his eyes at you, his grin widening. “Two can play that game, love.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you even closer.

From the other perspective it would just look like he’s whispering something in your ear.

However his mouth finds that spot just below your ear that drives you crazy. You shiver, your grip tightening on his shirt as he kisses you there, slow and deliberate. The room spins, but all you can focus on is the heat of his mouth on your skin and the way his hands feel as they slide up your back.

“Ross,” you whisper, a plea hidden in the sound of his name.

“Mhm?” he hums against your neck, not stopping for a second.

You’re both startled by a loud voice cutting through the haze.

“Another round!” one of Polly’s friends shouts, and the table erupts in cheers. A tray of shots appears as if by magic, and before you know it, someone’s pressing a glass into your hand.

Ross raises his glass to yours, smirking as he looks at you over the rim. “Cheers, love,” he says, clinking your glass with a playful wink. You both knock back the shots, the burn of the alcohol warming you from the inside out.

Polly starts talking, something about a crazy night out she had last weekend, her words blending with the noise around you. You try to focus, but your attention quickly shifts as Ross’s hand finds its way to your thigh. His touch is light at first, but as Polly continues, his fingers start to slowly inch their way up under your skirt.

“You up for having a bit of fun then?”

You glance at him, your breath catching, but he’s just sitting there, smirking into his empty glass like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It’s almost impossible to keep a straight face, your heart pounding as his hand moves higher, teasing and deliberate. The conversation continues around you, but all you can think about is the way Ross’s fingers are tracing patterns on your skin, making it harder and harder to sit still.

“Waiting for an answer,” he raises an eyebrow.

You nod but it makes him shake his head, “words or I’m not doing shit.”

“Yes,” you reply, “please.”

“There we go.”

He hums and brushes the back of his index over the fabric covering your cunt where you’re already hot and aching.

His fingers keep skimming over where you want him, and you can’t help leaning back to spread your legs wider.

“You’re gonna be quiet for me, aren’t you?” He asks, slowly pushing your underwear aside.

You hum your assent.

“Good girl,” he praises and nips at your earlobe before putting a decent amount of distance between your faces to engage in the conversation.

Ross slips his finger into your slit, between your lips to easily find your clit. You let out the quietest whimper as he first makes contact with you. Ross chuckles darkly with pride and gathers some of the arousal pooling in the seat of your panties to drag it up and coat your clit.

“Shit, Ross,” you hiss.

“Relax for me, I got you.”

He slides another finger under the fabric and slowly massages your lips, your clit, toys at your opening while your breath steadily picks up. You squirm in your seat, trying to stay still and quiet, but you feel the need and the tension start to build in your toes.

“Darling, are you alright? You look a bit flushed?” John squeeze your arm slightly which grips the glass on the table, you didn’t notice and you let the glass go quickly.

Ross turns towards you, “yeah, darling, you alright?”

You smile at John while internally cussing Ross out, “I’m fine, it’s just the alcohol.”

Everyone is content with your answer and don’t pay much attention to your fast breathing or white pupils.

You look at Ross through hooded eyes and he smiles at you, all warmth and fondness. He leans down to kiss you softly licking along the seam of your lips and you melts against him. He presses his thumb down hard against your clit and you gasp against his lips, sitting up straight.

“You’re doing good, love.”

Ross slides a finger inside you without meeting an ounce of resistance. He pumps once, and then adds a second.

He crooks his fingers inside of you, scissoring them and thumbing at your clit. You feel your heart start to flutter, the familiar feeling of an orgasm working its way all too fast down the length of your spine.

“So close, aren’t you, love?” he says as he walls start to contract around his fingers.

“Um-hmm,” she moans.

He shushes you and pulls you into him so you can hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Come for me then.”

You bite into the collar of his shirt to muffle your moans as you look out the window, feeling your orgasm coat Ross’ hand as he continues to pulse through the aftershocks. He doesn’t let pressure off your clit until your over-stimulated and whimpering, crossing your legs to get him to let her go.

“Wasn’t that quite alright?” he asks, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean.

You roll your eyes at him trying to act modest and grab his glass with whiskey to take a sip.

He watches you as you drink and set it down again and then when you lick your lips and laugh into the conversation.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers into your ear before he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, “let me show you how gorgeous you are.”

“Let’s get out of here?”

“Don’t fuck me about, I’ll leave right now.”

“Me too.”

Ross grins from ear to ear at your eagerness to go home, because honestly he cannot wait another 10 minutes. So he just exes his drink and speaks into the round “I think we’ll call it a night, we’re both knackered.”

“Fair, I think hangover tomorrow is going to be shit,” Polly laughs, “we’ll just finish up.”

“Alright, we’ll see you soon then.”

You hug all of them as fast as possible and when you’re finally at the fresh air you stumble against a wall kissing, gripping each others clothes and slamming your mouths together.

“Need you,” you mumble against his mouth but don’t leave him any time to respond.

It is hard to control your hands as they run over Ross’ back. They yank and pull at his clothes of their own accord, begging for more contact. You want more. You can’t get enough of him no matter how much he gives you; your desire for him is like an empty cup that never gets full.

When he inevitably pulls away and the two of you catch your breath, you are floating. It is as if you are drifting through the sky, unable to take in a deep breath in the thin atmosphere. Your eyes flutter open and you take in Ross’ flushed face. His wet lips are tempting and so close.

“C’mere.” He chuckles.

His hands are at your waist tugging you closer to his own body, not standing the pressure in his boxers.

Pulling your hands from his back you reposition them around his neck and return your needy lips to his.

“We should get home,” he mumbles against your lips however his actions show no sign of him taking the initiative to leave.

“Mhm,” you agree, whining into his mouth when he lifts one leg and grinds his bulge against the thin fabric of your skirt.

“Fucks sake,” he groans, throwing his head back and stepping away, “not here, love. Let’s start walking.”

You nod and fix your shirt and skirt- not that anyone would care- and take his hand into yours.

You practically drag Ross down the street. The cool night air does little to calm the heat between you, every step feeling like it takes forever.

“Can’t get there fast enough,” Ross mutters, his voice low and rough with impatience. He glances at you with a look that sends a thrill down your spine, his eyes dark and full of intent.

You break into a giggle, the alcohol making everything feel funnier, lighter. “You’re the one who said we should start walking,” you tease, though your own steps quicken as you head towards the apartment.

By the time you reach the front door, you’re both breathless, more from the tension between you than the walk. Ross fumbles with the keys, cursing under his breath as his fingers slip, the two of you laughing at how ridiculous it all is.

Finally, the door swings open, and you barely make it inside before Ross is on you, pressing you against the wall just inside the entrance. His mouth finds yours again, desperate and hungry, as his hands roam over your body like he can’t get enough.

“Wait, wait. Need water first,” you manage to gasp out between kisses, tugging him in the right direction.

Ross lifts you off your feet, carrying you the short distance to the kitchen counter, where he sets you down near the sink.

He hurries to grab a glass of water, then he lets it overflow with water and then he presses it into your hand. “Here, don’t want you to die of thirst.”

He jokes and you giggle into the glass.

Ross’ hair is a mess, the hair tie barely holding them. He throws his black coat onto a chair behind him and when you think his shoes are next because he crouches down a bit you’re wrong.

He grips your thighs and pulls you closer to him. Your dripping pussy right in front of him.

“Need a taste of my own, yeah?”

You nod and watch him but most of all you feel him. First his fingers slide under your skirt to pull your panties down your legs.

“Don’t need them anymore.”

Then he lifts your skirt before he nips at your thigh a bit. “Absolutely fucking perfect, you know that right?”

“You tell me everyday.”

“As I should. A gorgeous woman like you should be told everyday.”

Your heart melts and he really does tell you everyday, the sweet feeling is spreading and you focus on his chocolate brown eyes until he’s looking away from your face.

“Take off your top for me, darling.”

You do as he says, not once feeling embarrassed or uneasy. He makes you feel at ease and safe.

“Thank you, love.”

His mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his beard scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. His tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but you don’t think about it, getting swallowed by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the counter and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile.

He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Fuck me, darling. Wanted to taste you the whole night,” he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fucking divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it.

The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You untie his hair and throw the tie somewhere across the room, tugging at his hair stronger but still not hurtful.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and- one hand stroking him over his pants.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His other hand leave your thigh and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still. His selfish hand decides to stop getting him off and finding the spot inside you that makes you crazy.

"Fuck, Ross, please, oh my god, I'm so- please" He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. He continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“My gorgeous girl, you alright?”

“Mhm.” You hum, your head falling forward to kiss his lips tasting nothing but you on them.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, suddenly everything is spinning around you.

“You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

“No, need a second.”

“Course, love. Come on, bedroom.”

He wraps your legs around his torso and carries you into your shared bedroom, then he lets you fall onto the bed.

He reaches behind your back to unclasp your bra before he throws it behind him, the eagerness making you giggle.

“Funny,” he smiles.

You sit up a bit, your hands reacher for his shirt to pull it off of him. “You’re so handsome.”

You attach your lips to his chest, stomach, hips, neck and then back to his lips. “Fucking hot.”

“Not as hot as my girl, hm.”

You’re back in your back and he’s on top of you, trying to fight the urge to grind against everything like a teenager.

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other.

You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You're already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Ross," you whisper.

"I know, darling," he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Let me make you feel better.”

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously, then throwing them to wherever your bra is.

He drags his hand up and down his cock a few times before lining himself up at your entrance.

“I never thought I would want to shag you any more than I already do.” He whispers.

“Ross,” you laugh.

“I mean it,” he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss, “you’re everything.”

“Sap,” you joke.

You run your hand through his hair, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance. You suck in a soft breath of air as he slowly begins to fill you up, allowing you the time to grow accustomed to the way he feels inside you.

"Fucks sake, fuck.”

You groan softly, wrapping your arms around him as you hold him to your chest, smiling up at him softly. "Feels so good."

Ross buries his face in your neck, slowly moving his hips. "You’re so good. So fuckin'.... so fuckin' good for me. A dream." His words are hot, guttural, melding in to your skin.

You shudder, dragging your nails down the length of his back, resting them on his ass. His movements grow harder, wilder, every inch of his throbbing cock deep within your walls.

"Christ, Ross."

He groans against you, propping himself up on his palms to watch your face. His nose brushes against yours as he leans forward, lips pressing to yours in a burning kiss.

"Love how you say my name." He whispers as he pulls away from your mouth.

"Ross." You mumble, a teasing grin cascading on to your face.

With a smile of his own, Ross’ hand traces across your neck, down your shoulders, fingers tickling the skin of your arm before he reaches your hand. Ross holds it in his own, lacing your fingers tightly within his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

His thrusts are steadier now that your are were on each other, hand held tightly in his own as he takes the feeling of you in. The way your pussy clenches around him, the way your body feels tight on his.

His fingers go to your clit which makes you shudder, feeling overwhelmed because of your first two orgasms.

“You can come for me one more time, can’t you?”

“Y-yeah.”

You both look into each others eyes, savoring the moment even though there’s a high chance you won’t remember anything tomorrow.

He resumes his movements, rubbing your clit as he thrusts in to you.

"I- fuck," he moans, eyes glossed over with desire. You know he’s close but he won’t come unless you do.

"Ross, Ross- I-“ your hips are bucking with his.

"Yeah? Come for me.”

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your back arches off the mattress as your third orgasm washes over you, vision blurring white. Ross grabs ahold of you and pulls you up, legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you, pumping up into you as you shiver and shutter against him. You chant his name like a mantra, crying out against him.

"Fuck,”

Ross groans, primal noises filtering out as his dick convulses inside of you, his hot cum painting the inside of your cunt. You moan at the feeling of being properly full, grinding against him gently as you sit on his lap, your arms holding each other close and tight.

“I love you,” you giggle when you fall back into the mattress, goosebumps filling you skin when Ross pulls out of you.

“I love you.”

You stare at one another as though you had never known anyone else, eyes searching, reaching for the soul, sparkling with love, swimming with adoration.

His fingers trace down your back, humming softly against your head.

“You still fit, love?”

“Depends,” you groan.

Ross laughs and presses apology kisses against your shoulder, “let’s take a bath? How’s that sound, hm? Helps with the soreness.”

You think for a second, staying quiet and nuzzling deeper into his skin. “alright.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. “Come here then.”

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #this is just filth #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald blurb #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald imagine #the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic

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satrs · 1 year

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Can’t feel my face - bllk x fem!Reader N°6

decided to switch up the perspective, cuz I feel more comfy with this one :)

Tags: !NSFW CONTENT MDNI! grinding. Oral(fem recieving).

also not proofread

"YOU LOOK GOOD. REALLY GOOD."

Sae was quick to comment on your appearance, dressed in the sexiest dress he'd ever seen a woman wear, unable to stop his eyes from wandering all over your body, longing to take you in the back of his car again.

But he contained himself to do so.

"Well, thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.", you told the young man, earning a sly smirk from him in return.

His phone rang, causing him to curse under his breath at the sight of business calling. "Urghh, need to take that. You can go, I'll follow after."

You handed him your car keys and made your way to the front of the establishment, feeling various eyes on your body, whispering dirty comments into your direction that all went over your head.

As you stepped through the door, you noticed that the stairs to the downstairs event were blocked, loud music coming from the further front of the entrance.

As you stepped inside, you came to view with a lively party - many women dressed in scandalous clothing, some men begging for their attention and time, others enjoying their time sensually dancing with them or just enjoying their time by themselves, ordering shot after shot from the bartender.

Deciding you would want one good drink yourself, you made your way over to the bar, hips swaying with each step you took.

You felt good, and you sure as hell knew you looked damn good as well.

You bit your lip in anticipation as you noticed who the bartender was, hair down, frown accompanying him at the sight of you at the bar, leaning against it while a smirk adored your remarkable figures.

"Not only boxer, pastry enjoyed but also a bartender? Wow, Barou. What a multitalent."

I'll show you what else I'm talented at, he thought to himself, preparing another answer instead.

"Keep that mouth of yours shut and tell me what you want, brat."

"Whatever is fine", you stated, wondering how you could make his dominant attitude crumble. As he turned around to get your shot ready, you questioned him in interest.

"But for real. Why are you doing... this?", you motioned at him, earning a huff in return. "That fuckin' rich boy told me that I would have to bartend if I lose, so now I gotta' do it."

You hummed, understanding. You kept quiet, eying him up and down, causing the young male to raise an eyebrow in question.

"When are you off?", you questioned. He didn't fail to notice the seductive undertone in your voice, dark orbs sucking you right into him.

Glancing at the clock on the wall of the bar, his eyes shooting right back to hers, "one more hour", he stated, he went off to clean up some of the remaining glasses, leaving you standing, watching his figure disappear from your sight.

Bored, you looked around, noticing some pair of eyes looking intensely at you.

Nagi.

You smiled as he approached you, wearing a tight, white turtle-neck T-shirt, adored by a golden chain around his neck, face painted with a playful small smile.

Barou watched you and Nagi interact from afar, growing sick at the sight of him - out of all people, with you. He knew that Nagi noticed that he had an interest in the young woman the older Itoshi introduced them to- hell, he knew that Nagi also did.

Nagi must be doing this on purpose, flirting with her so openly without a care in the world, right in front of him.

"Yo, King", Nagi waved Barou to him, "bring us two whiskey shots. Pretty please." Barou cursed under his breath, wanting to wipe that damn smirk off of Nagi's face - tired of someone like him disrespecting him.

Not wanting to cause any trouble with the owner of all this tumult, he complied, a deep frown visible as he approached the both of you.

"Thanks. And would you please stop lookin' like that? You'll scare away the guests." Barou clenched his hand into a tight fist, turning around his heel before he would start something he couldn't finish.

"Let's go somewhere else. Yeah, doll?", he inquired, earning a nod from you. As the both of you walked to where the VIP section was located, his hand swiftly creeped around you, comfortably placing it over your ass, causing you to hide a smile in excitement.

You weren't drunk, just -taking two confident boosts- as you would call it, feeling bolder and more comfortable in Nagi's presence. You made yourself comfortable on his lap, hands around his neck as his hand is placed at the valley of your ass, the both of you talking about various topics.

He often tried to go further, only to getting stopped by your innocent facade - realizing your implications of teasing him.

"C'mon, doll, tell me what you're tryin' to do", he whined playfully and impatient, causing you to giggle, the action making you unintentionally move around his lap just right, curve of your ass directly rubbing onto his semi-hard dick.

You moved closer to him, lips almost brushing his, eyes switching between his eyes and lips. He was about to lean in and capture your lips into a heated kiss, when you pulled away completely, getting off his lap.

Your hand was placed on his thigh, lightly squeezing it, earning a huff from the man. Nagi spread his legs at your action, body filled with desire for you.

“I’m sorry, handsome,“ you began, retreating your hand from his thigh, leaning near his ear to whisper the rest of your sentence, “but I got somewhere to be.”

He watched your figure disappear out of his sigh, looking down to the painful tent in his pants, cursing under his breath,

"Fuck, what a hassle."

You found yourself at the bar again, patiently waiting for Barou, since one hour had already passed.

He soon came to view, throwing a towel over his shoulder, heading over to your direction to go into his break.

He halted at the sight of you, surprised that you actually waited for him, chest swelling with pride.

“You’re late”, you mentioned, causing the man to show veins of irritation, “And you can fuck off.”

You smiled at his answer, walking up close to him, hand placed on his broad chest.

„Nah. I’d prefer to fuck you.“

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Don’t stop Barou, oh fuck!”, your moans echoed through the staff bathroom, back arching as you felt his tongue and fingers work magic between your legs, while your leg was thrown over his shoulder.

You threw your head back at one particularly deep move of his fingers, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Don’t call me by my surname when I’m literally knuckles deep inside your cunt”, he mumbled through your folds, causing you to whine at the vibration of his voice against your heat.

“You’re doing so good Sho‘“, you breathed out, shamelessly drooling from the corner of your lips, almost falling off the sink you're leaning against.

Barou's dick stirred inside his pants as you called out his nickname, groaning against your heat. „You’re so wet, princess. All for me, yeah?“

You hummed in approval, taking a tight hold on his long hair as you neared your orgasm.

“Make no damn mess, I still gotta work”, the young man grunted, tight grip on your thighs.

His eyes were intensely focused on your facial expressions. “Look at me, or I’m not goin' to make you cum.”, he spat.

You complied, falling into submission. You looked him right in the eye as you came, moaning out his name in pleasure.

„That’s right. Give it to me, he groaned through your folds, rough hand slapping down onto your exposed ass cheek.

You soon came down from your high, disappointed at your behavior. He was supposed to be the one to submit to you, not you. But you understood why he was called the King now, his overwhelming dominance now making sense.

He threw the towel he had on his shoulder right at your face, making his way out the restroom,“ make sure to clean up“, he turned his head while flashing you a handsome smirk.

“Damn Tyrant.”

You soon stepped out of the restroom, noticing a figure standing against the wall in the dark of the room.

You halted in your tracks, eyebrow raising in question, waiting for the dark figure to step out of the shadows.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N! Welcome! Are you enjoying yourself?", it was Reo, walking over to you to embrace you in a hug, startling you at the action.

You looked at him, "Actually, no. It's way too loud in here", you stated honestly, earning an understanding hum from the male. "Well, we could get to the top. Just the two of us", he implied, voice laced in lust.

She agreed, following suit after him, to an elevator in the far back of the strip club. As they stepped in, he pushed the bottom that would lead them to the top floor, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, the teasing smirk vanishing as fast as it appeared on his face.

His hand took a hold of your chin, wiping some remaining saliva from the corner of your lip, intensely looking you in the eye before retreading his hand away, "There, you go. Did he really lick it that good to leave you drooling?"

Your breath hitched in your lungs, cheeks painted by a tint red.

Got her.

When the elevator came to a halt and opened its door, you saw a jaw-dropping apartment before your eyes, causing you to look around it, humming, impressed.

"You like it?", Reo questioned, his breath hot at your ear, his hand sneaking its way around your shoulder. You hummed, walking to the large couch that was displayed in the middle of the living room.

"Make yourself feel at home", Reo mentioned, earning a soft smile from you as you seated yourself on the couch.

He went into the kitchen, coming back with an expensive looking champagne, "You want some? It's the best, trust me." You hesitated, not wanting to cause any big circumstances for the man.

But he waved you off, insisting it would be ok. He is the richest man in the country, after all. Did you forget?

You and Reo had a nice conversation, really. You talked about many different topics, him learning more about you and you more about him, him - not the Billionaire Mikage Reo.

He loved listening to you, learning more about you. But it also made him greedy about you, much greedier than he was and even intended to be.

You talked to him with no filter, not caring about the billions he had in his bank account.

This caused a feeling that confused him. At first, he thought it was lust - lusting over your perfection of a body. Then it moved onto greed - greedy to learn more and more about you, be near you, touching you.

But what is this bewilderment? He has not once thought sexually about you in the pastime the two of you were talking. How long was it? One hour? Or two? He didn't care. He just wanted to-

"Ohhh, so that's where you're hidin' ma'." Who the fuck?

"Whatcha' two doin' all alone up here?", Shidou‘s loud voice rang through the room, the both of you snapping your heads into his direction, Reo's tongue clicking in annoyance,

He stood there, dressed in gray sweatpants and a black top, show casting his muscles through it. His hair were different from usual, styled downwards, some strands of hair escaping to the front, hanging in his face.

"Mind if I join the fun?"

ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°

#blue lock smut #itoshi sae smut #itoshi #itoshi sae #shidou x you #shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk shidou #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku #blue lock oliver #barou smut #blue lock x you #blue lock x female reader #reo mikage #nagi smut #blue lock nagi

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ofthecaravel · 11 months

Text

Brandy

Chapter One

Summary: A port on a western bay serves a hundred ships a day, and the lonely sailors flock to the Caravel Cantina, run by the Kiszka brothers (minus one). But when their brother returns with a handsome sailor in tow, the youngest Kiszka brother finds his perspective about his family and himself turned upside down.

Tags: Brotherly shenanigans as always, mentions of parental death, a little squabbling, flirting, minor angst

Words: Lil under 10k (whoops)

A/N: I started this literally a year ago. God help me. Inspired by Brandy by Looking Glass and Sam and Danny being goofuses. I really hope y'all like this because there is so much more to post 😭

~~~

As always, the Kiszka brothers had gotten to work a little earlier than they needed to.

The elder of them, Joshua, had always believed that a clean bar would result in an easygoing night, so they often found themselves slipping in through the back door around 5pm on nights they didn't even open and staying until 8pm to mop the floors and replace anything that had been tarnished in nights previous. Josh and his spritely spirit found it invigorating to fiddle with such things as measuring the level of alcohol in their assortment of kegs and casks, or the arrangement of glasses and the security of the coat hooks. But Sam, the youngest of his siblings and the only other one who tended to the family business on a regular basis, usually found himself walking away from all of the menial chores Josh assigned him. He was annoyed enough that he'd had to start full time as their one and only waiter since their brother Jake had left the family business to his twin and little brother to chase his dream of sailing the high seas three years ago. Since then, Josh and Sam had struggled to manage the popular bar all on their own, stretch their very small budget out between the business and themselves, and not murder each other in the process. Sam thought he deserved a little break before work, and the seemingly pointless tasks that Josh insisted he do to help out were not exactly morale boosters. He was coming up on a year of Josh's least favorite pre-shift ritual of his, which included leaning his head against the window tucked into the corner that faced true north and staring in unblinking, unmoving silence.

It was a clear, early June evening when from his post wiping down the keg spigots, Josh noticed Sam drifting out of the corner of his eye. He sighed when he realized where his younger brother now stood.

"Will you get away from the window? I just cleaned it and you're gonna fog it up again with all your longing sighs."

Sam tossed a sour look over his shoulder at his brother, who stood behind the bar with a rag slung over his shoulder and a judgmental look on his face. Josh pulled the rag down and across the already gleaming wood in front of him and shook his head in near pity, his hand working anxious circles on the surface as it had done every night for nearly 7 years now.

"I'm not fogging it up," Sam argued. "What, I'm not allowed to look out the window of my own bar?"

"Not if you're going to get your fish breath all over my nice, clean glass," Josh shot back with a barely contained smile, looking down amusedly while Sam scoffed.

He rolled his eyes all the way around to look back out the window, his keen eyes trained on the bustle of the harbor town coming alive as the sun slowly sank deeper into the twilight sky. Lamps were starting to blink awake in the windows of the weathered brick buildings surrounding their little bar, casting their amber light on the cobblestone that the fishmongers tread on with their stained aprons still tightly tied as they headed homeward bound. Sam sported a similar apron that he kept hiked up flatteringly around his waist, worn begrudgingly and scattered with its own fair share of stains and stories. But unlike the fishmongers that passed him by without so much as a glance, he was in for the night, his shift starting when the first patron inevitably burst in with a thirst for comradery and the extra strong spirits and liqueurs that Sam and his brothers distilled themselves.

They all specialized in their own kinds, and as their regulars eventually went on to point out, they all suited their specialties very nicely. Josh with his appropriately rosy cheeks and boisterous, people pleasing nature was a natural when it came to bold, sweet wines. Jake had a knack for whipping up a whiskey with a sharp bite and smooth burn, but just like the man himself, those bottles were usually gone from the bar and ran out fast when they were. But Sam was the only one with the patience and palate to tend to the bar's most sought after delicacy: casks of sweet brandy that he laid down in crystal glasses bought off a merchant ship with his private stash of tips. The men that frequented the bar the most had long since stopped referring to him by name, simply raising their hands to catch his eye as he made his rounds and calling out "Brandy!".

Much to his chagrin, his name slowly started to get left at home, and he was soon known solely as "Brandy" to the bar goers of The Caravel Cantina. Only Josh called him Sam at work, knowing it was a surefire way to get his attention as he tended to the mobs of ever parched, low lidded men. Josh called it then, recognizing the mournful look his little brother was casting towards the docks that lay just out of sight of the northern window that his head was lolled against. Sam startled again and fully turned away, pressing his hand briefly to his forehead to feel how his skin had cooled against the pane.

"What?" Sam asked in annoyance, already feeling his ears perk as he thought about the water and its many ships that now lay at his back. As Josh shook his head at him again, he absently wondered if he would be able to recognize the ship he was waiting for by the creak of its sails or how its bow sliced into the dark seawater that pooled around their port. "You wanted something?"

"I want you to get away from my goddamn window and do your job, you hooligan," Josh scolded lightheartedly, tossing his rag with force into Sam's slight chest, who caught it with an audible "oof".

"Nobody's even here yet," Sam pointed out, gesturing dramatically with the cloth out at the warmly lit yet definitely empty sea of cramped tables and chairs with its lone jukebox pressed against the wall.

"Sam," Josh said again, his voice softer this time. He let out an even softer sigh and cocked his head at his brother, giving him a small smile. "They're not coming tonight. You got to give it up, bud."

Sam hesitated, slightly stunned that Josh had been able to read his mind so easily, but after a lifetime of close quarters and shared secrets, he could only be so surprised.

"Jake said they'd be back in the summertime," Sam said carefully, echoing his brother's words of encouragement from the year prior. "The fishermen are starting to bring in albacore and those big, pink shrimps and you know damn well those are only in season when the weather has turned. It is officially summer, thank you very much."

"Hell, you think sailors measure the seasons by the fuckin' fish?" Josh barked out a condescending laugh. "They're not out there to pick salt off of shrimp and clams. You think Jake captains that hunk of junk across the Atlantic to get the ol' pole out and let it fly?"

Sam's cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he furrowed his dark brow with a frown, casting his eyes down as he wrung the filthy bar rag between his lithe hands.

"Jake knows," Sam muttered. "And he promised."

"Because his promises are so reliable," Josh said sarcastically, a genuine hint of bitterness slipping out as he started stacking glasses aggressively. "Something tells me it's not him who made you that promise, Sammy."

"The sun is staying up for longer, too," Sam pointed out, skillfully ignoring Josh's accusation. "He'll notice that the daylight is blazing beautifully on their masts for an hour longer or whatever pretentious garbage sentiment he writes in his journal. Or do they not have the sun out on the sea, wise guy?"

"Sam."

Sam finally met Josh's gaze and felt a guilty curl in his stomach from the glint in his brother's tired, brown eyes.

"Why don't you have a drink and remember how sweet the fruit of your patience can be, hm?"

"Yeah," Sam replied simply, feeling a slight shame that he was only adding to ever growing list of Josh's stressors. "Okay. Might help with the rush tonight."

"Rush?" Josh looked lost for a moment before he gripped the glass in his hand even tighter and spun to look at the bar's beloved Mermaid of the Month calendar. "It's Saturday? I thought it was a fucking Friday, fuck!"

"Oh, and Fridays are any better for us?" Sam laughed, dipping behind the bar with his frazzled brother to grab a glass and pouring himself a shallow drink of golden brandy from its coveted bottle.

Outside, Sam could already hear laughter carrying from down the street that would soon arrive as a pack of rowdy men ready to unwind after a long day by the docks. They surely wouldn't be the last group to swarm their painfully understaffed yet ultimately well loved cantina, and as Sam was throwing back the last of his drink and watching the panic sizzle off of Josh's abundance of curls, the door slammed open and the space filled with thundering voices and cackles.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Josh greeted jovially, his visible anxiety peeling off of him in an instant as men started to take seats at the bar and drag tables together. "What can I do you for?"

"I sure could use a tall, sweet drink of brandy," one of the grizzled regulars purred, giving a sharp toothed grin to Sam, who had already grabbed his tray and slipped from behind the bar and out into the fray. Josh bristled at the man's comment as he skillfully poured him up a glass and watched his brother sidle up to a throng of butchers, who were giving him a look they usually saved for their finest cuts of meat. Josh knew what the men in the bar thought about his brother's feminine features and hospitable grace. He heard what they said about his body and long hair as he slinked through crowds and brushed hands with eager patrons, flashing his wide smile and playing into their little jokes. Of course Sam knew too, and it's not like The Caravel was the kind of place that would let anything like that go by without getting a boot to the ass, but Josh couldn't help but feel protective of him nonetheless.

"Cool it, Caldwell," Josh said with a slight bite in his gravelly voice as he set down the drink in front of the sharp toothed man. "We wouldn't want the missus knowing what you say about my brother after a few of those tall and sweets, now would we?"

"You're no fun, Kiszka," Caldwell mumbled into his drink, his mustache dipping into the liquor as his grubby pals quickly roped him into a conversation and left Josh to his pouring and coin collecting.

Across the bar, the jukebox blared to life, and Sam felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sound. The jukebox's chronically high volume meant he had an excuse not to hear everybody's little comments to and about him as he dutifully dished out spilling glasses and salty scoops of peanuts. However, as the song stretched out beyond the first 30 seconds of instrumental, the wave inside Sam came crashing down as he recognized the song's bright lyrics and the vocals they danced on. He swallowed an emotion he'd been biting back since he'd first felt the temperature begin to rise, and as he placed a ring of shots on his metal tray with shaking hands that made the metal and glass clatter in time to the beat, Sam relived a burst of last summer for what felt like the hundredth time.

One Year Earlier

Against his will, Sundays had become the designated day for Josh and Sam to come to the bar during the daytime and work on any repairs that couldn't be done in their little interludes before regular nights. The Caravel was closed on Sundays, and despite Sam's consistent protests that that logic should also be applied to its employees, Josh insisted that it was a great opportunity to fix it up for the upcoming week.

Despite the fact that he and Josh hadn't got home until 3am, Sam woke up with the sun that Sunday. As he lay in bed and focused only on the feel of the linen sheets on his bare skin and the distant whistle of the wind outside, he tried to think back on the last time he had gotten a full night's sleep.

He figured it had to be around the time that he'd last seen Jake, right before he had left to join a crew on a merchant ship that he made seem a lot cooler than it probably actually was.

"The captain says we're going to sail to all kinds of places," Jake had told him, perched on the end of Sam's bed with a map so wide it sprawled across their knees and grazed the edge of his pillow. "Not just Europe, but Africa, too. Maybe even Asia."

"I don't even understand what you'll be doing," Sam had mumbled darkly, bitterly watching Jake's fingers trace over imaginary waves in the yellowed sea on the paper, charting routes he was yet to go on. Without them.

"We'll be transporting cargo to ports all across the world," Jake had explained proudly, not understanding the disdain that Sam felt towards his sudden career change. "Not every harbor is as drab as this one. There are really wonderful ones, and I want to see them all."

"It isn't that drab here," Sam had argued weakly, even though he wholeheartedly agreed that their town was the poster child for sad, salty, seasick ports. "Just work on the docks that sail to Canada and Greenland if you want to get on a ship so bad. You could be home for Christmas if you wanted."

There was a moment of silence when Sam leaned back against the wall sullenly, crossing his arms and glaring at Jake. Jake couldn't look him in the eye, instead choosing to slowly roll the map up and secure it with a little slip of ribbon as Sam huffed and bit back any tears that threatened to rise to the surface. The whole house was quiet in that moment, every room empty of noise and joy, Josh having long grown silent since Jake had broke the news over dinner and caused Josh to immediately retreat to his room with a slam of the door. The air had grown thick and cloudy since the words had left Jake's mouth, and as he watched his lanky little brother suddenly shrink very small on the bed he'd slept on since he was a child, Jake fully understood just what his absence was going to do to his family.

"I need to do this, Sammy," Jake had pleaded with his brother, scooting closer to Sam on the bed and putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "I'll be back before you even care that I'm gone."

"I care now," Sam had whispered, shrugging away from Jake's touch and turning away.

It had been the truth. And it was still the truth two years later, after months of letters that came few and far between, and random parcels that came in the mail containing garments made of soft, dyed fabric that Josh snuck into every outfit and hair oils that had made Sam's awkward, choppy bob grow into glossy, walnut waves that he wove into plaits and loose buns to keep out of his face at work. These little gifts he sent from his travels were nice to have around, but they couldn't make up for Jake's substantial absence in their lives. As he got out of bed and dressed in the hazy peach light streaming through his thin curtains, Sam looked at the map hung crookedly on his wall and wondered where Jake's ship was docked now.

"Jake wouldn't drag me to the bar on a fucking Sunday," Sam murmured to himself in his mirror as he pulled a comb through his hair and twisted it into a loose, wavy ponytail that swung nearly to his lower back. Just a moment too late, he heard his brother's footsteps out in the hall, and hoped in vain he didn't hear what he had said so close to his only partially closed door.

"Yes, he would!" Josh called from right outside the door as he passed by, knocking on it with an enthusiasm that seemed completely unwarranted for the time of day. "Lighten up, Sammy, we only have a few chairs to fix. It'll be nice and easy for you, Mister Cranky."

"You always say that!" Sam called back, smacking the door and hearing Josh's donkey bray of a laugh move into their small kitchen, followed by the familiar clatter of the kettle and the other sounds that Josh put into motion to bring the house back to life for the coming day.

Sam looked back at himself in the mirror, tugging on the lavender skin under his drooping lower lashes and pale waterline, taking only a second to dwell on any thoughts outside of getting through the day before he braced himself and headed out the door.

As predicted, a few chairs to be fixed turned into a couple of barstools that needed tightening, a window pane that needed to be replaced, a floorboard that needed to be hammered back into place, glass shards that somehow went unnoticed from a minor brawl two nights prior needing to be swept up, and Sam being sent on an errand to find a vendor open on Sundays selling oranges. By the time Josh called it quits for the day, the sun was already starting to start its journey back down under the horizon line, much to Sam's dismay. He could barely keep his temper under wraps as Josh circled the bar one last time, letting his honey brown gaze rest a moment longer than necessary on every square inch of the place.

"This is insane, Josh, let's go," Sam hissed, trying not to claw into the doorframe as he attempted not to bolt. "There is absolutely no need for this level of astuteness unless you're expecting the goddamn Queen of England to pop by for a visit."

"You never know when a special guest might grace us," Josh said mysteriously, wiggling his eyebrows while he locked up the maintenance closet.

"Nobody even comes on Monday nights," Sam continued to whine. "You're prepping for three drunks and some mice."

"Maybe I'm just trying to set an example for the level of care this place deserves," Josh explained in his even, oh-so-wise tone that Sam hated. "This place will be yours someday, you know."

"Yes, I know, and your ghost will still find a way to micro manage it."

"I'll be great for business," Josh grinned, finally turning down the lamp and clicking the key into place. "Sailors love a ghost story."

"It was a dark and stormy night when the young master Kiszka broke free of his cruel, domineering eldest brother and slayed him in his sleep," Sam crooned in a spooky voice as he took the lead down the street back to their little house.

"You'd never get the chance," Josh scoffed.

Sam continued on with his dramatic tale of how his brother's ghost went on to curse his bar for all eternity and sent him spiraling into madness, with Josh contributing his own details where he saw fit as he trailed him. Right before it went out of sight, Sam cast a look back at the bar, sitting squat and dark against the lilac sky, wondering if what made him detest it so much might be the same thing that made Josh fuss over it so much.

The following night, Sam's expectation of a slow night was more than lived up to. By the time 9pm rolled around, Caravel had been graced by a whopping 2 patrons, who had only lingered for about an hour before leaving Josh and Sam to awkwardly sit around and flick coins at each other.

Sam was able to read his brother's moods pretty well, and as he watched Josh stacking silver coins in a pyramid at the other end of the bar, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with him. He kept glancing at the door and his usually steady fingers had a slight tremble to them, which caused the coin pyramid to shift and slide to a clattering mess on the wood, making Josh cuss and scoop them back into his palm.

"Hey, brother of mine," Sam prodded gently as Josh occupied himself with spinning a quarter like a top. "How are you?"

Josh tossed him a weird look, laughing slightly as he straightened to admire his growing army of spinning coins.

"I'm peachy, baby," Josh chuckled, knitting his brows. "And yourself?"

"Good, good," Sam said absently. "You know, if something's bothering you, I'm here to talk."

"Sammy, nothing's the matter," Josh insisted as if it was the silliest thing in the world, but he said it a little too fast. "Seriously. All is well in the house of Kiszka."

"I don't believe you," Sam said lazily, resting his face in his hands as he stared his brother down.

"Well, I can't help that, now can I?" Josh teased, rolling one of his coins towards Sam. "Let's see how many of these we can spin at once."

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to be able to get anything more out of Josh but still watching him out of the corner of his eye as they worked together to set the glimmering surface of the bar ablaze with a ballet of dancing silver coins.

Around midnight, they had managed to accrue a small group of women in the back corner and a few more men at the bar, keeping them only slightly more busy than they had been in the empty bar. Sam, bored out of his mind, stepped away for a moment to "check inventory". This thorough "check" consisted of Sam slipping out the back door and taking a moment to breathe in the sweet, summery air. The chill coming off the ocean gave it a cold, salty bite, and Sam breathed it in gratefully through his nose as he slipped a cigarette and lighter out of his apron pocket. The cigarette, purchased secretly from the general store's quiet cashier, lit up quickly and was slowly inhaled, the herbs and tobacco mingling deliciously with the night air in Sam's senses. He tipped his head back and let loose a billowy stream of smoke into the dark sky, watching a moth sail through it on its way to the streetlight a few doors down. Josh would absolutely kill Sam if he knew he was smoking, so Sam had to sneak them in his rare moments completely alone. He was going to save it for a busy night when he'd really need it, but Sam couldn't help but give in to temptation. He closed his eyes and took in another long, slow drag, listening to the sizzle of the paper and the unmistakable, jovial noises of a group of sailors making their way down the street in front of the bar.

'Oh, boy, here we go,' Sam thought begrudgingly, hearing the muffled shouts and laughs enter the bar through the door to his back. Surprisingly, he heard Josh's voice ring out the loudest, making some kind of announcement and laughing. Josh was loud, of course, but he wasn't one to command a room when there were customers just coming in. Sam took a few more hits before dropping the cigarette and crushing it underfoot, putting his ear to the door curiously as he listened further. Josh's voice seemed to layer over itself alongside the unfamiliar voices that had just come in, and Sam furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what he was hearing.

"SAM!"

"Fuck, shit," Sam whispered to himself, readjusting his apron and swinging around to open the door, stumbling back inside and powerwalking his way through the back and out into the open expanse of the bar.

"There he is," Josh grinned brightly, his face completely alight. He was, for once, out from behind the bar and mixed amongst the sailors cluttering the front of the bar. Sam suddenly questioned if his assumption that they were sailors was even correct, judging from their casual, loose fitting clothes that varied in style. Usually the sailors that passed through their town were decked out in the traditional, matching garb with plain stripes and jaunty hats. But, still, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that these were sailors of some sort of caliber. He approached, turning on his cute waiter charm and flashing a warm smile, only for it to fall a moment later when he caught sight of who exactly Josh was standing with his arm around.

"Got a drink handy for an old seafarer?"

"Jake?" Sam blurted in disbelief, adrenaline seizing his every sense as he tossed his tray haphazardly towards the bar and threw his arms around his brother, who clapped him on the back with a genuine and utterly Jake laugh. "Holy shit, I thought it was Josh I was hearing. What, I mean, oh my God, you're here, what the hell!"

"Good lord, Sam, since when do you swear like a sailor?" Jake exclaimed good-naturedly. "That's supposed to be my sort of thing."

"You should hear the shit he says, I tell you," Josh interjected. He was absolutely beaming, radiating joy from the tips of his curls down to his loafers in a way that should've projected the shimmer of sunlight's pure heat. Sam knew how much he had missed his twin, and now that they were back together again, it felt like something in Josh had slid back into its rightful place. Standing right next to each other, Sam was able to properly assess just how different Jake looked from the last time he had seen him. When he'd left, Jake's hair had curled up boyishly around his ears, but it now fell in sun kissed and wind tossed waves just above his shoulders. He was sturdier in build, with muscles built from lugging cargo on and off ships. He also sported some sparse facial hair and the biggest, ugliest hoop earring Sam had ever seen. Jake was lucky that Sam was too overwhelmed with emotion to make a comment about it, even when they hugged again and Sam felt it brush against his neck, causing him to choke down a giggle as Jake started one of his rambles.

"You wouldn't believe the weather we had to get through to make it here," Jake said, throwing his palms up dramatically. "Rain like knives the whole way. I thought it was gonna cut through the sails but thanks to some expert direction from yours truly, we made it in record time."

"So, what, you're a captain now?" Sam asked, slightly in awe.

"Sure am," Jake announced, pride dripping off him as he tipped his chin up and smoothed down his shirt. "A lot has happened since I've been out to sea."

"And you never thought to mention it in any of your letters?"

"Didn't seem fair to brag."

"Oh, get over yourself," Sam scoffed with a smile. "We've been pretty damn successful here without you. We're the talk of the town."

"Really? I didn't hear anything when I was showing the boys around town tonight, did we, boys?" Jake spoke to the crowd around them, and Sam startled slightly at their muddled replies and laughs as he remembered that it wasn't just him and his brothers alone in this space they had grown up in.

"When we had dinner tonight, did any of you hear about the ol' Caravel?" Jake teased, slinging an arm around Sam and pulling him down to his height, mussing his hair. "Any talk of sweet Brandy?"

"Shut up!" Sam cried, trying to wiggle out of Jake's surprisingly strong grip, his face flushing as the men around them erupted into raucous laughter and whistles. He finally released him, Sam immediately straightening and brushing his hair out with his fingers with a huff as Josh covered a smile with his hand and Jake laughed.

"You're the worst," Sam declared in true youngest sibling fashion. "You can make your own drinks tonight, how about that?"

"It would be my pleasure," Jake invited warmly, and from the genuine twinkle in his eye, Sam could tell he meant it.

"Don't you fuck up my bar, Jacob," Josh said seriously, jabbing his finger at his twin as Jake happily made his way behind the counter. "We did all this cleaning and organizing for you, you know."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam exclaimed, putting the pieces together as he glared down Josh, who immediately turned sheepish under Sam's sharp gaze. "You knew he was coming back? That's why you were being so weird? Why didn't you tell me?"

"We thought it would be a fun surprise," Josh explained meekly. "I still think it was."

"You're unbelievable," Sam sneered, secretly very touched by the gesture. "If I had known it was just Jake, I would've left some of that glass out on the floor."

"Cruel!" Jake cried from his spot behind the bar, where he was now dutifully pouring drinks for his crew, who were only now starting to settle. "It's not just me, it's my men, too. Wouldn't want them getting hurt, now would we?"

Sam didn't reply, simply smiling innocently and turning back to grab his tray to tend to the sailors who had taken seats at tables. He didn't remember exactly where it had ended up landing in his tackling of Jake. He looked around the shoulders of the burly men who had conveniently gathered around the spot on the bar he figured he must have set it down, but didn't see it anywhere.

Behind him, the jukebox started up, a high instrumental starting to swing out over the crowd inside the Caravel. Sam turned towards the sound instinctually, and blinked in shock when he saw his tray resting atop the jukebox, sitting casually beside the tall man facing the jukebox. Sam approached the tray thief, sidling around his strong frame and preparing himself to have to argue with whoever this kleptomaniac was. Instead, Sam found himself freezing up when he caught sight of the man's profile.

His eyes, cast down and shadowed by dark, stern brows and long lashes, tracked the song listings as his long, calloused fingers ghosted the dials. His hair was as long as Jake's and fell in smoky ringlets that swayed against his broad shoulders. His nose was handsomely aquiline, and Sam realized that he was close enough to see a peppering of freckles across it. He swallowed thickly and prayed that he hadn't been standing there too long, suddenly unaware of how much time had passed since he had first started looking at the stranger. Sam decided to break himself out of his brief funk by reaching up and snatching the tray off of the jukebox, the flimsy metal making a racket that made the jukebox man jump slightly and turn to Sam with wide eyes.

"That's my tray," Sam announced, staring him down. There was a short pause, a smile creeping onto the man's face as his gaze softened.

"You're Brandy," he finally said, his small smile stretching into a full, charming smile that was crooked in the way Sam had only ever read about. Sam flushed, his ears going hot as he gripped the tray tightly and curled his lip.

"It's Sam, actually," Sam snapped, wondering why his flustered state was translating as frustration.

"Oh, well, my apologies," the man said sincerely, dipping his head slightly in apology. "That's what the captain called you. I'm Daniel."

"Your captain is my brother, so I wouldn't take anything he says about me at face value," Sam explained, pushing away the thought of what the hell Jake told his crew he was like, if he talked about him and Josh at all. He must have. He was too much of a sap not to.

Daniel laughed, and Sam flinched at the sound. He didn't know why, it was a nice laugh.

"Don't worry, he speaks very highly of you," Daniel affirmed, and Sam was annoyed to find himself physically relaxing. Did he really care what a bunch of sailors thought of him? "You don't look how I pictured, though."

"Oh?" Sam barked out an awkward laugh. "What did you think I'd look like?"

Daniel shrugged, his hair shifting enough to reveal hoops in his ears similar to Jake's. He did a dramatic look up and down of Sam, which made him go hot in the face again as Daniel's eyes finally rested on his own.

"He always described you as, I don't know, like a squirrely little brother," Daniel remarked, gesturing vaguely at Sam. "Messy hair, snotty nose. Which is definitely not you."

"You're strange," Sam replied, meaning it.

"You're pretty."

Sam froze as he had when he had first approached Daniel, every muscle tensing up as his mouth snapped shut. Daniel stood there smiling at him like he hadn't said a word.

"I'm working," Sam countered nervously, turning away and then turning back. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Daniel echoed, looking back down at the jukebox. "Brandy."

Sam tossed a silent glare at him before hurrying away, quickly distracting himself with fetching rounds for the nearby tables occupied by Daniel's crewmates.

'What the fuck was that?' Sam kept thinking to himself as he bustled around for the next hour, far too aware that Daniel was still somewhere in this space with him. It wasn't that he had made Sam uncomfortable...it was something else entirely. He couldn't put words to it, and it frustrated him.

"You're a pistol tonight, Sammy," Jake commented as Sam came sailing back to the bar for the 3rd time in the past 10 minutes, clearing his tray and stocking it with a fresh round of clean glasses. "I knew me being here would renew your zest for work."

"You're a hoot, Jakers," Sam said dryly, both of them exchanging mocking faces as Jake poured up Sam's new round. "Your friends are something else."

"They're a lively bunch, aren't they?" Jake responded proudly, casting a look out over the bar at his men. "Make any friends yet? I talk about you and Joshy every chance I get, you should know. These boys all think you two are the bees knees. Brother of the Year goes to me, thank you."

"Daniel told me about that," Sam replied coolly. "The talking about us, not you being Brother of the Year. Not sure you've earned that one, Mr. Runaway."

"Ah, Daniel," Jake smirked, shaking his head with a mysterious smile. "I love that guy. Damn good when it comes to heavy lifting and rigging. Did you get a look at those tree trunk arms of his?"

"I can't say I did," Sam muttered, lying.

"He's a strong fellow. His talents are much appreciated. He also happens to be a complete sweetheart. If you're gonna actually try and befriend any of these fuckers, he's probably your best bet."

"Noted," Sam replied quickly as Jake poured the last drink. "I'll be back in a second."

"Take your time!" Jake encouraged, pushing Sam back out into the fray. "Go say hi to Daniel for me!"

Sam didn't honor Jake's request until after 3am, when Josh had finally taken back control of the bar and insisted Jake and his crewmates get moving so they could clean up.

"Tell me they're not staying in our house," Josh muttered to Jake as the three of them huddled behind the bar, pretending to be busy as the sailors all gathered up their coats and drunkenly stumbled their way to the entrance. "You promised. We only have the three rooms and our living room is certainly not up to code for sailor folk."

"I've booked them week-long stays at the inn, don't even worry about it," Jake insisted in a whisper. "I sure hope I'm allowed the privilege to sleep in my own bed."

"Of course, idiot," Josh smiled, smacking Jake's arm. "Your bed is still how you left it."

"You're only here for a week?" Sam questioned, his stomach sinking as reality shook the seeming eternity of this odd night.

"I'm afraid so, pipsqueak," Jake affirmed, his tone weak but his voice far too laced with whiskey to effectively communicate any kind of genuine sadness.

Sam stared into the glass he was halfheartedly wiping and held back everything he wanted to say. He wished he could say anything about how it wasn't fair to the family for Jake to leave for so long, or how the almost complete lack of communication was even less fair, or how much easier it would be for him to just stay. But Jake was drunk, and it was late, and it just wasn't worth it, so Sam just mumbled an "okay" and stacked the glass.

"You know," Sam started to say, faltering slightly when both of them looked at him expectantly. "Josh, why don't you just go back with Jake and I'll finish up here. I don't think he can make it back by himself, and I doubt he's kept hold of his house key since leaving."

"Aw, Sammy, you don't have to," Josh pushed back, putting an appreciative hand on Sam's slight shoulder. "I think he can make his way."

"I'm standing right here," Jake interjected, swaying only slightly as he leaned forward. "I can give input. My input is I'm completely fine to walk the 5 minutes home."

"And you have your key?"

Jake paused, his glassy eyes darting around in space as he thought, gently moving to pat his pockets.

"He does not," Josh said to Sam alone, his tired features raising in devilish amusement.

"No, he does not," Sam agreed as they watched Jake turn away slightly to dig in his pockets some more.

"Still here," Jake piped up again, finally giving up on his key search. "But, yes, it would seem I've misplaced them. But I can wait outside. It's not even that cold and I got some fire in my belly to keep me warm."

"People are going to think you're a vagrant, Jake, no," Sam argued, waving his brothers away. "Josh, take him home. Both of you, get some sleep for once. I'll lock up and see you in the morning."

"Are you sure, Sammy?" Josh asked again, looking at him with a little too much concern. "I'm not saying I don't think you can, I'm just-"

"Get out!" Sam insisted, grabbing both of them by the shoulder and spinning them to face away from him. "And stay out! Follow the crowd, little fish, swim away. I'll be fine, I can handle putting up chairs and mopping."

"Fine, fine, sheesh," Josh giggled, wrestling Sam away from him and slinging a rough arm around Jake, hauling him towards the last few men trailing out the door. "You take care of my baby! And get home quick!"

"Bite me!" Sam replied cheerfully, waving them away with his rag like he was waving off a ship.

"Good to see you again, Sam! I love you!" Jake called loudly, despite being only a few feet away.

"I love you too, you drunk!"

"Aw!" Jake blew him a kiss, causing Josh to cackle and start up an unheard conversation as they opened the door in identical hand slaps and slipped out into the cool, dark night.

Sam turned his back to the door, slinging the rag in his hand over the spigot of the sink and sliding the tub of dirty dishes into the basin, letting the water run from cool to warm to soak them. He looked into the full length mirror that Josh had tipped sideways in front of the sink and just under the first shelf of bottles, grimacing slightly at the dark circles continuing to grow under his eyes and the state of the flyaways that had fallen from the ponytail he'd thrown up around 1am. Sam leaned in closer, pulling the ribbon from his hair and letting it fall in a shiny curtain, smoothing it back with his damp fingers. Something fluttered in the mirror, causing Sam to squint and look into the slightly warped and smudged glass, catching sight of something dark behind him. He straightened with a jolt and spun on his heel, brandishing the silk ribbon as if it could do anything to protect him against an intruder.

Instead, he found Daniel wandering around by the door, watching him with that same gentle smile he'd given him before. Sam's heart had raced when he'd seen something behind him, but now it was just about ready to slam a gory hole through his chest and escape.

"Oh, my God," Sam wheezed, clutching his chest to hold his heart in. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I didn't mean to," Daniel said with a chuckle, his long legs delivering him to the bar. "I was worried we got off on the wrong foot and wanted to rectify that."

"And you figured waiting in the corner like a silent specter until I was alone was the perfect solution to starting up a jolly ol' friendship?" Sam teased, annoyance lacing his voice with no real venom behind it. "I stand behind when I said you were strange."

"And I stand behind what I said after you said that," Daniel doubled down, leaning onto the bar and meeting Sam's eye, which Sam tried to hold with a nervous swallow.

"Oh, is that why you stayed?" Sam laughed weakly, turning away from Daniel to start on properly washing the dishes. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I'm not like that."

"No, no, that's not..." Daniel sighed, and Sam watched him lean his head against his hand in the mirror for a brief moment before looking up again, watching the back of Sam's head. "I'm fucking blowing this, huh?"

"Pretty much," Sam agreed with a smile, his cheeks warming. "You really haven't talked to anybody outside of your crewmates for a while, hm?"

"No," Daniel mumbled dejectedly, and Sam bit his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping.

"I can tell."

There was a minute of quiet between them, the only sound being the motion of the water in the sink and the dishes clinking together as Sam rinsed them and wiped them down haphazardly.

"Do you want help? I can dry."

Sam looked over his shoulder in surprise at the offer. Daniel looked sincere, so Sam nodded slightly and motioned for him to join him behind the bar. Now that they were standing right next to each other, Daniel's towering height and body heat were dizzying in Sam's peripheral as he struggled to keep his hands steady in the soapy water. Daniel dutifully took the ratty drying towel and gently dried off the glasses and plates as Sam handed them to him, both of them working in tense silence. Sam's mind spun as they fell into rhythm, wondering once again just what the hell was going on tonight.

They were done in a quick 10 minutes, with Daniel drying the last dish with a flourish and training his blinding smile on Sam, who returned it with much less fervor.

"What next?" Daniel asked brightly. Sam just looked at him for a second, squinting his eyes in confusion as he stared up at the kindly giant who was apparently more than ready for chores.

"Dude, we're closed," Sam explained. "And you don't work here. You're lucky I let you stay this long. You don't have to be here."

"I know, but I want to be," Daniel explained right back. "And you're lucky to have some company. So, what's next?"

"Uh," Sam stuttered, utterly flummoxed by Daniel. "Well, I was going to put the chairs up so I can mop."

"Okay, why don't you get the mopping stuff and I'll put the chairs up?"

"Well-"

It was too late for any kind of response because Daniel had already started shimmying out from behind the bar and making his way over to the sea of tables that had been knocked around and moved all night, straightening them up and effortlessly lifting chairs with a single hand and sitting them gently on the wood. Sam hesitated for only a minute, watching Daniel work to a tune he had started humming, absently wringing his cold hands before wiping them on his apron and shuffling off to the maintenance closet to pull out the mop and bucket. By the time he had wrangled them out, Daniel had managed to get every chair off the ground, allowing Sam to flop the old mop onto the hardwood and start pushing clean water across it.

"Careful or I'm going to mop you into a corner," Sam threatened, starting towards Daniel with the mop. Daniel yelped in mock fear, backing away dramatically with his hands up. Sam let his front fall for a moment at seeing Daniel play along so easily, smiling as he lifted the mop off the ground and held it out towards Daniel, swinging a spray of floor water towards the sailor. Daniel yelped for real then, laughing as he tip toed his way back towards the bar, perching on one of the bolted down stools as Sam snickered to himself, continuing his mopping route.

"You're a beast with that thing," Daniel encouraged, kicking his leg up onto the stool and resting his cheek against his knee. "How long have you been a mopping prodigy?"

"Well, I've been the designated mopper since I was 12, so about 10 years now," Sam said, and Daniel let out a low whistle.

"I'm surprised they started you on it that late. Did you do any work here before that?"

"Some," Sam offered, redipping the mop. "More cleaning stuff. I couldn't serve until after we inherited it, so I had sort of a late start on that front."

"Jake told us about that." Daniel paused. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"It's alright," Sam answered immediately, the response mechanical after so many years of sentiments. He couldn't even begin to delve back into the emotions their accident brought. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Another lull, save for the sound of water.

"My folks bit it, too."

Sam's grip on the mop shifted and he had to fight it from falling over, looking over to Daniel at the bar, whose face was still chipper despite his statement.

"Same thing too, actually," Daniel continued, his hand tracing the motion of waves. "Spot of bad weather on a trip and down they went. The sea is a merciless mistress."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that," Sam stammered, shocked at how blasé Daniel was about such a trauma, especially considering how much he could relate.

"As you said, it's alright, and thank you," Daniel grinned, nuzzling his cheek into his knee further. "I forgave her."

"Her?"

"The sea," Daniel explained, his eyes twinkling slightly. "She can't help but do what she does. Sometimes it means getting a little rough and taking a few of our own. She can't stop it, and neither can I. All I can do is try and bend to her ever changing will."

"Sounds like you two have a complicated relationship," Sam joked as he mopped himself back towards the maintenance closet. Daniel laughed and he nearly bowed under the weight of it, instead gripping the sweat slick handle of the mop a little tighter.

"Maybe we do," Daniel laughed, watching Sam with a fierce grin. "But I love it. She's my life, my lover, my lady."

"Is that so?" Sam leaned the mop back inside the closet, taking advantage of the door shielding him from seeing Daniel for a second. "Then what are you doing here with a landlubber like me?"

There was no reply, forcing Sam to close the door and make eye contact with Daniel again, who was still staring at him with that frustratingly ever present smile ghosting his rosy lips.

"Because I'm going to need someone to hang out with while I'm here," Daniel said simply. "And Jake told me you're my best bet."

Sam couldn't help but let an inappropriately timed laugh escape then, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and crossing his arms.

"Jake, you bitch," he spoke to the sky. "He said the same damn thing to me tonight."

"Ha! He's never struck me as the matchmaker type," Danny chuckled. "What a sly dog."

"I wouldn't call it matchmaking," Sam protested, bending to lift the mop bucket and struggling to get it off the ground, flushing in embarrassment. In a flash, Daniel was on his feet and in front of Sam, taking the bucket from him and carrying it like it was a glass of water.

"I would," Daniel argued back. "Where do you need this?"

"Uh, the sink," Sam replied meekly, waving towards the sink. "If you get it there, I can dump it."

"Don't bother, I got it," Daniel insisted, strolling over to the sink and tipping the gray, foamy water down the drain. "Come on, you're not going to let me take you out?"

"I already told you, I'm not that kind of guy," Sam doubled down, tucking hair behind his ear as he watched Daniel shake the last of the water out. "Gimme that."

"I suppose you'll want this back too?"

Daniel held the bucket aloft and in his same curled hand, Sam's silk hair ribbon hung down, the longest bit of lilac thread nearly grazing the inside of the bucket. Sam let an involuntary quiet gasp fly, feeling his cheeks flush once again as he stomped towards Daniel, reaching out for the bucket and ribbon. Daniel held it even higher then, giggling down at Sam as he stood on his tiptoes and struggled for his things.

"You're a fucking kleptomaniac, you know that, right?" Sam hissed in frustration. "It's a disease, and buddy, you have it tenfold."

"One date, that's all I ask," Daniel cooed. "Jake said you'd be tough, so I came prepared to wear you down."

"Jake said what?!"

"He saaaaid,'' Daniel began, lifting the bucket and ribbon even higher when Sam made a springing jump for them, grabbing desperately. "That his little brother was a sweetheart pretending to be a real tough cookie and in desperate need of a date."

"Lies and slander," Sam seethed. "Jake was lying through his teeth to prank you. You've been pranked. Now bite the bullet and give me my things back, please!"

"Mm, no, see, he said you'd say something like that," Daniel hummed, backing up against the bar as Sam stalked closer. "He said there were few things you'd be unable to resist and that I had the most of those qualifications out of our crew. Therefore, I was deemed the lucky fellow tasked with treating you right."

"Oh, really? And what are these alleged traits I find so irresistible?"

"He said you were a sucker for dark hair," Daniel smiled, cocking his head so his glossy curls swung around his flushed face. "Especially curly hair. He said you like freckles, and green eyes, but most of all you like someone who can handle your attitude."

Sam stood there silently, his heart pounding in his ears as he attempted to glare a hole through the center of Daniel's head.

"You don't have green eyes," Sam pointed out, his voice still dark with frustration. "And I can barely see your freckles."

"But you admit I'm doing a good job of handling your attitude."

"Stop putting fucking words in my mouth!"

"Stop fighting me and admit you're enjoying yourself!" Daniel crowed, the bucket swinging happily over his head. "You already like having me around. I'm charming, and I'm useful, and I'll pay for your dinner."

They stared each other down, inches apart, Sam's already burnt out brain churning desperately to make sense of the situation and figure out how to proceed with such a relentless prick holding him up like this. Finally, he dropped back down to the balls of his feet and let his arms rest at his side, letting out a furious huff through his nose and walking away from Daniel.

"Keep them, I could give a fuck," Sam declared. "I'm going the fuck home. Get the fuck out."

Daniel laughed again, and Sam could've strangled him for it. He heard the clank of the bucket hitting the floor and then the soft tread of Daniel's footsteps approaching. He drew in a sharp breath when Daniel's arm came around his side and extended the ribbon to him, his palm up as if in surrender.

"At least let me walk you home," Daniel maintained, his voice low and velvet soft. "I don't want any criminals snatching you up on your way."

Sam's hand came up and gently took the ribbon from Daniel, the tips of his finger grazing the warm roughness of his hand and then retreating just as quickly, tucking the ribbon into his pocket. He sighed deeply and looked over his shoulder, trying not to startle physically when he realized how close Daniel was, the front of his dark linen top nearly grazing the curve of Sam's back.

"Get your coat," Sam muttered, stepping out of the near embrace and making his way to the back door. "And stay away from the register."

Daniel laughed as he went back for his corduroy jacket, sneaking a look at the back of Sam's head and graceful figure.

"You really think I'm a lowdown dirty thief, don't you?" Daniel accused, catching up to Sam and opening the door before he got the chance, a gesture which Sam begrudgingly accepted as he stepped out for the second time that night.

"Yes, I do," Sam agreed, all but yanking Daniel out the door and locking the door with a firm click that soothed his soul a little, certain the craziness of the night was locked away with it.

"You have no idea," Daniel murmured mysteriously, dipping down to hum it in Sam's ear. The feeling of his hot breath ghosting the cold shell of his ear sent chills down Sam's neck that made him involuntarily speed up his pace as they walked down the dim, quiet alleyway.

This walk usually took about 10 minutes when he walked with Josh, slowing his speed ever so slightly to account for the gangly legs that Josh simply did not possess. However, with Daniel beside him, Sam arrived at his door in record time, not needing to check the time to know it had been about half his usual time. Daniel had tried a few times to strike up a conversation, but Sam had chosen to satiate him only with simple replies and looks, far too worn out to put up with his relentless cheer any longer.

"Well, this is me," Sam said with finality, pulling his keys out again and giving Daniel a polite smile. "Thank you for walking me home, it was nice to meet you."

"Of course," Daniel replied, his eyes tracing over Sam's face as Sam quietly slid the key into the lock and opened the door a crack. Before Sam could get inside and finally wind down for the night, Daniel reached out and grasped his arm with gentle force, turning Sam ever so slightly towards him.

"Listen, before I go," Daniel began, his perky expression fading ever so slightly into a calmer look Sam couldn't quite read, his features softened by the hazy moonlight. "I know I've been a lot, and I know you probably don't care for me very much, but I really would like to take you to dinner tomorrow."

Sam let out a long, heavy sigh, looking longingly towards the door. Once inside, he would be able to fall into his nice, warm, comfy bed and just sleep. He could even sleep in if he wanted to, and then in the morning, he would get to hang out with his brother, whom he hadn't seen in 2 full years. But here he was, being tugged on by an aggressively cheerful sailor, who was also aggressively into him. Standing on worn, tired legs, in the cold, in the dead of night. There was only one thing standing between him and that sleep he was fantasizing about.

"Sure," Sam finally agreed, shifting awkwardly to accommodate the grin that burst onto Daniel's face at the affirmation. "If it'll get you off my doorstep."

"Wonderful," Daniel said, his smile bleeding into his voice. "Meet me at the pub by the inn at 5 tomorrow. I'll have you back before your shift starts."

"How do you know when-"

"Have a good night," Daniel cut him off, patting Sam's shoulder before spinning on his heel and setting off towards the inn, whistling the jukebox tune he'd played earlier in the night as Sam watched his dark form bounce away.

Sam waited until he was out of sight to release the tension he'd been holding in his chest in the form of a fast, hot huff of breath, bracing himself against the doorway as he took in another drink of cool air and tried to stave off the perplexing dizzying feeling that overcame him. He entered his house as quietly as he could and shut the door firmly behind him, his fingertips shaking from the adrenaline that had overcome him and seized every bodily motion with uncomfortable velocity. Clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to get it out of his system, Sam silently padded by Josh's room, listening only for a second before he heard the soft and unmistakable rattle of the snoring his brother claimed not to do. Next, he stopped in front of Jake's door, finding it ajar and peeking in to see him curled up on top of the blanket and sheets, one of his comically large wide brimmed hats sat crookedly on his head and tipped over his face. Sam went to shut the door but stopped halfway, recalling a memory of Jake tossing a shoe at his head when they were much younger, bitching to keep the door open because he "needed the air". Sam left it open, and retreated to his room.

Sam immediately collapsed on the edge of his bed, slipping his shoes off and ridding himself of his shirt and pants in a flurry of motion, rolling over with a grunt and taking the blanket with him. He faced the wall for a few minutes, trying to steady his breathing so he could dip into the sleep he so desperately craved, but his eyes didn't close and his mind didn't slow to allow unconsciousness. He turned so he was laying on his back, pulling the covers over his bare chest and staring up at the blank ceiling, trying to clear his mind.

It was around 5am when Sam finally got his shut eye, sinking back into his thin pillow with his lips parted, the darkness outside starting to lift with the first flickers of morning light. It had only taken an hour of tossing, turning, and indulging in the relentless parade of images flickering against his eyelids, counting the freckles on the strange sailor's nose until he drifted away.

~~~

#this is my baby fr #shes been screaming at me to get out of my damn google docs #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #myart #karoufiction #greta van fleet fanfiction

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aloysiavirgata · 1 year

Note

Scully comes out to Mulder as bisexual he responds by also coming out as bisexual

They’re kicked back in Adirondacks by the fire circle, the logs popping and sparking when the flames lick dried sap. The air is just crisp enough to make the heat cozy. Scully brought home cider donuts from the farm stand along her commute, which they wash down with a pitcher of sangria. A cinnamon-sugar crust coats her lips.

It’s been two minutes since he asked her and she hasn’t answered.

“So?” he prods, nudging her foot with his. “It’s been long enough all the sin’s gone out of it, Dana Katherine. Fess up, did you experiment some in college? I’ll absolve you if you did.”

He puts the lewdest possible edge on “experiment” so that she can’t in good faith make a quip about organic chemistry or the effects of acetylcholine on Rana pipiens.

Scully flops her head back against the heavy wooden chair; who cares at this point? The meanest nuns are dead. “Yeah,” she says. “I did.”

She turns to him for a reaction

His eyebrows are up, but he looks genuinely interested rather than smirking. “Oh? Do tell.”

She stares up at the rising column of smoke, tracks it to Polaris. Tracks it decades back. “This girl, Elizabeth. Roommate’s boyfriend’s sister. We…um. We all went out to a bar one night while she was visiting.”

Scully leans into the memory. Calgon and ski sweaters and Aqua Net. Layered bangs, Jordache jeans. Liz’s rum and Coke.

Liz’s hazel eyes, Liz’s blue mascara.

“Anyway. We all had a lot to drink and Claire - that was my roommate - Claire and Elizabeth’s brother were making out in his Cutlass Ciera.”

Liz’s mouth like a taut August plum, the taste of her frosted Revlon lips…

“There was this couch in the back of the bar, some coffee tables, you know the feeling. Anyway, Liz pulled me over. We’d been dancing some, Fleetwood Mac I think, and she kissed me. I was shocked, good Catholic girl that I was. But I was three shots in, and it was college, you know? We settled on the couch, kind of drunk I guess….”

She swallows hard, looks at Mulder. “Is this weird? It seems kind of weird.”

He shakes his head, eyes bright in the flames. “Go on.”

“We were kissing, mostly. She touched my breasts through my shirt, slipped her hands down my jeans but not my underwear. It was pretty innocent, I don’t know. I didn’t see her again after that but it definitely changed my perspective some. I began noticing if I found a woman attractive. Got at least a bit more comfortable with the idea, anyway. Stopped telling myself I just liked her hair or her outfit.”

She hears his breathing thicken. Just a little, but it’s there.

“And never after?” he asks.

Scully wonders what else he isn’t asking her. Wonders what it must be like to be young now. She shakes her head, takes a pull of sangria. Chews a chunk of macerated pineapple.

“No,” she says. “I came close a couple of times, but no.”

She wishes she had a cigarette or a joint. Something to do with her hands and her mouth even after so many years. And even after so many years she doesn’t tell him about what she thought of Esther Nairn, about whether she wanted to kill Diana or be Diana or fuck Diana.

They watch the fire for a time. Hear it crackle, gaze into a vast and endless sky. There are old gods there, older than hers. She knows that now. She embraces it.

“What about you?” Scully asks. “All those posh Eton boys at Oxford, surely one struck your fancy.”

She doesn’t really expect anything of it, but she asks to make him confirm or deny. To deflect. It’s how she’s been trained. And she’s endlessly intrigued by his formative years, her well-bred, prep-school lover. They’d practically invented sodomy, hadn’t they?

Mulder makes a soft, throaty noise. Grabs a donut and takes a huge bite.

She turns to him. “Oh my god,” she says. “Did you sleep with Alex Krycek?” Where had THAT come from?

He coughs donut crumbs everywhere. “Scully!”

She clamps on to it. “Did you?”

His turn for the sangria now, blushing. Blushing! Fox Mulder, did you really? she thinks, oddly turned on.

Mulder clears his throat. “He kissed me, but no. He kissed me twice, actually. But no, I didn’t…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“Did you like it?” she asks, her voice sex and sandpaper. Arousing herself further, Jesus.

“Yes,” he says. Holds her stare. Runs his tongue over the lips she’s kissed so many times. That Alex Krycek and Diana Fowley had kissed. The sting is gone, only the fascination left.

All the sin’s gone out of it, he’d said. Yes, it had. Over fifty, of course it had.

“But it wasn’t your first time.” A little breathless, that.

“No.” Licks his lips again. “You guessed right, Agent Scullly, brava. This guy, at uni…we. We didn’t sleep together, but we’d. You know. Touch.”

Agent Scully.

The father of her child looks unimaginably shy. “Ourselves. Each other.”

She knows about Phoebe, all the details. She knows about the cemetery and the gothic drama and the kind of sex that feels like a revelation instead of a mind game.

He knows about Daniel. She sees the child she was then, has long since forgiven the silly girl.

But this is different and, in her mind, sweet. Two boys, lonely, away from home. She hopes they were comforted. Happy.

“Did you…keep up with him?”

Mulder shakes his head, mouth a little swollen in the primal orange glow. “It only lasted a term before he graduated. Never spoke after that. Phoebe, you know. Other women.”

“Alex.”

He grins at her. “You have to admit he was awfully pretty, especially for a complete piece of shit.”

Scully laughs. “That he was.”

She reaches for his fingers in the dark.

In the light.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #bisexual agents

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

Text

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part seven

another chapter with our favorite love birds!!! this chapter is a bit more of a filler... just a glimpse into what their lives look like now and tbh I love it. they deserve all the fluff (and meddling children lol) as always lmk what you think!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part seven

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 2.8k

warnings: language, drinking, allusions to smut, brief mentions of injuries !!!

“You’re stealing my roommate,” Rooster grumbled as he carried another box inside and you giggled as you whipped up another pitcher of margaritas for the boys, watching not-so-subtly as they all went back and forth from the moving truck. You were thankful for the heat today, come the end of the evening you would be curling up in bed with your boyfriend that you lived with, and getting to watch all the pilots with their shirts off and muscles flexing was just the cherry on top. “The audacity to steal my roommate and not even help with the boxes.”

“Stop whining, Roo, you’re ruining the atmosphere,” you shot back, handing him a fresh glass as he stopped to take a break. “You’re welcome for the refreshments.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said and you chuckled at his sour mood.

“Stop looking at everyone else,” Jake teased, sneaking up behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and you craned your neck up to place a kiss on his jaw.

“I only have eyes for one pilot,” you said, smiling when he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “Okay, but I’m only looking, not touching.” you added with a mischievous giggle and he turned you around to press your head into his chest, shielding your eyes as Coyote walked through the door.

“Are you going to get mad at me if I suggest leaving all the boxes in the living room tonight?” he asked and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Why would we do that?”

“Well… I was thinking we should kick all of these fools out, finish the margaritas and christen the house?”

“Jake,” you whined, there was nothing more you wanted to do. “We promised them dinner in exchange for their free labor,” you said with a sigh.

“I think we could negotiate down to covering their tabs at the bar next time,” he replied and you raised your eyebrows.

“I think dinner would be cheaper,” you chuckled and he groaned as he rested his head atop yours.

“You’re killing me in these shorts,” he said, hands coming to rest on the tops of your thighs and you pulled your head back to kiss him. You all but sighed against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he trailed his tongue across your bottom lip and your skin felt hot as he tightened his grip.

“Oh come on,” Fanboy groaned, dropping a box in the kitchen rather dramatically, “there are kids present,” he said and you pulled apart to shoot him a questioning glance.

“What kids?” you asked and he gestured to Bob, who was leaning against the fridge and sipping his margarita, pretending to be very interested in your collection of cookbooks.

“You can make it through dinner,” you said, giving him another quick kiss and ignoring the groan he let out, “I believe in you.” You busied yourself with sorting out the boxes, dropping them in their respective rooms to make unpacking a little bit easier, whenever the two of you got around to it and you couldn’t help but feel overjoyed. You were currently moving Jake into your house… a house you had inadvertently bought for the two of you despite not knowing where you stood at the time and it felt so good. You pulled your buzzing phone from your back pocket and smiled as you answered, your phone screen filling with Mary’s face.

“Hey Mary,” you greeted, chuckling at her excited expression.

“How’s move-in day going?” she asked as you walked down the hallway and into the living room, flipping the camera to show your usually-pristine home filled with boxes.

“See for yourself,” you said and she laughed, but was cut short when Rooster stepped into frame.

“Oh, Bradley!” she called and he stopped in his tracks, looking around to see where the voice had come from before settling on you and feeling rather sheepish as he crossed his arms over his chest and walked over to stand beside you.

“Hi Mrs. Seresin, how are you?” he asked as you stifled your laughter. Mary had a particular soft spot for Rooster, and you thanked your lucky stars her medical issues were limited to her brain and not her heart at his sudden half-naked appearance.

“I’m good, dear, are they being good hosts? You look thirsty, Jupiter, get that boy a glass of water,” she said and you laughed.

“Mary, he’s drinking me out of house and home right now, he’s doing just fine,” you replied and she shook her head, giving you that famous Mary look that had you passing the phone to Rooster as you went to pour him a glass of water. As you went to hand it to him you indignantly took several gulps of it before passing it off, like a petulant child, and you ignored Mary scolding you… saying something along the lines of I saw that.

“You two are like siblings, I swear,” she said through her own laughter and Jake looked at you questioningly as he walked through the front door.

“Mom?” he asked, crossing the room and snatching the phone from Rooster’s hands. “What are you doing talking to Chicken?”

“Jacob Seresin, you be nice to your friends. I wanted to check in and see how the move was going?”

“It’s good, Ma, we’re just about wrapping up now,” he answered.

“Did you get that package I sent? I had it sent to your old-” you couldn’t catch the end of her sentence, Jake’s eyes had widened and before you knew it he was scurrying off and locking himself in the bedroom as you chuckled.

“What was that about?” Rooster asked, finishing off the water and silently asking you for a refill, to which you obliged with an eye roll as you walked into the kitchen.

“He thinks I’m stupid,” you answered and he raised his eyebrows in confusion. “I’d be willing to bet money Mary sent Grandma’s ring in the mail,” you said.

“Ring? Like an engagement ring?”

You nodded, “it’s not really an engagement ring… it was this beautiful art deco piece she always wore, Grandpa had gotten it for her birthday one year. If there was one thing Grammy Seresin didn’t play about it was her jewels,” you chuckled. “I just adored it, they always joked Jake would put it on my finger one day. She actually willed it to me, along with some other pieces I quite honestly don’t feel comfortable owning, but Mary’s been holding onto it all for me.” you explained.

“You think he’s really going to pop the question so soon?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink and you shrugged.

“No idea, I mean our relationship exists in a time vacuum so I wouldn’t be surprised but… if anything that’s Mary getting overexcited and sending it of her own volition,” you laughed. “She was hinting about a wedding in the hospital and ever since we got back together her and my mom have been relentless.”

“I love weddings,” Bob chimed in as he took a seat at the countertop and wiped a hand across his forehead. “Never been a groomsman before, do you think Jake’s going to want the stereotypical bachelor party?” he asked and Coyote nodded as he joined.

“Definitely, I’d say prepare for a Hangover-level bachelor party,” he joked.

“Damn, I’ve gotta get a new suit,” Fanboy mumbled and Payback looked at him questioningly as he trickled in.

“Why are we getting suits?” he asked.

“Jake and Jupiter are getting married,” Rooster answered and you looked at all of them incredulously before picking up a dish towel and using it to hit their shoulders.

“Out, all of you,” you ordered as they looked at you in shock.

“But we haven’t had dinner!” Coyote protested and you kept whipping the towel against their skin as you herded them out.

“I don’t care, get out,” you said, ditching the towel and opting to use your hands as you now pushed them out the door. “Thank you for your help, have a great night.” you said, slamming the door in their face and you turned around to see Jake looking at you confused.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked and you quickly crossed the distance between you, jumping and wrapping your legs around him as he caught you with ease.

“Your idea grew on me,” you said through a smirk and you giggled as he all but ran through the house to drop you on your bed.

“I could really get used to this,” you sighed, drawing absentminded patterns across Jake’s bare chest as your breathing regulated. You were acutely aware of the sheen of sweat currently sticking both of your bodies together but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when you were so wrapped in perfect bliss.

“Well, you better sweetheart, because I’m not going anywhere,” he said and you smiled as you let your eyes flutter closed.

“Wouldn’t let you even if you tried,” you responded and he chuckled beneath you. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.”

“Oh god, what a shame,” he groaned dramatically and you swatted him playfully.

“So… since we make all of our big decisions after sex…” you started, propping yourself up on his chest to look up at him, “I had an idea.”

“And what idea might that be?” he asked, more than content to indulge your whims as he carded a hand through your hair.

“What do you think about getting a pet?” you proposed and you watched as his eyes lit up.

“Are you serious? Yes! What are you thinking, dog or cat?”

“Definitely dog, would be a shame to just let that yard go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

“I love this,” he said, running a hand along your back and you smiled up at him. “Planning for our future, this is just… perfect,” he said and you nodded, placing a kiss on his chest. It was almost as if the universe had decided this moment was too perfect, too blissful, too serene as your pager went off on the bedside table and you groaned.

“I’m not even on call,” you grumbled, picking it up to see 911 flashing across the top. You tossed it aside, “I’m not on call.” you repeated, laying your head back to Jake’s chest but it just beeped again and you felt him move to grab it.

“It says 912, what does that mean?” he asked and you sat up as you grabbed it, wanting to see for yourself.

“Means it’s more urgent than 911…” you grabbed your phone, dialing the extension attached to the page and rubbed a hand over your forehead as one of the interns picked up. “Do you want to tell me why you’re paging me when I’m not on call?” you asked, clearly annoyed and Jake chuckled as he stood and slipped his shorts back on.

“I’m sorry, Dr. J, I wouldn’t have paged unless it was urgent… there’s uh- well, a trauma just came in and it’s-”

“Will you spit it out?”

“It’s your friends,” he said, and you shot out of bed and rushed to your closet, sandwiching the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you grabbed a pair of scrubs and started gesturing at Jake.

“You wanna give me some information or just leave me hanging, Rogers?”

“Yes, sorry, seems like there was some kind of accident on the beach, there’s a lot of… arguing, I don’t really know what happened but they mentioned they knew you so I said I would page,” he explained and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m on my way,” you sighed, hanging up and tossing your phone on the bed as you finished pulling your scrubs on and throwing your hair in a ponytail. “It’s our idiot friends, all they said was some kind of accident on the beach.”

“Accident on the beach?” Jake asked, stepping into the closet and slipping his shoes on as you grabbed your keys and shrugged, already moving down the hallway towards the front door.

“Your guess is as good as mine, didn’t sound quite as urgent as a 912, though.” you said as you climbed into the car and began the short drive to the hospital. “What the hell happened to you?” you asked as you ran through the emergency department to see Rooster, Fanboy and Coyote all in beds while Bob, Phoenix and Payback stood off to the side, looking rather disappointed.

“Dogfight football gone wrong,” Rooster winced as an intern was stitching above his eyebrow and looked over to see Fanboy in the same boat.

“Get up, that’s going to scar,” you said as you pulled some gloves on and Rooster’s eyes widened.

“Scar? Jupiter-” he started but you gave him a look that shut him up.

“Do you see me taking over?” you asked and he nodded, “exactly, calm down.” you said with a chuckle as you gently pulled out the sutures to start over. “So you had the baby doctor’s page me for what, two cuts and a sprained ankle?” you asked as you looked over to see Coyote with an ice pack secured to his foot.

“Fanboy got scared when they pulled the needles out,” Phoenix laughed and he scoffed.

“I did not get scared.”

“Then why has no one started on your stitches?” you asked, lifting your eyes from Rooster long enough to give him a questioning look and you saw how his cheeks flushed.

“Okay, so I got scared!” he exclaimed. “Sue me for wanting the best doctor,” he grumbled and you felt your heart warm at the sentiment.

“Aw, Mickey. That’s really sweet,” you said, finishing up and applying an ointment along the stitches before bandaging it. “Those should dissolve in a week, I’ll check up on them as I see you,” you said as you stood and swapped for fresh gloves before sitting beside Fanboy.

“That’s a big needle, Jupiter,” he said as you picked up the lidocaine and you gave him a soft smile.

“It only looks big, I’m barely going to insert it, and trust me once I start on the stitches you’re going to be glad you did it.” you said, bringing the needle around his line of vision so he couldn’t see it as you lined it up, “alright, deep breath and little pinch,” you said as you administered it as quickly as you could.

“Oh, I barely felt it,” he said, looking sheepish for being scared in the first place and you chuckled.

“That’s what you get for holding out for the best,” you said as you started his stitches and finished in record time. “You know, if you guys were mad at me for kicking you out you didn’t have to land yourselves in the ER,” you teased as you picked up their charts to scribble down your notes.

“You kicked them out?” Phoenix laughed loudly as you reached into the supply cart to your left and pulled three lollipops from the top drawer to distribute.

“For being such good patients,” you said with a smirk and they gave you a look of annoyance but took them anyway.

“Yeah, she used us for our manual labor and then kicked us to the curb,” Rooster pouted and you rolled your eyes.

“You were being annoying, now get up, you're wasting beds in a busy emergency department,” you said as you walked over to the desk to sign off on their discharges.

“I’m sorry for paging, Dr. J, I know we could have handled it but-” Dr. Rogers started but you shook your head.

“You did the right thing, if anyone comes in here saying they know me always page me, even if it’s a bunch of grown men whining over sprained ankles and small lacerations,” you joked as you walked over to see Jake helping Coyote out of bed. “Well, now I need a drink. Meet at the Hard Deck?” you asked and everyone nodded as they headed into the parking lot and dispersed to their cars, chuckling as Coyote threw out a thanks mom and dad as Phoenix loaded him into her car.

“So much for our perfect first night in,” you sighed as Jake opened the passenger door for you.

“I think this is about as perfect as it was going to get for us, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in to give you a kiss before softly closing it. “Besides, I’m going home with you at the end of the night… doesn’t get much better than that.” he said as he pulled out of the lot.

“Cheeseball,” you chuckled, looking over at him as the setting sun illuminated his profile and you sighed in content. The past ten years had been full of ups and downs, but you couldn’t have imagined a high better than this one as his hand came to settle on your thigh. You finally had Jake, you were planning your future and you had friends that might have been annoying but always showed up… and called when they needed you. Every long night so far away from him, every stressful exam and every tedious surgery during your residency led you here, and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt you had never been happier.

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hourlystonem · 6 months

Text

Never have i ever - Horniglass

tw: abuse of alcohol, mention to drugs, smut and bad words.

all rights reserved, i do not authorize adaptations or translations. this is posted only on tumblr, so if you read this in another site, it's not me. please, send me a message and warn me if that happen. thank you, and good reading :)

They are sitting in a bar table. Eddie invited Susie to have "just a few drinks" (wich is clearly a lie). But Susie didn't care for that. Above anything, she wanted to be next to him, even if she couldn't admit. And let's face it, some alcohol would be good to eliminate all of this estress and tiredness out of her body and clean up her mind for a moment. Two mobsters losing mind for the drinks in a bar: what could be better? That's exactly what crossed Eddie's mind. He knew that she would never deny it. And that's what bring us to present, when this is actually in practice. It's 2 a.m, but it's not like they care for it. Susie says: "I'm starting to feel bored. We should play something". He looks at her, confused, but knowing where she wanna get. "Play something? Like, Never have i ever? I used to play these games when i was sixteen and drank like an animal at the school parties". She chuckles, filling up their cups with two shots of whisky. As they look at each other in the eyes, Eddie just decide to start the game.

— Never have i ever... was a mobster

— That's not fair, you're cheating!

— I'm not, you have to drink. That's how this game works, isn't it?

She looks at him with that one angry face, while take the shot of the whisky and fill up her cup again.

— Never have i ever inherited a whole family's property and title because my brother is too stupid for that

— Fine.. you got me. - He takes the shot.

— I know i did. - She winks. For a moment, they exchange looks again.

After like, twenty minutes playing this, they can't think straight anymore. In any perspective.

— Never have i ever wanted my business partner so hard that i can't even look at her face anymore without feeling weak. - He says, giggling.

— I do, a lot. - She giggles with him, while takes the shot.

— Oh, really? - He asks, getting a little more closer to her on the table.

— Really. Want me to prove it? - She whispers, trying hard to keep composure and not looking away.

— Go ahead. Show me your cards.

In a second, they both lean in at the same time. The table shaking while they move, Susie quickly getting up and pushing him. Eddie places her against a wall, kissing her desperated like it's the last kiss of their lives. They don't care for who's looking, nothing matters when they're together, and that's the magical thing. Susie couldn't even walk a straight line, but that's not a problem. When she notices, she is already in his arms, being carried to the outside, in the car. He gets into the car with her and close the door, Susie's hand not leaving Eddie's arm at any moment. She felt safe, in peace. All of their clothes were on the floor in seconds, fingers running to her body while all she could do was moan his name.

— Do you think you can handle that? - He asked, in a caring tone.

— Yes.. just go on, i fucking need it...

— I just don't wanna do nothing you'll regret later.

— I couldn't regret of this not even if i tried.

— That's what i like to hear.

In a moment, she felt in heaven. Eddie had lost all his control to the woman next to him. Susie just could've pull his hair and scratch his back, while listened their moans echoing through the car. And particularly, that was music to their ears. It didn't take too long for them to get there. Susie kissed his cheek, leaving a mark of her red lipstick there. Eddie received it with a bright smile. They were a total mess, and that felt awesome as fuck. Words wasn't needed, the silence and the sound of their panting breaths was enough to understand it was forever.

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camillemontespan · 9 months

Text

the best mistake he never had [drake x Camille au] part six: whiskey and fairylights

Drake went home to his apartment in town. It was small and bare, purely functional. He rented it because it was cheap and it meant he had his own life away from the ranch.

If that life involved drinking nightly at the bar and eating instant noodles in his crappy kitchen.

Drake slumped down on the couch and looked around. God, it was quiet.

Maybe he should get a dog?

Nah, too small a space for a dog

A cat?

Fuck that actually, cats were evil.

He felt empty. That was his overwhelming feeling right now and he didn't like it.

Drake's thoughts fluttered to Camille and Lily.

He hoped Lily was alright in the hospital and was getting some well deserved sleep. He hoped Camille was with her grandma and feeling less angry and more happy instead.

Drake pulled himself up from the couch and went to the crappy kitchen. He opened the cupboard and found a half empty bottle of whiskey.

Fuck it, that'll do.

*******************

‘I hate him, grandma,’ Camille sniffled.

She was cuddled up against Gisele. The two of them were lying in Gisele's bed, Camille with her head leant gently against her grandmothers shoulder. The TV was on, playing Some Like It Hot.

Gisele gently smoothed her hand across Camille's hair, trying to soothe her.

Camille had come home from the hospital crying. In a fit of sobs, she told Gisele that Lily was being kept overnight and how worried she was about her daughter. How they had never spent a night apart.

And then she told her about Drake.

If Gisele could gather strength and throttle Drake Walker, she would do it.

She always tried her best to keep her opinions about Drake to herself. She didn't want to sway Camille's perspective about anything. Plus, Drake was Bianca's son and Gisele liked Bianca.

But knowing how much he had hurt her granddaughter made Gisele angry inside.

Quite frankly, Gisele thought Drake Walker was a putain d'idiot.

‘I shouldn't have asked him why he rejected me,’ Camille said quietly. ‘That was a mistake.’

Gisele shook her head. ‘Never mistakes, only lessons.’

Camille smiled weakly.

Gisele pressed a soft kiss onto Camille's forehead. ‘You should be with a man who wants you AND Lily,’ she said. ‘Someone who isn't afraid to jump in with both feet.’

Camille kept her eyes fixed on the TV, watching Marilyn Monroe wiggle her hips.

‘I just want Lily to be happy,’ Camille told her. ‘That’s my only priority.’

**************

Drunk off whiskey, Drake was thinking.

He lay on his back on the couch staring up at the ceiling which was moving.

He was thinking about Camille and that night. The night that changed everything.

**********************

F I V E Y E A R S A G O

Camille was drunk from tequila shots.

What had started as a ‘have one drink at the bar’ with Maxwell had turned into cocktails which turned into tequila and now she was insisting on dancing.

Dancing with Drake Walker.

He was her grandma's neighbour. They had attended the same high school -as did everyone in Applewood - and Camille had always had a crush on him.

Drake didn't know that of course.

There was just something about him. Sure, he was handsome in that rugged kind of way. He was tall with broad shoulders and big hands that looked like they could protect you from anything.

His brown eyes were kind eyes.

She liked that he was different to everyone else in Applewood. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone's business. But Drake didn't get involved with that. He always kept to himself, always walking around with an air of mystery about him.

Camille had tried her best to get to know him through the years but he held everyone at arms length. With her in particular .

Most people would have called him rude but to Camille, she thought he was shy.

He was sitting on the bar stool now with Leo sitting next to him. Leo's brother, Liam, was leaning against the bar.

Liam and Leo were laughing at Camille's attempts to get Drake to dance with her.

‘Camille, he isn't going to do it!’ Liam said, his eyes sparkling. ‘Trust me on this.’

Camille pulled on Drake's hands. ‘Come on, Drake! Show me your best moves!’

Drake groaned. ‘No way, Montespan. Dance with Liam.’

Camille pouted. ‘Absolutely not, he'd show me up.’

Liam laughed and winked at Camille. ‘Yeah, our prom queen and king dance didn't go well…’

Camille rolled her eyes good-naturedly and then turned her attention back to Drake.

He eyed her, waiting for her next move.

Drake quite enjoyed a drunk Camille. She was always fun but get her tipsy on tequila and she burned brighter than the universe.

He kept his face neutral, determined not to show her he was enjoying this.

‘Hey, I’ll dance with you, Cammy,’ Leo said, gently pulling Camille into him. Camille leaned back into Leo’s chest, letting him wrap his arms around her.

Drake swallowed, trying his best to push down the jealousy. Surely Leo and Camille weren't a thing? Or had a thing?

Nah, Camille had standards.

‘Any excuse to get your hands on her,’ Liam teased him.

Camille giggled and turned to nip Leo's earlobe with her teeth.

Leo’s eyes widened. ‘Guys, if Camille Montespan is coming onto me, she's fucked.’

He swiftly deposited Camille onto Drake's lap. ‘She’s all yours.’

Camille let out a cheer and threw her arms around him. He could smell her perfume and god, she smelled incredible. ‘Yay, Drake! I'm here, let's dance!’

Drake shook his head, chuckling. ‘Nope. Leo's right, if you're coming onto him, you're fucked.’

‘I came onto Leo?’

The guys exchanged glances. Liam let out a whistle. ‘Get her home, Drake.’

Drake blinked. ‘Uhhh.. why me?’

‘Because she's obsessed with you tonight,’ Liam told him. He clapped Drake on the shoulder. ‘Good luck my friend.’

******************

It took thirty minutes to reach Camille's apartment in town.

It should have been a five minute walk.

Camille kept stopping and getting distracted. Normally, this kind of behaviour would have irritated Drake but because it was Camille, he didn't mind.

She dropped her keys on the doormat twice until Drake stepped in to help.

He had never been to her apartment before. Walking inside, he noted it was quite plush.

Camille wasn't rich by any means but she somehow managed to make the place elegant with thick white carpet, beautiful artwork on the walls and pillar candles dotted around randomly.

She kicked off her boots. ‘Want a beer?’ she asked, stumbling through to the kitchen.

Drake followed her. ‘Uhhh sure.’

He watched as she took a beer from the fridge and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed and Drake swore he felt electricity.

Camille pulled open a drawer and took out a box of ibuprofen and poured herself a glass of water. She winked at Drake. ‘See, I'm not a total liability.’

She swallowed the pill and downed the water. Still stumbling, she took Drake by the hand and led him through to the living room.

‘Camille, shouldn't you get to bed?’ Drake asked.

‘I’m not sleepy!’ Camille said, giving him a beaming smile. She made her way across the floor and opened the french doors. They stepped out onto a fairylight covered balcony which overlooked the square.

‘Cute balcony you have here, Montespan,’ Drake told her, looking around.

Camille smiled. ‘It’s the reason I took this apartment. I like sitting out here and people watching. You wanna sit?’

They both settled down at the little wooden table and looked out over the balcony in comfortable silence.

‘How are you feeling?’ Drake asked.

Camille snorted. Actually snorted.

‘Pretty buzzed.’

Drake laughed and leaned back in the chair. ‘Not surprised. You can really knock back the tequila.’

Camille pretended to bow. ‘Thank you, thank you…’

Drake chuckled and sipped his beer. Camille eyed him. ‘Want something stronger?’

Drake considered this. Sitting on this balcony with Camille was a nice experience. It made him feel cosy.

‘Sure. What you got?’

‘Whiskey.’

Drake smirked. ‘Woman after my own heart.’

Camille blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She excused herself and left Drake to sit in comfortable silence on this glittering balcony, listening to the sound of people in the square laughing and talking as they enjoyed their Friday evening.

She came back with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. She poured them both a measure and settled back on the chair, tucking her legs up underneath her.

‘So, Drake Walker,’ she said. ‘How’s life treating you?’

Drake sipped from his glass as he pondered her question. ‘Can’t really complain, Montespan,’ he said breezily. ‘Spend my days working at the ranch and hang out in the evenings. What about you?’

Camille smiled. ‘It’s good. Got this cute apartment and a cute guy in front of me.’

Drake rolled his eyes but couldn't help his smile. ‘Jesus, I'm gonna have to start calling you Leo.’

Camille giggled and sipped her whiskey. ‘I’m drunk, don't judge me.’

Drake studied her for a moment. She was so relaxed. Everything about her was effortless. She didn't even have to try. She was effortlessly sweet and effortlessly funny and effortlessly gorgeous.

‘I’m getting itchy feet though,’ Camille said. ‘Like… I want something more.’

Drake raised an eyebrow. ‘What does that mean?’

Camille shrugged. ‘I like my life, sure. But I want more. I feel like I'm just doing the same thing everyday. It's only me and my grandma really. But I just.. want the next step.’

‘What’s the next step?’

Camille downed her whiskey. ‘A family.’

Drake whistled. ‘Wow, I was thinking you meant travelling or something. That's cool, you always wanted a family?’

‘Since I was a little girl,’ Camille admitted. ‘You know that my parents aren't around anymore. So I guess I've always wanted a family to call my own. I love my grandma but I just.. I want someone to come home to and be safe with.’

Drake poured some more whiskey. ‘I’m sure you'll find that person,’ he said softly. ‘And you'll have a family and be happy.’

Camille sipped more whiskey. ‘Do you see yourself having a family?’

Drake smirked. ‘Nope. I don't think I'm the kind of guy women want.’

She frowned. Her eyebrows knitted together and her pixie nose wrinkled. She looked adorable.

‘I beg to differ,’ she said bluntly.

Drake laughed. ‘Camille, you're drunk.’

‘You’re too hard on yourself.’

In the silence that followed, Drake downed his whiskey, letting it burn his throat. He topped himself up and drank another.

‘Thirsty?’ Camille asked.

‘Always,’ Drake said.

‘I think you'd be a great husband,’ Camille told him. ‘I mean, you're very handsome and rugged-’

‘I’m really not-’

‘And you're also really funny? Like you can be so sarcastic and dry and I love it. You don't take any shit but you're also really sweet and kinda dorky? You're just an all round good guy.’

Drake could feel himself blushing. ‘Shucks, Montespan.’

‘It’s true!’ Camille hollered, pointing in the air. ‘You’re gorgeous.’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘So are you.’

She was right. Drake could feel the effects of the whiskey now. He felt warm and fuzzy.

There was a loaded silence between them. Drake could see Camille's eyes fixed on him, her glass of whiskey pressed against her lower lip. God, he wanted to kiss that lip.

‘What about you?’ she finally said. ‘What’s your dream?’

Drake tossed back his whiskey. ‘Honestly? I guess leave here. I love Texas but there's more out there. I went to college in New York for a semester but that didn't work out… so I guess I'd like to live in New York properly.’

Camille grinned. ‘Which college?’

‘Columbia,’ Drake told her. ‘I enjoyed learning. Lots of people spend their time partying but I knuckled down.’

‘Why did you leave?’

Drake went quiet. He sipped his whiskey.

‘My mom got depressed,’ he said softly. ‘The pills in the bathroom were startin’ to look real friendly. So I came home.’

As he thought back to that awful time, he realised that he couldn't stop talking. Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it just because talking to Camille felt good, but he found that he couldn't shut up.

‘I know she struggled after dad died,’ he said, ‘and what with my sister just up and leaving. I came home because I couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose another person in my family.’

He smirked. ‘I guess I also came home for selfish reasons. The thought of being alone.. it freaks me out. I'm usually always alone anyway but to be ALONE alone with no family. So I started working at the ranch, helped her talk to a doctor, made sure she was looking after herself. And I guess I've stayed there ever since. She's my momma. I love her.’

Camille tilted her head and observed him. Without a word, she stood up and knelt down in front of him.

‘Camille, what are you-’

She kissed him deeply.

She tasted of watermelon lipbalm and whiskey. Drake made a low noise in his throat. Her lips were like paradise.

An animal instinct kicked in. Drake raked his hands through her dark hair, pulling her closer so their chests were flush against each other.

Camille gripped onto his broad shoulders, deepening the kiss.

Drake pulled away and stared at her, his eyes wide and pupils dialated. ‘Should we doing this? You've been drinking -’

‘I want to,’ Camille said simply. Her mouth crashed against his again. Drake held her close, his tongue twisting around hers, unable to comprehend the fact that he was kissing Camille Montespan.

Camille stood up, breaking the kiss. Drake was on his feet after her. He looked down into her brown eyes, his chest heaving and heart pounding.

‘Come with me,’ she whispered.

She took him by the wrist and gently pulled him from the balcony and through her apartment towards her bedroom.

*******************

No.

Drake had to stop thinking about her. Stop thinking about that night. Stop torturing himself.

Just stop.

#drake walker #trr fanfic #the royal romance #drake walker x mc #drake x camille #trr #choices the stories you play

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princessleiadelrey · 3 months

Text

My last post getting notes has made me bold.

Let’s talk about Good Luck, Babe! from a Cherik perspective

(this is kind of a joke. Kind of)

Disclaimer: this is movie-verse Cherik

Aside from the fact that I very much think First Class! Charles pre-beach divorce (think just became a professor party boy) could be girlie pop enough to enjoy Chappell…

Here’s the highlight breakdown:

“It's fine, it's cool, You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth. And guess I'm the fool”

very Days of Future Past, thinking about how Charles very much feels abandoned. Perspective wise, it’s giving Charles directing the lyrics at Erik.

“I don't wanna call it off, But you don't wanna call it love”

Again: very post-beach divorce sentiment. Charles did not want to lose Erik, even though he was hurt by him so deeply (betrayal, leaving, bullet mishap) it’s obvious that he still cares. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been willing to work with him again at all (even if he was hesitant). Charles’ anger doesn’t completely overshadow the complex feelings.

“You can kiss a hundred boys in bars, Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling”

So we know Erik has many partners (and several children with said partners), however he’s always pulled back to Charles somehow. The universe pulls them back together time and time again.

“You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling”

The only way to truly separate them, whether they’re clashing with each other or partnering together against a greater evil, would be if one or both of them died. (I.e. Erik changing his stance and helping them defeat en sabah nur in Apocalypse, Charles and Erik playing chess at the end of Dark Phoenix).

“When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night, With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife”

Food for thought, despite how bad Apocalypse was: Erik trying it “Charles’ way” living a simple life with a wife and daughter, embracing the good in himself… I definitely think that Charles’ words really sat with him during that period, as he tried to lock away that more turbulent and violent chapter of his life.

“And when you think about me, all of those years ago, You're standing face to face with "I told you so"

I think in many situations, there have been “I told you so” moments for both of them. Like the Paris scene in DoFP, like Erik changing teams in Apocalypse… I’m not saying Charles is always right but he’s usually onto something. I also think you apply this to the last line too- seeing the good in him. He is capable of being good.

Obviously, this is joking but for the most part I think this song can fit their dynamic, especially looking through a Charles-centric lens, thinking about the pain he felt when Erik left. This also leans into some of the heavy Cherik tropes / fanon we see in fanfiction, I.e. the longing, lack of commitment, etc.

Someone argue with me about this, I dare you. Let’s start a Chappell Cherik discourse

#cherik #erik lensherr x charles xavier #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x men days of future past #x men #x men first class #x men apocalypse #x men dark phoenix #x men movies #chappell roan #good luck babe #Cherik song of the day

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atonalginger · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

It's Wednesday! and I do have something to share: another memory from Goose's perspective this time. I'm not sure who to tag today so I'll say I'm generally tagging the Coemancer Crew as well as anyone who sees this and says, "I want in, I have something to share."

“Just remember to play nice,” Sam said as he leaned against the wall next to the docking bay.

Goose looked his dad up and down, “real rich coming from you.”

“Hey, I play rough but I know when to rein it in,” Sam reached out and poked Goose’s arm.

“Yup, you just take it out of the poor comms and slates in your pockets later,” Goose flashed an ornery grin at Sam and shook his head, “do we even know what this job is or why they can’t handle it themselves?”

“Freestar intelligence caught wind of a va’ruum installation on Toliman II-c and forces stationed out there are sort of busy.” Sam stopped, listening to the newcomer’s ship dock with the Key. It was clean and once everything was locked down he continued, “FC intel also suggests the snake kissers are prepared for an aerial assault so instead we’re sending in you and the freestar rep to sneak in and clean it out.”

“We could clear it out faster without them,” Goose wagered as the docking bay hatch hissed, the locking mechanisms clicking as internal parts slowly unlocked.

“Your mom is off collecting parts with Jazz’s team and someone needs to watch Ruby,” Sam was off the wall, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to greet the newcomer.

“So we take her with us and tell her to stay on the ship,” Goose rolled his eyes.

“Or we could play nice with our allies,” Sam nudged Goose with his elbow and leaned in close so only Goose could hear, “wouldn’t want everyone to think you can’t get a job done without your mommy or daddy, would we?”

“Oh fuck you,” Goose laughed and pushed his dad away, “everyone knows what I’m capable of.”

“Do they?” Sam taunted with a playful grin, “I’m beginning to doubt, what with all this pouting.”

The hatch swung open and the newcomer stepped through while fussing with his militia uniform, tugging at his sleeves and smoothing the front of his jacket under the belts and cross strap. His focus was on his uniform, his head down as he took a few steps forward into the narrow bay, loose curls of dirty blonde hair smoothed back with a stiff pomade. As he raised his head Goose noted the short clipped sides with minimal blending and how meticulously styled the solider’s hair was to give the appearance of being tastefully unkempt.

Goose’s first instinct was to roll his eyes at the all the preening of the well put together soldier but his sapphire eyes stopped him, as well as stopping him from thinking of anything else as he continued to stare at the newcomer. He looked like the living embodiment of the Greek god Apollo: tall and muscular, the blonde curls, perfect chiseled jaw, soft pouty lips, and sun-kissed skin.

He blinked and ran his fingers through his feral mop of curls before he could even stop to think about what he was doing, snagging a tangle and fighting back the urge to curse and draw more attention to his stupid attempt to straighten his appearance. Goose checked his wrist for a hair tie, and then a pants pocket, trying to recover from his embarrassment by looking like he was going to tie the mess back.

“…and this is Captain Goose,” Sam’s voice hit his ears, which instantly felt on fire. He gave up on managing his wild hair and looked over to his dad, who wore a shit-eating grin as he spoke, “he’s between ships right now after his last one ran into some trouble over on Skink.”

You just had to bring it up, Goose narrowed his eyes at his dad.

“On Skink?” the soldier asked, a subtle drawl in his smooth baritone, “what would take you over that way? That’s ‘morph country.”

“One of our newer captains and a gaggle of rooks were forced to land on Stink after getting shot by spacers during a trade with some outlaws,” Goose avoided eye contact, staring at the soldier’s lieutenant bars on his jacket collar, “sacrificed my ship to get theirs up and running so we could all get off the planet before the locals figured out how to rip the loading bay open.”

“And the Major says y’all don’t care about others,” the lieutenant said with a small chuckle, “mighty selfless of you.”

“I was doing what needed done,” Goose said, his cheeks and neck on fire. He glanced over at his dad again, his shit-eating grin widening as he watched him. Sam was clearly relishing in his boy’s awkward flustered state, “might have been able to keep the ship if they hadn’t lost a key component. It was faster to pull the part from my ship than transfer their cargo to mine.”

“Quick thinking like that is why the captain is being sent with you,” Sam said proudly, “not to mention he’s a crack shot and not too shabby in a brawl.”

“Learned from the rowdiest, most temperamental asshole on the Key” Goose said as he stared down his dad.

“That you did,” Sam nodded without a second glance, “But enough about that, it’s time you got going with Lieutenant Benbow.”

It hit Goose that he’d been zoned out during introductions and completely missed the lieutenant’s first name. He quickly scanned the soldier’s uniform but saw no name patch anywhere. Shit! He panicked internally while nodding and checking his kit one last time, It’ll be fine. It’s fine! I’ll find it before I need it. It’s fine, I can just check the registry while we undock. It’s fine.

#starfield #sam coe #starfield fanfiction #the coemancer crew #atonalginger writes #crimson fleet #wip wednesday #Goose #Cooper Benbow

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iluvnewports · 9 months

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Tear You Apart

Miguel O’Hara one shot where you purposely piss him off so he’ll pay more attention to you. Boy, you should’ve thought that one through.

18+

tumblr always fucks up my italics and underlines. sigh. let’s pretend i’m not too lazy to go back through and redo them

—

You cross your legs over one another as you lean against the taxi’s door, pushing yourself into the corner so hard as if you could disappear like a hermit into a cave. Your heart pangs a bit in your chest, guilt rising to your throat.

No. No, this is well deserved. An outsider’s perspective would call you selfish, insensitive. But you’re not the only one who sacrificed things when you fell in love with NYC’s finest Spider-Man. You almost chuckle to yourself. Loved and feared by millions, it’s such a fine line. Thousands would kill to be in your place, so at least be grateful… right?

That’s what they’d say because they idolize him. You did too once, so you understand to an extent. But you know him as Miguel—your Miguel. It seems he doesn’t see himself that way anymore, though. Lately, it’s as if he’s Spider-Man all the time.

Dinner gone cold, nights spent alone with his side of the bed untouched—you untouched—notes instead of conversation. You tried to let it go, and you brought it up. You two always communicate with one another before it gets out of hand.

You open your phone to take another look at his text just an hour ago. Last night he promised you two would go out tonight, for dinner and drinks. Then time at home, a movie, and maybe a bath. You were excited.

Miguel <3

Gonna be late, meeting with the Commissioner.

(10:03 p.m ✓)

You chuckle to yourself bitterly as you place your phone back down into your lap, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs a little too much. Satin black, the exact dress you were wearing the night you two met. You haven’t worn it again since, he gets a bit handsy when he notices the way other men look at you; pulling you tighter, squeezing your ass. He gets jealous, very jealous, and so easily.

It’s perfect for the occasion. Not only that, but it draws the eye of a lot of people; not that you need the dress to do that.

The taxi pulls up to the curb outside of the bar you directed him to, people lingering around the entrance, smoking and talking and laughing. You should’ve invited your friends but you knew this night out wasn’t going to last too long. Only until Miguel notices you’re gone.

You know it won’t take long either. Not when he notices that your location is off.

After showing your ID to the bouncer and ordering a drink at the bar—something sweet, the way you like it—you sip it leisurely as you stand alone and watch the people around you. It’s packed in here, which you expected. It’s a Saturday night after all. It’s so loud you can hardly hear the jukebox playing despite it being maybe ten feet away. It hums a tired tune you can’t quite decipher but you can feel the melody in your fingertips.

You hold the cool glass as your lips wrap around the thin black straw, eyes darting around the room. You notice couples amongst it all and your heart sinks further. You miss Miguel, it should’ve been both of you standing here, talking and laughing over one another, fading into the background like any other couple. He’d become flushed with whiskey and he’d begin to grab at you knowingly and kiss your head. He just couldn’t help but show you off and parade you two together.

Miguel has never cared for the attention of other women, none but yours. He shows you off specifically so women stay away and men can be envious.

You’re deep in thought, back against the walls as you cross your ankle behind the other and realize your straw is simply stirring the ice with no drink left. You clear your throat, placing it on a high top nearby as you check your phone.

Miguel <3

Where are you?

(11:09 p.m ✓)

Mi Vida?

(11:10 p.m ✓)

Miguel <3 Missed Call (2)

Miguel <3

Did you turn your location off?

(11:11 p.m ✓)

Miguel <3 Missed Call (1)

Miguel <3

(11:14 p.m ✓)

You don’t open your phone because your read receipts are on and your stomach hangs in guilt. Maybe you should go home. Maybe you should call him, it’s been about fifteen minutes since his last text and you’re wondering what could be going through his head right now.

You start to think maybe you’ve gone too far with this all. But before you can weigh the consequences of it, you feel hot breath on the side of your face, as well as grazing fingertips on your arm. The breath is hot and reeks of alcohol and stale peanuts and you physically cringe. The touch is unfamiliar, cold, and you instantly know it isn’t Miguel by the height of the mouth and the feel of his fingers.

You lower your phone and there’s a short, blonde man stumbling next to you. You firmly pull your arm away, tsking to yourself in disgust. You’re no damsel in distress and you certainly don’t find the need to be polite to some drunken asshole.

“Can I help you?” You sneer.

The man drunkenly smiles which makes you cringe. You’re taller than him in your heels and you’ve never realized what a short man epidemic there was in New York.

“What’s a pretty girl—“

“Like me doing in a place like this all alone?” You finish his sentence with an eye roll. What a cliche. “I’m waiting for someone.” You murmur to yourself, wishing you had just stayed home.

“That’s not what I see.” He slurs, stumbling slightly as he leans against the wall next to you. “If you were mine I’d never let you go out like that alone.” His eyes crawl up and down your body, glued to your exposed thighs. It makes your skin crawl.

“I guess it’s a good thing she isn’t.” A voice rips from behind the man and your head turns so fast your neck almost snaps at the speed. There Miguel stood, his tall, broad body a clear contrast against the blonde man’s, able to see from his breastplate above. He’s in his casual clothes; casual for home, not too casual for going out, though. A black t-shirt and gray sweatpants that both hug him in the best ways.

The man turns around after hearing Miguel’s intimidating, rich voice, first face to face with his chest before craning back his neck. He mumbles something before quickly scurrying away. You hug yourself as you push back into the wall, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Miguel chuckles, lifting his chin as he takes you in.

Taking a large step forward and closing the distance between you two, he momentarily closes his eyes and exhales through his nose as you cross your arms over your chest and look up to him through large, guilt-ridden eyes. He gives a tight-lipped smile, pissed but maintaining his composure.

He’s so tall and there are only a few moments where you’ve felt intimidated by it; now was one of those times. His eyes rake over your figure, his large hand coming up so his fingers pad along your skin. He hums to himself, watching the way his fingers dance along your exposed shoulder. “You look nice, Mami.”

He inhales sharply again as he steps closer, little distance between the two of you now. Your head cranes back to look up at him. “I haven’t seen this dress in a while.” He remarks as he smooths a finger over the thin strap running up your shoulder.

“You’re here.” You say flatly. No, no you don’t feel bad, not at all. He broke his promise, he abandoned you again.

“You wanted my attention? Well, you got it.” Miguel whispers, lowering himself to your ear level as he takes a loose strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger to inspect. His calmness even when he’s infuriated is admirable, yet all the more intimidating.

“Do I?” You question with furrowed brows, pushing up onto your feet fully as you lean in to enunciate your point, eyes moving between both of his brown ones. They seem darker tonight. You cross your arms back over your chest. “Because it seems like I have to do a hell of a lot to get it.” Your nose scrunches as you whisper harshly, which he notices. He’s always thought it was cute, his eyes landing on your nose before flickering back to your eyes.

“¿Que se supone que significa eso?” He growls, getting as much in your face as you’re in his. It isn’t violent, no, it isn’t accusatory. It’s hurt. “What is that supposed to mean?” He repeats, now in English.

“You promised—!”

“I know what I promised.” He slices a firm hand through the air, exhaling slowly as his eyes fall shut. “You know I’d rather be with you but I’m working. I work so you don’t have to worry, so you can be safe.”

Miguel wipes a hand down his face as he sighs again, shaking his head again. “We’re going home.”

“You’re going home. I’m having a good time.” You back away, leaning back against the wall to resume looking at the others around you.

“It really seems like it.” Miguel tilts his head to survey your expression before grabbing your arm. “We’re leaving.”

You pull your arm from his grasp. Miguel grits his teeth, shaking his head. “You’re going to stay?”

You nod. He breathes out slowly, calming himself as his face grows neutral. He nods to himself, which causes you to raise a brow. “Fine. Don’t mind me, then.”

You cock a brow. “You’re staying?”

“If you are.” He nods, leaning against the wall next to you.

You huff in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you leave him and strut back to the bar to order another drink. You wait patiently, leaning against the bar top as your eyes scan the drink specials written on a chalkboard. You settle for another sweet drink.

The bartender turns to you, wiping his hands with a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. Your eyes wander his chest and his large muscles and you smile while batting your lashes. He flashes a perfect set of teeth, bright beneath the LED lights. “What can I get for you, darling?”

“Can I have a long island?” You smile, leaning in and pushing your breasts together with your inner arms. He notices this, eyes trailing to your chest before flickering back to your face with a smile. He nods. “Anything for a pretty girl like you.”

You hum a smile, acting coy. That’s one thing that stood out with Miguel when you first met him; he didn’t bombard you with sweet talk that you’re sure he used with any pretty girl who showed him the smallest shred of attention. No, he was just charming in himself, the way you spoke with such respect and confidence. So sad that something so basic can become so unheard of and wanted.

You miss your lover and you wish you didn’t have to be in this situation, but you’re both too stubborn to back down, even when each other is at risk. But you both know that you couldn’t shake him even if you tried.

You look over your shoulder as you wait for your drink, Miguel standing a few tables away, simply watching you as his arms cross over his chest and his thumb taps his forearm. He’s jealous but he’s giving you your space. He stands so tall above the crowd, he’s like a beacon for you to always come back to. God, he’s so tall. It would almost be intimidating if you didn’t know any better.

After giving your last name for your tab, the bartender slides your drink across the counter top and you grab it with light hands, sipping it flirtatiously with thanks. He’s too busy to keep his eye on you, to entertain you though; he has a job to do, after all.

You lean against the bar, poking your ass out with an arched back as you sip your drink slowly, humming to yourself. Your hair gathers to one side over your shoulder as you look up at the LED lights with a squint. A sigh escapes your lips as you wonder how long Miguel will let this charade run until he’s dragging you out by force.

You make a choice: you flag down the bartender and close out your tab, taking one last drag from your drink before pushing yourself from the bar and slipping through the crowd and out the bar door. Despite your apartment being about twenty blocks away, you turn on the sidewalk and begin walking. You don’t bother to look behind you to know Miguel is close behind.

You turn a corner into an abandoned alley, hearing Miguel’s footsteps follow you. As soon as you’re in deep enough, you turn around and forcefully push his abdomen in the direction of the wall, though he doesn’t budge. You scowl aloud, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Fuck you!” You yell. He grabs your elbows so you can’t move or push him further.

He’s silent. You push at him again, trying to free yourself, but it doesn’t work. Your anger is boiling over at this point.

You push against him again and he lets go, the both of you staring at one another as your lips part in a pant. He looks just as angry as you are and for good reason.

“I didn’t know where you were.” He mumbles, shaking his head. “Do you know what that’s like? I thought someone might’ve…” He can’t even bring himself to finish his sentence. He swallows.

“And thank god Lyla could ping your location after dumping your phone.” He mutters under his breath with a head shake, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“You dumped my phone?” Your brows furrow in anger as your tone fluctuates as you scoff.

“What did you want me to do? You were gone, your location was off. What am I supposed to do?” Miguel grits his teeth.

You almost laugh in his face at the way he feels so entitled. “Has it ever occurred to you that I could just be out? I have a life outside you, you know.”

You both stare at one another again. The way the yellow street light hits the side of his face makes his features look softer than usual, and you know it’s pure illusion, considering how pissed he is. “I think you should leave.” You mumble, crossing your arms as you stare at your feet. Your lashes are feeling extra heavy right now. “…For a few days.”

Miguel shakes his head, his anger boiling over. “¿Cómo me puedos preguntar eso? Hm?” He grabs you by your shoulders so you’re forced to look at him. He mutters in Spanish under his breath, shaking his head again. You’re still learning, but you know the extent of what he’s saying; how could you say such a thing? Ask him to leave you.

“I’m not leaving you.” He says firmly. Tears well in your eyes, you push at him, but his hands go to grab your arms again so you can’t push him. You pull away but still, he doesn’t budge.

A push and a smack, a kick, it’s all effective. He’s bent down so you’re face to face, breathing so heavily, tears streaming down your face. Your heart is heavy and you miss him already, despite him standing in front of you. And in the heat of the moment, you throw yourself at him instead, attaching your lips to his as you, at first, kiss him deeply.

Miguel grabs the small of your back, pulling him against you harshly as he straightens up and picks you up to follow, your lips never parting as your kisses become more and more hungry and needy. You bite down on his bottom lip harshly and he winces a groan, fingertips digging into your back and a hand cupping your ass in what could be support, but you know better; he could lift you with one arm if need be.

Your feet meet ground again and he pushes you into the building behind you as he hunches down to meet your mouth. Your hands stroke his face gently as he finds the back of your thigh to lift your leg against his side. You pull away, breathing heavily as he kisses your cheek, trailing kisses down to your chin and neck as you dive your hands to dig into his thick hair.

You tug at his roots as he leaves sloppy kisses down your skin, licking and nipping as you pant into open air over his shoulder. You can see his back, one hand sauntering down to scratch back up it as he groans into your ear. With one hand lifting your leg, the other tangles into your hair, his thumb resting on your cheek as his fingers tug at your scalp.

Your eyes pinch shut as you buck your hips, your cunt exposed to the air as he pushes into you, growing wetter and wetter with every kiss that’s planted on your skin.

Miguel feverishly kisses you again, but only for a moment before pulling away and looking at you with parted lips. Your cheeks are still wet, wiping at your tears. You swallow thickly, taking a moment to breathe and realize the predicament you’ve both found yourself in.

“What do you want mi vida?” He breathes a whisper.

Your hands find your way back to his cheeks, holding his face and analyzing his features to appreciate the man in front of you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks. “You.” You whisper.

Miguel nods, straightening up as he lets your leg down gently before gripping your waist, pulling you into him, kneeling down so you can lock your arms around his neck. With one last look around, he shoots a web out and you two are pulled from the ground in seconds, speeding up the building's side as he keeps one arm locked around your waist. Before you can reach the top, he shoots another, swinging from building to building as you hike your legs up to secure yourself. You brush over his bulging erection and he sighs a quick groan, now swinging faster.

Now amongst higher buildings, Miguel shoots his webbing mid-swing against a very tall apartment building, creating a thick webbed-like bed that he swings into and lays you down on. You gasp, afraid to let go. He knows you hate heights.

“I’ve got you.” He purrs, coming down on top of you, two hands on either side of your head. “I’ve got you baby.”

You look around you, the wind blowing in your face as you see the city twinkle below you. You’re tucked into a small nook near the roof, your arms never leaving his back as you hold on. You look back at him, seeing his eyes are dark with lust. “Couldn’t wait to get home?”

He shakes his head, his fangs poking just below his bottom lip as he looks at you with parted lips. Oh. He dives back into your neck, kissing you as his hands pin your hips to the web, grinding harshly against your cunt. You moan out, and he nips you a little too hard with his fangs, causing you to wince and cry out a bit into his ear.

He shushes you, picking you up off the web so he can grind into your harsher as you let out a whimper. He hovers above you, looking down at the friction between you two. Miguel licks his lips at your desperation, his claws digging into your ass as he lifts you up, not enough pressure to break the skin but enough to make you stir in his arms.

You buck your hips against his hardness, wanting it to hit your clit just right. He lets out a low chuckle.

“So impatient.” Miguel tsks.

You moan. “Please.”

“Why should I?” He pauses his movements which causes you to let out a whimper at the loss of pressure. You shake your head.

“Trying to make me jealous?” He kisses your chest slowly but doesn’t resume grinding which makes you pout. He hums between the kisses, vibrating your skin. “Make me watch you as you parade yourself to other men.” He sighs into your skin.

“You’re mine.” One hand comes up beneath you to grip your hair harshly, pulling it so your head tilts upwards. He bites your breast, puncturing it slightly with his fangs, crimson blood pooling at the small wound. You moan mixed with a wince. “Say it.”

You hesitate. Not because you’re unsure but because all that’s on your mind is pure sex and you can’t concentrate. He pulls your hair again which causes you to whimper. “Say it.” He demands. “You’re mine. You will always be mine.”

You pant out. His tone is demanding and aggressive, staking his claim over you. “I’m yours.” You nod, swallowing gently. “I’ll always be yours.”

“Good girl.” He whispers into your ear, releasing his grip on your hair and running his hands down your sides to lift your ass up and stroke into you.

“You want this?” He asks and you nod, pleading with him as you whine.

Without another word, he untucks himself from his pants, aggressively pulling your dress up. No time for foreplay, not when you’re this wet.

Palming his cock, he wipes his finger over his tip before aligning it with your cunt, swiping it up and down your slit as you shudder and moan, clenching at the feeling already. You let out a high moan as he continues to swipe up and down, slapping it onto the top of your pussy before inserting the tip into your entrance slowly.

You gasp. Even after all this time, you’re still shocked by how big he is. It fills you every time, stretching you out to remember it. He gives a little push and quickly pulls out, teasing your entrance and you fall into a string of moans and curses as he cups the top of your pussy and rubs your clit.

“Fuck,” your eyes fall close as your brows pull together. Miguel shushes you again.

“It’s not even in yet baby, not all the way. Yet you’re a mess for me.” He whispers, igniting chills over your skin.

He completely thrusts into you with no warning, walking your cunt up and pushing it to make room for him. Miguel has always been slow, sensual, considerate, but not right now. No, you pissed him off, and now he’s taking it out on you. You wince, the feeling of it all being too much.

Falling into you, one hand presses down on your lower stomach as he leans onto his other arm, fisting your hair. “You can take it.” He says as he begins to pound you with little mercy, causing you to lose your own voice and go mute for a moment.

“That’s it, you can take it.” He purrs and you find your voice again, deeply inhaling as you let out soft cries. Your walls adjust around him, allowing him access as his tip hits something deep inside you, hammering it over and over in a mix of pain and pleasure.

His face buries into your neck as he moans uncontrollably, though he hates to give you the satisfaction of knowing you love when he’s vocal. He’s teaching you a lesson, he cannot let himself fall blind within his pleasure deep within your pussy.

It feels as if something is missing, that you’re incomplete as your clit is unattended to since he usually takes care of it himself. Your hand falls down to your clit and he snatches it back before you can touch yourself, holding it up against your head as you scratch his back in retaliation, shaking his head. “Good girls deserve good things. But you weren’t very nice, were you…?”

You whine, clenching around him which causes him to grit his teeth as he yanks at your scalp. He pumps into your harsher, if that were even possible, faster, as if in a blind rage. Your entrance begins to burn at the friction, but it feels so good, you can’t bring yourself to protest.

Your stomach begins to bulge and feel full, bloated. His hand goes back down and rests on it, feeling the way he fills you and loving it. He lets out a long moan followed by a curse, his head falling back as he slows his strokes, grinding into you at a much more controlled pace.

Your hand travels to his abdomen, feeling the hardness of it and the way he flexes as he strokes into you. Now towering above you, his other hand coming up to rest over yours. You can feel the web sag beneath your combined weight, though you can’t bring yourself to be cautious or care enough about it snapping.

You’re dating Spider-man, after all. Though unpleasant and embarrassing, he’d save you.

You love the way he feels beneath your fingertips. You feel yourself tighten up, clenching around him as you’re riding to the top of your upcoming orgasm. He can tell, moving his hand from atop yours to cup your face. “You want to cum, baby?”

You nod, lips parted as you breathe out in pants. He rubs your face, his other hand moving to squeeze the inside of your thigh as he cradles your face. Miguel sighs with a nod. He’s feeling generous tonight.

“You want to cum all over my cock, mi belle?” He encourages the question and you moan in reply. He nods to himself, holding himself back as well.

His thumb goes down to rub your clit and you choke on your whine, slightly raising yourself up only for him to push you back down into the web. “Cum for me mami.”

The sensation of his cock hitting your spot and his thumb sensually rubbing your clit pushes you over and edge and you gasp out in silence, Miguel rocking into you at a consistent rate so you’re filled up to the brim, unsure whether or not you can contain yourself. Everything swims in your head: your fight, the way he kissed you, the way he held your elbows until you calmed down.

“Fuck!” You scream out as you reach your climax, pulling Miguel down into you as you wrap your arms and legs around him in need of him closer as he fucks you. You bury your face into his neck, breathing hard as you go rigid against him and he holds you in his arms, whispering sweet words into your ear as he kisses your cheek gently.

“Fuck,” you breathe out another cry as your legs shake.

As you ride out your high, your cunt tingling as your body falls into itself, Miguel picks up his pace in fucking you as he groans and moans into your skin and you clench against his cock.

“Oh fuck, I love you.” He moans as he leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your collarbone, spreading your ass apart as he fills you with cum. You feel his cock twitch inside you, that’s how big he is so that you’re left with little leeway, and you feel a warmth within your stomach as he pounds into your cervix. You rub his back as you pant, returning his comforting praise as he did you.

He empties his seed into you. “Never leave me.” He pleads amongst his high, and you agree, feeling the way his strokes become sloppy, messy. “I’ll never leave you.” You whisper as he groans, pulling out of you with a sigh, looking down between the two of you as he pants.

Sweat gleams his forehead and you push back his hair from his face, admiring the way he glows atop you with swollen lips parted in heavy breath. He pulls your dress down before tucking himself back into his pants, your legs falling from his sides as he kisses you deeply.

“I…” He begins, trailing off, dropping his head with a sigh. “Los siento, mi amor.”

You hush him, bringing a finger to his lips to stop him. He kisses it and you smile. “I shouldn’t have made you jealous.” You admit, caressing his face as you push his hair back. “I just… wanted you to pay attention to me.”

“I always do mi vida.” He kisses you again. “But I haven’t done a good job of expressing it lately, have I?”

You shake your head and he chuckles. “I’ll do better.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” You hum, smiling as you peck a quick kiss on his lips. “Let’s go home then, yeah? It’s freezing.” You shiver slightly.

He chuckles with a nod, pulling you close to him as he shoots out a web. “Let’s go home.”

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderverse oc #angst

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crinkled-emotions · 2 years

Note

“Can you please come and get me?”

hi would i be able to request this for bradley and amelia? i loved every interaction you’ve written between them!!

I'm in the mood for *festive* one shots, so here's one where Amelia has to go to her dad's for Christmas and she promptly decides it's a bit shit.

For the sake of this one shot- her dad is still in San Diego. Amelia isn't particularly fond of him but there's nothing she can do to get out of it. Well, so she thought.

There’s some hand-wavey stuff but y’know. Hand wave and get over it.

My dad thought the scene this gif is from was the funniest thing ever. I think he may have back snorted in the cinema lmao.

"I don't understand; why do I have to spend Christmas with him?"

"We've been having this argument since you were eight, Amelia, and I remind you every year; it's the custody agreement. I can't do anything about it; if I try and tell him no, I could- I could lose you."

Amelia frowned, watching her mother fuss around the bar.

"I don't want to spend it with him, mom! I want to spend it with you and Mav and Bradley!"

"Honey, I don't think Bradley's even coming. He's talking about deployment, Pete is heartbroken about it."

"Mom," Amelia insisted. Penny held up a finger, searching for a bottle of some particular alcohol.

"I already told you. It's the law, sweetheart. There's nothing I can do about it, he'll be here at 3pm at the 23rd."

Amelia tossed her book down, climbing off the chair at the deck to walk out toward the ocean. She took a seat on the sand and buried her head against her knees, huffing. She reached for her phone, frowning at the text from her dad that said he couldn't wait to see her.

That was a lie if she'd ever heard one.

Sure enough, Amelia's dad showed up at 3:15pm on the 23rd, jumping out of the car with a million apologies. Amelia sent her mom one last begging look, before turning and giving Maverick a hug. He caught her, frowning.

"Hey, kid, why the long face? I know it blows, but maybe you could-"

"-please don't make me go, Mav."

"I would love for you to stay, and I think it would brighten your mom's world, but unfortunately it's the law that you stay with your father. I'll come and get you on the 26th, okay? Nice and early, we can get waffles and a shake on the drive home."

When Amelia glanced at him, she saw the look of a man familiar with the routine.

"Bradley didn't like going to his grandparents', think it freaked him out, y'know, all the ghosts. They loved him, adored him, but I think he reminded them of their son a little too much."

Amelia knew then and there that he got it from both perspectives.

"Can I call you and mom later today?" She asked. Maverick nodded.

"Of course, kiddo. Look, you have to promise me something, for your mom's sake."

She hummed.

"I need you to be good for your dad. You don't have to be best buddies with him, but please just be civil. Okay?"

"Fine. Bye, Mav."

"See you later, kiddo."

She separated from him and walked straight past her biological parents, climbing into her dad's car and slamming the door shut behind her. Her mom moved away from her dad, leaning into Maverick who had a hand on her back for comfort. Finally, her dad got into the car.

"Hey, sweetie. Are you excited?"

"Sure."

He glanced at her via the rearview mirror, frowning.

"Amelia-"

"-dad."

He got the gist. Shutting his mouth, he started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

"I hate that she has to do this, but he won't give it up. I've asked him every year if he would swap, because she's miserable, but he refuses. Says because I get to have her full time, he gets to pick the holidays he has her."

"Surely your lawyer has something to say about it? We've both seen the way she looked at us when she got into the car."

Pete and Penny were sitting on the couch, sipping coffee together as they stared blankly at the tree in the room.

"How long do you think it'll take her to break loose this year?" Pete mused. Penny elbowed him, sighing.

"I think if she breaks out again, he's going to take me back to court. Sue for full custody."

"He wouldn't... would he?"

"He would; trust me."

Penny finished off her mug, reaching for Pete's empty one too.

"Have you heard from Bradley?"

"Yeah, deployment isn't until January. I offered for him to stop by on Christmas Day for dinner and he sounded down for it. He did mention something about him and Phoenix going on a roadtrip but that's not until a couple days after Christmas."

"Are you two going to be okay?"

"Are you and Amelia?"

Pete and Penny exchanged looks, Pete clearing his throat.

"Okay, new plan. We go to the Hard Deck Christmas Eve, dinner Christmas Day, and I'll pick Amelia up at some ungodly hour on the 26th so she's here when you wake up."

"Pete, you don't have to do that-"

"-I do, and I will. She's your little girl."

“Amelia, uh, when we get home... there’s going to be someone else there too.”

“Oh, are Grandma and Grandpa coming to Christmas too?”

“Uh, no. It’s... they’re really special to me and I would love for you to meet them.”

Amelia crossed her arms.

“Your girlfriend? Is that girlfriend four or five?”

“Amelia...”

“No, I’m tired of this, I thought it was just going to be us-”

“-she’s bringing my daughter. Our- our daughter.”

Amelia’s throat went dry. Suddenly, she wanted out.

“Pull over.”

“What? Amelia-”

“-pull over. Right now.”

Her father pulled into a fuel station and Amelia yanked her backpack from the seat beside her, hoisting it over her shoulder and stalking into the nearest bathroom. She knew she couldn’t call her mom, or Mav, but there was one person who was left on her ICE list.

“Bradley?”

“Nice one, Roos!”

Rooster spiked the ball up and Bob sent it flying over the volleyball net with ease, the pair high-fiving. Phoenix ducked under the net and threw herself into Bob’s arms, tackling him to the ground. Rooster laughed, letting her wrestle against Bob as she refused to admit defeat to the game. Hangman, on Phoenix’s team, grinned as he too watched Bob howl in laughter. They’d never seen him like that but they were thoroughly enjoying it.

“Hey, Roo! Your phone’s ringing!” Fanboy called from where he was stretched out on a lounge chair. Rooster frowned, jogging over to grab it. He saw the caller ID and he immediately felt a pit of dread.

“Amelia? What’s going on?”

“Bradley?”

“I’m here. I thought you were heading to your dad’s for Christmas?”

“Can you please come and get me?”

Rooster glanced at his team, then reached for his t-shirt.

“Where are you? Can you send me your location?”

“I’m- I’m hiding in the bathroom, at a gas station... I don’t want to go, Bradley, please don’t make me- I don’t want to-”

“-okay, okay breathe. Are you hurt, are you in trouble?”

“No, but- he’s... he’s got a new wife, and- and a new baby...”

“Ah, shit, Amelia, I’m sorry. That’s gotta be rough. I’m on my way, I’ll call your mom-”

Rooster heard Amelia gasp.

“You cannot call mom,” she begged, “she’s gonna lose custody of me because I keep running from my dad’s!”

“What are you talking about? If anything, I’d be giving full custody to your mom, clearly you’re not comfortable spending time with your- hey, Nix, I gotta go pick up Amelia. I’ll call you later!”

Rooster waved at Phoenix, still on the phone as he shoved his shoes on and began to jog back up the beach to his Bronco.

Amelia locked the stall and crouched on top of the toilet, holding her backpack to her chest. She could hear Bradley on the road, and then her father’s voice at the entrance to the ladies’ room.

“Amelia, you can’t hide from this.”

“I’m not going! You can’t make me!”

“It’s the law, Amelia! You will go-”

“-no! No, I won’t! You can drag me kicking and screaming out of this bathroom and I will run to the nearest police station! I’m not doing this!”

“Amelia!” Her father scolded, but Amelia remained in the bathroom, clutching her phone and her backpack.

“Bradley-”

“-I’m coming kid, hold tight. I’m, uh, maybe five minutes... wait, I’m pulling in now.”

“Amelia, can you please just come out so we can talk about this?” Her father pleaded.

“Bradley...”

“I’m coming,” Bradley said. She could hear the familiar rumble of the Bronco outside, then her father walking away.

“Are you Amelia’s father?”

“Who the hell are- wait a minute. Are you Nick Bradshaw’s kid?”

“Bradley Bradshaw, I think we met when I was a teenager.”

“What are you doing here?”

Amelia bolted from the bathroom, legging it to where she could hear her brother talking to her dad. Bradley caught her gaze and she tilted her head to the Bronco.

“Look, it’s none of my business, but your daughter called me and I’m going to take her to the police station in San Diego, because it’s the right thing to do. You and the cops can sort it out from there.”

“Bradley-”

“-and for future reference, if you have news like a new daughter, I would probably call before the baby’s born.”

Amelia watched him come over to the Bronco. Her father stood in his dust, lost and a little ticked.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Driving on the back roads toward the station, Bradley finally broached the subject. Amelia had sniffled and stifled her sobs for the last ten minutes, using all the napkins in the glovebox.

“Talk about what?” She whispered.

“The fact you hate going to your dad’s, and you apparently have for years according to Mav.”

“He’s just- um. He... he only wants me on Christmas because it hurts mom, and I’ve known that for years, but for some reason... this year, I just- I had enough, and then he told me about his daughter, and-”

“-and you couldn’t pretend everything was okay,” Bradley mused. Amelia watched his moustache twitch and she winced.

“You called my mom, didn’t you?”

“I had to. Your dad could have reported it as a kidnapping, considering technically I’m a third party on your mom’s side.”

“You didn’t- I asked you to come.”

“Amelia, you’re a kid.”

Bradley was firm, brows set as he pulled into the police station. When he pulled off his sunglasses, Amelia could see the way his eyes were just a little damp.

“Look, Amelia, uh- I went through some shit when I was a kid too, and I get where you’re coming from, but the law is the law and your dad has custody for Christmas.”

“It’s stupid.”

Amelia crossed her arms over her chest and Bradley sighed.

“C’mon, let’s go tell the cops. They might not be able to change it, but they can make a note that this is not the first time you’ve left your dad’s. Especially at this time of year.”

(6 months later)

“Amelia, when it comes to the holidays, who would you prefer to stay with?”

Amelia snapped to attention, looking up at the judge.

“I would prefer to stay with my mom, Penny Benjamin, ma’am. I don’t feel my father and I have a relationship at all since he left when I was eight.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The judge was quiet for a moment, Amelia grasping her mom’s hand under the table. Glancing over her shoulder she could see Pete and Bradley waiting, both nodding at her with subtle thumbs up. Finally, the judge cleared her throat.

“I think it would be in Amelia’s best interests for her to remain with her mother full time. If her father would like to see her, he must give her mother twenty-four hours notice and Ms Benjamin has the right to refuse.”

Amelia’s jaw dropped and she turned to her mother, throwing her arms around her. Penny caught her, sighing in relief.

“I love you,” Amelia whispered into the hug, Penny tightening her hold.

“I love you too.”

“Oh man, I am so glad that worked out. I think your statement helped, Mav.”

Pete and Bradley appeared from the back, Pete giving Penny a gentle kiss. Amelia hugged them both, refusing to watch her father walk out of the family court room.

She was suddenly very excited for next Christmas.

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louisdotmp3 · 2 years

Text

literally some photos i’ve taken are like. lol u can tell i was in love with him.

#i Would post the photos except of course. it's his face so i won't #they're good photos but my god. i mean it's like when you write something and then come back months or years later #and you're like wow i was really going through it when i wrote this #like there's one of him leaning against a bar and the perspective of the shot means he overwhelms the entire thing #like it's a mess of colors and neon behind him but it just haloes him #do you hear how i sound rn. unbelievable #there's another of him carefully putting on eyeliner in someone's bathroom mirror #one of him walking back from the dartboard with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks and nose and about to break into a smile. just on the edge #anyway genuinely. genuinely. cracking my sternum open and unspooling my my heart. do you want this. does anybody want this

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

A Safe Place

So, I have no idea where this came from. None. But it's Pero, and I don't really need reasons to write him.

This is a standalone Pero Tovar one shot, with a female reader but told entirely from Pero's perspective.

Summary: He opens the door one night to find a friend in trouble, and in trying to help, he discovers that she's much more than a friend.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: TW domestic abuse, TW physical abuse, angst, hurt/comfort, no physical description of reader beyond female, happy ending. Word Count: 3250

Author's Masterlist

The two short knocks were so faint that had he not been on his way to lock the front door, he never would’ve heard it. It was well past midnight, and he’d just turned the tv off to go and brush his teeth before bed, so the house was dark and quiet, and still he barely heard it. He switched on the lights in the hall and opened the door. It had been a long day for a lot of reasons, and he was tired, but that all became insignificant when he saw you out there, leaning against the wall, covered in cuts and bruises, and hardly able to stand. You’d been beaten. Badly.

He stepped out and wrapped an arm around your waist, seeing how you flinched when pain shot through you at his touch. He wasn’t the most careful or tender of men, but he tried to soften his grip so as not to cause you any unnecessary discomfort, while he helped you get inside and guided you to his bedroom. You followed without protest, moving slowly and with great difficulty. You didn’t meet his eyes even momentarily, and he wondered why it felt like you were ashamed. Once he’d sat you down on the bed, he went into the adjoining bathroom and got some warm water and towels that he brought back and placed on the nightstand. He tried to be gentle as he wiped the blood off your face to try and see where it was coming from, but some of it had already dried and therefor required more effort. Every time his ministrations made you twitch or wince, he felt more and more like a monster for adding to your pain, but it had to be done. He found three larger cuts on your face and head, none of whom would need stitches, but he was gonna tape them together after he’d checked the rest of you over. Next were your hands, and they were in bad shape. You’d fought, and you’d fought with everything you had, as evident by the badly chafed knuckles. Your hands would need to be bandaged, but at least you seemed to have avoided breaking any bones in them.

“Where else?” he asked while dunking the small towel in the now dark red water.

You gave no response and didn’t move at all, and repeating the question yielded no better result, which made him huff in frustration. He was neither patient nor eloquent, meaning his responses to most situations consisted of grunts, sighs and eyerolls, which was usually enough to convey how disinterested he was in most things. But this time, for the first time, he regretted using such a crude way of communication, because you visibly shrunk at the sound, hunching even further in on yourself and angling your bowed head away from him.

He’d known you for almost ten years, ever since working his first real job, as a bouncer at a bar where you’d been a bartender, and at first, he’d found you childish and spontaneous and way too naive. You’d been the brightest spot of every room you set foot in and the one that everyone wanted to hang out with, simply because you’d radiated fun. You’d basically been his complete opposite, and while he’d never had anything against you, he hadn’t particularly liked you either. That is, until he’d seen you take every ounce of masculinity out of a guy that had made the mistake of putting his hands where they weren’t welcome. Naive, yes, but by no means helpless in either words or actions. He liked that quality in people, all people, not just women, because knowing that they could and would handle themselves meant that he didn’t need to worry about them. And try as he might, when he cared about someone, he worried. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d begun to care about you, since you’d been nothing but an annoyance to him ever since then, but he damn well did. Not that he’d ever admitted it, even to himself. You’d pretty much just decided to befriend him, whether he agreed or not, and that had been how your relationship had worked from then on. You’d show up unannounced at all hours of the day or night, sometimes inviting yourself to crash on his couch after a long night, and sometimes bringing takeout and a movie, just because you were bored and knew that he wouldn’t throw you out. Occasionally, you’d even cook or bake. And it didn’t matter to you that he rarely engaged with your ideas, or even answered you when you prattled on about anything and everything, you just smiled and kept at it, determined to have a good time, no matter the mood of the room. That was who you were at your core: someone that made the most out of every breadcrumb. And more importantly; a free spirit. Someone not meant to be tied down and trapped by commitments and promises. You’d been happy to take home a random guy to enjoy yourself with for a few hours on the weekends, but that was as close as you’d ever gotten to people. Even the friends you’d had were more shallow acquaintances than real relationships, since you’d never allowed anyone to really know you. Well, anyone but Pero. During your forced visits you’d usually talk all the time, and the topics were as varied as insects were plentiful. But sometimes you’d stray into more personal areas, like your family, or dreams, or things you’d gone through in your life. So, in truth, he was probably the one person that knew who you were, behind the scenes, even though he hadn’t asked or wanted to be. Or perhaps because of it. All of this meant that he’d known when you’d met the guy that had changed everything. He’d known it from the first day, because your behaviour had started to change that quickly. He’d never mentioned his observations to you, it wasn’t his place to judge or meddle with your affairs, but he’d noticed, and he hadn’t liked what he’d noticed. The guy had snared you into a relationship you didn’t want, but for some reason didn’t know how to get out of, despite your confidence in yourself. And the result of that had been a slow and painful death of the person you really were, as your soul became increasingly trapped behind the walls of the cage that somehow grew around you. He’d watched it happen, and said nothing, even though he’d wanted to, because in your eyes he’d seen how desperately you’d needed his house to be a sanctuary. A place where that person was still allowed to live and shine, as free as she’d always been. So, he’d let you, knowing that every time you’d left, you’d returned to that cage.

Now that he saw the finger-shaped bruises on your wrists, he regretted his silence. His compliance. Because this was how the guy had trapped you. This was why you hadn’t found the strength to walk away. And a part of him had known it all along, but told himself that it wasn’t his fight, and that unless you asked, he had no right to meddle. But the truth was simply that he hadn’t wanted to get involved. And for no better reason than because that would’ve meant admitting that he cared. Well, too fucking late, pendejo…

“I don’t care what happened, just let me take care of your wounds.” he pleaded, hating how gruff he still sounded.

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, but you took a jagged breath and reached up to pull your long-sleeved t-shirt over your head, grimacing badly with the pain the movements caused you. And as soon as the shirt was off, he knew why. Big black bruises had already formed along your left side, from the hip all the way up to the underside of your bra, and angry red scrapes, most likely from the toe of a boot, adorned the softer flesh of your love-handle. White-hot rage filled his blood at the sight, and he had to clench his jaws down tight, to silence the string of curses that spilled from his lips. But he couldn’t halt the anger.

“I’ll kill him.” he spat between his teeth.

You flinched, but more likely at the hard and cold tone of his voice, than the words he’d said, so he tried to speak softer, although with limited success.

“You need a hospital, scans, medica-…”

“No.” you cut him off, but your voice was weak and fragile, even with such a small word.

“You could have internal bleeding, broken ribs, damaged organs.” he pressed, but you just shook your head.

“He doesn’t know… about you. I’m safe here.”

That would imply that you weren’t safe at a hospital, and when he considered the fact that this man had forced you to marry him, and would likely have a story prepared, explaining your injuries, it wasn’t unthinkable that he could get his hands on you, even around medical professionals. You were scared, and you’d come to him to feel safe, which for some reason eased the rage and made a different kind of warmth spread through him.

“Okay. Let me get some bandages.” he offered, and you nodded once.

He noted that you still hadn’t looked at him, and that sense of shame still hung over your head somehow, which he just couldn’t understand. But for now, his focus was on making you feel better. When he came back to the bedroom after having retrieved his first aid kit from the kitchen, you’d slumped down on your side on the bed, with your feet still on the floor. He lifted them up to make you more comfortable, and you didn’t react to the movement at all, so he kept a close eye on your breathing while he worked, just in case you weren’t merely sleeping. Even though your pulse was strong, and everything seemed stabile, he was much too anxious to have a hope of sleeping that night. So, he dragged a more comfortable armchair from the living room into the bedroom, that he could sit in to watch over you while you slept. But before he settled in, he dug up the duffel bag from the bottom of his closet. He hadn’t used the blades inside of it in the ten years since he’d cleaned up his act, but he still trained with them, and kept them sharp and ready. He’d never imagined that you would be the reason he might have to resort to that kind of violence again, but he would gladly do it to keep you safe. For all the annoyance you’d made him suffer over the years, you’d never once been unkind or deliberately selfish or unthinking. Not to anyone, even your bastard husband. He took his seat by your side, and after a few moments, reached over and wrapped one finger around your pinkie. Just so he’d know if you stirred, in case he dozed off. He looked at your hand, all red even where there wasn’t any visible damage to your skin, and he thought about how hard you must’ve fought, and it brought a small smile to his face, just barely enough to twitch at the corners of his mouth. But it felt bigger than that. Because that kind of spirit was how he was used to seeing you, that was the person he knew you to be.

The morning came without anyone having banged on his door in the night, reinforcing your statement that your husband really didn’t know that Pero’s house was where you’d spent most of your free time, even after getting married. He wondered how you’d managed that? How had you been able to carve out entire days or nights away from him, for over three years? Abusive men were controlling assholes, they generally kept their victims on a tight leash, but somehow, you’d figured out a way to keep a little corner of freedom, no matter what your lesser half had done. It was admirable, and perhaps the only reason you were in his bed right now. Without that little speck of freedom, you probably would’ve succumbed to your husband’s control completely. Allowed him to dictate every thought and emotion. But perhaps only because you’d had a slice of something better, reminding you that life wasn’t supposed to be lived in chains, you’d been able to hold on to yourself, until you’d found your breaking point, and used it to get away. He wondered how much you’d managed to hurt the guy in return, given the state of your hands. He hoped that the answer was: a lot.

You regained some energy over the course of that day, even though the bruises only looked worse, and your pain was still not lessened. The improvement seemed to be more of mind and spirit, than body. He cooked for you and helped you move around, and you were strong enough to tease him about his culinary skills, which was a good sign. But any time he tried to ask you about what had happened, you shut down and stopped talking all together. He wanted to know so that he could decide what he was gonna do about the situation, and with his general lack of patience, it was twice as maddening to be forced to wait, when he had no clue what your husband was doing to find you. By the end of the day, you asked him to stay with you after he’d tucked you into bed, and he couldn’t refuse you. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d slept next to each other. Sometimes when you’d stayed the night, he’d found you curled up on one side of his bed in the morning, having snuck in at some point during the night, and he’d always woken you and told you to get your own bed. Your response to that had always been to suggest shared custody of his bed, since it was the comfiest one you knew of, and in more recent years had graduated to you simply reminding him of that shared custody, even though he’d never actually agreed to it. But now, he wondered if maybe it had just felt safe to you, even before you’d met your husband. A calm port in an otherwise perpetually storming sea.

There was no moon to be seen that night, nor stars to bear witness to his vengeance. It wasn’t his to take, not really, and he’d left you alone even though he knew that you needed him there. But his blood still boiled at the mere thought of the man, and there would be no peace until the bastard was gone for good. He knew which house it was, even though he’d never been there before. He knew where the hidden key was, even though he’d never used it before. Through your eyes he’d seen every inch of your home, and it seemed as familiar to him as you did, when he stalked through the bottom floor, making no sound at all. One step of the stairs creaked, and he skipped it without even needing to count them. The master bedroom was on the far end of the upstairs hall, to the right, past the nursery that he’d made you decorate in the hopes that it would make you yearn for a child as much as he did. No doubt only for appearances, as a man like him would take enormous offence at the suggestion that he wasn’t fertile, or man enough, to father a child. The bedroom door always stood open a few inches, so the bastard would hear it if you moved through the house at night. He snuck inside and found the guy sleeping on his side, the duvet down by his waist and his arm on top of it. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so the bruises you’d left on him were on full display in the light coming from the small lamp on his bedside table. Pero took a moment to admire your handiwork, some of it bad enough that large medical patches hid them, and he smiled in earnest. Because this meant that you’d already won. You’d already beaten him, in mind, body and soul. Meaning all he had to do was finish the job, so that you would never have to.

It would take another two days until you finally told him what had happened. He’d understood your shame then, as your kind heart had been made to endure terrible things for you to save yourself. Forced to reduce yourself to the most basic of instincts, ignoring all forms of humanity and decency and respect, in order to free yourself of a monster. You’d managed to stop your inner beast before delivering the killing strike, though, of which he was grateful. Both because it meant that your soul was still intact, but also because it had allowed him to exact his own revenge as well. It would take another few days before he told you about that, though. And only because the news reported about your husband’s disappearance, asking for tips concerning the whereabouts of his wife. You were shocked at first, but not appalled or disgusted, and after just a few minutes, you thanked him for his actions. He assured you that the body couldn’t be found, and that no blame could ever be laid at your feet, and you left it at that for the time being.

You never married again, but you did have a baby, a few years later after finally finding someone that you trusted to treat you right. He’d always been there, but you’d always thought that he was out of your reach, and he couldn’t say for certain that he hadn’t been. If you’d wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you for that first kiss, back when you were still just the friend he never invited, he wasn’t sure that he would’ve kissed you back. But he did that day. He kissed you with all the passion he possessed, tugged at you, begged you to come closer even when your entire body was pressed against his. He kissed you all night, everywhere that you would let him, and in those kisses, he learned what it was to love someone. How it felt. How it hurt and comforted all at once, how it burned and soothed and then started all over again, every single minute.

You gave him the rest of your life, and he took it proudly, all the way to your shared grave, many wonderful years later. In his final minutes in this life, having grown old and grey, he thought about the events that had unfolded back then, and he wondered if he’d given you enough. If the years you’d had with him had been good enough to balance those awful ones. To outweigh them, even. He looked at your face, still so soft despite the wrinkles, and still warm despite your soul having departed in the night. And you looked so peaceful, almost happy, even in death, that he had to have done something right. And that was enough. He’d gotten to be the one that made you happy. And now, he was the one that got to go with you to the next adventure.

--THE END--

Thank you for reading and enjoy the rest of your day/night! (Again, I've copied the DMT taglist, with a few additions. Please let me know if you don't wish to be on this list, because I will use it again.)

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @talesfromtheguild @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @andiesturgss @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @pedrostories @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell @bison-writes @dornish-queen @shsoba05 @myfavpedrothings

#pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar x reader #pero x reader #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #modern!pero #pedro pascal

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halstudandruz · 4 years

Text

Research Purposes (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Bearded Jay Smut

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

A/N: I know the timeline is off but just go with it.

Sitting at the bar, you couldn’t help where your eyes wandered across the room. You were at Trudy and Mouch’s wedding, and even though it was a joyous occasion you were kind of ready to go home from the start. The night before you had discovered your ex-fiancé and the new girl in intelligence were dating, and it was safe to say you were drowning in your sorrows. You and Adam had been broken up for almost a year, but you still loved him and in the back of your mind you just hoped time would give you both the perspectives you needed and you would be back together. You had no right to be upset, but you were having trouble convincing yourself of that. The night was starting to wind down, as you downed a shot. You had held it together for Trudy wanting her to have the best day ever, but since they had left a few minutes prior you were ready to get drunk enough you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You know the longer you sit still the harder it’s gonna hit when you stand.” Jay teased sliding in next to you.

“Good.” You sighed, turning around to take another drink.

“Well in an effort to ensure I don’t have to carry you out of here would you like to dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to you. Contemplating for a minute he smiled when you took a hold of his hand following him out to the dance floor. Frank Sinatra played in the background while his hands slowly moved to rest on your hips. You and Jay were friends. You worked together and were around each other a lot. You got along well, and you weren’t afraid to admit he was an attractive guy, but you had always been locked in on Adam. So, your friendship never even toed the line. You never even thought about it, until tonight.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you found out.” Jay whispered into your ear looking down at you.

“Found out about what?” You eyed him curiously until he nodded towards where Hailey and Adam sat laughing together.

“Wait..you know?” He nodded, “How long has it..?”

“I only found out a week or two ago so it probably hasn’t been that long.” He shrugged,“How’d you find out?” He continued. Sighing your hands rested on his chest.

“Today was actually supposed to be Adam and I’s wedding day. Before we decided to push it. So, I kind of went down a dark hole after the rehearsal dinner and went to see him. When he answered the door I saw her come out of his room.” You chewed on your lip.

“Oh fuck. What’d you do?” He pried.

“I made some excuse about not being able to find something I needed for today so I thought I might’ve accidentally left it there when I moved out or left or whatever. I was just going to leave, but then I had to pretend to look for it, and when I went into his room a bunch of her stuff was there. You know in the dresser I used to use.” You recounted the night before swallowing hard.

“That sounds awful. I’m sorry.” He shook his head pulling you closer as he moved a hand to rub your back.

“Yeah it wasn’t my finest moment. I’ve been avoiding him all day,” you chuckled blinking tears away, “How are you feeling about it?” You looked up at him hoping to shift the focus off you.

“What do you mean? Why would I care?” He masked.

“Come on Jay.” You scoffed giving him a look.

“I don’t have any say in what or who she does.” He said.

“How do you let it roll off you so easily? Not let it bother you?” You wondered.

“I want her to be happy, and wishing that I was the one over there isn’t going to do anything for either of us.” He shrugged nonchalantly, “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have fun too right?” He continued.

“I don’t know. I guess.” You replied.

“You do, and that is why you’re out here dancing with me.” He smiled, spinning you effortlessly, causing you to laugh. You and Jay would spend the next hour talking and dancing letting your minds push away the two people across the room.

Jay and you were caught up in conversation, your bodies practically up against each other causing heat to surface on your face at the feeling of his hands holding you close. His tie now hung loosely on his shoulders, the top few buttons of his dress shirt open, and his sleeves had been rolled up allowing you to see the veins throughout them. You had never realized how attractive he actually was until you were this close, eyes counting the freckles that covered his face.

“Incoming.” he mumbled looking over your shoulder; breaking you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Adam walking towards you.

“No no no.” You whined hands gripping Jay’s shoulders tighter. Adam clearing his throat when he reached you,

“May I cut in?” He asked, looking between the two of you. A glint of confusion present in his face. Jay’s eyes shifted from him to you, registering your panic of having to face him right now.

“Uh actually I just offered to take her home. We were just heading out.” Jay attempted to save you.

“Oh well we’re going to be going right past your place we could just drop you off so Jay doesn’t have to go out of his way, and I’d actually really like to talk to you for a sec-“ Adam started to grab your hand.

“No it’s all good. No big deal. I already promised her I would.” Jay stepped slightly in front of you.

“Yeah I’m just going to go grab my coat and say bye to Sylvie. See you on Monday.” You pointed walking off to leave Adam and Jay alone on the dance floor. “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled softly when Jay fell back by your side.

“He shouldn’t get what he wants all the time.” Jay shrugged.

“So is the ride offer actually on the table?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiled helping you put your jacket on before pulling his on and heading out to his truck.

Walking outside you had made it almost to his truck ensuring you were far enough away from the door that people wouldn’t be watching before grabbing onto his arm to stop him. This could be a terrible, horrible idea, but that thought didn’t seem to over power your want.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to face you where you leaned against the brick wall.

“You know I had every intention of waking up tomorrow either horribly hungover, or in someone else’s bed, and considering you prevented the latter..” You trailed off looking up at him.

“Are you serious?” He asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I’ve been holding out, hoping for something to change with him. I’m done waiting around.” You admitted weakly.

“I don’t want to just be some outlet to make Adam jealous.” He shook his head.

“This isn’t about him. This is about me and what I want. For once.” You laid a hand against his neck.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He whispered stepping closer to lay a hand against the cold brick, body just inches away from yours.

“Jay, I am going home with someone tonight, and I really hope it’s you.” You bargained. You hadn’t done this in months, and you were just ready to let all the pent up need out. Jay searched your face for hesitation before leaning in to capture your lips. You quickly responded, hands wrapping around his neck to pull his body against yours. Letting him take control of the kiss when his fingers moved to tightly grasp your jaw. Tongue slipping into your mouth in time with the movement. You hummed when he nipped at your lip pulling away to take heavy breaths.

“My place?” He whispered lips almost up against yours again. Nodding quickly you reached into his coat pocket fishing out the keys to unlock the vehicle. Chuckling he took them from you opening the passenger door to help you in before walking to the drivers side and starting the truck. You could see him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you chewed on your bottom lip appreciating his features lit up from the street lights. He turned to wink at you before putting the truck into drive and heading towards his apartment.

The silence was tense and a little bit awkward as you started to second guess your forwardness. You weren’t just using him to get back at Adam, right? You were a grown woman and you had needs. Needs that hadn’t been met in far too long, and the person that was going to satisfy them just so happened to be your co-worker from the same unit. That’s all. It was all coincidence. Plus Jay was hot. Everyone knew that. Why couldn’t you enjoy that fact when the opportunity presented itself? “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jay asked jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Nothing. I just..I don’t know. Kinda embarrassed.” You admitted shrugging.

“Why?” He questioned grabbing a hold of your hand.

“I could’ve approached that better instead of acting like a horny teenager.” You laughed looking down.

“I would be lying if I wasn’t hoping you’d say something though.” He looked over at you grinning.

“What?” You looked at him confused.

“I mean you’re obviously beautiful and I thought we had a great night together, but I didn’t want to overstep bounds or make it awkward. I was just hoping you picked up the same vibe I was catching. I’m not the greatest at saying what I want.” He chuckled. Shaking your head you looked down smiling to yourself, feeling a little lighter in the knowledge that he wanted you too. Lifting the center console up you scooted closer to him. “Well hello.” He smirked, hand falling onto your thigh.

“I like your beard.” You smiled running your fingers through it. The last time you had seen him with one was when Erin left, and the only time before that was when he had been kidnapped. Remembering the bruises that accompanied the facial hair. Tracing his face where they had healed completely.

“Yeah?” He replied smiling at the gentleness of your hands as you admired his face.

“Yeah, I think you should keep it.” You voiced your opinion.

“Maybe I will.” He squeezed your thigh when you leaned over to lay soft kisses along his neck, nipping at his ear as you moved your palm over the crotch of his jeans. You felt his breath hitch at the movement, letting out a low growl when your lips attached right below his ear, heel of your hand pressing down simultaneously. “Oh god, I can’t wait to get you inside.” Jay whispered, breaths becoming labored at the insistent pressure of your hand. Quickly pulling into the parking garage of his apartment two minutes later. Putting the truck into park he let his eyes fall shut, head falling back onto the rest his hips finally moving up in time with the movement of your palm. The sight before you and the feeling of his obvious arousal already causing moisture to gather between your legs. Giving him a couple more rocks of pressure before slipping your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach.

“Jay?” You whispered pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw, his facial hair tickling your nose. He turned his head to look at you, pupils already visibly darker than before. “I want you.” You stated. He grinned giving you a quick but hard kiss before shutting his truck off and guiding you towards the elevator. Pushing you against the wall as soon as the doors closed mouth molding over yours, hands bracketing you in against the wall. “Mmm.” You hum when his lips start to trail down your jaw. “Someone could walk in.” You remind him head falling back to give him more access. The dinging as you pass each floor prevalent in the background.

“Don’t care.” He growls lifting one of your legs to rest on his hips, fingers moving up your thigh, starting to move your panties to the side when the elevator comes to a stop on his floor. “I don’t think it’s ever moved that fast before.” He joked letting your leg down and grabbing ahold of your hand to pull you towards his apartment before pulling his keys out to unlock it and ushering you inside. “Do you want anything to drink?” He asked casually as he set his keys down slipping off his shoes, ridding your heels in the process you giggled stepping towards him to take the lapels of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m definitely thirsty but not for water.” You winked pulling him back towards your lips, before you pushed the jacket off his shoulders. Beginning to unbutton his dress shirt his hands moved down to your ass, lips breaking from yours long enough for him to whisper,

“Jump.” You let him pick you up, shedding his shirt on the way towards his bedroom.

“You have too many clothes on.” You sighed when he laid you down on the end of his bed tugging the bottom of his shirt. Laughing he stood up to pull it over his head for you.

“You haven’t taken one piece of clothing off and I’m the one that’s wearing too much?” He teased falling back on top of you.

“Lucky for you, you’ll find there’s next to no obstacles once this comes off.” You snapped the strap of your dress. Jay eyes trailed down your body slowly, hands following as he pulled you up to slide the zipper down slowly, lips falling to your collarbone in the process.

“Tell me if this is okay.” He hesitated sliding the straps down.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You voiced helping him pull the tight dress from your body. Face instantly blushing when you looked up to see his eyes wandering all over you, left in only your panties.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He complimented hands squeezing your hips.

“Your voice is really sexy when you’re turned on.” You blurted out, causing Jay to laugh.

“Well I can assure you I am in fact very turned on right now.” He grinned nuzzling your neck.

“Can I..?” You asked tugging on the button of his pants popping it open when you felt him nod. He breathed a quiet sigh at the pressure being released when you opened his zipper, pushing them to the ground with his help. He returned back on top of you leaning down to press his mouth to yours, moving slowly to appreciate the action. In no hurry for this to end. Your hand trailed from his chest to his stomach, tip of your finger sneaking under the hem of his boxers. His hips involuntarily bucking at the anticipation, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. Reaching further down you took a hold of him giving him an experimental squeeze earning a groan against your lips. Beginning to slowly move your hand his forehead fell against yours eyes closing while his hips began to move in rhythm. Swiping your thumb across the tip, gathering the precum that had started to leak out. He watched as you brought it to your mouth, licking it off your finger to enjoy the taste of him. Breath hitching at the sight, seemingly flipping a switch in him as he lunged forward capturing your wrists and forcing them above your head, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. Roughly biting at your lip before moving down your body. Stopping first at your chest. His teeth nipped at the skin, laying soft kisses all over before taking ahold of your left breast tongue swirling around your nipple. Other hand pinching and rolling the right between his fingers. Swallowing a moan your legs opened further letting him slide between them more comfortably. His mouth moved farther south as his fingers gently started to make soft circles to your center outside of your underwear. Sighing your hips moved slightly trying to get more pressure as you felt Jay smile against your hip bone. Teasingly his fingers fumbled with the side of your underwear occasionally swiping his finger inside while his mouth bit and sucked the inside of your thighs no doubt leaving a few marks. “Oh, yeah you’re keeping the beard.” Your fingertips dug into his head, goosebumps rising at the rough feeling of his facial hair against your thighs, jaw tightening, not wanting to make a sound.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you insinuating we will be doing this again?” He looked up at you, eyebrow raised, cocky smirk on his lips.

“Stop talking.” You ordered, face going a little red.

“If I remember correctly you just said my voice was sexy.” He quipped.

“And if I remember correctly you were in the middle of something.” You pushed his head back down.

“As you wish.” He winked teeth grazing the inside of your thigh as he moved closer and closer to your core. Your legs were starting to shake at the anticipation, your mind picturing your juices covering his mouth and throughout his beard.

“Jay, please.” You actually whined when he laid a kiss on your clit outside of your panties.

“I just wanted to hear you say my name. I can tell you’re trying to hold back, but all I want is to hear you [Y/N]. Helps me figure out the best way to make you feel good.” He admitted hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the floor, “Let me hear you baby. Let me know I’m doing a good job.” He reminded you before his mouth connected to your center, eliciting a moan that you wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if you tried.

“Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.” He commented, before his tongue swirled around your clit, gently sucking it. Head falling back you let yourself give into every sensation. The way his hands pinned your hips down, preventing you from moving. The way his tongue worked you so soft and smooth like he did the research on exactly how your pussy was structured so he could hit every sweet spot imaginable. The way he pushed a finger in slightly curling it up to perfectly hit your g-spot over and over again while his tongue flicked against your clit. The way his stubble burned against your thighs only heightening the realization that this was Jay. Jay Halstead: your co-worker, friend, and apparently now fuck buddy. Your legs started to shake, hips trying their hardest to fight their way out of his grasp, uncontrollable noises flowing from your lips, knot growing tighter with each tap of your sweet spot.

“J-Jay.” You warned, hoping he could hear your voice that was barely there. Your fingers tightening in his hair, the other one moving down to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the roughness.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encouraged fingers moving faster, tongue licking harder. This was Jay Halstead and he was eating you out like no tomorrow, and with that thought your thighs came up to trap his head, back arching as you screamed out the knot inside of you unraveling hard.

Legs falling back apart you released him and Jay made his way back up your body. Kissing you, taste of yourself covering his mouth. “That was beautiful.” He smirked, cupping your cheek.

“That was incredible, how did you even learn how to do that? It’s like you knew my body better than I do.” You laughed still a little light headed.

“Everyone is different. You just have to pay attention to the signs. For example I already know you’re not going to be able to cum from just penetration. Just like you have a hard time cumming from just oral. You need the best of both worlds. I always knew you were high maintenance.” He joked.

“You already have me all figured out.” You rolled your eyes, but. what he was saying was true. You don’t know how he came to the conclusion, but you weren’t about to complain.

“If you want to stop here I completely understand. We don’t-“ He started to say when you cut him off.

“And deprive myself of discovering whether your dick game is as good as your head? No thank you.” You grinned starting to push his boxers down.

“Well I could never live with myself if I left you wondering.” He shrugged, getting up to push the last remaining piece of clothing between you two to the ground before reaching over to fish a condom out of his nightstand. You took a hold of him again, twisting your hand up and down his shaft to make sure he was fully ready. He ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on with your help. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” He asked again, positioning his dick at your entrance.

“Yes, completely.” You nodded.

“Just tell me if you want to stop at any point.” He reiterated, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss you when he started to push in. Groaning you focused on his tongue slipping into your mouth knowing the pain would subside soon, and a few short thrusts later the pleasure started to seep in.

“Ahh fuck.” You moaned relaxing into him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled feeling the way you loosened more for him still making small movements, knowing there was no way he would be able to go hard right away, but within a few strokes your pussy started to clench him even harder than before. “Baby, you gotta loosen up for me or I’m not gonna be able to move at all without blowing it.” He groaned biting his lip, hips shuttering.

“I’m sorry you just feel so good.” You cried, it wasn’t your fault. Well not really anyway you had a hard time controlling it.

“Okay okay okay.” You closed your eyes, begging yourself to relax when he hit your g-spot for the first time. “Shit!” You cursed nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Right there. Again. Please.” You informed him, but you knew he was already aware as he hit it again before you were finished talking. He took one of your legs positioning it on his shoulder as he bracketed himself above you. Hitting harder this time, earning a loud moan from you. “Jay, faster. Please baby.” You begged.

“You feel incredible [Y/N]. I’m gonna cum so hard. Jay moaned above you.

“Your dick feels amazing babe. I love that I get to make you cum.” You reciprocated attempting to move with him. His thumb moved down to start rubbing circles on your clit in time with his long thrusts. “I h-hope you think a-ahhh-about this every time you - fuck - see me at w-work this week.” You got out between heavy breaths.

“I’m not going to be able to think about a-anything else baby. How f-fucking good you taste. How much I loved being between your legs e-eating you up. How good your pussy feels s-stretched around my cock. Holy fuck [Y/N] I’m so fucking close. Fuck fuck fuck, [Y/N].” He screamed louder with each word, collapsing onto you as he worked through his high, but you were already gone. Pulsating around his dick the minute he reminded you how good he looked between your thighs. Opening your eyes just in time for you to watch his orgasm and to catch your name falling off his lips with a few curse words.

“Is it true?” You asked after a few minutes of silence, heavily breathing being the only sounds that filled the room.

“Is what true?” He replied confused when he started to pull out of you before carefully disposing of the filled condom.

“You’re going to think all that stuff when you look at me this week?” You explained, causing him to chuckle still breathless.

“Maybe not every time, but I’d confidently wager 80% of the time.” He smirked rolling over to kiss you, “unless you don’t want me to?”

“Well it wouldn’t be fair for me to be thinking about it and not give you permission to as well.” You shrugged, knowing full well this wasn’t disappearing from your mind anytime soon. You got up to use the restroom as Jay cleaned himself the rest of the way.

“Is he bigger than me?” Jay asked, when you walked back into the room.

“I am not answering that question.” You laughed loudly laying back down beside him.

“Why not? It’s for research purposes. You know purely for your benefit.” He smirked down at you.

“Oh yeah? How so?” You urged.

“I just gotta know the level of game I have to bring. Should I be more focused on the motion or does the size make up for it?” He gestured south.

“Motion is always more important than size.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Jay scrunched his eyebrows,“Next time this happens I’ll just use my finger and remind you of what you just said.”

“I said it was more important. I didn’t say it’s not important at all, but I can assure you the level of game you brought tonight is better than I could’ve imagined.” You smiled completely satisfied.

“I totally am.” He decided, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“So what’s the plan here?” You changed the subject.

“I think that all depends on what you want.” Jay answered.

“Well..I’m not going to deny this was fun and you did say I need to have more fun.” You shrugged sheepishly.

“So then we keep having fun.” Jay said simply.

“But we need ground rules.” You laid your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay..” He looked down at you waiting for you to continue.

“Like I don’t know..is this purely friends with benefits? Do we go out for dinner sometimes? Do I bring you coffee in the morning?” You started to list the things running through your head.

“If you want to bring me coffee and dinner, who am I to tell you no?” He joked causing you to sigh.

“Jay, I’m serious.” You pushed.

“Can’t we just kind of roll with it?” He asked, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“I guess I’m just scared of what will happen if they find out.” You admitted.

“So what if they do?” He seemed unfazed.

“You’re not concerned at all how Hailey would react?” You asked.

“I like her. I really do. That’s not a secret, but she’s sleeping with Adam. Why should we have to wait around and agonize over it? You deserve to be just as happy as he does [Y/N].” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“What if this turns into some fanfiction shit where we end up having feelings for each other?” You giggled.

“Well then I hope the author writes us a happy ending.” He smiled kissing you on the forehead. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired after that performance.” He yawned. You agreed, waiting for him to slide further down into his bed before pulling you back into his side, your head falling back down on his chest.

“Promise me you’re not going to freak out in the morning.” He whispered kissing the top of your head after a few minutes of silence.

“I promise.” You replied kissing his chest before letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning you felt the heat before your eyes even opened. Quickly registering that you were laying on someone. Slowly opening your eyes you looked around the semi dark room, black out curtains trying to reduce the amount of light peeking through. You knew who it was, but you had to confirm it. Gently sitting up you were met with Jay’s figure still sleeping beside you. Oh shit. You started to panic, memories of the night before suddenly flooding your mind. Remembering the things you did, the things you said. Eyes darting around the room you started to contemplate an escape. You’d sneak out and pretend like this never happened. That’s probably what Jay would want you to do anyway and-

“Lay back down and stop freaking out.” Jay grumbled beside you, eyes still closed. You reached for the sheet to cover your still bare body.

“How did you even-“ You began to ask causing Jay to smirk.

“I’m a detective for a reason, [Y/L/N]. Come back to sleep.” He urged pulling you back into his chest.

“It’s probably just a better idea if I leave.” You sat back up causing him to sigh heavily.

“You promised me you weren’t going to freak out.” Jay reminded you.

“I’m not freaking out.” You tried to defend, voice squeaking a little.

“Then stop biting your lip.” He challenged. Stopping your actions you looked over to still see his eyes closed.

“Okay seriously how the hell-“ You started

“I know you better than you think.” He opened his eyes to look up at you, dark circles obvious under them reminding you of late the two of you were up last night a blush covering your cheeks at the thought. “What’s going on, what are you thinking about at 6:30 in the morning?” He asked, looking at you like you were crazy after seeing the time on his alarm clock.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged looking away from him.

“C’mon talk to me.” He pushed sitting up to face you where you clung tight to the sheet that was also still covering him up to his hips.

“I just said a lot of stuff last night that’s kinda embarrassing looking back on it now.” You admitted remembering distinctly how you encouraged him to fuck you.

“Like?” He urged making you groan.

“I am not answering that.” You shook your head looking around the room for any piece of clothing.

“I can’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound incredible coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged just as you found a shirt slipping it on before realizing it was his.

“It’s probably just a good idea for me to leave.” You sighed contemplating what to do.

“We’ve gotten like 3 hours of sleep. Please lay back down.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Jay.” You sighed running a hand down your face.

“Just come back to bed and let me cook you breakfast later. Then if you want to leave you can.” He bargained, voice still raspy from lack of sleep. Your mind was all over the place. You did want to be here, and last night was great and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping for a morning encore. That’s what friends with benefits were for right? But how would this end? You just didn’t want to get hurt again somehow, but maybe that was just something you had to risk.

“Only if you make French toast.” You reasoned making him grin.

“That can be arranged.” He lifted his arms to pull you back to his chest.

“Your voice is sexy in the morning too.” You whispered after a few minutes, hoping he was asleep already.

“I think it’s a little worn out from all the sounds you had me making last night.” He retorted making you giggle.

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