#love is me and the regular bar tender laughing about how busy it is tonight of all nights
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hawnks · 2 years ago
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actually, love is when they know you want to be hugged so hard you lose your breath because you hang on for just a second longer than usual
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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago
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The Regular: Part 2 Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader
synopsis: You go out of your comfort zone for one night. But one night can’t ruin you if you’re already corrupt, right?
word count: 3.4k (longest one yet!) 
tw: light exhibitionism, nsfw, nudity
previous parts: part 1 part 1.5  *~*Happy Easter!*~*
You love the attention. 
You love the way those onyx eyes follow your every move and the twist of your hips. You love the tilt of his head as he watches you dance for him, as if he’s a king, and you’re the maiden he purchased for pure entertainment. 
Tonight was no different from the past several nights, that much is clear. Geto keeps his hands to himself, either splaying his wingspan across the back of the couch or clasping them in front of him with his elbows on his knees. There was never a hungry air about him. He always seemed to be even-keeled and calm, which made you wonder why he had even come to the club in the first place. 
He had said Gojo brought him out of a need to unwind… So, what did he look like when he was angry? Stressed? Upset? Uncomfortable?
“You’ve got that look on your face,” Geto mentions, leaning back into the couch. “What are you thinking about?” 
“Oh, nothing,” you lie, walking back over to him sultrily. “Just concerned about my roommate eating my leftovers.” 
“Is that something they do often?” he wonders, raising an eyebrow.
“More than you’d think.” You bend over and place your hands on his knees, letting him get a clear view of your breasts beneath the silk, periwinkle camisole. And he eats that view up. His mouth drops open just a little, and you can hear the soft inhale of breath that makes his chest rise. “You know you can touch me, right?” His eyes dart from your exposed chest to your eyes, partially asking permission, and the other part of him trying to call on every amount of reserve he had. 
You could see the internal war waging itself behind his pupils, and for some reason, that also aroused you. Never mind the fact that the man in front of you was as handsome as he was intellectual; the fact that he was fighting himself over whether he should touch your skin like he wanted to makes you feel incredibly powerful.
“Not yet.” 
You take it one step further, straddling his hips with ease. “How about now?” you ask, placing both hands on his chest. Geto shudders underneath your touch, leaning his head back and clenching his jaw, but shakes his head anyways. Uncomfortable? Check. 
“I can’t,” he groans, his fingers twitching on the edge of the couch. You lean in to press your lips to his ear and whisper,
“Why not?” A strangled moan wrenches itself from his throat, and your mouth twitches up at the corners. 
“Because if I do…” he pauses, searching for the will to speak again. “I won’t be able to stop.” 
“You can’t hurt me,” you reply, snaking your hands around his neck and tilting your head to the side. “I just want to make sure you’re satisfied.” You lean in to brush your lips against his, hoping for a moment that he would try to resist even more. But you’re both disappointed and quite pleased when his lips touch yours, pressing against them gently. Almost instantly, his fingers go to your hair, wrapping themselves through the meticulously curled strands and tugging. You moan against his mouth eagerly, pulling his dark blue dress shirt to bring him even closer to you so you can feel his arousal clearly. When Geto pulls away, he has to catch his breath, but not before he nips at your bottom lip and whispers your name. 
“Yes?” You try to search his face, but his eyes are closed and hiding his true feelings. When they snap open, however, you finally see it. 
The hunger. 
“Don’t say yes out of obligation,” he warns, and you shift your hips nervously. “But I want to take you out of here tonight.”
“I’m not saying yes out of obligation.” It’s not a lie. 
“I pay to watch you dance. Not to…” 
“You don’t. You wouldn’t.” 
“Do you really want to do this?” Finally, you think, and some part of you wishes that he wouldn’t ask any more questions. 
“Yes.” 
“Then get your things and meet me in the parking lot.” 
______________________________________________________________________
This could potentially be dangerous. 
You slide on your sweatpants and hoodie, knowing that Geto taking you off-property is something that’s highly unadvised, even by the loosest rules of a stripper. So why aren’t you staying put? It isn’t until you’re lacing up your sneakers that you realize why you don’t care: even if Geto had ill-intent for you, Mrs. Lampton would immediately notice if you didn’t show up for your Friday shift, would immediately know who you had been with, and wouldn’t hesitate to talk to the proper people so you could be found. She could be a ruthless club manager, but that didn’t mean any of her girls went missing under her nose. 
Hannah looks at you from across the room, her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun as she applied eyeliner. 
“It’s a little early for you to be going somewhere, isn’t it?” You approach the woman slowly, taking a receipt and shoving it onto the makeup table in front of her, blank side up. 
“His name is Geto. Six-foot-three. Black eyes, long black hair.” Hannah’s brown eyes flick to yours, then she scribbles down the details with her eyeliner pencil. 
“You’re going to fuck him,” the girl murmurs and you nod carefully. “Make sure you do the right thing. Keep your identification on you. Do you need condoms?” You shake your head, and she places her hand on your wrist. “Please be careful and share your location. I want to see you back here tomorrow night, provided you can walk properly.” She adds a laugh to her comment, but you can feel the worry rolling off of her in waves. 
“I’ll be here tomorrow one way or another,” you assure her, and slide out of the back door as quickly as possible. 
_______________________________________________________________________
The elevator pinged twice, announcing: “Floor forty-five.”
“Come on,” Geto murmurs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and searching for the room key. You stare in awe at the chromatic scheme of the hotel, first floored by the lobby, and then astounded by the architectural design. “Shouldn’t be too far.” 
The ultra-clean wooden floors and sleek hallways seemed like a fantasy straight from the pages of a futuristic novel, but when you arrive at the room - numbered 4594 - you hold your breath. When Geto opens the door, it takes a minute for you to adjust to the sheer elegance of the furnishings. Nothing in the VIP could compare to the already-lit fireplace, beautiful red couch that wrapped around in a semicircle, fully stocked bar, and floor to ceiling windows that displayed the entire uptown scenery. 
“Oh my...” The bag you brought with you drops from your shoulders as you shuffle toward the windows, pressing your hands against the glass and looking down at the busy nightlife below. 
“It’s one of the best views of the city,” he begins, appearing next to you and loosing his long hair from it’s bun. “I love staying here when I need a break from the hustle.” You both lapse into a comfortable silence, watching the city move and breathe from above. When he moves away from the window, your eyes follow him over to the couch, where he sighs and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes before yawning. 
You slide in next to him, tucking an arm around his broad shoulder - which didn’t really reach past his neck. “You should probably get some rest.” Geto laughs, looking over at you with a soft gaze. 
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
“I’ll go shower… and you get comfortable.” 
_______________________________________________________________________
The towel around your body feels softer than fur. The lavender soap is just as exquisite, not leaving a sticky residue like most hotel soaps, but as you rummage around the bag you brought, you find nothing that will clothe you properly. 
“Shit…” As you glance around the ornate bathroom, your eyes land on one of the robes tucked away in a nook beneath the sink. The black fabric would have to do, you think, and as the towel slides off, you reach for the massive robe that slides over your frame easily. You tie the fluffy string around your waist and take one last look at yourself - without makeup, without a wig, and without lingerie - then pad to the other side of the massive room to open the door. 
You stop in your tracks when you see the man who brought you here sprawled out on the egyptian cotton sheets, fast asleep. His arm is tucked underneath his head, and his black hair lays across the rest of the bed like an inky curtain. His shirt is open slightly, but not off, and appears that Geto had almost literally fallen into the bed and instantly closed his eyes. Inhaling, you consider your options.
A. You could wake him and ask if he still wanted to… you know. B. you could let him sleep and deal with the consequences in the morning, or C. you could leave. 
A gentle snore from Geto’s mouth points you in the B direction, and you smile at the thought of him sleeping the night away, as a man of his caliber should. You curl up on the equally elaborate chaise lounge at the foot of the bed and settle into a deep sleep. 
_______________________________________________________________________
Kisses. Tender, feather-light kisses are raining down on your face and neck. A hand smoothes over your forehead, and there’s a tender rumble that sounds like your name. 
“You should have gotten in the bed.” 
You slowly open your eyes, blinking as they adjust in the pale light of very early morning. Blues and pinks and oranges greet you from the floor to ceiling windows, and you turn your head slightly to see Geto sitting on the floor next to the makeshift bed you made for yourself on the chaise. His lips turn up into a slight smile, and you groan as you raise up from your position. 
“No, no, no,” he urges you, the hand on your exposed leg rubbing back and forth with care. “You can sleep some more if you want.” 
“What time is it?” Your voice is laced with sleep, but Geto doesn’t react other than pushing his hair back and looking at the digital clock over your shoulder. 
“It’s about five-thirty.” 
“Ugh…” you slide back down to the lounge chair and sigh heavily, hoping that - just for today - you could take a break. “I’ll need to leave to go to work soon.” 
“They open the club early in the morning?” That’s when you realize that you haven’t told Geto anything about your day life. You crack an eye open and look at him, opening your mouth to reply. 
“I --” Your phone begins to ring from the living room, where you deposited it the night before. Instinctively, you rush to retrieve it, pressing the ‘answer’ button before you can fully register who it is. “Hello?” 
“Y/n… I forgot to tell you that the shop will be closed today,” your aunt mumbles over the phone, and you heave a sigh of relief. “Take the day and I’ll see you on Monday morning.” 
“Thank you,” you whisper back and she grumbles a goodbye before hanging up. You slide the phone from your ear just as you feel slender fingers caressing your jawline and neck. Geto presses a kiss to the space between your earlobe and jaw, and you let the phone drop from your fingers onto the couch as you close your eyes. 
“Work calling?” he asks, hands drifting to your shoulders. 
“Yes,” you breathe, and he hums, tilting your head to the side and nudging the exposed skin with his nose. “I… don’t have to go in.” 
“Lucky me.” A throbbing sensation begins anew between your legs, and you feel the large hands sliding from your shoulders to your waist. “Maybe I can convince Mrs. Lampton to give you the night off, too.” 
“You’d keep me here that long?” Geto chuckles at your question, sliding the robe off of your right shoulder slowly.
“Only if you wanted to,” he whispers against your skin, pressing another kiss to your warm body before reaching for the robe tie. “I wouldn’t mind having you all to myself for another day.” Before he can undo the tie at your waist, you turn to find his lips, biting at his lower one eagerly. He returns the nip, but only briefly before kissing you fully, one of his hands cupping your face. 
“Geto, please,” you whisper as he pulls away, and he hums low in his throat, bordering on a growl-like sound. 
“Don’t say that…” he answers against your lips. “You might get in trouble; I might not be able to control myself if you say that again.” You lace your fingers through his tousled hair and reply with certainty,
“Maybe that’s what I want.” 
Geto’s lips crash against your own again, and you find yourself holding onto him for dear life as he pushes the hem of the robe up around your waist, fingers finding your slit faster than you could’ve imagined. You hike your leg up, letting him litter rough pecks down your exposed chest as he strokes your clit with precision. A gasp escapes your mouth, and you angle your head back, catching his gaze while he toys with you. “Geto, I --” 
“Suguru,” he corrects you without any hint of anger. “Call me Suguru.” 
“Suguru…” You let his name fall from your lips with ease, and he grins down at you, raising a brow. 
“That’s it, princess,” he coos, watching your face twitch with pleasure. “That’s all I need to hear. God, you’re so fucking wet.” You hadn’t been touched like this in so long. The feeling of his fingers dancing across your clit was incredible, and for once, your legs were reduced to what felt like jelly. Suguru notices immediately, but instead of shifting you to the couch like you thought he would, he props you up neatly against a window and slides a finger into you.
“Oh, shit.” The feeling of the long digit nestled inside and stroking your core distracts you from the fact that the window is see-through and if one looked hard enough, they’d see a robe-clad figure pressed against it. 
“You like that, don’t you?” When you look up to Suguru's eyes, you see the hunger again; the need to know that he was pleasing you, even if that meant he got nothing out of it. The thought makes you shudder with content, and he takes it as assent before sliding another finger inside of you. You clench around him instantly, and his jet black eyebrows shoot up, noticing your heightened arousal. “Do you want to cum?” The question makes you moan out loud, and Suguru’s lips quirk up a little. “Gotta give me a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, princess.” 
“Yes,” you gasp, his fingers curling up and worming against your walls. “Oh, Suguru, yes, please.” 
“So polite…” he murmurs, pressing a hand next to your head while his other hand makes quick work of you. The sounds of your arousal are obscene to say the least, but you don’t care as you feel the tension in your core tighten to the point of almost snapping. Your hips buck against his hand, needing that release - needing that feeling of tumbling over into nothingness - when suddenly, he pulls his fingers out. 
“No!” Your hands fly to his biceps and his slick-covered fingers grip the back of your left knee. You pant desperately, feeling the sensation of the almost-orgasm abating as soon as his digits left your core. “Su…” you whine, and his brows knit together as he holds you there, hand above you and leaning into your body with your back pressed against the window. He continues to hold your frame against the window, your legs shaking from the denied orgasm. Once the moment passes, he snatches your robe tie off and you slide it down your shoulders, hoping that he will resume his previous ministrations soon. 
But your hopes are dashed when he lets go of your hiked up leg and unbuttons his dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor, followed by his belt and dress pants. The last article of clothing to go is his underwear, but the disappearance of it is overshadowed by the raging hard-on he has. The tip of his thick cock is already red and leaking pre-cum, and Suguru laces his fingers around it to pump it a few times before angling your chin up to look him in the eyes. 
“Do I have your consent, y/n?” 
“Fuck me,” you answer, gripping his forearm. 
“With pleasure.” He hikes your left leg up again, nudging at your entrance with his cock. When he presses into you, you both hiss, his cock not quite fitting. “Damn… Gotta stretch you out, huh?” He hoists your other leg onto his forearm, and you admire his muscles for a second before he attempts again, the feeling of being spread past your limit almost agonizing. “You can take it…” he whispers, leaning his forehead on yours as he sinks into you slowly. When he works a little more of himself into you - about half of his length - he presses a kiss to your opened lips, feeling your warm breath against his nose. 
“Su,” you exhale, and he nods a little. “It’s been a while…” 
“I can fucking tell.” His laughter is cut short by another inch of him sinking into your core, which makes both of you moan. “But it’s okay. Tell me if you need to take a break.” You nod, nipping at his bottom lip again, and he grunts, kissing down your sweaty neck before his lips latch onto your nipple. 
“Oh, fuck.” Your hips meet in a flash and Suguru’s head shoots up to look at you carefully. 
“Didn’t expect that,” he notes, searching your face for any sign of immediate pain. “Careful there.” He waits a minute before pulling back and then easing himself into you again, taking his sweet time as you unravel beneath him. 
“Please, Su, please…” you whisper shakily. You dig your nails into his skin and he exhales, quickening his pace a fraction as he dips low to find your nipple again. He rolls the bud around with his tongue, teeth grazing over it tenderly before he sucks hard, making you groan loudly. 
“You know how many people could look up and see me fucking you right now?” he breathes into your ear after his lips have left your chest. “But no one can touch you… no one but me.” He thrusts into you to make his point, pistoning his hips at a faster pace than before. You want to cry out, but his lips against yours muffles your exclamation. Before long, you can feel his balls slapping against your drenched core. The squelching noises and the slapping of skin soon fills the room and drives you even deeper into your tunnel vision of just you and Su, enhancing your impending orgasm. No one else matters. Nothing else matters. 
Suddenly, Suguru pulls out and lets you down, pushing your hip to turn you around so you’re facing the whole world while he fucks you from behind. When he slides into you, you stiffen a little, watching the world below you move at a leisurely pace this early in the morning. But your hands slide against the glass as he begins his work, grunting in response to your mewls of pleasure. You couldn’t focus on the cars or the businesspeople below… All you could feel was the massive cock between your legs, and the sensation of fingers on your clit paired with balls slapping against it occasionally. 
“I don’t want anyone else having you like this,” he hisses, and you whine a little, feeling his cock bruising your cervix. “Only me.” 
And with those words, you break. A massive shudder rolls down your spine and you feel the insane build up of two delayed orgasms crest over you. You shake violently against the cool glass; your sweaty body feeling only a fraction of relief at the sensation. As you clench around Suguru’s cock rhythmically, stars dance in the edges of your vision, and he picks up his speed, fucking you with purpose. 
“Oh, god, I’m gonna --” Spurts of cum shoot into your core before he can finish, painting your walls white and mixing with your cum liberally. Panting, Suguru drags you back to the couch, cock still inside of you while he catches his breath and you attempt to bring yourself back to reality. Before you can rest your head and close your eyes, you hear him murmur, “Please; no one else but me, y/n.”
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nolongerwrites · 4 years ago
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7 for Dazai 💖 I absolutely adored your last one!
Of course! And thank you so much!!! Sorry if you don’t like country 😔 I’m from Texas so I listen to a little bit of it! In fact, I went to a graduation party a couple of weeks ago and this song started playing but I was so shitfaced drunk and started dancing on the dance floor by myself LMAO!!!
This was a struggle but I hope you enjoy!
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DRINKING PROBLEM
“One more night, one more down”
“One more, one more round”
“First one in, last one out”
“Giving this town lots to talk about”
“But they don't know, what they don't know”
Dazai first met you at the bar he would regularly visit when he wanted to meet with Odasaku and Ango. You were sitting by yourself in the Corner sipping on an old fashion on the rocks as you scrolled through your phone. You looked tired and exhausted. It had been raining outside so a bit of water dripped from your hair onto your coat. In one glance he marked you down as absolutely stunning. He sat down in his usual spot and ordered his usual drink before looking at the clock on the wall. He had some time to kill before he assumed oda and ango would be here so he decided To try and strike a conversation with you.
“Maaan it’s been raining a lot recently wouldn’t you say?” Dazai twisted in his chair so he was leaning against the bar counter as he directed his attention towards you.
“Huh? Oh yeah i guess it has been” you looked up at him and smiled before shutting your phone off and setting it on the table. “love the rain as much as the next person but it sure is a pain having to walk around half drenched in water” you took a sip of your drink before shrugging off your coat.
“I haven’t seen you around here before, what brings you here tonight lovely?” Dazai leaned his head against his hand as the bar tender brought him his drink.
“Ah, I’m a college student here. Somtimes school and work gets to be a tad much, I like to have a drink or two once in a while” you swirled your drink around in a circle before setting it back down. “What about you?”
“Just meeting with a few friends. We come here often. Just some co-workers being drinking buddies” he smiled at you and you couldn’t help a blush creep onto your cheeks. “Why are you here by yourself? Yokohama can get quite dangerous at night”
“I don’t have many friends I have to admit. I’m so busy with work and school I rarely get to spend time with them. And even if I do have time, I usually spend it at home because I’m too tired” You signed and pulled out your laptop from your bag. Tonight unfortunately wasn’t a day off.
“People say I've got a drinkin' problem”
“That ain't no reason to stop”
“People sayin' that I've hit rock bottom”
“Just 'cause I'm living on the rocks”
“Not many friends?!” Dazai dramatically threw his hand over his heart and head. “How could a beautiful lady such as yourself not have many friends? Perhaps a Boyfriend? Surly you have a boyfriend” he was sitting at the end of his chair awaiting your answer.
You stopped in the midst of typing in the password to your laptop before covering a giggle with your shirt sleeve. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a boyfriend either unfortunately” Dazai swore he felt his heart skip a beat. “Well your in luck!! I dazai Osaka shall be-“
“Quit bothering that lady dazai” you both heard odasaku walk into the bar and dazai instantly slumped onto the counter muttering something about him ruining his moment
“Oh! He wasn’t bothering me!” You waved odasaku off in a friendly manner before going back to typing. “He was keeping me good company. And now that I know his name I can thank him properly” you gave dazai a friendly smile before thanking him
That’s right. Dazai didn’t even know your name. “What is your name by the way? I don’t think I ever asked?” And you told him. He repeated it to himself in a dreamy state before getting back up from the counter and striding over to you. He grabbed your hand and placed a soft kiss into the back of it before looking back up into your eyes.
“Now that I may continue, I dazai osamu, will here on out be your friend”
And he did. Shortly after his little declaration of friendship, he introduced you to odasaku and ango, who came in shortly after oda. And you quickly became comfortable with them. They did end up telling you what they all did for work. But strangely enough you didn’t really mind. You could never judge someone on what they did for work considering the things you’ve had to do a couple of times. So as you continued to work on college assignments, they talked about how their days went. Somtimes they’d ask you about yours but you would just tell them that they were far more interesting than you.
And this became sort of a regular thing. You exchanged numbers with all 3 of them in case they’d ever like you to join them again. So when the night ended and you started packing your things up. Dazai excuses himself to walk you Home.
“Oh dazai-san it’s fine really! I can handle myself!” You exclaimed as you stood at the top of the staircase “I’m alright really !”
He ended up walking you home anyways.
———————————————
Odasaku, Ango, And dazai did occasionally call you up to have a drink with them. You were more than happy to join them since they genuinely felt like good company. But more than once they would run into you while you were there. Today was one of those nights as dazai sat next to you while you did school work.
“Oh hey, I didn’t know you guys were coming tonight.” Dazai looked at your tired eyes as they were glued to the screen. Only sparing a glance when he sat down. “I’m just finishing up an essay due at the end of the week and my apartment is too quiet for my liking”
“It’s just me tonight.” He replied casually before waving down the bartender. He looked over and saw you had a couple of beers yourself. He noticed you tend to drink a lot when you came here. “ how’s your classes been?”
“Exhausting. I’ve never been more tired in my life. I just know this will all be worth it when I’m finally done” You let out a yawn before ordering another beer. But before you could continue typing, dazai had grabbed your wrist to stop you. You looked over at him and gave him a sympathetic smile “I’m sorry dazai-San but I really need to finish this up”
“Why don’t you take a break? You look like your fixing to pass out from exhaustion” he laughed before releasing your hand and sliding your laptop in front of him. You tried to get it back but dazai kept pulling it out of your grasp. You eventually gave up and both you and dazai spent the night drinking and talking. When you tried to get your laptop back so you could go home, he took it with him. “I’ll finish this up for you in no time! It can’t be that hard right?”
It was. In fact he just ended up having odasaku write most of the conclusion. He dropped your laptop off one morning at your apartment with a note on top stating he finished it for you so you could go to school. You texted him after your class and asked him if he’d be at bar lupin tonight. He immediately texted you back saying it was a regular night with Oda And Ango. You replied saying you’d drop by tonight if that was okay. They didn’t mind.
———————————————
“Do you like her? Don’t hide it we can tell” Odasaku said as him and Ango sat on either side of dazai. “Odasaku who wouldn’t? She’s pretty, smart, and she’s just great company in general! Who wouldn’t like her?” Dazai said in a exasperated motion. Ango only raised his eyebrow and smirked before taking a drink from his glass. “That’s not what I meant-“
“Dazai-San!!!” You shouted on top of the staircase prompting the three men sitting at the bar to turn around. You dashed as fast as you could down the steps and threw yourself onto dazai in a bone crushing hug. “My professor said that was the best essay out of the entire class!! I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me!!”
“ it was nothing! In fact I didn’t really do much-“ Dazai looked over at odasaku only for him to put a finger up to his lips telling dazai to be quiet. He would let him have this moment to himself. Though, he did appreciate the fact that his writing was good. “Maybe you could stay and have a drink with us to celebrate. You definitely deserve it” Dazai said as he hugged you back. “Of course! You said as you sat next to oda and ordered a drink.
You all spent the night drinking and laughing with each other. They toasted you for work done well and you couldn’t help but thank each of them even if they didn’t do much. Eventually the alcohol caught up to you and before you knew it you were pretty drunk.
“It's a broken hearted thinkin' problem”
“So pull another bottle off the wall”
“People say I got a drinkin' problem”
“But I got no problem drinkin' at all”
“Odasakuuuuu dance with me” you slurred as you got up from your chair and grabbed his hand to try and get him up. He shrugged and stood up in front of you grabbing your waist. You smiled and laughed before leading him in a slow dance. He laughed at you every time you stumbled, and every time you accidentally stepped on his shoe. When the next song played you wined and asked Ango to dance with you next. That took a lot of convincing up until dazai and oda picked him up and set him in front of you. You grabbed at him and led him in a similar dance. His clammy hands were pressed against yours tightly as you continued to stumble around. He let you lead because he couldn’t dance to save his life.
“I can’t dance I’m sorry” Ango said as he sat back down in his chair. As You, dazai, and oda laughed as you went and hugged dazai from behind his chair. “Care to dance with me dazai-San?” You whispered in his ear. “With pleasure belladonna” he smiled back at you and grabbed your waist. That’s when the music changed to something more melancholy. You leaned your head against his chest as he led you into yet another slow dance. Your head felt like it was spinning and your body felt too heavy for your feet. Dazai smiled and pulled you closer to his chest.
“I really can’t thank you enough, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time” you whispered into his chest. “Of course, you looked like you needed a break”. Odasaku and Ango quietly excused themselves outside as you two continued to dance. You looked up at dazai with half lidded eyes and he felt himself get lost in them. The bar light shone in your hair and outlined the beauty of your face. He couldn’t help but lean in and give you a small kiss. Which you gladly accepted.
It felt nice to finally get away from the troubles of life and spend time with good friends. You stayed like that for a minute before pulling back and giving him a side smile. You wish it would never end. Even as you continued to dance the night away in dazais embrace.
Unfortunately, that was the last time you saw any of them again.
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moskaisley · 5 years ago
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migraine pt.3 | chronic
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gif: @logan-solo​
rating: mature
word count: 3k
warnings: cursing, suggestive language, fluff but also ANGST, jealous!mando aka my favorite kind 
a/n: this literally took so long to write bc i basically changed the last half of this fic, but i’m rly happy with the results. there was a lot i wanted to include about life before din left, and i thought i’d put them in separate like one shots, but i figured that it would be include in the main story too. this is basically like an anime recap episode LMAO. enjoy!! thanks for the love <3
summary:
“But slowly and languidly, there was a sense of tenderness that began to bleed into the crevices of your daily lives.”
When you and the Mandalorian existed in another time, another place. 
parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6
ao3 link / masterlist
Dreams these days never really consisted of anything new. Old memories played in your head like a holovid, both the good and the bad. Tonight, they were filled with him. 
In the beginning, the two of you never really acknowledged what it was. 
You fucked only a few more times after the cockpit. Business always came first, of course, and sex wasn’t a regular occurrence. But when the tension (often mixed with the adrenaline of bounty hunting) became too much to handle, you were all over each other. Most of the time, you were in either of each other’s bunks, and you only did it in the cockpit when you couldn’t bother to go down the ladder. At first, you chalked it up to strictly satisfying physical needs. With the two of you in such close quarters, it only made sense. The aftermath often involved getting dressed and cleaned up in silence. There would be an occasional joke or two, but the discussion usually steered itself towards the next mission. 
But slowly and languidly, there was a sense of tenderness that began to bleed into the crevices of your daily lives. Your hands would linger on each other longer. He seemed to loosen up around you, joke around and indulge you in conversation. It was such a stark contrast to his menacing, stoic warrior demeanour he used when rounding up bounties.
Once, you found yourself too distracted and flustered to even spar with him.
“At this rate, you’ll never win a match against me,” he poked, legs straddling your waist as he pinned your arms down
“Oh, shut up,” you huffed, irritated. He had won against you using the same move, twice. 
You’d never tell him, but your eyes were definitely indulging over the build of his body, imagining the way his bare muscles flexed or his lips moved against yours. 
Squirming against him, you hiss, “Off, Mando.”
He chuckles and your chest tightens. I bet his real voice sounds like heaven.
“I dunno, I think I like you like this.”
He studies you under him, helmet tilting sideways watching your chest heave up and down. A wave of heat washes over you at the thought of tearing off his mask and pulling him down for a kiss. Mando lightly laughs again and you swear you’re going to fucking lose it.
“I think you like it too.”
With all your strength, you bring your knee into the small of his back, knocking him forwards as you twist to launch him off of you. After shuffling up to stand, you spin on your heels and march away, embarrassed at how he’s got you flushed and smiling like an idiot schoolgirl. 
He’s still groaning in pain when he calls to you, “Done already?”
You stumble on a witty response, “You’re the worst!”
Smooth.
--
You weren't the only one losing their cool. Mando became a lot more defensive of you in those days; you nearly killed him once because he kept trying to cover you from blaster fire. He even started a bar fight for you. 
You hated the stares you received by virtue of being around him; traveling with him always meant that being unassuming was impossible. Normally, people would avert their eyes. If you were particularly lucky, a poor soul would try and push the Mandalorian’s buttons, not realizing they’re digging their own graves. One day, however, you’d hit the jackpot when they decided to  target you. 
You sat across from him in a booth, patiently waiting for the quarry to pass through; you took the side facing the door while he was turned away, taking advantage of the element of surprise. Out of the corner of your eye, three drunk bumbling idiots stumbled from the opposite end of the bar. Despite your stealthy gaze, one of them locked eyes with you, and when you saw his lips curl into a disgusting smile, you knew you were in for it. 
The man you saw and sauntered over to your side of the chair. His friends shuffled behind him like dogs, and he practically beamed when he saw Mando, seemingly nonchalant.
“My my, Mando! You’ve got quite the catch here,” he says, undressing you with his eyes, “Where’d he buy a thing like you, baby?”
Are you fucking serious?
You cocked an eyebrow and shot him a glare in response, but remained quiet. You turn back to your view on the door, praying to Maker that he’d leave you alone. But the man didn’t let up.
Instead, he turns to your partner inquiring,
“How good of a lay is she, huh, Mandalorian? Bet she’d be a real treat for me and my boys” his men move a little closer to corner you both, “How much to take her off your hands?”
Can a girl just exist?
“I’m not for sale,” you snarl, voice tight. A dull pain begins to echo in your temples.
“So she speaks,” Your irritation only seemed to egg him on, “C'mon darlin’ let us take care of you. I promise I’m good for it.”
Your fingers were itching towards your blades, but you were still waiting on the quarry to enter the cantina. A scene would scare him away and you would lose your money and time.
Business comes first. 
At least, that’s what you thought.
Mando’s voice cut through your exchange, “Get lost, she said she’s not interested.”
“Now, that’s not what we heard, was it boys?” His men laugh in agreement behind him. His eyes turn dark as he goes to place a hand on your shoulder, “The lady can speak for herself. I think we can negotia-”
A blaster shot whizzes by your ears before you can even think to fight back against him. Mando, ever the gunslinger, shoots again towards his leg, knocking him onto the floor.
And then the whole bar descends into chaos. 
Drunkards pile on top of each other as tensions crescendo; the sound of a single shot has everybody up in arms. Your migraine only grows in intensity as the situation spirals out of control. To top it off, amidst the chaos, you see the quarry a few paces away. His eyes were wide watching the shitshow before him, and in a panic, he scurried back out the door.
You’d caught him eventually, but not without traversing the entire underground marketplace that stretched under the city. By the time he was in carbonite and you were both in the cockpit, your irritation boiled over.
“Are you insane, Din?” You fumed, “When did you get so careless? We nearly lost him!”
He simply looked at you as if you knew the answer, but his silence only fueled your exasperation.
“Fine, don’t talk to me,” you grumbled, throwing your hands in the air, “I’ll be in the refresher.”
You turned to leave, but his gloved hand suddenly gripped your upper arm, spinning you into his chest. It was then that you realized how much bigger he was, dwarfing you in his arms as he rubbed the space above your elbows. 
“He was gonna touch you,” Mando’s voice was low, bordering on a growl.
Oh. The air in the room shifts dramatically.
You take a shaky breath, your voice quieting down to a whisper, “And if he did?”
The gloved hands on your arms squeeze like a vice grip. Your heart swells.
“He’d have a hole in his head.”
Your expression softens before your lips spread into a sly smile. You move as close as you can, eyes boring into the black space of his visor.
“Tell me something,” you swallow hard as you gingerly move his hands to your waist and trace your fingertips over his breastplate. Mando’s breathing is ragged through his vocoder, and you relish in his excitement. You bat your eyelashes a few times before peering up at him.
“How good of a lay am I, Mandalorian?”
His fingers dig deeper into your sides before pulling you even closer, erection already stiffening against you. He groans out a response, “Let’s find out.”
--
There were little things that warmed your heart, too. When you were stuck in your bunk with a migraine, he never let you get up to do anything by yourself. He brought you water and food and he took extra care in opening the door so no light was let in and he wasn’t too loud. When you could tell he was dozing off in hyperspace, you forced him to go to bed. If he was particularly stubborn, you shoved him into the co-pilot’s chair and covered him with a blanket. Sometimes, if you came across a market with a few extra credits, you’d cook him a real meal, leagues better than the shitty ration packs you normally partook in. 
And then, there was the first time he kissed you.
You were strolling through a bazaar before a job when you stopped at a produce stand, excitedly picking up a fuzzy white peach from the box.
“I haven’t eaten one of these since I was a teenager,” you say, bringing up it to your nose and sniffing, “They smell amazing. We should get some later.”
Much to your chagrin, the job went south that day. You were so frustrated and angry that you’d completely forgotten about it, caked in mud and grime demanding to go straight back to the Razor Crest.
Holed up in your bunk and fresh out the shower, you were clad in only a long sleeve shirt and underwear when you heard him knock. When you opened the door, you were surprised to see  the fiercest hunter in the parsec standing before you with a plate of peaches from the market, sliced neatly into little wedges.  
Mando sat with you on your bed as he watched you eat; you told him about how the fruit used to grow on trees in your family’s orchard in the summer. Though you acted like you were sick of them, you always ate it when you were upset. You smiled at the memory of your adolescence, silently cutting up the fruit into wedges and eating them outside during dawn, right after your first break up with some boy.
You were so caught up in the memory that you nearly jumped when Mando leaned in and took your chin in his right hand. His finger traced over the side of your lips, and your heart raced in your chest. 
“Sorry, it’s just,” he uttered, “It was going to drip on your chin.”
You would’ve thought he’d lit your body on fire. Your core ached and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. When he began to pull back, it felt like instinct to grab his wrist and keep his hand near your face. You leaned into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to his thumb. 
You began to crawl across your bunk to him when he stopped you, “Wait.”
Mando stood, and closed the door and shut the lights off. Darkness enveloped you both, and you called out to him, “Din?” His voice cut through the inky dark, “Can you see anything?”
You hear him shuffle, as he stands in front of you, “I dunno, can I?”
“Y/N,” he urged, impatient.
“No, Din. I can’t see.”
And then you hear the air hiss, and metal clanging to the floor. Realization hit like a meteor crash.
He took it off.
You panic immediately.
“Din, wait! What are you doi-”
You shut up the instant his hands cup your face and his lips are on yours.
And it felt delightful, better than any kiss you’d ever had. Your eyes flutter shut as you deepen the kiss. Your arms go to wrap around his neck, and you pull him even closer, elated at the way his soft hair feels in between your fingers. You were sure that he could taste the sweet, tangy peach on your tongue. When he pulls away for air, your face feels flushed with heat and you could feel your swollen lips.
You’re in a daze, “You kissed me.”
He laughs and you hear it. His real voice. No distortion. No modulator. 
“I did.”
He does sound like an angel.
“Do it again.”
--
When it all broke apart, it wasn’t like the steady, dawdling way you fell in love. The break was quick and it stung worse than any migraine. 
“What do you think?”
You walked around the cockpit, tracing your fingers over the controls. “Why? You thinking of an upgrade?” You shoot Mando a smile. He doesn’t seem amused, “It’s nice, I guess. Smaller, though. We already have a tough time fitting together in the Razor Crest.”
You’d been on Nevarro for a few days, having finally finished your last job. Instead of going back to the Crest, however, Mando took you to a shipyard and aboard an empty cruiser. The Slipstream’s windows were big and were much cleaner, but space was still an issue even if you and Din didn’t carry much.
You turn to him expecting a response, but he only says, “Let’s go.”
“Wait, Mando,” you reach for his shoulder, “What is this about? I don’t understand. Why are we here?”
He doesn’t stop to answer, “I said, let’s go.”
You let out a huff as you followed him out of the cockpit. Ever since you landed, Mando’s behavior had flipped like a switch. Your friendly talks had been reduced to one-sided exchanges. He’d been ignoring you, cold like the beskar he donned on his back. 
“Mando!”
He kept walking down the loading ramp. His terrible attitude had made your blood simmer for a while, and now it was all boiling over. 
You stomp forwards, stopping at the entrance to the hull and shout. 
“Din, stop!”
And he does, but he doesn’t turn around.
You’re fuming, “What is your problem? You’ve been in a shitty mood ever since we got here and frankly I-” You’re interrupted by something flying towards you, instinct having you catch in your hands. It’s a small silver device. Code sets, for what could only be the ship you’re currently standing on.
The dots begin to chaotically connect in your head, “What the hell is this?”
“It’s the -”
“No, Din. I know what this fucking thing is,” You’re seething with panic and rage as you hold up the silver box, “I mean, what are you doing?”
He only stares up at you, the mask emotionless and frigid. The reality of the situation was crashing into you like waves; you were begging to any god that this was just a fucked up nightmare. Tears were stinging in your eyes, threatening to pool and pour over. 
You hated how your voice cracked, “Answer me!”
“I’m leaving you, Y/N.”
Fuck. Hearing him say it out loud made your gut wrench. 
You made an audible sob; you couldn’t control it. Shuffling to the bottom of the ramp, you’re desperate to try and connect to him, bring him back to you. The questions spill from your lips.
“Why? What did I even do? What’s wrong?” You bring your hands up, cupping the sides of his helmet. You whisper through your cries, “Din, please.”
You know. You feel it in your bones. You know he feels it too. 
He gently holds your wrists, “We can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t we talk about this?” You plead, “I know something’s wrong, you gotta let me in.”
“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” he chides, pulling your hands away from his helmet. Your heart feels like it’s in freefall when he turns around to continue walking.
You try to scramble forward to pull him back but to your horror, you’re met with the barrel of a blaster. The noise that roars through your ears sounds like shattering glass. You gape at him, a mixture of shock and disbelief contorting your features. The figure that stood before you was unrecognizable. Because it wasn’t Din, the soft lover who kissed you in the dark and traced words of Mando’a into your sternum. It wasn’t even Mando, the old snarky friend who joked at how bad of a shot you were and who laughs like a complete idiot when he had one too many sips.
It was the Mandalorian, the ruthless and deadly warrior poised and ready to fire you away.
--
You wake up smelling peaches and blaster smoke.
Shifting to sit up against the wall behind you, you groan at the dull ache in your head and heart. Mando is here with you at the foot of the bed; you’ve memorized the way the bunk feels with or without him. 
“Why are the lights off?” You ask.
“I didn’t know if you were going to wake up with a headache or not.”
Of fucking course. It drives you insane how considerate he is sometimes.
You suddenly become more alert as you remember, “Aayn’vida, where is she? Is she safe?”
He quells your anxiety immediately, “She’s safe. I took her to her family.”
“And Khan?”
“Cold.”
You feel him shove pills and a bottle of water into your hands. You took them, and as you both waited for the pain in your head to subside, he told you what happened in Jaemai. As it turns out, Aayn’vida’s mother was a doctor for many years, and she was kind enough to check on you and care for your wounds. Khan’s goon nicked your right side; no major organs were hit, but your skin was likely scarred since it was basically singed off. There was another thing, however. Mando had asked her about the constant migraines,  “She said that they can happen because of stress or trauma.”
You laughed bitterly, “Well, we both know I have plenty of that.”
Silence blankets you two again. Even in the dark, you can tell when the Mandalorian is uneasy. You wait for him to confess.
“If I’d known this would’ve happened, I would’ve never asked you to come with me,” he lets out a tired sigh, “I’m sorry.”
You roll your eyes. Why is he so fucking nice?
“We’ve been through worse,” you say, a familiar feeling fluttering through your chest, 
“Besides, this just means I’ve rightfully earned my 80%”
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bellakitse · 5 years ago
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This is our fate - I'm yours
‘Alcohol and one-night stands are messy; don’t sleep with your regulars.’ This is a personal rule Carlos lives by to run a good bar.
The first time Carlos Reyes sees TK in his bar, two things happen. One – he almost drops a brand new bottle of Jack as TK flashes him a smile across the bar. Two – he knows instantly as he stares at the ridiculously good-looking guy, he’s going to break his rule.
for @beka1820 on her birthday, I love you more than words can say, thank you for always being there for me and being my friend.
Carlos Reyes looks around his bar, it’s a slow Wednesday night, just a few of his usual first responders coming in for a drink after whatever grueling shift they just came off. When he was twenty years old, still in college with no idea what he wanted to do with his life, he couldn’t imagine that seven years later, he would own the bar he’d only started working at to ensure he wouldn’t have to eat ramen every night. While being a bar owner hadn’t been on the vision board of his life, he can’t say he regrets it.
He was lucky that his old boss, a grumpy redneck with a love for whiskey had taken him under his wing, teaching him not just how to tend the bar, but also the business aspects of owning the place. It wasn’t long before Carlos was placing orders and keeping the books. It took him a while to realize that the old kook was grooming him to take over, putting the place in Carlos’ name when he was ready to retire.
He still remembers driving the man to the airport – Florida bound – his boss had given him two things. The keys to the bar, and one final piece of advice. ‘Alcohol and one-night stands are messy; don’t sleep with your regulars.’
While it made him laugh, Carlos took the advice to heart. In the seven years that he has worked the bar, he’s never accepted anyone’s advances. He’s seen more than enough of his coworkers dealing with uncomfortable situations to know it’s not worth it. He’s never once been tempted to break his rule.
That all changes the first time he looks into the prettiest green eyes he’s ever seen.
Tyler Kennedy Strand.
The first time Carlos Reyes sees TK in his bar, two things happen. One – he almost drops a brand new bottle of Jack as TK flashes him a smile across the bar. Two – he knows instantly as he stares at the ridiculously good-looking guy, he’s going to break his rule. He doesn’t even second guess it. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s going to have the firefighter spread out on his bed, moaning his name. As he and TK eye-fuck each other, his body clenching with want and need when TK dares to wink at him, a playful smirk on his face as he wraps his mouth around the straw in his mineral water, Carlos knows it’s not a matter of if, but when.
“Heads up,” Iris Blake, his friend, and employee murmurs as she goes around him to grab a half-finished bottle of grey goose. “Your walking wet dream just came through the door for your standard weeknight flirting.”
Carlos can’t help the smile that comes over his face; it’s automatic whenever TK comes around. He turns around to greet him, his hello freezing when he sees the bruises on his face.
“What the hell happened?” he all but shouts, already making his way around the bar to get to him. Iris looks over at them, frowning first at his volume and then as she looks over at the firefighter. TK waves their concern away but doesn’t sidestep him when he reaches out and cups his face. He touches him softly, his fingers tracing lightly over a bump above his brow. “What happened, sweetheart?” he asks, the endearment slipping pass his lips without a second thought. The fact is that Carlos has thought of TK as his sweetheart the last four months that they’ve known each other.
“A house fire, got banged up a bit,” TK murmurs, closing his eyes for a moment when Carlos runs his hand down his cheek to his neck. “I’m fine; Michelle checked me out.”
“You should be resting in bed,” he scolds him gently after looking him over, there is a slight tiredness to his expression to go with the bruises.
“And miss the chance to see your face?” TK asks teasingly as he rests his hands on Carlos’ waist. The closeness makes Carlos’ heart skip. They have been blurring with the line between friends and more for weeks now, and he thinks as TK looks up at him with soft green eyes that the line is about to disappear tonight. “I wanted to see you,” he continues, his hands squeeze his waist, it makes Carlos take a step closer until his front is brushing TK’s. “The whole time Michelle was yelling at me for being reckless; all I wanted was to come and see you.”
Carlos lets out a steadying breath, and licks his lips, closing his eyes when TK lets out a needy sound as he watches him. Opening them after a moment, he sees the desire in TK’s eyes along with something Carlos can only describe as affection.
“You should be in bed,” he tells him again.
TK rolls his eyes at him, letting out a huff. “I’m fine, Carlos, really I –“
“You should be in my bed,” he cuts him off, anticipation coursing through him at the thought. “Upstairs – with me. What do you say?”
TK’s eyes go wide, he swallows hard and nods quickly. “Yes,” he says breathlessly. “Yes, please.”
Carlos nods back at him, unable to say anything when he wants him so badly. He turns to call out to Iris only to find her at the edge of the bar, both hands under her chin as she watches them like they’re the best show in town. He rolls his eyes as he takes in her wide smile.
“Guess that rule of yours is going out the window tonight,” she quips, her light eyes dancing with delight when he rolls his eyes again. “About damn time.”
TK lets out a small huff of laughter before pressing himself against his side, he tucks his face into Carlos’ neck, his lips sliding across the underside of his jaw.
It makes him shiver.
“Can you handle closing by yourself?” he asks her, while Iris grins even harder as she nods.
“No problem, boss,” she answers cheekily. “You just take care of your man,” she winks before walking away from them, heading for one of their regulars asking for a refill.
“Yeah,” TK murmurs against his ear, running the tip of his nose over Carlos’ cheek. “Take care of your man, baby.”
Carlos turns his head; he cups the back of TK’s neck, making sure to catch his eyes. “Is that what you are?” he asks, his voice no more than a whisper, his heart thundering under his chest. “Are you my man?”
TK looks at him, any hint of teasing wiped from his expression. “I’ve been yours since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he answers, soft, sure, and adoring. No one has ever looked at Carlos like that, and he’s sure if he looked in the mirror right now, he would see the same expression on his own face. He is in love with TK Strand. “Now, take me upstairs, Carlos.”
Carlos doesn’t whimper, but it’s close, he slides his hand down TK’s arm, interlocking their fingers before navigating around tables and his regulars as he guides them to the side door that leads upstairs. TK keeps close; when they make it upstairs to his apartment, he slides in behind him, his chin on Carlos’ shoulder, his arms wrapped around his waist, and fingers slip under his shirt running gently over the tender skin of Carlos’ stomach.
“Is this finally happening?” TK whispers against his neck.
Carlos turns around in his arms, never breaking TK’s hold on him; instead, he wraps his own arms around him, pulling him flush against him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, taking in the scrapes on TK’s face.
TK gives him a soft nod. “I am,” he assures him, a slow, wicked smile working it’s way to his face. “But I bet you if you kiss me, it will make it all even better.”
Carlos laughs, feeling giddy as TK grins at him.
“Come here then,” he murmurs, leaning in to close the small distance between them. The moment their lips touch, it’s everything Carlos has been fantasizing about for the last few months and more. He moans into the kiss, and TK answers it with a sound of his own, his lips parting under his mouth in a kiss meant to consume him. His tongue slips inside his mouth, letting Carlos taste him, and he’s instantly hooked. He thinks he’s always known that once he’s tasted TK Strand’s mouth, no other would do.
“I’ve had dreams about this,” TK whispers in between wet lingering kisses. “About you, about us.”
TK grabs his face between his hands; the next kiss he gives him is achingly gentle. “We are going to be so good, baby,” he tells him as his hand slides down Carlos’ stomach cupping him through his pants.
Carlos groans softly at the promise and wandering hand. He reluctantly pulls away when TK starts to rub him through his jeans.
“I’ve been dreaming about this too,” he tells him when TK pouts at him. “And in my dreams, I don’t come in my pants like a teenager.”
“No?” TK questions, his eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “What did you dream about?”
Carlos retakes his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. “Mostly? I dreamed about you saying my name as I fucked you into the mattress,” he answers, smirking when he hears TK take in a sharp breath.
He doesn’t get to say anything else when TK turns him around, pulling him into a hard, desperate kiss, his hands grabbing at the edge of his shirt. He pulls back enough to yank it over Carlos’ head before he dives back in, kissing his mouth before his lips move across his jaw and down his chest. Carlos lets out a groan deep in his throat when TK presses his tongue against his nipple, his body tightening in response. It snaps him into action; he’s thought about this moment too much not to live out every thought he’s had.
He helps TK out of his shirt before going for his pants; the next few minutes, they help each other get off every piece of clothing while keeping their mouths on one another.
Carlos pulls back to look at TK, raising an eyebrow when he sees a few more bruises on the left side of his ribs. “Just a little banged up, huh,” he says dryly as he touches the injuries gently.
TK gives him an unconcerned shrug; he’s too busy looking at Carlos’ naked body up and down. “You’re perfect, baby,” he says softly. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
Carlos gives him an absent nod, he takes TK’s face between his hands, and presses his forehead against his, closing his eyes as TK circles his hands around him, his fingers glide over his spine. “I do know,” he answers. “It’s exactly how much I want you, TK,” he opens his eyes to look at him, his heart beating harder with every word. “Sometimes, it feels like I have wanted you forever. Even before I even knew you, I wanted you.”
TK looks at him with wide eyes, his face so close that Carlos can see every emotion in them. He lets out a shaky breath, his hold on Carlos tightening. “Me too,” he whispers as he visibly swallows.
Carlos closes his eyes again, smiling when TK brushes his mouth against his. It’s gentle for a moment before it turns hot and intense as they get lost in their feelings for each other. He walks TK towards his bed, never breaking the kiss as he lays him back, hovering over him. He runs his hands over TK’s shoulders and down his arms, taking hold of his hands. Linking their fingers, Carlos brings TK’s hands above his head, pressing them into the mattress.
“Keep them there for me, okay baby?” he whispers against TK’s lips, smiling softly when TK lets out a soft moan, bobbing his head rapidly as he agrees.
Carlos kisses his mouth one more time; he gives his bottom lip a soft tug before he starts to move his way down TK’s body. He kisses and licks every inch of TK he can, paying extra attention at the thankfully few bruises he has.
“You have to promise me you’re going to be more careful,” he says against his ribs. “You said you were mine.”
TK nods quickly, his hips lifting off the bed when Carlos runs his tongue over his pubic bone. “I am,” he says breathlessly, spreading his thighs for him when Carlos gives one a soft squeeze.
Carlos settles on his stomach between his legs, spreading TK open even further. He looks up at TK’s body and the beautiful blush that has spread over it. His cock inches from his face is hard and perfect; it makes Carlos’ mouth water.
“Carlos – “ TK gets out. He looks up to find TK’s eyes on him, wild and a darker shade of green. “Please – put your mouth on me.”
Carlos lets out a low groan at the request right before doing as TK asks. He takes the head of his cock in his mouth, licking at the precum gathered at the slit. He moans again at the taste of him, his moan blending with TK’s.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” TK rambles as Carlos takes him in deeper.
He wastes no time, swallowing TK down until he nudges at his throat. He presses his tongue on the underside of TK’s cock and is rewarded with a desperate moan from him, his hips lifting again helplessly as he tries to sink deeper into Carlos’ mouth.
Carlos sucks at him, and he’s not sure who’s enjoying it more, him or TK, but he thinks it might be him. He finally has the chance to have TK the way he’s wanted him since the moment he first saw him.
“I’m going to come,” TK warns him, gasping when Carlos just hollows in his cheeks as he sucks him harder.
Carlos swallows around TK when he comes, licking at him until he’s soft. He takes his mouth off him when TK lets out a small whine. Sliding up his body, Carlos lands on his side next to TK, watching him as he catches his breath.
“What about you?” TK asks, turning his head to face him.
“It can wait,” he says easily even though he feels himself half-hard against his thigh.
“But – “ TK starts only to stop when Carlos leans in to kiss him.
“It can wait, baby,” he repeats against TK’s mouth. He moves on to his back, opening his arms for TK to settle against him. “Right now, I just want to hold you.”
TK lets out a sigh, a reluctant smile on his face as he curves into his side, resting his head on his chest. “This is because I’m banged up, isn’t it?” he questions. “You softie,” he pokes his stomach jokingly. “I thought you said you were going to fuck me into the mattress.”
Carlos grins at the words. “I thought you said you were mine?” he questions again, his stomach clenching when TK takes in a sharp breath.
It’s one thing to say that in the heat of the moment.
After a second, TK nods, he turns his head to press his lips against his skin. “I am, I’m yours.”
Carlos lets out the breath he’s holding; his heart thunders like it’s going to burst from all the love he’s feeling. He places his hand under TK’s chin, tilting it up until their eyes meet.
“I’m yours too,” he tells him. He sees the same love reflecting back in TK’s eyes. “And we have all the time in the world.”
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jj-lynn21 · 5 years ago
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HOLLYWOOD MOBSTERS Starring Bill Skarsgard and his family ch 1
ch 2​ ch 3 ch 4  ch 5 ch 6 ch 7
Wedding music 
Entrance Music for Wedding Reception
Warnings: fluff, smut, violence, cussing, angst
Tag a few I thought would be interested. 
@cheeseandthankyou​​ @crazyjam-pot​ @madamaholmes​ @super-pink-a-palouza​ @dreambigbeawesome​   @shenevertricks1831​​
Photoes from esquire Singapore Septemper 2019, Calvin Klein, IMDB and Ejalo’s Instagram
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Twinkle lights hang sporadically in the white tent fit for five hundred people. Guests start streaming in to sit at soft pink linen covered tables. Pale pink and white roses with baby’s breath that match the bride’s bouquet are the center pieces on each table. Light music plays.  A half an hour after the guests are seated the wedding party arrives in their white limousine.
To make some time for the guests to arrive at the reception before them the wedding party had the driver drive around town as they drank in the back. Laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It was the Skarsgard’s only sister, Eija’s wedding day. The ceremony was beautiful outside at the Cypress Sea Grove  in Malibu. 
 Views of the ocean behind the happy couple and wedding party made the photographer’s job easy to capture moments of love.  Now the same wedding party that was perfectly put together at the ceremony falls out of the limousine. Eija, her husband Zeke, Valter and his college girlfriend Angel, Bill and his companion Genna, Sam and his wife Pat, Gustaf and bride’s maid Rose, and Alex with Maid of honor and his partner in crime so to speak and very literally, Princess are laughing for no apparent reason getting themselves together before entering the reception behind the family mansion. 
Genna and Valter attempt to try to fix Angel’s dress. When she fell out of the limousine first, obviously intoxicated more than the others, the strap on her champagne pink top fitted flare bottom dress broke. Stellan just shook his head as he watched the young people try to get it together. Him and his wife Megan had driven in a second car with ring bearer eight-year-old brother Ossian and flower girl, a Cousin, Sara. He didn’t think the limousine would be any place for the children. And by the looks of things he was right.
Stellan got the little ones to dance with each other. This melted the hearts of the crowd. They were clapping as Stellan and his wife danced next followed by Bill who spun Genna out on to the floor. They smiled as they looked into each other’s eyes lovingly. Camera flashes going off repeatedly. Angel was still giggling as Valter lead her on the floor with her pinned up strap falling off her shoulder. His right hand in hers as his left rested on the small of her back. She rested her head on his chest and her free hand on his shoulder. She believed herself to be the luckiest girl at the University to be dating him.   Sam and Pat took to the floor elegantly. Gustaf followed suit with Rose gliding on to the floor like some kind of dance pro. But Alex made a grand entrance with Princess. They swayed to the music like Johnny and Baby in dirty dancing captivating the crowd. He didn’t mean to over-shadow the others, especially his sister on her wedding day but he just had this natural way of pulling attention to himself and anyone else he was with and Princess loved being in the spotlight with him.
By the time Eija and Zeke made their way into the tent everyone that could stand were standing. Many hooting and whistling their approval for all the couples. She felt blessed and loved with all her family and friends around her on this perfect day. Other couples joined in the dancing. Megan took the children to a table to give them some black and white cookies before the caterers had even put them out. This would appease the little ones until dinner was served, Stellan motioned for Alex to join him at the bar. Princess went to mingle eventually joining Bill, Genna, Valter, Angel and the rest of the wedding party at their table in front of the crowd.
Stellan and Alex get some scotch before discussing business in a way that doesn’t seem completely illegal. They never know who is listening or if a bug is planted to pick up every word they say.
“We have a truck coming with coke cola tomorrow, “Alex informed his Father. Coke cola really being cocaine. “The Malforals would like us to share the shipment. They were unable to get their own for some reason. I thought I would charge them the regular costumer price plus thirty percent.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Stellan tipped back his drink. “You talk to your little brother about what he wants to do for the family after he graduated college next month? He has been making us plenty at his University. Referring his friends to Bunny’s. Maybe he can replace the current bar tender. I don’t fucking trust that guy.”
“I’ll talk to him before he goes back to college,” Alex downed his drink and snapped his fingers for another. “I think he has his hands full tonight. That girl of his can’t handle her liquor.” 
“How about Bill,” Stellan asked, “Is he going to play for the family baseball team? We could still use him as clean-up batter.”
“I’m not sure he has a good time playing ball with the family,” Alex said. “But you are right he is the obvious choose for still being the clean up batter. I’m sure there is something I can do to convince him to join the team on a more permanent basis.”
“Good,” Stellan waved and smiled to some friends as they passed. “Let’s go celebrate your sister. This has been enough shop talk for tonight. Update me when necessary. Get Gustaf’s help with the Malforals.”
“Sure thing,” Alex downs another drink.
Stellan starts to walk away, “I think you can do better organizing the whole team together.”
Valter is feeding Angel some canape’s as she giggles. Water in her wine class.  She keeps tapping it with her spoon to signal the new married couple to kiss but she also kisses Valter each time insisting the whole wedding party is supposed to follow what the bride and groom do. He just chuckles having no problem kissing his girl in front of everyone. But when his sister gives him a look the tenth time, Angel makes her glass chime, he takes her hands.
“You don’t need to do that for me to kiss you,” He kisses her passionately, “my Angel.” He whispers in her ear as he moves her hand to his lap. “You can keep your hand busy under the table instead.”
Angel blushes and giggle. His lips brush over her earlobe before he moves his head up to look at her. He grins mischievously. He puts her hand with his over his bulging dress pants. Not the roomiest pants he has ever worn. He thinks the tailor could have let the crotch out a little more for him to be comfortable.
“No,” She giggles blushing whispers in his ear, “Ththere isss no ways you could keepp straight fasse if I give you a hand job under the table. Ssso no begging.” She was slurring some of her words.
Valter gives her a pouty puppy face, “we can just go to my room inside the house?”
She puts his hands in her lap. “Traditions sssay we can only leavvve after the bride and groom, ssso you wait. You knows good things come to those who wait.” She giggles more.
Alex makes his way outside. He lights a cigar as he walks towards the family’s private beach. Noticing he is being followed he dodges behind a large fat palm tree. He grabs the person pushing them against the tree wrists pinned up with one of his hands. He puts the cigar out on the tree and puts it in his inside pocket.
“You are getting better, Princess,” he grinned. “I didn’t notice you following me until I was almost on the beach. I bet you were following me from the tent.”
“I was,” She stared him down. “What did you hear first, my breath or my heel hitting the rock at ten paces?”
“The way you suck your breath in to quickly before holding it,” he breaths in Princess’ scent nuzzling his nose into her neck. She takes in that breath he was just telling her about. “I don’t know about others, but I can feel that breath you take in my groin.” He groans.  “Do it again and see what happens.”
Princess grins his hands still holding both of her wrist above her head. “Do your fucking worst to destroy my will Alex, I dare you.” She took a deep breath and let it out right in his face. The smell of champagne and the strawberries she had snacked on before stalking him hit him like cupid’s arrow. He smashed his lips to hers as he undid his belt. Princess knows him by now and didn’t even bother wearing panties under the long dress Eija chose for all her ladies. As soon as his pants hit the ground, he has her dress pulled up fucking her relentlessly against the tree.
When they met, she was a cop. She didn’t get paid shit. And didn’t see any way she was going to workup to captain. Because of the way she looked, her commanding officer often hand her playing a hooker on Hollywood Blvd. to catch pimps trying to put underage girls on the street. She knew most of the ladies were just trying to feed their kids. She thought it was her job to beat the shit out pimps that got to rough with girls or turned out underage girls like twelve-year-olds. Alex had picked her up one evening while she was working. He knew she was an undercover cop. Her partner was on the payroll. Alex also knew she would protect the girls at Bunny’s gentlemen’s club. He made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. They had been friends with benefits ever since. He like she didn’t give a shit who else he fucked. She liked the money of course, but also that she was the woman he chose to have on his arm at any event.
When they were done, they casually walked back up to the tent. They were just in time to watch the couple cut the cake.  After that there was one more dance before the bride and groom left to go on an exotic vacation to an island the family owned. Valter and Angel slipped out soon after to his room in the main house. They were both to drunk for anything but sloppy awkward laughing at each other sex, but it was enough to put them out cold within a half hour. It wasn’t always like this. They practically lived together in his frat house even though it really wasn’t allowed. No one was going to tell such a prestigious alum not to do something they were going to do anyway. Sometimes he would stay at her sorority. Pretend to be one of the girls using a high voice to get out the door if the house mother saw him. He even put on his girlfriend’s cloths to get past her out the door once.  They both thought it was hysterical.
Most of the family and some guests stayed the night at the house. But Bill, being the BAL (Bank America Loan) owner and head manager had to go to work the next morning so he and Genna went home.  He tucked her into bed, her eyes heavy with sleep, before stepping into the bathroom a few feet away to brush his teeth. He had been with Genna seven years but didn’t believe they needed marriage to show their love for each other. She was everything he ever wanted. Other than laundering money for the family a handful of times he didn’t go near the family business. He wanted nothing to do with it. He didn’t want to know more than he already did which wasn’t much in his opinion. As soon as he heard the window break, he grabbed the closest gun which was taped under the sink. He went back in the room shooting at the figure in all black and the person fell over the balcony right after he grazed Bill with a bullet.
Bill didn’t bother to look over the balcony. He pulls the bloody white comforter off his companion. Her eyes fluttered as she gasps for breath. Blood is ran down Bill’s arm where the bullet grazed him. He did not feel the pain of that. He only feels the pain of loosing the love of his life.
“Its alright baby girl, I got you,” tears run down his face, “I’ll call my brother. Sam will save you.”
Bill calls Sam to his apartment. But its to late. When Sam gets there, Bill is holding his dead girl’s body in the blood soaked comforter against him sobbing uncontrollably.  Sam’s not only worried about the abrasion still seeping blood on his brother’s shoulder but also his mental state.
Alex hobbles in and sat on a chair in the corner. He seems stunned by the site. “Fuck, I think they tried to take us all out. I chased a shooter off the grounds at the main house. They grazed my shoulder and hit me in the thigh. I tied it off like you said Sam. Bill what happened here?”
“They fucking killed her Alex,” he was still rocking her bloody body. “I don’t even have anything to do with the rest of you and they fucking killed her. I will fucking find out who did this and kill them. Who the fuck have you been doing business with?” He glares at Alex.
“We do business with a lot of people that see are family as a threat.” Alex said flatly. “I will help you, we will all help you find who did this to you best girl. I am sorry brother but you have to put her down so Sam can see if you need stitches. I have a bullet hole in my leg but you first brother. I insist.”
Bill slowly puts Genna’s body down in the bed. He closes her eyes and kisses her cheek before pulling the comforter over her completely. Tears still flowing even though anger is rising. He feels no pain. He just feels emotions, grief and hate.
“Bill look at me,” Sam pleads. “He checks bills reaction to light. His pupils are dilated. He washes Bill’s arm off, and he does not even flinch when Sam wipes the wound with stinging alcohol.
Alex and Sam are both concerned. Sam stiches up his arm. Bandages up the stiches and puts a water-proof wrap over the bandage.
“I need to work on Alex.” Sam throws the bloody suture kit in the nearby trash. “You should shower. You will go back to the house tonight. A cleaning crew will deal with the apartment and make sure your love is taken to our family funeral home. We can deal with the rest tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Bill mumbles, “they are all fucking dead by tomorrow night. Whoever planned this and whoever did this and there whole fucking family are dead.” He gets up slowly. Then goes to shower stripping off the bloody remnants of the night before turning the shower on and stepping inside.
Sam checks out Alex, “Keep an eye on him closely. He is in terrible shock.”
“We will all take care of him.” Alex assures. 
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stellalux-universe · 5 years ago
Text
Starry Eyes
It's rare that Tommy and Nikki get the whole apartment to themselves, no Vince, no parties, no typical rockstar shit. Just them and Nikki plans to take full advantage of that all night long.
I'm terrible at summaries guys, seriously.
~
This is dedicated to the lovely @the--blackdahlia, who may have mentioned something about wanting a fic where Nikki just took his time taking Tommy apart all night so long ago that she probably doesn't even remember mentioning it ~I'm sorry, it takes me forever to write anything!~
Anyway, I decided to make this a follow up to Piece of Your Action so this is set in that same universe but you don't have to read one to understand the other.
Also, I have never written slow tender sex and let me just say that it is hard as hell to write and I'm still not sure that I like how it turned out but it was good practice. Keep in mind, this NSFW af people.
Also, as usual, editing? What editing?
Hope you enjoy!
~
Nikki knows that people are constantly surprised by his and Tommy’s relationship.
Not the fact that they’re together, no. He’s pretty sure the entire glam metal scene sighed a collective sigh of relief that reverberated through the entire music business when they finally stopped pining and just admitted that they were idiots who definitely liked each other as way more than bandmates and friends. Two years of them being longing, annoying, frustrated morons was definitely more than enough.
No, no one was shocked when they became a couple, anyone with eyes could see their feelings for each other plain as day even if they couldn’t themselves. But people were surprised by what kind of couple they were.
Nikki gets it. They were the Terror Twins, still are. They’re wild, chaotic, they drink too much, they definitely probably do too much coke when they party, they destroy property, and get into bar fights nearly every week. Thing was, that used to be all Nikki could get. That used to be his way to be close to Tommy so that’s all there was. When Tommy had wrapped his arms around Nikki’s neck that one night six months ago, tipsy off of too much whiskey and kissed him, it had changed everything.
Nikki had him now. Tommy was his just as much as he completely belonged to Tommy, and Nikki was going to cherish every fucking moment they had. He couldn’t help but wrap Tommy in his arms whenever he could, couldn’t stop himself from pulling the drummer into his lap and pressing kisses along his shoulders, calling the younger man his baby and angel and princess. He can see the expression on people’s faces, the look of shock over just how fucking soft he gets for Tommy.
He really couldn’t give a fuck about what they think.
Tommy warms him in a way that Nikki had only ever read about in books or heard about from shitty, unrealistic movies. Every time he smiles, or pushes his way into Nikki’s arms, the bassist feels one of the many deep, dark wounds inside of him close up and heal, his drummer’s love a balm for his beaten, battered soul.
Right now was the perfect example.
It was just them tonight, a rarity this early in the evening but for once, they hadn’t felt like going out after rehearsal. Vince had taken off nearly as soon as they had wrapped up in the studio, nothing but a wave and a yelled out ‘no fucking on the couch’ as he left and Mick had been feeling tired and a bit sore so he had gone to his own place to pass out and hopefully regain some energy.
After they had gotten home they had toyed briefly with maybe going out but it was winter in Los Angeles and the minute that the first pitter-patters of rain started beating down on their windows, Nikki knew they weren’t going anywhere.
That’s how he ended up here, on his back on their beat up old couch with Tommy curled up against him, head resting on his chest under a threadbare old blanket and watching some b-flick horror movie marathon on the small television that Vince had conned from an ex-girlfriend.
He hears and feels Tommy giggle when one of the characters in the movie gets cornered by the monster after running into the basement, the sound moving through Nikki and painting a smile on his face that he couldn’t have wiped off if he tried.
“His face, dude, he’s so surprised! Like, what did he expect when he ran into the fucking basement in the dark with a monster on the loose?” Tommy is laughing into his chest, fingertips of one hand absentmindedly playing with a lock of Nikki’s hair.
“Fucking moron.” Nikki agrees with a snicker of his own as he refocuses on the movie and not the man in his arms. It lasts all of a minute before his eyes are moving back to the mess of dyed black waves that is Tommy’s hair in front of him and his arms tighten around the drummer’s slender waist.
Tommy hums contently as Nikki presses his face to the top of his head to bury his nose in his curls, “You’re not even watching baby, I thought you wanted to see this.”
“I am watching.” Nikki argues without moving from his position. Tommy’s hair smells like coconut from the shower he took when they got home, more of an attempt to get warm than to get clean.
Tommy snorts in disbelief even as he nuzzles into Nikki’s chest. He brings one hand up to point at the tv and asks, “Then what’s the name of that character?”
Nikki doesn’t even look at the television, “Sandra.”
Tommy’s body shakes in laughter and it makes Nikki’s lips curl in a smile again, pride settling in his chest that he had made Tommy laugh like that, “Yeah Nik, HIS name is Sandra.”
Nikki laughs too before they quiet down, Tommy going back to watching the movie and Nikki back to watching Tommy.
He was so beautiful, Nikki had always thought so from the first day he had set eyes on him when he still drummed for Suite 19 and Nikki was still with London. How could he have known then that the skinny kid who looked no older than seventeen would be everything he had ever wanted and more? That he would quiet the terrible voices that whispered in his head about what a failure he was with loud bubbly chatter and more physical affection than Nikki had ever received in the combined total of his life?
He couldn’t have, so maybe it wasn’t love at first sight but it was love at second sight and that was still pretty damn miraculous if you asked Nikki because he knew that he was gone for Tommy just minutes into their first conversation at that shitty little diner after his last show with London.
Nikki slides a hand to creep up under his t-shirt that Tommy is wearing. He loves when Tommy wears his shirts, Tommy may be just a bit taller than him but he is just so damn slender, Nikki’s clothes always hang loose off of his narrower shoulders and expose his collarbones in a way that shouldn’t be so distractingly sexy considering Nikki sees his lover in skin tight leather and fishnets on a regular basis. But it is and Nikki prescribes it to his own possessive nature, something about Tommy in his clothing satisfying a primal urge to lay claim to his boyfriend.
He rests his hand on the warm smooth skin of Tommy’s lower back and lights up inside at the shiver he gets when he starts rubbing his thumb back and forth over the dip that his spine makes.
Tommy shifts against him and Nikki almost stops his petting but Tommy whines and the bassist continues his motions as Tommy speaks again, “I bet you’d do well in a horror movie baby, you’d definitely survive I think.”
“You think so?” Nikki murmurs, lips pressing kisses into Tommy’s hair.
“Mmm-hmm. You’d be the hero left at the end, alive after kicking some monster ass.”
Nikki laughs before smiling deviously, “You’d die in like the first ten minutes.”
“HEY!” Tommy twists in his hold and moves to straddle Nikki’s hips, face full of a mock offended expression and Nikki’s hands rest on his thighs like they were pulled there by magnets.
The lights are off in their apartment but the glow from the black and white movie on the television is enough to light Tommy up. Nikki is sentimental enough right now to momentarily think that’s because light is just drawn to Tommy, no matter the source it reaches out to bathe the younger man in its glow, as if it can sense Tommy’s own light inside of him.
“I’ll have you know Sixx that I would last until at least half way through.” Tommy says with indignation coloring his voice.
Nikki smiles wide again as he looks up at the drummer, “So even you admit you wouldn’t survive.”
Tommy sighs sadly, “Yeah, I’d die. I would be the tragic death that no one wants but pushes the hero to survive. You know, if I didn’t die doing something fucking stupid first.”
Nikki smiles as Tommy chuckles at himself a little bit, “Nah, you’d live babe.”
The drummer leans forward, hands on Nikki’s chest to support himself and the way the t-shirt he’s wearing slips to one side and nearly falls off of his shoulder, his curls slipping to frame his face just so, big brown eyes sparkling in the light of the television, it all combines together to create Nikki’s own personal vision of heaven.
“Even I know I’d die Nik but thanks for the support.” Tommy grins and leans down to rub his nose against Nikki’s in a small affectionate gesture and Nikki is sure that he doesn’t know just how much little things like that make his heart beat out of his chest, fill him with a warmth that is so contrasting to his previous chill that it’s almost painful as it spreads through him.
Tommy has always done things like that though. Even before they finally got together, even when they had just met and were still getting to know each other. The drummer is a physically affectionate person in general and he’s always hugging and touching people but he was always just so soft with Nikki. He was constantly cuddling into Nikki’s side and laying his head on Nikki’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek, almost as if he could sense how little Nikki had been touched like that in the past and made it his personal mission to remedy that.
It used to drive him crazy back when they still hadn’t admitted their feelings to each other. Because Nikki was sure that those little touches meant so much more to him than they did to Tommy. Now though, they drive him crazy in a different way.
Tommy backs away just a little bit, still only a few inches away from him and Nikki knows that he must be looking at Tommy with his ‘forever’ eyes. That’s what Tommy calls them, says that sometimes Nikki will look at him like he’s planning their next one hundred years together. He always knows when he’s looking at Tommy like that because Tommy gets this answering softness in his own gaze.
Nikki raises a hand off of Tommy’s thighs to cup the side of his face, fingers pushing into the curls slightly to keep them back, smiling softly when Tommy presses into his touch, “You wouldn’t die babe, because I’d never let anything happen to you. That monster can kiss my ass.”
The smile that slowly spreads across Tommy’s face absolutely takes Nikki’s breath away. How many lyrics has that smile inspired him to write? How many songs that will probably never make it to the public but that he hums to Tommy in bed were inspired by that expression? Nikki could make more platinum records than any artist in history, he could play to the biggest crowd in the world, could make it into the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame, but he would never be as proud as when he puts that look on Tommy’s face.
He uses the hand on Tommy’s cheek to pull him forward and presses their lips together in a short, sweet kiss. Nikki feels Tommy’s quiet gasp against him before the drummer is breaking their kiss to run his lips against Nikki’s jaw.
“My hero.” Tommy breathes out against his skin as Nikki drags his other hand over Tommy’s hip and underneath his shirt to pet at the soft warm skin of his waist.
“I’m hardly a hero, angel.” Nikki means it. The things that he’s done in his life hardly qualified him for such a position. There’s a darkness in him, maybe it was always there or maybe it was planted by his childhood, watered and grown by the early events of his life but whatever the case, Nikki can’t even begin to see himself in such a light.
“You are to me Nik, leather and chains and tattoos and all. My punk hero.” Tommy says it so earnestly, staring into his eyes with that tender expression that makes Nikki understand what Tommy means by ‘forever eyes’.
Nikki pulls him in for another kiss, firmer this time but still slow, just a press of their mouths against each other until he sneaks his tongue out to lick gently at Tommy’s bottom lip. The drummer opens up for him immediately, without hesitation, and Nikki reaches his tongue inside Tommy’s mouth to taste him. He could never get tired of this, of the way Tommy feels under his hands, under his mouth, could never tire of the taste of him on his tongue.
He feels a subtle tremor move through Tommy’s body as he curls his tongue around the younger man’s and he hears the whine that Tommy makes high in his throat. They have so many speeds to their relationship and when they fuck, both typically favoring the type of all-out throw down where they both lose control nowadays. Nikki knows that Tommy loves it when Nikki dominates him, when he fucks him hard and fast and barely gives him any time to recover before wrecking him all over again but he knows his lover so well. He knows that Tommy might love to get ruined, but nothing gets Tommy whining faster than when Nikki takes him apart slowly and that’s what Nikki wants right now. He wants the drummer falling apart under him in a way that makes Tommy feel every ounce of love that Nikki possesses for him.
Nikki moves the hand he has on Tommy’s face to sweep back and cradle the back of his head, fingers twisting in his curls, keeping him steady as he sits up so that Tommy is seated in his lap, not once breaking the contact of their lips as he continues to map out the drummer’s mouth. Tommy is whining louder for him now and when Nikki pulls back to catch his breath, the sound becomes unmuffled and it has Nikki surging forward to press kisses up and down the column of Tommy’s throat as the drummer buries his hands in Nikki’s hair.
“I love you Tommy,” Nikki breathes out against the skin of Tommy’s neck, determined to kiss every square inch of his body before the night is over, “Love you so fucking much angel, you got no idea.”
Tommy slides his hands from Nikki’s hair down to smooth over his neck and shoulders before cupping his bassist’s face in both hands and kissing him again, “I love you too Nik, god I love you baby.”
Nikki runs his hands over every plane and curve of Tommy’s body before settling on his hips and lower back, rubbing at the small of his back in a way that spreads heat through Tommy’s hips and makes him moan against the bassist’s lips, grinding down against where he can feel Nikki’s erection through their underwear beneath him. Nikki continues to pet at the warm skin as Tommy rocks his hips softly against him, little moans and gasps escaping his lips until he presses a kiss to Nikki’s ear, “Take me to bed Nik, I want to feel it, wanna feel how much you love me.”
The bassist can’t do anything but obey, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and standing, blanket falling away as the drummer wraps his legs around Nikki’s hips and reconnects them in a kiss. Nikki’s feet take them to their bedroom by muscle memory, his eyes closed to savor the pure feeling of Tommy’s lips against his own, the sounds of his pleasure over the soft rain fall on their windows. They won’t be here for much longer, soon they’ll be picking out a house of their own and Nikki will have to relearn his way through it without the use of his eyes because the thought of separating himself from Tommy for even a moment while they’re like this is unbearable.
For now though he gets them into their room without any issue, not bothering to shut the door since Vince won’t be home tonight. He leans far enough over the bed to gently lay Tommy down before straightening back up and moving to grab a bottle of lube from on top of their dresser and pulling off his shirt and underwear easily, mindful of Tommy’s wanting brown eyes watching him.
He sees Tommy go to follow his lead and grab at the hem of his own shirt so he moves to settle in between Tommy’s legs and grabs the drummer’s hand, setting the lube next to them before taking Tommy’s other hand as well and pressing them both to the bed on either side of his head, dipping down to kiss him deep and devouring.  
“Just stay there angel, I’m gonna take care of you.” Nikki presses one more kiss to Tommy’s lips before he sits back on his knees and takes Tommy’s left ankle in his hands, bringing it up to rest on his shoulder and turning his face to kiss at the bone before slowly moving his lips up his calf.
Tommy takes a shuddering breath as he feels Nikki’s lips on him and sighs his name, “N-nikki.”
His tone of voice makes Nikki pause and exhale shakily himself at the raw emotion filling his heart right now, “I’ve got you baby.”
He continues his path and stops to suck at the thin skin behind Tommy’s knee, delighting in the twitch Tommy’s hips make and the whimper he releases before he moves up further to kiss and suck at the soft skin of Tommy’s inner thigh.
“Oh god Nikki, please… please just hurry.” Tommy moans as he squirms and arches in Nikki’s hold.
Nikki places a firm hand on Tommy’s hip to keep him down and still, nipping sharply at a spot on his thigh in reprimand, “Not tonight angel, I’m taking my time tonight.”
Tommy whines as he tries to push closer to Nikki’s mouth but the bassist just moves to the other leg and gives it the same treatment going down. The drummer is trembling by the time Nikki gets down to his right ankle and the bassist would normally take mercy on him at this point but he’s too caught up in Tommy right now to even consider hurrying this along. Instead he just slides his hands back up Tommy’s legs and starts pushing the t-shirt up so he can suck and nibble on Tommy’s hipbones, fingers sneaking under the material to tweak and rub at Tommy’s nipples.
The drummer’s legs are spreading wider automatically and shaking on either side of him, back arched and hips rolling up against nothing as he whimpers and calls out for him so sweetly.
Nikki places a few simple kisses to the skin underneath Tommy’s belly button as he skims his fingertips down his waist until he’s gripping the material of Tommy’s underwear, leaning back to watch as he pulls them away, the drummer’s legs coming back together to let him slip them down before promptly spreading open again once they’re off.
Nikki groans at that, Tommy is always so open, so wanton in bed that it never fails to drive him crazy. Looking at him now, face and shoulders flush, curly hair messy, eyes hooded and dazed as they stare into Nikki’s and long legs spread for him, Nikki swears that he has never seen anything so fucking beautiful.
He lets Tommy pull him down when the drummer’s hands find his shoulders, ducking to kiss him again as he slides his hands underneath Tommy’s body and clutches his close. Tommy wraps his legs around Nikki’s waist again and the bassist hisses when the drummer rolls his hips up against his. He knows what Tommy is trying to do, knows that he’s trying to goad Nikki into going faster, into just fucking him already but Nikki isn’t going to fall for it.
The bassist breaks free of Tommy’s hold and gently turns him over onto his stomach, pushing his shirt up and keeping Tommy’s hips pinned down as he presses his lips to the top of his spine.
“Nikki, nngh, baby, please, you’re killing me.” Tommy whines as Nikki moves his mouth down the length of his back and the older man can’t help but smirk against his skin when a rough suck midway down his spine has Tommy moaning and pushing his ass up against his hold. The further down his back Nikki gets the louder Tommy moans and when he pulls the younger boy’s hips up to settle him on his knees and sucks harshly at the base of his spine above his tailbone Tommy whines so loud and high pitched he surprises even himself.
“I’m getting there angel, gonna make you feel so good Tommy, I promise.” Nikki runs his hands reverently over Tommy’s ass, gripping both cheeks in his hands and spreading him apart delicately. Tommy is panting below him, hands fisted in the sheets of their bed and Nikki moans himself as he leans in to lick over his lover’s entrance.
Tommy lets out a surprised yelp, arches his back and spreads his legs further and the motion sends heat rushing through Nikki’s abdomen, encourages him to lick another wet stripe over the rim before firming his tongue up and slipping it inside.
He loves eating Tommy out, it’s honestly one of his favorite things to do because Tommy responds so beautifully, whatever tenuous control he had before completely leaving him and the high gasping keens he makes drive Nikki insane. Nikki thrusts his tongue in and out of Tommy, making sure to curl it up and rub as hard as he can against the walls of his hole, reveling in the scream Tommy lets out.
Nikki has never had a lover that drove him like this. Before Tommy, sex was purely for his benefit, of course he wanted his partner to feel good but that was secondary to his own pleasure. With Tommy it’s completely flipped. He couldn’t care less if he ends up coming after this, all that matters to him is making Tommy feel as good as he can because seeing Tommy in pleasure, seeing him come because of Nikki is more satisfying than any orgasm he has ever had with anybody else.
Nikki pulls back to catch his breath and watches lustfully as Tommy’s hips squirm in his hold and his entrance clenches around nothing. He leans forward and presses kisses and nips to Tommy’s cheeks as he lets go, reaching out to grab the lube and slicking up his fingers before pressing one inside slowly.
Tommy gives him a satisfied moan and then releases one fist to reach back for him and Nikki bends over to press his chest to his back and threads his fingers through the back of Tommy’s hand, pressing it back down to the mattress and capturing his mouth in a deep kiss, all the while thrusting his finger into him, adding a second slick digit when Tommy starts pushing his hips down onto it.
Tommy breaks their kiss to gasp as Nikki’s two fingers stretch him out and the bassist presses his forehead to Tommy’s temple, the air between them warm from the drummer’s panting breaths and Nikki basks in the intimacy.
“Nikki!” Tommy keens loudly suddenly, eyelids fluttering over those pretty brown eyes that Nikki so adores, hips stuttering and walls clenching around his fingers tightly. Nikki knows that he must have hit Tommy’s prostrate so he keeps that same angle as he drives in again with three fingers this time and Tommy collapses, chest to the bed and face buried in the pillow as he sobs from the pleasure.
Nikki releases Tommy’s hand and carefully tilts his head to the side so he can kiss the drummer’s cheek. He’s painfully hard now, throbbing with need as he feels how tight Tommy is around his fingers, as he watches his lover falling apart beneath him, more drunk off of Tommy’s whines and whimpers than any liquor could get him.
“Nikki, N-nik please, I-i need more, please baby.” Tommy moans as Nikki bites gently at his earlobe, fingers still curling up against that spot that makes his toes curl.
Nikki breathes out a shaky breath, “Tell me what you want baby, I’ll give it to you, always. Give you anything you could ever want Tommy.”
Tommy whimpers again, one hand reaching up behind him to tangle in Nikki’s hair, “You, Nikki, I want you, baby I want you inside me, please.”
Nikki groans, pulling his fingers out and kissing Tommy’s cheek again to soothe him when he whines at the loss of fullness, “Anything for you Tommy.”
The bassist runs his hands down the length of Tommy’s back and grips his hips, turning him onto his back, settling between his legs and sighing when Tommy’s hands find his face. Nikki stares into Tommy’s eyes and sees everything, everything that he never thought that he would have staring back at him. The pure, unconditional love shining in Tommy’s bright brown eyes steals the breath right out of lungs, beckons him in a way that’s impossible for him to resist. He curls one hand into Tommy’s curls as he surges forward to kiss him, his other hand holding on to his cock as he pushes forward into Tommy.
Nikki watches as Tommy tosses his head back, a shuddering moan escaping him as Nikki bottoms out while the bassist rests his weight on his forearms on either side of Tommy, pressing his mouth against the drummer’s throat as he pants and tries to catch his own breath.
Being inside of Tommy is unlike anything else. The pleasure is one thing, Tommy is hot and tight around him, it makes him dizzy with how absolutely good it is, leaves him wanting it all the time. But it’s more than that with his drummer, it’s the idea of them being connected, it’s how Nikki only feels whole when he is a part of Tommy like this, cradled inside of him, home.
Nikki feels Tommy bring his shaking legs up to wrap around his waist and the younger man uses that leverage to roll his hips up, sending Nikki deeper into him and making him gasp out, “Move, Nikki, need you to move now.”
One of Nikki’s hands next to Tommy’s head sinks into his hair and the other travels down his body to grip the outside of his thigh as he pulls out slowly enough to feel every inch of Tommy’s walls around him, pushing back in just as slowly to feel how he opens up to him, groaning as the drummer mewls, hands coming up to clench around Nikki’s back and keep him close.
Nikki rolls his hips languidly between Tommy’s legs, fucking him deep and slow, savoring every gasped moan, every loud cry when Nikki hits his prostrate, every sob when Nikki grinds his hips between thrusts.
He picks up his pace just a little, one arm releasing his grip on Tommy’s thigh to wrap around his lower back and lift his hips so that he’s at a perfect angle to slide right into the spot that makes Tommy see stars.
Tommy moans loud and long, fingertips pressing into the muscle of Nikki’s back and pulling the man on top of him down to press their lips together in what cannot technically be defined as a kiss, both too far gone to do more than pant and moan against each other’s mouth.
A particularly deep thrust has Tommy gasping and clenching even tighter around Nikki’s cock and the bassist hangs his head and grunts as a wave of pure pleasure washes over him, squeezing Tommy’s lower body even closer to him. Tommy’s fingers sink into his hair and card through the strands frantically as he presses kisses to Nikki’s forehead.
“Nikki, oh god… so good baby,” Tommy whimpers against his skin, pushing back against the bassist’s thrusts as well as he can with Nikki’s hold on him, “You love me so good Nik, please don’t stop.”
Nikki breaths sharply through his nose as Tommy talks, his words lighting him on fire like they always do and Nikki wraps his other arm around Tommy’s shoulders tightly, straightening up so he’s kneeling with Tommy held up in his arms and straddling his lap. Gravity drags Tommy down onto his cock and forces him deeper and the feeling of Tommy surrounding him is overwhelming to the point of incoherency as he thrusts up into his drummer, making Tommy throw his head back and wail, rolling his hips down without even thinking about it.
Nikki rests his head against Tommy’s shoulder as he drives into him over and over, mouthing over his sweat slicked skin and barely aware of what he’s saying as he whispers out praises, “My beautiful angel, so sweet baby. Can’t believe you’re mine, absolutely blows me away, are you close baby, shit, I’m so close, you feel so fucking good Tommy.”
Tommy nods desperately as he continues to moan, tears filling his eyes and one sliding down his cheek at the pleasure and emotion overpowering him.
“I’m close, nngh, god I’m close Nik. Wanna come with you, make me come with you, please.” Tommy’s pleas may as well be commands because Nikki is sliding his hand from the drummer’s shoulders to slip between them and grasp Tommy’s cock, jerking him off in time to his thrusts as Tommy cries out, more tears escaping his eyes.
It only take a few slides of Nikki’s hand and another deep thrust inside of him to make Tommy come, the way the drummer’s mouth falls open to whisper Nikki’s name so brokenly and the way his hole contracts around Nikki drags the bassist right along with him. His hands grasp on to Tommy to hold him close, groaning at the bliss that envelops him as he spills his release into him.
Nikki holds on to him as they tremble from the force of their orgasms, pressing kisses to Tommy’s collarbones that are exposed by the shirt he’s still wearing as he listens to the quiet little whimpers Tommy makes with his aftershocks.
He feels Tommy running his hands through his damp hair absentmindedly and sighs when the drummer cradles his head against his shoulder.
“Nikki Sixx, you better not ever fucking leave me because you’ve ruined me for anyone else, Jesus.” Tommy sounds exasperated, but so damn fond and satisfied that Nikki grins.
“Gotta keep you hooked baby, I’m trying to keep you forever here you know.” Nikki leans back, cupping Tommy’s face and rubbing a tear streak away with his thumb.
Tommy smiles, dipping down to kiss him briefly, “I’m never going anywhere Nik, not if I can help it. Except if a monster is after us then I’m out of here because we both know that I would die in no time doing something dumb like throwing a whiskey bottle at it or something.”
They both laugh at that and the movement jolts Tommy in his lap enough to make Nikki moan and start to harden again, the drummer gasping at the feeling of the bassist stretching him as he grows, “Fuck, already Nik?”
Nikki smirks, “I already told you didn’t I baby?”
Tommy yelps as Nikki lays him down and rolls his hips into him, pressing forward to whisper in his ear, “I’m taking my time with you tonight.”
The drummer moans at that, “Forget the monster, you’re definitely going to be the death of me Sixx.”
Nikki laughs giddily before capturing Tommy’s lips is a ravenous kiss, intent on showing his angel how much he loves him for the rest of the night.
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gotbts7fics · 5 years ago
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Reckless | Two |
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One | TWO | Three
The club was busier than you anticipated, several girls had already began working the floor, while Jisoo sat in the booth just off the stage. This gave him a view of the stage and floor, always watching for men who tried to bend the rules, or disrespected his dancers. It was his duty, he said, to keep his girls safe. He watched you walk to the stage, he smirked to himself, as he watched you over exaggerate the sway of your hips. It was comical to him, he found you three years ago behind his club, kicking stones. You didn’t belong there at all. You were sixteen, a child. He almost felt guilty knowing he introduced you to this world. He felt responsible for you, for making you grow up and sell yourself. He was protective of you, so he despised the fact you were a traveller. He wanted you in his club all the time, so he could make sure you were safe, but you had other plans. You danced at other clubs, clubs that were far more dangerous than his. He hated it, but you were you and that meant you would do what you wanted. He just hoped you would always return to him safely.
Your performance song came on and all eyes turned to you, it was eerie how you could make every man in the room stop and stare, almost like you possessed them. You walked onto that stage like it was made specifically for you. At first you swayed to the slow beat, circling your hips and touching your neck in a seductive manner, the beat picked up and you jumped onto the pole spinning yourself upside down with your legs spread in a straddle. In that moment, you owned the floor. All the men had their eyes on you. While you captivated the men, the other dancers glared, jealousy evident on their faces. You didn’t care, you were free and in your element. You were too busy enjoying your dancing to notice the man with the blonde hair sitting in the back of the club looking at you, with fire in his eyes. He knew your name and he wanted you. He knew you were a money maker. The song continued, your movements matching the beats. You looked men in the eyes, licked your lips and touched your breasts. You made men fall in love with your body as you moved seductively between the pole and the floor. Your song ended and you slipped down the pole and ended in the splits, men loved flexibility after all. As you walked off the stage and made your way to Jisoo, a man grabbed your wrist and spun you around.
“Can I have a dance?” he asked, still holding you. You looked up to his face, he was handsome, but looks didn’t mean anything to you.
“No.” You turned to walk away but he held tighter, jerking you back.
“Why not?” He asked. You turned to look at him again fully taking him in. He was young, you noticed, older than you but still young. He was dressed nicely, with dress pants and a white dress shirt. He looked clean, but not rich. He was probably some low level member of a gang, new to how you worked, thinking he could throw money at you and get a decent dance. He was wrong. He was not worth your time.
“No.” you repeated and ripped your wrist from his grip. A look of annoyance crossing your face, you didn’t want to put up with this shit so early in the night.
“What the fuck. You’re just a dancer, why are you saying no. Don’t you know how this works, all you want is money from men while parading around naked like a common whore, right?” He hissed out, anger etched on his face. Perfect, you thought, an asshole who thinks he can own you. Apparently he thought his words would hurt you, force you into submission and bring him to a back room.
You laughed, which seemed to irritate him more, as his jaw tensed. You looked him up and down dramatically.
“Why do you want a dance?” You asked with a slight pull of your lips, surprising him. He wasn’t expecting that.
“I…uh…what?” He stumbled, looking confused.
“I asked why you wanted a dance? There’s plenty of girls here. Why me? What makes you think I am special? After all, I’m nothing but a common whore.” you quirked an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t know.. there’s something about you. You’re alluring” He said while looking right into your eyes. “I want you”
“Stick around till midnight, then if you’re serious about a dance, I’ll think about it. ” You said while turning and walking away. You felt his eyes follow you. If he was around at midnight, you’d give him his damn dance, then get rid of him.
The man with the blonde hair smiled as he watched the whole interaction. He liked how you worked, you hustled men for more money. You also only gave out limited dances which meant men who wanted you would pay more. You would make a beautiful asset to him, not to mention line his wallet well. He watched as his younger friend retreated back towards him with a grimace on his face. Occasionally stopped by another dancer who tried to seduce him into coming to the VIP.
“What did she say?” The blonde man asked, sipping his whiskey.
“She told me to wait until midnight if I really wanted a dance.” The younger boy replied with a groan as he sat down, sinking into the leather seat.
“Hmmmmmm” responded the older man. “Well, I guess we’re going to be here for a while than”
“Why.. is she really worth it?” He asked picking up his own glass.
“Maybe..”The blonde replied before turning back to the stage.
As the night went on, drinks were poured. As drinks were poured, dancers danced. As dancers danced, money was made. You had 4 more songs on the stage, each a little more sexy, a little more tempting, a little more closer to you actually taking men into the back room. There was a few of the regular men who asked for a dance, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the young man from earlier. You’d never seen him before and he demanded a dance like you were some regular whore. Who did he think he was, you scoffed to yourself as you leaned against the bar, drinking your water. You didn’t indulge in the alcohol the men tried to buy you, and you stayed far away from the lines in the back room. You didn’t need to numb the pain that came with selling your body. You accepted your fate when you stepped on stage for the first time. Instead of being miserable, you used your body for power, power over the men who threw money on a woman’s body that they didn’t care about. You used your body to your advantage and to hell if you were going to be sad about it. You hardened yourself and used the men right back.
“I can read the emotions on your face, control yourself” You turned around to see Jisoo with his arms folded over his chest, you chuckled to yourself. He looked like a mother scolding her children for being naughty.
“I don’t need to listen to you” You dismissed, looking him in the eye and bringing your water to your lips, as he sat down beside you at the bar.
“It’s almost midnight, I’ve already had twenty men ask for you. Impressive numbers tonight. One man offered two thousand for a dance. Do you want to take it?” He said with a smile on his lips.
“Eh? Are you sure, I’ve never been offered that much” surprise evident in your voice, as your eyes widened. “Who was it?” You followed his eye line as Jisoo looked to the other end of the room, right at that young man from earlier. Of course, you thought.
“He grabbed me earlier, demanding a dance. Ha, now hes offering a lot of money for me? Why?” You asked more to yourself than Jisoo.
“Do you see the man beside him, the blonde? Do you know who that is?” Jisoo asked looking over at you.
“Should I?” You responded, you looked at who Jisoo had mentioned, catching the eyes of man. He lifted his glass slightly and smirked in your direction. You turned away and looked at Jisoo for an answer.
“Agust D” He deadpanned.
“Ahhhhhhh… so the young man beside him belongs with him. No wonder he offered so much for a dance. I pegged the young guy as low level. I was wrong for once.” You giggled, as you turned towards the bar. “Hey, Taehyung! Can you give me another water?” The bar tender looked up at you with an adoring smile and winked before he went to grab you a refill. He was a good guy. One of the only other men you were friends with in this city.
“So why is Mr. Agust D in your club. Doesn’t he own his own the east side?” You looked to Jisoo. He looked at you after thinking for a moment.
“He owns several, but he probably wants you for his high end one.” He sighed, looking towards the stage as another one of his girls began dancing. She was good, but she wasn’t you. She didn’t captivate the whole club the way you do.
“You know, if I ever wanted to be owned, it would be by you.” You said grabbing Jisoo’s hand lightly. You knew how much he worried over you, every time you went to another club and danced on another stage. He was a mess on the inside, not that you would ever be able to tell. Jisoo had your back. He took over the void your older brother left and he was protective of you. He wanted you to belong to him, not because of lust or money, but because he actually cared about you. He met you at your worst, and he still wanted to protect the fragile little 16 year old that came bursting into his life.
“I know.” He responded, bringing your hand to his lips and giving you a quick kiss with a smile on his face. “Be careful. You’re well known and leaders are taking interest. There’s a shift happening right now. Girls have been poached from clubs, but they aren’t dancing anywhere else. I’m assuming someone is dealing in trafficking. I worry about you when you venture out. I can’t protect you when you’re not here. So promise me, be careful. Don’t be reckless.” He whispered letting go of your hand. He was right, as much as you ignored the whispers about you, you still listened to the whispers about the business. This City had many secrets behind the hustle and bustle of the day. You knew enough, without letting anyone know that you knew. That’s how you survived.
“Give the kid his dance, I’ll let you keep the whole amount. Just don’t be reckless with Agust D around” Jisoo turned to walk away after he saw you nod slightly to him.
“His name is Jungkook” You whipped your head towards to bar seeing Taehyung leaning behind you. For everything Taehyung was, he never ceased to amaze you at his stealthiness and ability to eaves drop from the other side of the room, while music was blaring.
“Okay, I don’t care” You asked as Taehyung smiled at you.
“Doll, he’s the right hand man. You should care.” Taehyung got up with another wink and went to serve a very drunk customer with a girl attached to his hip.
You grabbed your water and downed it like it was a shot of bitter alcohol.
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themaskedwriter · 6 years ago
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Three Jerks
Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary – After the Battle of New York, you decide to get away from the city for a vacation in the Caribbean. But one week away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple quickly turns into a few years as you find you enjoy the simplicity of island life. As it turns out, you’re not the only native New Yorker who finds solace on the white sandy beaches of Jamaica.
Warnings – Angst, Fluff, Sexy Times, Cursing, and Drinking
Word Count – 5K
Notes: This is a Canon Divergent fic based on Anthony Mackie’s response to a question at the ACE Comic Con in Seattle. If you’d like to watch the video, the entire panel discussion with Mackie, Sebastian, and Tom Holland is on YouTube. Fast forward to 1:03:50.
Clues: 
1. This author prefers writing angst more than anything.
2. This author is notorious for her cruel cliffhangers.
3. This author loves adding a good plot twist.
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YN had noticed the three new additions to the lonely stretch of beach she’d called home for God only knew how many years. When she’d gotten off the clunky little prop plane at Sangster International Airport, she’d told the taxi driver to take her to the nearest beach bar. A half a mile later, he’d pulled up to the Dead End and she’d known right then that she was exactly where she’d needed to be.
The Battle of New York had completely demolished the office building she’d worked in since she’d graduated from college, and her tiny apartment hadn’t faired much better. With only the clothes on her back and a fairly decent savings account, she’d booked the first flight out of New York to Jamaica.
She’d only intended to stay for a week, but once she’d learned that the owner of the Dead End was ready to retire, she’d drained her savings account and bought the tiny beach bar. What had started out as a whim had quickly turned into the best decision of her life. Island life was nothing like New York and she actually enjoyed waking up each morning and going to work, which wasn’t something she could have ever said about her job in the city.
The locals had taken their time warming up to her, but once they realized that she was there to stay—and that she had no intentions of turning the dive bar into some hipster joint—they had welcomed her with open arms. Her clientele included a few regulars that lived on the island full time, as well as tourists—like she’d been that first week—who were looking for the first bar they could find once they landed on the island.
There was a hotel right next door, so most people ended up getting a room and wasting their entire vacation sitting on one of her barstools and spending all of their money. YN didn’t mind, though. Middle class working men and women tipped better than the snooty rich folks down the beach at the Sandals resort. A few of them came ‘slumming’ every so often, and they always annoyed the shit out of her and her regulars.
She’d pegged the three new guys as entitled rich men on a business retreat at first, but after a few days—and some sizable tips—she’d had to rethink her initial assessment of them. They were a peculiar group of men, and something about them struck her as odd from the very first time they’d parked their cute little tushes on her barstools. Within the first few minutes she’d realized that they were all former military. It wasn’t so much the way they looked—every one of them had full beards and their hair definitely wasn’t 'high and tight’ like she’d seen in the movies. The way they moved, and the way they spoke gave away their military training, but she hadn’t said a word to them about it. They seemed like they wanted to get away from their former lives, and as someone who’d done the same, she couldn’t hold it against them.
The three of them—Thomas, James, and Grant—weren’t a group of guys you would’ve expected to be joined at the hip like they were. Thomas was a true extrovert, and was always quick with a smile and a flirty comment. James was sullen and taciturn, but YN figured it had something to do with the fact that he only had one arm. Grant, on the other hand, was a dream come true. As with all groups of men, one stood out as the leader, and in this particular group, it was definitely Grant. Tall and muscular with a mop of dark blond hair that was a few shades lighter than the beard he sported, he was an imposing man that was obviously used to giving orders. Thomas and James always seemed to defer to him when it came to making decisions, so YN assumed he must have been their commanding officer while they’d served together.
The three of them had set up shop a little ways down the shore. Their establishment, Three Jerks, was unlike anything she’d ever seen on the island.  They’d bought a few jet skis and rented them out by the half hour, but they’d also purchased a dilapidated food truck and sold jerk chicken, red beans, and rice while the tourists waited for the jet skis to come back in.
As much as she hated to admit it, it was a great idea. She’d been as skeptical as the rest of the locals, but curiosity had gotten the better of her—not to mention the smell of jerk chicken wafting down on the breeze—and she’d ventured over to give their culinary skills a taste. She hadn’t been disappointed. Whoever had taught Thomas to make jerk chicken had known what they were doing. Within a week, Thomas had been forced to leave the jet ski rentals to James and Grant so he could focus on the food truck.
The three of them came by her bar most evenings, and she truly enjoyed their company, but there was a part of her that wanted to spend some one on one time with Grant. Listening in on James and Thomas’ constantly bickering like an old married couple was entertaining, but she felt a pull toward Grant that she hadn’t felt since she’d moved to the island. There had been a few flings with vacationing tourists, but that had mostly been due to the need to scratch an itch.
With Grant, it was different. He had these old, soulful eyes that spoke volumes about his mysterious history. He may have put on a carefree attitude for everyone else, but YN had learned over the years to see beneath the surface of a carefully constructed façade.
For some reason she got the impression that Grant wasn’t like most of the men that had come across her path in the past few years. There was something almost old-fashioned about the way he spoke to not only her, but everyone he conversed with. His politeness wasn’t something put on for the sake of his business—it seemed to be as genuine as the heart-stopping smile he gave her every time he sat perched on a barstool before her.
“The usual, please,” Grant told YN as he slid onto his favorite stool.
YN didn’t even need to turn around to know who’d dropped by. “What about you boys—the usual as well?”
“They’re not here,” Grant said, causing YN to turn around in surprise.
She poured three fingers of whisky into a glass and placed it neatly on a paper napkin embossed with the name of the bar. “And how exactly did you manage to get away from those two?”
“Thomas met a dame.”
YN smiled at his use of the antiquated term. It was little things like that that had her wondering where in the world he’d come from.
“And James?”
Grant laughed as he took a swig of his whisky. “The dame had a friend who took a liking to James. Thomas paid him a hundred bucks to double with him so he could get lucky.”
Shaking her head, she began to laugh. “Oh, to be a fly on that wall.”
“I know, right?”
Another customer flagged her down, so she left Grant alone with his drink. She knew this was probably her only opportunity to get him alone, so if she was going to make a move, it had to be tonight. It was the off season, so the bar wasn’t busy—it would just be a matter of getting the few customers that remained to go home so she could close up shop and try to get lucky herself.
Fate seemed to be on her side as one by one, her regulars called it an early night and left her alone with Grant. She’d been scared that he would leave before she got her chance, but he’d seemed content to drink his whisky and watch the sun set over the horizon.
“I think I’m going to close up early tonight,” she told him as she wiped the bar down with a damp rag.
“Oh,” he said, surprised at her announcement. “I can go, if you want.”
“Actually,” she began as butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. “I was hoping you’d join me for a drink…somewhere a little more private.”
She watched the confusion on his face turn to understanding and she held her breath as she waited to see what he would say. A part of her feared that she’d just ruined one of the only friendships she’d made on the island, but another part knew that she’d never forgive herself for not at least trying.
He tore his gaze away from hers and stared at the empty glass before him. He’d known how she felt about him for a while now, but he’d never acted on it. It wasn’t as if he were free to pursue a relationship, but then again, his duties and obligations had kept him from having a life for the better part of a century. Maybe it was time to be a little bit selfish.
“I’d like that,” he finally said, chancing a glance to see how she’d take his answer. He saw the relief wash across her face as a huge smile lit up her eyes in a way he’d never seen before.
“Okay, just give me a few minutes to close up shop.”
“I’ll help,” he offered as he began to help her secure the bar for the night.
The pretense of the drink was forgotten the moment they crossed the threshold of her tiny bungalow beside the bar. Before she’d known what was happening, she was pressed up against the back of the door as Grant’s lips began to softly caress hers. His hands weren’t as gentle as his mouth as he slid them beneath the hem of her shirt. The contrast between his rough hands and tender kisses had her mind reeling.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered as his mouth left hers to explore the exposed flesh above the collar of her t-shirt.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned as she hooked one of her legs around his waist to draw him closer to her.
Regaining some of her senses, she finally let herself indulge in the one fantasy she’d had since she’d first laid eyes on him—burying her hands in his hair. The thick strands were just as soft as they appeared and as she ran her fingers over his scalp, she could feel the moan rise up in his chest before she heard it.
She’d expected him to be rough with her, and although she wouldn’t have complained in the least, he’d turned out to be a slow and patient lover. It was almost as though he was worshiping her body with his hands and lips. She lost count of how many times he sent her careening over the edge before he finally joined her.
Lying spent in his arms, she wondered if this would only be a one time thing, or if they’d finally crossed the line between friends and lovers for good. If this turned out to be the only opportunity she’d get to be loved by him, she’d be sorely disappointed. He’d completely ruined her for any other man, and she knew she’d never be able to go back to the cheap one-night stands she’d thought she’d enjoyed with the tourists.
Forcing her mind to leave her worries for tomorrow, she willed herself to relax and enjoy the afterglow of the most amazing sex she’d ever had. As she felt her minds softening toward sleep, his fingers began to lightly trail over her skin.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly, not sure if she’d already fallen asleep or not.
His question had her senses reawakening as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”
She knew she was putting herself out there even more than she already had, but she was desperate to keep him for as long as he was willing to stay.
He leaned over and gently kissed her. “I’d like that, too.” He paused for a moment. “I should probably grab a shower, though. Care to join me?”
The prospect of shower sex had her wide awake in an instant. Sliding out of the bed, she grabbed his hand and led him toward the bathroom. As she turned on the water, she saw his eyes begin to darken with desire and she realized she was going to be in for a long night.
___________________
“That’s him,” Peter whispered to Ned as they hid behind a tuft of grass on the beach a few yards from the bar.
“Are you sure, Peter?” Ned asked as he squinted his eyes. “That doesn’t look like Captain America at all.”
Peter rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “He’s undercover—of course he doesn’t look like himself. It’s just like Falcon and the Winter Soldier—they’re trying to blend in so no one knows who they are.”
“I don’t know,” Ned said, still not convinced. “Why would Captain America be renting jet skis with the Falcon and the Winter Soldier in Jamaica? That doesn’t seem like something superheroes do.”
Peter was starting to get frustrated. “Mr. Stark told me he’d gotten really good intel that these three were down here.” He turned to his friends and began to plead. “C'mon, man. This is the first real mission Mr. Stark has given me since we went to Germany. I can’t screw this up—not like the ferry.”
Ned nodded and pulled out his phone. Zooming in as much as he could, he snapped a picture of the long-haired, bearded guy Peter was convinced was Captain America. “I guess this guy could be Cap.”
“Send me that picture,” Peter said as he pulled out his phone. “I need to text this to Mr. Stark.”
“So, if he’s Captain America, then that means your mom is on a date with the Falcon,” Ned surmised with a nod. “Way to go, Aunt May.”
Peter slapped his friend. “Ew, gross, man. That’s my aunt you’re talking about.”
“What about her friend, Debbie?” Ned asked as his eyes grew large. “She’s going to hook up with the Winter Soldier.”
“No one is hooking up,” Peter said with a huff. “May isn’t like that.” He paused for a moment. “Debbie? Yeah, probably, but not May.”
“Ooh,” Ned said as he began to chuckle. “It looks like Cap is getting lucky tonight, too.”
“What?”
Ned pointed to where the man and the bartender were closing up and heading toward a small bungalow beside the bar.
Peter looked back down at his phone. “Do you think Mr. Stark needs to know about that?”
Ned shrugged. “I don’t know? Is it important who he’s banging?”
“What if she’s a Russian spy?” Peter asked as his mind started reeling with possibilities.
“Good point,” Ned agreed. “Better let him know just in case.”
Peter’s lips formed a thin line as he nodded in agreement. Typing out a quick update, he hit send and motioned for Ned to follow him back down the beach to the Sandals resort where Mr. Stark had booked their “vacation.”
___________________
The next few days were like a dream for YN. Not only had Grant stayed the entire night, but he’d spent the next few nights at her place as well. Thomas and James had brought their new lady friends to the bar, and she’d immediately hit it off with the native New Yorkers. It had been nice to find out what was going on back home, and to hear that the city was finally starting to recover from the infamous battle that had torn it to shreds. YN had thought it was odd that the three men seemed uncomfortable talking about the Battle of New York, but she brushed it off and continued chatting with the ladies.
Thomas’ friend, May, had brought her nephew and his friend along with her, but the two boys opted to stay at the beach while the adults enjoyed drinks at the bar. YN had offered them sodas or virgin mixed drinks, but they seemed content to hang out by themselves.
James had given Grant a knowing look the first time he’d reached out to graze his fingers over her knuckles. YN wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she hoped that both James and Thomas approved of her new relationship with their friend. She didn’t want it to change the dynamic between the four of them, although, as long as they were distracted with their new lady friends, it didn’t seem to matter what Grant did with his spare time.
“Who’s that down there with Peter and Ned?” Debbie asked as she gestured toward the beach with her daiquiri.
May shielded her eyes against the setting sun as she squinted toward the beach. “It looks like Tony Stark.”
YN had been asking Grant a question, so she saw the minute his demeanor morphed from fun and lighthearted to lethal. The instant change in him—as well as Thomas and James—had her taking a step back.
Grant turned toward his friends. “Go. Now.”
Thomas shook his head as James stood up from his stool and let out a resigned sigh. “Not without you.”
All three of the ladies were confused at the sudden turn of events, but it was May that finally spoke first. “He’s not that bad, honestly. A little pompous and full of himself, maybe.”
“Rogers,” Tony called out as he stepped under the awning of the bar and removed his sunglasses.
When Grant turned around to face him, YN felt as though the ground beneath her was crumbling. She’d known that the three men had been hiding from something, but now she was slowly coming to realize that she had no idea who she’d been sharing her bed with the past few nights.
“Tony,” Grant said warily as he moved to stand in front of Thomas and James. “You should have called first.”
Tony took an outdated flip phone from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. “I would’ve, but I didn’t think this thing got good reception this far south.” Turning serious, he gave Grant a hard look. “What are you doing down here, Steve?”
It was as though someone had poured ice water down her back. Steve Rogers? The Steve Rogers? She turned to stare at Grant, but she had a hard time resigning the bearded man she’d come to love with America’s favorite son. It all made sense, though—the chivalry, the odd references, even the antiquated language he was so fond of using. She’d been sleeping with Captain America.
“We’re not doing anything wrong, Tony,” Thomas said as he stepped forward to stand beside Steve.
YN’s attention was now on the other two men she’d come to think of as friends.  Thomas and James obviously weren’t their names, but she honestly had no idea who they were. Since she’d come to the island, she’d tried to stay away from the goings-on in the world.
“I know,” Tony said, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. “The kid’s been filling me in on your little enterprise.” He looked over toward the jet skis and food truck down the beach. “Gotta say, I love the name.”
“What do you want, Stark?” James asked as he gave Tony a hardened look.
Tony gave James a wink. “I’m not here for you, stubby.”
“Wait just one damn minute,” May said as she finally realized what was going on. Turning on Tony, she stalked over to him and began poking him in the chest with her finger. “Did you send Peter down here to spy on fugitives for you? What in the hell were you thinking?”
“May, May, no,” Peter said frantically as he rushed past Tony to grab his aunt’s arm. “It’s okay, really. Cap wouldn’t hurt me—he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He looked up at Steve. “Right?”
Steve had been confused for a moment, but once he heard Peter’s voice, he realized who he was. “You’re the spider-kid from Queens. The one from Germany?”
May’s eyes grew large and she was about to tear into someone, but who would’ve gotten the tongue-lashing was left up in the air as Tony quickly interceded. “Happy. Take the kid and his family back to the resort. I’ll be along shortly.”
YN stood slack-jawed as a burly man in a suit began ushering a cussing May, a dumbstruck Debbie, a stuttering Peter, and his starry-eyed friend toward the road where a sleek black car sat idling at the curb. So much was happening so quickly, she was having a hard time keeping track of it all.
Once it was just the men, Tony turned to Steve with a pleading look in his eye. “Something big is coming. I don’t know what, but it’s bad. We need all hands on deck.” He paused and gave Steve a hopeful look. “Whaddya say? Want to get the band back together?”
Steve let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “What about Ross?”
“I’ll take care of Ross,” Tony assured him.
“What about me?” James asked.
Tony let out a huff. “I still hate you, Barnes. But Rogers won’t come back with out you two numbnuts, so that doesn’t leave me much choice.”
“You goin’ to send me back to the Raft?” Thomas asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Tony.
“No one’s going to the Raft,” Tony assured them. “I told you I’d deal with Ross, and I will. Rhodey will keep him occupied while we deal with this threat. After that, we’ll have some leverage to get your names cleared with the UN.”
Steve turned to look at Thomas and his gaze landed on YN. With a heavy heart, he realized that in a matter of minutes, he’d completely lost her trust. The look she was giving him was a mix of hurt and anger and he couldn’t very well blame her.
With a sigh, he looked away and focused on his friends. “Whaddya say, guys? It’s your call.”
“I say we stay,” James began, but before Thomas or Steve could reply, he held up a hand. “But I know your dumbass. You’ll never sleep knowing the world is in danger and you didn’t go help.”
Thomas shook his head. “I hate to admit it, but I agree with Buck.”
Steve shook his head. “You two go get what we’ll need while I talk to Tony.”
Thomas and James nodded and turned to go. They both stopped and gave YN a sorrowful look. Muttering apologies, they shuffled off toward the apartment they shared over the rental shop.
“Can I get a drink?” Tony asked YN once the other two were gone.
“Make that two?” Steve asked with a grimace.
YN didn’t say anything as she turned to pour the drinks. He hadn’t specified, but she assumed Tony Stark was a whisky man, so that’s what she gave him. Feeling as though she’d be intruding, she started to walk toward the other end of the bar, but Steve stopped her.
“YN,” he said softly as he reached out to touch her arm. “Please let me explain.”
Tony narrowed his eyes as he took in the scene. Pointing back and forth between the two, he slowly began to nod as if he’d just figured it out. “Something’s going on here, isn’t it?” He focused his attention on her. “YN, right? I’m taking it you didn’t know?”
She looked to Steve to see if he’d answer, but when he simply hung his head and took a sip of his whisky, she turned back to Tony. “I knew he had a past—we all do—but I didn’t know he was Steve Rogers. He told me his name was Grant.”
“It is,” Steve said looking up at her with pleading eyes. “It’s my middle name.”
She shrugged. “So, it was a half-lie, but still a lie.” She shook her head as all the anger she’d been feeling over the past few minutes finally came to a head. “Was it all a lie? Did I ever mean anything to you?”
Tony started to make a snarky remark, but Steve held out a hand to stop him. “Not now, Tony.” Looking back at YN, his shoulders slumped. “It wasn’t a lie—I swear. I never meant to get involved, but…”
“I made the first move,” she finished for him as she shook her head. “You tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. I guess it’s my own fault.” She grabbed a rag and started toward the other end of the bar. “Don’t worry about saying goodbye—you’ve got more important things to do.”
This time Steve let her go.
“Damn, Rogers,” Tony said with a low whistle. “You sure know how to pick 'em.”
“Shut up, Tony,” Steve said as he downed the rest of his drink.
Tony laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Look, take it from someone who’s been there—go fix things with the lady before you go. If you don’t, it’ll just weigh on your mind and I need you on your game for this one, buddy.”
Tony pulled out his wallet and left a crisp hundred dollar bill on the bar before patting Steve on the back and heading toward the car that had just pulled back up to the curb. Steve let out a deep breath and thought about Tony’s advice. Maybe he was right. Leaving things like this would be something he’d regret for a long time to come.
He walked around the bar and came up behind YN. Reaching out, he laid a hand on her arm. “YN.”
She turned to look at him, and he could see the redness in her eyes where she was trying not to cry. He hated that he’d hurt her. He should have told her the truth that first night, but would it have made this any easier?
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” he said as he reached to cup her face. “I was an idiot not to trust you.”
“Would you have ever told me?” she asked as she stared into his eyes looking for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to say yes because you mean a lot to me.”
“I mean a lot to you?” she asked with a huff of indignation as she pulled away from him.
Knowing he was going to have to lay it all on the line, he ran a hand down his face and resigned himself to the inevitable. This wasn’t how he’d thought this conversation would go, but she deserved the truth—the whole truth.
“I love you, YN.”
Her back was to him, but his whispered words were just loud enough to have her stopping in her tracks. “Don’t lie to me. Not again.”
He walked over to her and turned her around to face him. “Look at me. I wouldn’t lie about that. I love you, and I’m pretty sure you love me, too.”
She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “So what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that you’re leaving.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But it gives me a reason to come back.”
She opened her eyes and found him looking at her with hope-filled eyes. She’d fallen in love with those eyes, and she’d never thought she’d see the day where those feelings would be returned—but here they were.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise to do my best,” he said as he pulled her into his embrace. “Knowing that you’ll be here waiting for me will give me that much more reason to win this fight.”
“I came here to get away from superheroes and their fights,” she said with a laugh as she lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s just my luck that I’d go and fall in love with one.”
Steve’s heart swelled at her admission. “Yeah, life’s funny like that.”
She looked up and met his eye. “You’ll be careful?”
“I can’t let down my best girl, now can I?”
She framed his face with her hands as they met one another halfway. The kiss was full of sadness and regret, but she’d take what she could get at that point.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said as he pulled away.
“Until we meet again.”
He gave her a sad smile. “Until we meet again.”
___________________
YN thought about Steve’s promise to come back to her as she watched one of her regulars turn to dust before her eyes. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew it wasn’t good. Whatever battle he’d been fighting must not have gone well. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw her hand start to dematerialize in front of her. It seemed as though she wouldn’t be keeping her promise to be there waiting for him after all. As she began to fade away, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Steve.”
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walkingshcdow-a · 5 years ago
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MASHAP + 11
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((The prompt said “A Short Drabble”. 12 Pages Later...))
London, England: 10 years ago
“I’ll tell you a secret.”
The blonde woman is young - not much younger than he is, actually, but she has wide green eyes and Eric is sure she was carded multiple times tonight. They’ve been sitting together in a corner booth, swapping stories, punctuated by the kind of soul-deep, drunken make-outs you think uni has promised for you. Eric is twenty-six and well out of university. He wonders if this girl is. Masha. He likes the way her eyes glitter with warmth and mischief and he really likes her accent, which is warm and vaguely foreign. Sometimes tonight, like now, it starts to slip and he hears Eastern European. He has all kinds of opinions about that, but now isn’t the time for them. He still wonders from which country they hail and if Masha can tell he’ll be finishing up training as a field agent in six weeks. He thinks, drunkenly, that he wouldn’t mind having her hold a gun to his throat if it means she’ll drop the British veneer from that accent she’s trying so hard to hide.
“Go on, then,” he says, roving a hand across her tights. He’s just drunk enough to wish she wasn’t wearing them.
“It’s not my birthday,” she tells him. She takes the garish, pink pin off her dress, and drops it onto the table. 
Masha grins at the blond man and the flush of confusion on his face. She can guess what he’s thinking: that she wore it to trick handsome things like him out of a couple of pounds or into bed. Maybe he isn’t entirely wrong and maybe she should feel guilty for it. Instead, she snakes a hand down his chest, playing with the top button of his shirt. He’s sweet and funny in that trying-too-hard-to-be-funny way she’s always found endearing. If she wasn’t leaving in the morning, maybe she’d write her number on his hand or a bar napkin and hope he’d call, even though the odds he would are slim. Why would he call her after they’ve spent an hour talking and probably about another hour making out? Even if they slept together, why would he want to see her again? He knows nothing about her - not really - and she knows less about him. There’s no way he was serious when he said he studied medicine at Oxford. He probably only said it because she told him she was a nurse and he wants to impress her. She thinks, drunkenly, that she’d be impressed to know what he’s like relaxed and at her mercy, if his smile would seem more real.  She sighs at the “It’s My Birthday” pin Ruslan clipped to her dress while the two of them and Gleb pre-gamed at the boys’ flat. 
“I ship out tomorrow,” she says. “Doctors Without Borders. My friends thought it’d be a good way to spend my last night in London.”
Eric looks beyond her. Her friends have worried him all night - two muscle-bound brunets who have been going shot-for-shot with vodka all night. They don’t look over here often, but when they do, Eric imagines one or both of them is ready to kill him if he does the wrong thing. Masha follows his gaze and waves at her friends. She knows that look on Gleb’s face well - That one? Really, Masha? - and she knows if he was over here, they’d be fighting about how she doesn’t judge him for the fact he won’t ask the pretty girl from his work out, so he should keep his own judgments about who she makes out with in bars to himself.
“Blimey.” Eric looks at the birthday button. “Where are you going?”
She says something and he doesn’t really hear over the music. She smiles a little wistfully for a moment, but then her hands slide down his taut abdomen and she straddles his lap.
“-The way I see it,” she whispers, lips brushing his ear. “Is that I want to make my last night in London really count.”
“Wouldn’t you rather…” His breath hitches. “... make it count with your friends?”
“They’ve been throwing me going away parties all week,” Masha said with a laugh. The tip of her tongue flicks against the outer shell of Eric’s ear and he shivers beneath her. “I want to make it count with you.”
They’re too drunk to do more than make out in the corner booth. In the morning, he sleeps alone in his bed and she applies a tender layer of concealer to a mouth-shaped bruise on her collar bone before calling a taxi to take her to Heathrow. 
Caracas, Venezuela: 9 years ago
The Simon Bolivar International Airport thrums with life and malcontent as the storm outside has canceled yet another round of flights. Masha, whose flight was canceled two hours ago, sits in one of the airport bars. The vodka here is disgusting, so she’s spent the last year drinking rum like a local. Her mouth has grown tired of the sweetness. She’s grown tired of Venezuela. It isn’t what they promised her in the brochure. Socio-political unrest has violently punctuated her tenure with Doctors Without Borders. She reads the paper, tries to understand what’s going on, but from everything she’s gathered it is this: the West comes in and puts someone in power that suits them, but not the people. It makes her reexamine what she’s doing - what any of them are doing - traveling with Doctors Without Borders. It makes her feel like even giving vaccinations to children in need makes her a puppet for colonialism. She thinks she will resign when she returns to the UK. Join a regular practice. Become a nurse practitioner. Open her own place in ten years. It’s attractive. 
But she gets letters from Gleb, who is in Moscow, and hears how happy he is being anywhere but London. And she gets letters from Ruslan, who is still full of optimism that his military career isn’t just another decrepit arm of the former British empire. And she wants to feel what they do. She does. She does. When she gives a kid a bandaid and a smile, when she runs an ultrasound for a new mother-to-be, when she can confidently tell a family their grandfather’s cancer is in remission, she knows that she’s doing the right thing. A good thing. Even when she has to bear bad news, she supposes the knowing is better than wondering and worrying and watching those last moments of a loved one’s life be painful. That doesn’t make her feel better every time, but as she drinks in a foreign airport with no idea when she’ll go home, it brings her some amount of comfort that she’s doing her best to do good in the world and that maybe the next assignment won’t be so hard. Maybe it’s just this first one.
She’s two drinks in when someone slides into the barstool beside her. She looks at him and he looks familiar. He reminds her of a boy - well, not really a boy, a man - she met once in London. He has the same, laughing blue eyes as he orders a coffee, hot and strong as if he’s flirting with the waitress. Maybe he is. It’s none of her business. She really ought to stop staring.
“Well, hello, there, birthday girl,” he says, turning to look at her, grinning as if he recognizes her. “Small world, isn’t it?”
For a moment she thinks it can’t be. But then she grins and can’t believe he remembers that stupid button she’d been wearing when they met in London. She wonders if he remembers her name. She remembers his.
“Eric!” she says. She sets her drink aside. “Small world, indeed! What brings you to Venezuela?”
“Oh, you know,” he says. “Wanted to do a bit of traveling. Spent the summer fixing jetskis.” 
“Mr. I Studied Medicine At Oxford came all the way to Venezuela to fix jetskis,” she teases. “You’ve been here all summer?”
“Oh yeah,” he says. “Been traveling around with a group of volunteers from Hungary. It’s been a wild summer.”
“Sounds it,” Masha says. 
She isn’t sure if she believes him, but it’s a wild lie to make up for a girl you made out with once a year ago. She studies Eric’s face. He’s certainly suntanned, but in the light of day, he looks older than she remembered him being when they met. More tired. Surely fixing jetskis doesn’t make a man the kind of exhausted she feels, unless Eric, too, has been ruminating on whether any good they do for a complicated regime is actually good. 
“What about you? Are you still doing Doctors Without Borders?” he asks. The waitress brings his coffee, and he thanks her. When she turns her back, he tips something from a flask into the coffee. “You were all set to save the world last time I saw you.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Masha mumbles. She shakes her head and pulls her drink closer. “But, yes, for now, I am still with Doctors Without Borders.”
“Good for you,” Eric said. “I know it can’t be easy. Especially to have a country like Venezuela as your first assignment…”
“Says the man, fixing sporting equipment for the bourgeoisie.” 
Eric laughs and it sounds a little hollow. Masha wants to care that she’s made a conversational faux-pas, but she doesn’t. He deserves to feel uncomfortable if he’s been watching tensions rise from the other side of the socioeconomic scale. It occurs to her again how ridiculous it sounds when he says he’s been fixing jetskis as if he couldn’t do that along the English Channel back home. Maybe they aren’t so different - craving adventure, longing to do good and ending up wistful no matter what. Maybe she’s a little drunk. 
“It’s good to see you,” she says to break the tension. “Are you flying back to London?”
“By way of Paris, yes,” he says. “And you?”
“The same. We’re probably on the same, canceled flight.”
He laughs a little more naturally. 
“It’s good to see you, too, Masha,” he says. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Like you said, it’s a small world.”
“How long will you be in London for?” he asks. “Before your next assignment?”
“If there is a next one,” Masha sighs. “I don’t know. A few weeks. You?”
“Oh, only about a week or two,” he says. “Maybe I’ll see more of you in London?”
“Are you asking me out?” Masha asks, cocking her head. 
“Well, I mean-” He takes a big swig of his coffee. “Only if you’d like-
“Why don’t we give it a trial run here?” she asks. “Have a date in the airport?”
“We could be stuck here for hours or days-”
“So let’s make the most of it,” Masha says. “Finish our drinks and go on a date at all the weird airport shops, have dinner at the food court.”
They drink some more and they talk and they go on a date to a sunglasses shop, a place that sells knick-knacks, and a very out-of-place Hard Rock Cafe. They make out in the terminal and whisper secrets and outrageous stories to each other beneath a giant window with a view of the lightning-streaked sky. When the airline offers hotel vouchers, they agree to take one for the night and swear they’ll date when they reach London, even if it’s only for a week. But morning comes and Eric’s friend, Strahil, is offering him a private flight to Budapest in a helicopter and Masha tells him to take it if it means he’ll get home sooner. When she finally gets a flight into London by way of Paris the next day, she doesn’t want to date Eric for a week or two, anyway.
Marrakech, Morocco: Seven Years Ago
Masha doesn’t mind working a side-gig for a little extra cash. Marrakech is fantastic in some ways - she gets to meet amazing people and work with geniuses and help people and she feels rejuvenated in the desert sun, but she feels judged as she walks the streets - a single woman, an independent woman, a Western woman - and often finds herself wrapping her hair in a headscarf to avoid stares and whispers in the marketplace. It’s only in these little ex-pat communities that she is free from local scrutiny and she knows she can get away with having a second job here because no one here knows she’s supposed to be working a nursing shift in the morning. So she sings jazz standards on stage, husky-voiced and sultry, while patrons from England and America and France drink and half-listen and enjoy themselves. She thinks about leaving nursing to be a performer sometimes. She isn’t half-bad. But she wouldn’t make it back home. She’s smart enough to know that this money - every last penny she earns - will go towards her nurse practitioner degree. 
She sings a little Leonard Cohen and goes on break. 
“Of all the gin joints in all the world…” a familiar voice says as a hand rests on her lower back and a glass of vodka appears before her in the bar.
“That’s Casablanca, Eric,” she says. “This is Marrakech.”
“But it’s still such a good line,” he says. 
Masha picks up her drink. He smells faintly boozy, like he’s been here a while. She wonders how long and if he’s been watching her perform. 
“So you gave up Doctors Without Borders,” he says. “And now you’re a lounge singer. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t understand how I can travel thousands of miles across the globe and run into you, but how we can both be based out of London and I never see you.”
“Masha, I’m sorry-”
“I’m not mad, Eric,” she says. “It’s just odd. You aren’t tailing me, are you?”
“For all I know, you could be tailing me,” he says. “I’ve been in North Africa since last year. When’d you start singing here?”
Masha takes a sip of vodka.
“My supervisor doesn’t know,” she says. “I’m trying to make some extra cash. Seeing the world is great and all, but…”
“But?”
“Don’t you have aspirations?” she asks him. “Things you want for the future?”
“Sure,” he says. 
He doesn’t elaborate. Masha sighs. She hates playing chicken with him, but this is how a lot of their conversations feel and have felt over the years. They’ve crossed paths a few times since Venezuela. Every time, it’s like this. She drains her glass and asks the bartender for another. 
“What do you want me to say?” Eric asks. “Tell me, Masha, and I’ll say it.”
“I want you to say something true for once,” she says. She clutches her new glass of vodka tightly. She can feel the ice cubes melting from her touch. “Anything true.”
“You sang like an angel tonight.”
She scoffs.
“I’ve been coming for the last three weeks to hear you sing and I’ve been trying to get up the courage to talk to you again.”
“Oh, please, I’m not the scariest thing you’ve seen and we both know it,” Masha says. “We both know you’ve probably stared down the barrel of a gun a hundred times-”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be,” Masha says. “Eric, why are you in Marrakech?”
“I’m on holiday,” he says. 
She looks unimpressed. 
“I was working security detail for the British Museum,” he says and even though it sounds wild, Masha thinks this is as close to the truth as she’ll get from him. “They’re negotiating the movement of some very old, very expensive artifacts in Cairo. It’s been a tense situation and so now that it’s over, I’m on vacation.”
“In Marrakech?”
“In Marrakech.”
“Why?” Masha asks. “Why not, I don’t know, Casablanca because you love it so much?”
“Well, you’re not in Casablanca.” 
Eric turns pink and starts to drink his beer quickly. 
“How would you know that?” 
“I asked around. Some people owed me some favors.”
“Eric…” Her voice breaks. “You really shouldn’t-”
“If you don’t want to see me, I’ll go,” he says. “But I wanted to see you before my next work trip.”
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t say,” he says softly. “But I didn’t want to go without seeing you one more time.”
“When do you go?”
“Next week.”
Masha wraps a hand around Eric’s. For the first time since she’s known him, he sounds scared. She sets down her glass and runs her cool hand down his cheek.
“I have to sing another set in fifteen minutes. Then I’m done for the night. Will you wait for me?”
“I’m here all week,” Eric jokes. Masha, buzzed, lifts up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. 
“When you come back,” she whispers, “from wherever your work sends you, write to my sister for my location instead. Don’t waste your favors on me.”
“You’re never a waste.”
So she kisses him some more during those fifteen minutes, reapplies her lipstick, and when she sings a few jazz standards about having her lover near, she feels it and watches him across the bar, eager to spend a week wrapped up in his arms, even if a little part of her knows it may be the last time.
Yekaterinburg, Russia: Four Years Ago
Masha presses close to Eric as they sit on her grandmother’s ancient sofa. Her family buzzes around them. Cousins she hasn’t seen in a decade ask over and over if Eric is her boyfriend and Masha, hoping he doesn’t speak Russian, tells them he is because she doesn’t want them to wonder why she’s brought this random Englishman to her grandfather’s funeral. She doesn’t want to explain to them that the man she has brought with her is a British intelligence agent, with whom she has been having an on-and-off affair for six years, and just happened to run into in town mere hours before. Somehow, she doesn’t think that will go over well with her family, who has been scattered during and after the Cold War. It’s strange to see them all together again after so long and she doesn’t think she’d survive a minute of it if it wasn’t for Eric. She wishes she could say that her grandfather would have loved him, but…
“Does it scandalize you to know my grandfather was a communist?” she murmurs against Eric’s jawline. “And a good man, to boot?”
“Politics is complicated,” Eric sighs. He strokes her hair. “But if he was your grandfather, I’m  sure he was a wonderful man.”
Masha hums softly. She doesn’t tell him that her mother’s family used to hate her father or that she’d spent her teenage years idealizing and idolizing the man they’d buried today to spite her parents, only to realize that she really did believe strongly in workers’ rights and socialized medicine. Like Eric said: politics is hard. She doesn’t want to complicate their relationship. It’s already complex enough. She only sees him once a year or so and they both move so much that even then, they only see each other for a few weeks at a time, if they’re lucky. Her cousin Nicky brings them each another glass of vodka and tells them to drink. He’s been living in Glasgow for school and so, besides Masha’s siblings and parents, is one of the only ones who talk to Eric in English. He urges him to come drink with the men for a bit and pulls Eric away from Masha. Masha joins her mother and aunts and female cousins in the kitchen. For a while, she is content to watch them descend upon her sister-in-law’s new baby. Little Arkady is subjected to all the cooing from older women, threatening to gobble him up and giving his mother advice. Masha watches and her heart hurts so bad she drinks another glass and a half of vodka without being noticed. She once asked Eric if he had dreams - back in Marrakech, she thinks, or maybe Venezuela, she doesn’t remember any more. It may have been one of the nights when they weren’t drinking, but instead making love against the backdrop of a thousand stars or grabbing a quick lunch in London when they both happened to be home. He never said what his dreams were. Once, when he asked her - maybe that same time, maybe a different one, it all runs together - she said she dreamt of getting her nurse practitioner’s license and didn’t say more because the sad truth, she realizes, is that she dreams of a world where she and Eric met before she’d joined Doctors Without Borders and before he’d taken whatever dubious government job he had and that they’d lived an ordinary life with ordinary careers, made extraordinary only by the fact that she loves him and he loves her. If they had done that, God, how many children would they have now? What would their house look like? How many of their furtive reunions would have been family vacations and second honeymoons?  She’s about to finish her second glass when her aunt says, “Mashka will be next. Won’t you? You and your charming Brit?” 
“Oh, it’ll be nice to have the family together for a wedding for a change!” her sister-in-law says. “It’s been a few years…”
Masha drains her glass and fills it again. 
“What does he do?” her aunt asks. “Can he provide for you?”
“I can provide for myself,” Masha says sharply. She feels sick. She shouldn’t have subjected Eric to this. She shouldn’t have subjected herself to it. She just knew that tonight, it would feel good to escape to his hotel and sleep in his arms, once her grief was drowned by alcohol, and to imagine - imagine- “Excuse me.”
She stumbles from the room with her glass and pours herself another. The bottle suddenly stabilizes and she looks to see Eric steadying it for her.
“Your family is wonderful,” he says. “Nicky and Ivan taught me how to play Bear Paw. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be fun or if it’s only meant to get you really, really drunk…”
Masha laughs a little weakly. 
“I had to leave the game, though,” he says, “because being here, with you, and your family, surrounded by all this love and friendship and community… Well, it makes a man think about what he wants to do with the rest of his life.”
Masha feels dizzy. She usually holds her liquor better than this. She looks at Eric and even though, moments ago, she wished they could have been a normal couple, she isn’t sure she wants him to propose to her here and now, while her entire family is present. 
“What are you saying?” 
“Masha, I finally know what I want and I’m going to go for it,” he says. “Life’s too short not to go after the things you want.”
“Eric, are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” he says. “Masha, I’m going to open a funeral parlor.”
“I’m sorry… what?”
“You asked me a few years ago what I wanted most out of life, what my dreams for the future are and at the time, I didn’t know. But after spending this week with your family, seeing everyone really come together, I know that I want to give others the gift of comfort and community I’ve seen within your family. It will take a year - year and a half tops - to get my license and then I’ll open a practice. I’m thinking of calling it “Chapman’s”. What do you think?”
“I’m happy for you Eric,” Masha says. She drained her glass of vodka in one, burning gulp. “Really, I am… You’d be an amazing funeral director…”
Eric steadies her as she sways in her heels and he leads her to the sofa. 
“Really?” he asks. “I’m glad you think so. I really care about what you think of the whole thing.”
Then Masha bursts into tears. Eric wraps an arm around her and strokes her hair. 
“I know, you’re grieving, I should have waited to tell you,” he murmurs. “I dunno why it couldn’t have waited. I’m so sorry Masha, for your loss, for… everything…”
“If you open a funeral parlor, will I ever see you again?” she asks through her broken sobs.
“Oh. Oh. Right. Yes, I mean, I���ll be setting up a permanent base. Though I’m thinking I’ll want someplace quieter than London. What do you think about Salisbury?”
“Salisbury?”
“No, you’re right. Too touristy.” Eric hummed softly in thought. “I’ll get you the address though, wherever it is, so when you’re not saving the world, maybe you can come by for a visit.”
“Visit?”
“Only if you want. I know it isn’t as exciting as making love in the Cambodian rainforest. I’ll miss that bit of all this - you, me, exotic locales, never knowing when we’ll see each other again…”
“Ya lyublyu tebya, ty svoloch’!” she shouts, pushing him off of her. As she slips back into her native Russian words start to fall out of her mouth. “I’ve always loved you and I thought that’s what you were going to tell me but instead you’re opening up a funeral parlor? Are you crazy? You just expect me to be happy for you, when I was hoping you’d just tell me you loved me and I could tell you I loved you and maybe we’d both give up this life and-”
“Hang on, I heard ‘bastard’, ‘crazy’, ‘happy’... That’s all I’ve got. Could you slow down a bit? What’s that word you keep repeating? Lyublyu? Did I say that right?” 
A few pairs of eyes are on them now as cousins and other relatives pop their heads into the living room. With everyone staring, Masha can’t yell at Eric the way she wants and as her grasp of English weakens she can’t talk to him like a rational adult. All she can do was straddle his lap and kiss him hard and put up with her family muttering about how she’s never been “a good Russian girl” anyway. 
This Week: Piffling Vale, England
“I would have married you in Yekaterinburg,” Masha says. 
It’s the middle of the afternoon and she and her husband are wine-wasted on a Sunday. Sunlight streams through the window and she looks up at their intertwined hands. She likes the way his wedding band looks - that it lets everybody on the whole, bloody planet know that Eric Chapman is finally spoken for.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” he says. He buries his face in her hair. “I was a mess. I was about to leave MI-6 and just… you didn’t even know…”
“I knew,” Masha tells him. “I’ve known since Marrakech. Maybe Paris.”
“Which time was Paris?”
“We were sober,” she says. “You took a telephone call while you thought I was asleep.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Why the hell would you have married me back then? I couldn’t have given you…”
He gestures vaguely to indicate the house. 
“I didn’t want-” Masha gestures. “I wanted you. Still do.”
“You’re drunk,” Eric says, laughing. 
Masha rolls on top of him. 
“Maybe,” she says, “but you decided to build all of this after a game of Bear Paw with my cousins. I think I can tell my husband I love him after sharing a bottle of wine with him.”
“Oh, we were sharing?” he teases. “Are you sure that wasn’t your bottle of wine?”
She laughs and the warm sound washes over him. He reaches up and strokes her hair. She kisses his palm. 
“Is this how you envisioned our lives back then?” she asks. “Be honest.”
“I’m always honest for you,” he tells her. She scoffs and he rolls her over on the mattress. “It isn’t. This was a surprise. A gift. I didn’t know you wanted to marry me.”
She trails her hands down his chest and plays with the buttons of his shirt. She works them open and kisses his skin. 
“I would have married you any time in the last seven years,” she tells him. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm.” She hooks her legs around his waist. “How would you feel about making Chapman’s a family business?”
“Much better if you asked me that sober,” he teases, still groaning at the roll of her hips against his. “You will ask me again when you’re sober?”
Masha laughs. 
“I promise.”
She looks up at Eric and thinks he looks soft and vulnerable for the first time since they were young and dumb and making out in a bar in London and she thinks ‘This is the man I’ve always been in love with’ with a fond smile before arching up to kiss him for the millionth time. When the telephone rings a few hours later and Eric rushes off to collect a body for work, Masha watches him dress fastidiously and race out the door, certain and grateful now that she will see him again and soon.
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theresponsiblefloch · 5 years ago
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Getting Out of My Head
Who: Camille and Javan
When: Friday 27th March
Where: J2
Notes/Warnings: Javan and Camille take a moment to reconnect after the storm
@camille-laubert
Camille entered the familiar bar and looked around until she spotted the figure she was here to see.  Adjusting the low cut scoop of her top she was making sure that she framed her breasts properly.  Seemingly ignoring Javan, Camille made her way over to the bar and stood with a smirk looking along the stools.  As the bar tender asked if they could help she gave a slight laugh, “I believe there is a seat with my name on it at the bar but I don’t know which one it would be.”
Javan looked up when the door opened out of habit, lips quirking into a smile as he saw who walked through the door. It was hard to suppress the laugh that wanted to spill out at the very studious way Camille seemed to be ignoring him, which told him she knew exactly where he was. Sure enough, Nic looked over at him and tilted his head towards Camille. Wanting to needle Camille a bit, Javan shook his head so Nic turned back to the woman. "I guess I can't tell you that. You'll have to pick one and see if its right."
Camille bit her lower lip and ran her eyes along the stools again before she lifted her gaze to meet Nic’s.  “Hmm, there could be a whole lot resting on this decision. How about you make me a porn star martini while I choose.”  The temptation to turn and look at him was strong but she ignored it as she walked back and forth before finally pulling a seat out and sitting down delicately, her fingers resting on the smooth wooden bar top.
As soon as Nic had finished making the drink, he placed it in front of her and moved farther down the bar to help someone else who had just come in. Javan finished serving the customer he was with and checked in with the other customers along the way as he leisurely moved towards her. When he finally made it to Camille, he looked at her with something close to surprise. "Hi Camille. I see you found your way to a seat."
She reached out and lifted the glass with a thanks before taking a sip and closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the taste.  There was no doubt in her mind that Javan knew she was in the bar by this time but she could wait, after all she intended to stay well past closing with him.  Occupying herself with the drinks menu, though she could practically recite it from memory she turned at his voice.  “I did indeed, though I must say I was a little disappointed not to see a name card for me.  Still the fabulous drink is making up for it.”  She lifted the glass muttering a quick cheers towards him before placing it down again.  “How are you this evening Javan?”
"And if I had put out a name card, you'd be disappointed in whatever seat I had chosen and you would complain about that. This way you didn't also complain about how long your drink took to be made since you took your time about it," he teased her back as he casually wiped down the bar in front of her. "I'm doing fine. As well as can be expected after the storm - but as you can see, J2 made it through fine so that's the important thing. And you?"
Camille couldn’t stop the laugh tumbling from her lips at his words.  He knew her too well, especially when she was in one of these moods so she couldn’t argue with what he said.  “I’m glad to see it.  So many places had damage including the building I was in.  One of the big windows at the front got badly damaged, there was glass everywhere.  It was such a mess and of course water poured in then too.”  Camille shuddered visibly at the memory before she reached for her glass and took a large gulp, “Still it’s over and we are safe.  I do need to unwind tonight though, think you can help?”
Javan couldn't entirely hide the real concern he felt at the story she was telling, although she didn't appear to be injured. Reaching across, he tilted up her chin so he could look over her face and into her eyes a little more closely. Just to be sure. "If you need to go up to my place early, I can send you up with the key." As much as he enjoyed teasing Camille, there was a point where it was more important to make sure she was well and stable.
Camille's eyes widened as he lifted her face up, her gaze finding his familiar one.  Any playing about disappeared from her mind as she gave a slight nod, her expression totally serious, "Thank you but I promise I'm alright.....or I will be."  Breaking his stare for a moment she took a pause, "I just need to get out of my head tonight."
Javan nodded as she gave the serious reply so that she knew he understood. He needed something similar, so it would be easy enough to provide. "I'll get you some food. Are you willing to risk the soup of the day or should I just shout  your name at Andre and see what he decides to provide?"
It was clear to her he knew where she was coming from and she knew he would give her what she needed, it was the whole reason she was here.  In turn she could help him to at least relax a bit if nothing else.  Moment over she gave a chuckle at the question, "While I'm quite intrigued to see what Andre thinks I should have I will stick with the soup.  I don't want to be active on a full stomach after all."  Her fingers wrapped round the stem of her glass as she lifted it to her lips again, smirking at him as she did.  Without another thought she ran her eyes down his body and back up to meet his gaze again, licking her lips as she did and bringing her thoughts back to her reason for being there.
Javan had to suppress a chuckle at the knowing edge to her movements. They might not talk about the moment again, it was enough that it had happened and they were both aware. But for now, he could give her the space to relax and enjoy herself. "It's a vegetarian cabbage soup tonight. Both satisfying and energizing to keep you going for whatever you need tonight. Also, I think Bea is into the dramatic retellings stage of her current break up if you want to be entertained for a little while." A regular that both of them knew, Bea fell in and out of love quickly and did all of it at top volume.  He'd enjoyed her tragic stories more than once and figured the woman would be good company for Camille while he was busy.
"Satisfying and energizing, two words that I like to hear this evening," the submissive teased.  Her gaze made it's way in the clear direction of Bea's voice and she looked back with a chuckle.  "Is this about Jacob or Toni?.....actually that sounded very like Pierre," she grinned as she lifted her glass and downed the contents.  "I think I need that before I go over.  Can I have  a glass of water to take over.  Too much alcohol and one of Bea's stories and I might not make it to closing time."  Waiting for water Camille took a visible deep breath before she went over with a sympathetic smile and gave Bea a consolatory hug before the woman began to retell the story for her benefit, with even more emphasis than she had previously been using.
Javan handed her the glass of water, feeling like he was supposed to salute her with the air she approached Bea. Instead, he gave her a chance to get settled before going into the kitchen to put together the bowl of soup with a few slices of a baguette. He made another drink for her to go with it, and then approached the table and put the food down in front of her. "Enjoy yourself ladies. Let me know if you need anything." But before he could be wrapped up in the stories and either of them actually responding, he slipped away and behind the bar again.
Camille was laughing loudly at Bea's tale when the food was placed before her.  She barely had a moment to register it before Javan was gone again but she did appreciate the fact he had brought her another drink too.  Bea didn't miss a beat in her story so Camille ate her soup and enjoyed her drink and the entertaining story, just letting herself have some fun until closing time.
Javan had to suppress a chuckle at the knowing edge to her movements. They might not talk about the moment again, it was enough that it had happened and they were both aware. But for now, he could give her the space to relax and enjoy herself. The end of his shift would come soon enough.
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ktlsyrtis · 6 years ago
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Would you consider writing 8, 13 or 18 for Berena please? :)
Funny story: I’m apparently incapable of writing an actual drabble *shrug*Anyway, this ridiculousness is all @sententiousandbellicose​‘s fault
8. “Wanna bet?”13. “Kiss me.”18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”
“Well?”
Fleur leans back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as she studies the man across the break room table. Variables spin through her mind, all the myriad ways this scheme could go terribly wrong, is surprised at how much she keeps coming back to the sliver of hope that it may go so very right.
“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.” A sly smile quirks her bright pink lips. “Of course I’m in.”
Serena takes her first sip of wine with a grateful sigh, happy to put another long day behind her. That sense of satisfaction dissipates as a man slips onto the barstool beside her, waving down the bartender for a beer.
“Not tonight, Michael.”
Spence’s eyes go wide with poorly feigned innocence. “What? Can’t I just enjoy a quiet drink with a coworker?”
Serena snorts into her glass. “Coy doesn’t suit you.”
If someone told Serena a year ago that Michael Spence would become one of her closest friends, she would’ve laughed in their face.
When he first returned to Holby, she saw very little of him aside from a few snarky remarks in passing. It made it even more surprising when he dropped into the seat across from her at Albie’s one night, sliding an extra large glass of shiraz her way.
“All right, Serena. Spill.”
“Excuse me?”
“Since I came back, all I’ve heard about, from Fleur down to the porters, is the lady-loving soap opera that is your love life.” His grin morphs into a leer. “Which, first of all, well done! I didn’t think you had it in you.”
He taps his beer bottle against her wine glass in a toast as she sputters a response, cheeks flaming.
“Anyway, I thought it was time to get it directly from the source. So,” he says, settling back in his chair, “tell me everything.”
It’s more of a surprise to Serena than anyone that she does. She finds there’s something freeing in talking about it all to someone who wasn’t there, a neutral third party of sorts, is astonished to discover that Spence is both an incredibly good listener and an insightful, if blunt, voice of reason. It becomes a regular thing; the two of them sitting down at Albie’s and setting the world to rights, and some of the weight lifts from Serena’s shoulders, the ache in her heart easing just enough that she feels like she can breathe again.
The downside of their unlikely friendship comes with the pronouncement that Spence has decided it’s time for Serena to “get back out there,” nominating himself as her personal matchmakers. Since that night, he’s attempted to set her up with an unending series of women and men, most of them a complete disaster.
“I’m hardly in the mood for another one of your ‘perfect’ matches,” Serena says with a glare.
“Hey,” Spence says, “there’ve been some good ones in there. What about Lucy?”
“Her idea of a weekend away was a yurt in Wales.”
“You had fun with Jim.”
“Yes, right up until he ever so delicately mentioned that he felt I should leave my career if we were to get serious.”
“Marianne was a hottie.”
“She was also teetotal!”
“You’re just too picky,” he grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. “I still think you should’ve gone out with Lola. She was into you.”
She rolls her eyes with a mirthless chuckle. “You’re delusional if you think I want to have that conversation with Ric Griffin.”
“Fair point.”
A comfortable silence settles between them as they sip at their drinks, but Serena can feel an odd tension coming off of Spence, frowns as he takes a none too subtle look around the bar for the fifth time.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Me? Nothing.” He gestures to the bartender for a top up of Serena’s wine, giving her a smile that’s just a touch too bright. “I’m just looking over the field, seeing if there are any contenders here tonight.”
Serena glowers at him. “I said I wasn’t in the mood.”
“Oh come on. The perfect person for you could be be here right now!”
“Wanna bet?” Serena mutters into her wine glass.
Spence makes a show of looking around the crowded bar, nudges his shoulder against Serena’s.
“What about her?” She follows his gaze to a redhead laughing with a small group in the corner.
“No.”
“She’s cute.”
“She’s barely out of a school uniform!”
“I thought you were into that,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“I hate you,” she hisses, wonders if she’ll ever stop regretting telling him about Leah.
Spence just snickers, and Serena’s too busy draining her wine to notice him glance over his shoulder, eyes going wide.
“Well, what about her?”
“Michael, for the last time,” Serena turns on her stool, the words dying in her throat. Fleur is standing in the doorway, a mischievous smile on her face, and standing behind her is…
“Bernie,” she whispers, heart thudding unevenly in her chest. She’s too stunned to move, can only drink in the sight of her, somehow even more beautiful than the last time she saw Bernie in this very same bar, the night she broke both of their hearts.
“Go get her, tiger,” Spence says just loud enough for Serena’s ears, slips off his barstool and disappears into the crowd.
The sounds of the bar seem to recede as Bernie reaches the bar, a nervous smile on her face. This close Serena can see the sadness in her eyes, the hurt, recognizes it from her own mirror each morning.
“Hello, Serena.”
“I- wha-, um, what are you doing here?” Serena winces in regret, the flash of uncertainty in Bernie’s eyes at her fumbled words going through her like a physical pain.
“Surprise?” Bernie shrugs a bit, tension showing in every line of her body. “I, um, I’ve been staying in touch with Fleur and she said…well, she may have implied that you, ah, you might want me to…” She huffs, looking up at the ceiling. “God, this was a terrible idea. I’m sorry, I’ll just-”
“No!” Serena grabs Bernie’s hand without thinking, a shock of familiarity running through them both. “No, please. Please don’t leave.”
A strange sort of deja vu washes over her; being here with Bernie feels like she’s being given an opportunity, a chance to right the biggest mistake of her life. Over Bernie’s shoulder she sees Spence and Fleur, wide, encouraging smiles on both their faces, and she takes a deep breath, marshals her courage.
“Please don’t leave,” she says again, her words steady and certain. “That’s what I should’ve said the night of Jason’s wedding.” Bernie’s eyes soften, her mouth dropping open to respond, but now that Serena has started she can’t seem to stop. “When I said I couldn’t picture our life together? That was a lie. It’s all I picture, every minute of every day.”
She wraps her other hand over the top of Bernie’s, blinks back the tears blurring her eyes.
“I never wanted you to leave, Bernie, but I couldn’t imagine that you’d want to stay, that you could possibly choose me.” Serena shrugs. “I panicked. I thought I didn’t deserve you, so I pushed you away before you could realize that I wasn’t enough.”
“Serena-”
“I know I’ve messed it all up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I can’t let you keep thinking that I didn’t want you, want us. When actually, you- you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I ever will want. Bernie, I-”
“Serena!” Bernie’s voice finally penetrates the racing of her mind, stuns her into silence. “Yes, you pushed me away. But Serena,” she says, eyes filled with a tenderness Serena never thought she’d see again, “I let you.”
Serena blinks, scarcely able to take in Bernie’s words.
“I was scared, too.” She huffs out a laugh. “God, I’m still scared. Yes, I love my work in Nairobi. I love the adventure, the sense of fulfillment, feeling like I’m truly helping people.” Her jaw sets in determination. “But if I’ve realized anything, it’s that none of it matters without you.”
“What,” Serena swallows hard, throat suddenly too dry to force words out. “What are you saying?”
Bernie’s hand moves to cup Serena’s cheek, her fingers slipping through the silver hair at her temple. “I’m saying I want to come home, Serena. I want to give us another chance.” Sudden doubt skitters across her face, like a cloud blotting out the sun. “If, if that’s what you want.”
“If that’s what I-” Serena has to bite back a hysterical laugh. She turns her head slightly, nuzzling that much closer into Bernie’s warm palm. “There’s only one thing I want right now.”
“And what’s that?” Bernie’s gotten closer, somehow, close enough that Serena can smell her perfume, overlaid with the faint whiff of cigarettes and coffee that has come to feel like home.
“Kiss me.”
Serena loses herself in Bernie, the feel of her, the taste. It’s everything she thought she’d lost forever and she’s determined to never let it go again.
Sound penetrates the edge of her awareness — sharp whistles, two voices shouting some deeply inappropriate suggestions. Behind Bernie’s back, she raises two fingers sharply in a vee before tangling her hand in Bernie’s messy, glorious hair, pulling her that much closer as peels of laughter ring in the background.
[drabble prompts]
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shirtlessprincess-blog · 6 years ago
Text
Busy night in Rhodes
Arthur having a steamy night with a girl from Rhodes’ saloon after a bar fight.
This is the first time I post one of my texts, I really hope you’ll enjoy the atmosphere! English isn’t my mother tongue
Let the smut battle begin @soazzar !  Level 1 here we go ...
It wasn’t a busy night for her. She only had a couple old regulars coming to visit her after a hard day of work. Like every evening, she and the other girls were waiting for the night to get steamier as the men got drunker. As she was standing against the stair’s handrail of Rhodes’ biggest saloon, lightly smiling at the men that seemed to be decent and not too drunk, avoiding eye contact with those who were notorious creeps with no money, she noticed Arthur as soon as he crossed the doorway. He was nothing like the boys she was used to deal with; weathered skin, strong shoulders and a leather hat throwing shadow over a confident yet gentle look. His boots were rather dirty but he seemed to be a well groomed man. As he passes by her, she noticed his guns and the way he walked like nothing could scare him definitely showed how good he was at using them. 
- Hello, handsome, she whispered just loud enough for him to hear but faintly enough to give any man the desire to hear it a second time. 
His large back tightened a bit which surprised her but then the way he turned around and looked her in the eyes made her even more curious. 
- My lady, he nodded with his hat covering his blue eyes. 
She couldn’t help but take a step closer to him so he’d have to choose between keeping some personal space or sharing the same air. 
- Are you looking for a good time, cowboy, she asked smiling.
He did not withdraw but but he politely declined her offer, leaving her here, wondering what she had made wrong. It usually worked with everyone! 
As she went back to the stairs pouting, Arthur made his way to the bar. One of the other girls, a friend of hers, told her night was still early. She tried to focus on work but she would only stand and wait in places that allowed her to peek at Arthur’s wide back leaning over the bar. 
It was barely midnight and she had been drinking a few whisky glasses with some other fellas, making sure her cowboy was still here, getting friendlier with other customers as he got drunker. 
And suddenly the saloon’s door were smashed open; the air filled with a smell of swamp. Everyone was kinda used to the Lemoyne Raiders visits but this time, they seemed to be more angry. The three of them quickly made their way to the bar, pushing away every poor guy that was in their way. 
She only understood what was happening when the first punch was thrown. In her handsome cowboy’s face. 
His hat flew and Arthur almost fell down from the shock on his jaw. He immediately stepped back, blocking an other punch and hitting the bastard right in the stomach. He fell down to his knees and Arthur lost no time to kick him with the knee. 
The girl and everyone in the saloon has raised from their chairs and were waiting for what would happen next. It was the first time she had seen a man handle these raiders bastards so well, even though his lips were bleeding a bit. 
The two other raiders jumped into the fight, throwing fists with anger at that man who made such a fool of their boss, lying on the ground. She saw her handsome boy taking some bad punches but all she could do was stand there, her hands covering her sweet lips with fear for him. Everything happened very quickly and she couldn’t tell exactly how, but Arthur managed to smash one of the guy’s head against the wall. The second after, a knife was in the last raider’s hand, threatening anyone that would come too close. A little scream escaped from the girl’s mouth as Arthur dodged one strike, and a second but the third… cut his arm and blood spilled over the floor. Without even knowing her body had been moving, the girl ran across the room to stick her nails as hard as she could on the raider’s arm. The distraction was enough for Arthur to grab a whisky bottle but before he could crash it on the bastard’s head, the girl was thrown away in the loud crowd that had gathered to see the fight. 
As soon as the last one was lying unconscious on the dirty ground, the saloon’s owner had them thrown out of his establishment, so angry he was ‘cause one of his girls was affected. Before he could turn to check she was alright, he saw Arthur was already helping her back on her feet. 
- You alright, he asked with his arm around her waist to support her. 
- Yes… but you’re bleeding, she answered back, feeling dizzy. 
Arthur quickly checked his wound and only then the pain would strike but his only reaction was a light smirk. 
- Now Cathy take care of this man, will you, the owner told the girl, annoyed there was such a mess in his saloon. 
She then took a handkerchief off her corset and placed it on Arthur’s cut to stop the bleeding. 
- Follow me, she gently said. 
Arthur put his large hand over hers so she didn’t have to get covered in blood while they went upstairs. She didn’t let go of him though, and grabbed his other arm to press it against her  beating chest. 
As soon as they got to the room, she locked the door. 
- Well, it was real brave jumping on that bastard, Arthur said. 
- Ain’t my first fight you know, she smiled back. 
- Could’ve been much worst without you, he replied, showing his arm. 
- Come here, sweetheart…
He was about to tell her not to worry about him and she could leave, but she already had him sit on a chair and given him a pretty good view on her corseted breasts. While she would clean the wound with a wet piece of cloth, she would smile at him from time to time, and the sparks in her green eyes would catch Arthur’s attention more and more with every glimpse. 
- Must hurt pretty bad, I’m sorry those morons were after you, she whispered. 
- I’ve been hurt worst than that… and those morons had pretty good reasons to be after me, he replied amused. 
- Then I guess you’re not just a nice cowboy, am I right, she said with her most teasing voice. 
He laughed, letting himself get caught in her game: 
- You better not figure out what I am, girl. 
The wound wasn’t too deep and within minutes she had made a good bandage. She then handed him a bottle of brandy as he got up, determined not to let him leave. 
- I think I’ve had enough for tonight, miss. I’d better leave before you get into trouble, he declined. 
- Oh you’re too caring, sir, she whispered, slowly walking to the door without taking her emerald eyes off his. 
Leaning on the door, she took the bottle to her rosy lips and drank a sip from it, skillfully letting one drop of the glossy fluid run down her chin and then fall on her chest, watching Arthur’s eyes follow the tiny drop as it dived down her breasts. 
- Don’t you want to have a taste, at least? 
He grinned and looked away, his face turning red. There was no escaping from the room, after all. She sighed and understanding that he wasn’t going to make the first move, she came so close their mouths were almost touching. She put her hands on his chest and slowly led them up ‘till her fingertips would touch his jawline. Arthur’s breath got faster as her lips melted with his, and he couldn’t help but closing his eyes. One of his hands carefully slid onto her lower back and she immediately pressed her body harder against him.
She made her way down  kissing and licking his neck until her mouth would meet his buttoned shirt. Nothing could stop her and she quickly unfastened every button her expert hands would find. She playfully slammed his shoulder straps on his torso and the tickling made Arthur tighten his grip on her waist. In no time his shirt was falling to the ground and he was sitting on the bed, now unable to break the spell he was under. Savoring her victory, she untied his pants and with delight followed the hardening bulge with her fingertip, making her sturdy cowboy shiver. She giggled softly and kissed his lower belly while getting rid of any piece of clothes that was keeping her from his warm skin. 
There he was now, stone hard from her caresses, abandoning himself and letting her guide him towards places he’d long forgotten. 
- Close your eyes, she whispered so close to his flesh he could feel her breath on it. 
With one hand she would slowly, carefully run up and down its whole length and with the other hand would brush his chest. At first, she would just tease him with light strokes and kisses closer and closer to his rod, softly breathing and blowing onto it, with her lips so close he thought they would touch, but they never did and it was driving him crazy with lust. Then, satisfied with the amount of frustration she could sense in his hands gripping the blanket and his stifled moans, she began playing with different levels of pressure with her fingers, and went up and down faster, then slower just on the tip before softly pecking his tense and warm skin. 
She used all her mastery in the art of love to lead him higher and higher without hitting the climax too fast. She wanted to take her time and to get to learn each and every move that pleased him most. She loved the way Arthur would look away whenever she would look up to his face. 
He felt like his whole body was burning under a hot summer sun, but then, as his heartbeat went faster and faster, he thought he was drowning in the pleasure that woman was giving him. He couldn’t stop watching her frail and soft hands working with so much dedication to his very own pleasure. He soon felt out of breath and couldn’t hold back moans that had been waiting for years to come out his dry throat. With no warning, he put his weathered hand on her cheek and caressed her in the most tender way she had ever experienced. Her heart missed a beat when he slid his thumb over her lips, leaning closer. So close he pressed his mouth against hers, taking her by surprise and she stopped thinking for a second. When he took his wet lips off her, she followed them by instinct, her eyes still closed. Her hands were now tied behind his neck, and when she opened her eyes, Arthur saw in them a burning that had just appeared. 
She stood up, pushed him back on the bed and in a hurry proceeded to take off her dress. Every inch of skin showing as shiny fabric was slipping down her curvy body was making Arthur’s wait even more difficult. She finally got on the bed, over him and he felt overwhelmed by the softness of her skin, the beauty of her curves and the smell of her desire. He brought her body on his and kissed her, letting his large hands run everywhere they could on her. 
- I ain’t done with you yet, cowboy, she smiled before biting his lip. 
She teasingly put his hands off her and lied beside him, her head resting on his tight, waiting for him to figure out what was coming next. Very amused by his confusion, she slowly got near his hardened meat and began tasting it, with more and more appetite. He closed his eyes as she opened her mouth, giving him the strongest rush down the spine he’d ever felt. With every skill she had, and her hands, and her tongue, she drove him into lusty madness. Each deep moan that escaped from Arthur’s mouth would show her that same direction and she joined his choir when he slid his hand between her legs lying next to his chest. The more pleasure she gave him, the more he would give back and her short breath, her wetting tights and her moans were too much for him to handle. She soon felt his limb tighten and shiver and she pulled out to let him spill in her warm hands as she watched him cover his sweaty face with one arm.
He was out of breath and his mind was somewhere only her could have him discover. Satisfied, she let him catch his breath while she washed her hands with a tissue. When she got back to him, there was the sweetest look in his eyes. 
- How about I pay you back, he said, bringing her body over his. 
- You may try, cowboy…
She smiled back at him, pleased of his sudden boldness and watched him with delight put his hands on her body, his tongue lick the tip of her breasts and his fingers run deeper and deeper between her sweaty tights. 
In the morning when she got up, her handsome cowboy was nowhere to be found but on the chair she found a piece of paper on which was lying a beautiful necklace. On the page torn from a notebook, there was a lovely portrait of her, peacefully sleeping and next to it was written :
« Take care, Cathy - A.M. »
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lyonrhodes · 6 years ago
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One Bad Day #10: Sober
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Red Hood x OC, Batman/DC Fan Fic
Summary: Dora has lived in Gotham her whole life and is accustomed to the rampant crime and corruption. Her life gets worse when Black Mask takes over the city. She thinks all hope is lost but a new vigilante appears, calling himself the Red Hood. However, he’s not your typical knight in shining armor. Dora must decide: does she dare fall in love with a revenge-driven killer? (Romance, Crime, Action)
Chapter 10: Sober
“What the hell?” Dora untangled herself from Red Hood. She tumbled off the bed and looked around for her bra—her shirt, a pillow, a blanket... anything at all to cover her naked chest. “You don’t knock? What’s wrong with you?”
“The door was open!” Holly tried to contain the smile on her face, but couldn’t. She looked at Red Hood. “Who’s the cutie, Dee?”
“Um...” She couldn’t answer. Her mind was racing, trying to think of an excuse, trying to find something to wear. She gave up and just covered her breasts with her arms. “Just... get out of here, Holly!” But Holly just stood there, basking in her embarrassment with a stupid grin on her face.
“Don’t worry, she can stay. I have to go anyway,” Red Hood said. He found Dora’s top and handed it to her.
“Wait, no...” Dora said, slipping it on quickly. She realized it was sheer and on backwards, but she didn’t care. Where could he possibly have to be? A minute ago he had enough free time for sex, but now that Holly had cock-blocked him, he didn’t? “Hey, you don’t have to go... I can make her leave.” She held his hand tightly, trying to show him how much she wanted him to stay.
“Can’t be sure she wasn’t followed here.” He pulled his hand away.
A lame excuse. Dora feared she knew the truth. The interruption had sobered him up and made him reconsider revealing his identity to a desperate girl from the ghetto, with daddy issues. Not to mention she also had both an illegal immigrant and a hooker for best friends, as well as a drug runner for a sister.
Pissed off but not wanting to show it, Dora glared at Holly behind Red Hood’s back and gestured aggressively that she had to leave. Holly either didn’t notice or just ignored Dora’s signals. She stood there and ogled Hood, unabashed, as he slipped his jacket over his bare back. He reached into the collar and pulled out a detachable red hood large enough to conceal most of his face in shadow.
“It’s okay, Dora,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” He bent down and kissed her lips. It was surprisingly soft and tender, in contrast to their previous kisses. He lingered for a long moment, caressing her cheek with his thumb... then he placed her glasses back into her hands.
When their lips lost contact, Dora felt a magnetic pull. She wondered if he felt it too, and if it meant he would come back. He had to; he couldn’t leave her hanging like this.
He grabbed his gear and on the way out the door; he whispered something to Holly. She smirked, not looking him in the face, but down at his taut torso. “Sure thing, boss. Your secret is safe with me.”
Red Hood scoffed and left, zipping up his jacket without looking back. Dora ran across the room, and sealed the door. “What the fuck, Holly?” she shouted. “What the hell was that? Can’t you take a hint? Why didn’t you just leave?”
“And pass up the chance to check out my boss while he’s shirtless ? He’s a babe, isn’t he? And hey... you are too.” Her eyes lowered. “You’ve got nice tits, Dee. You should show them off more often. What’s your size? I’ve got some tops you can borrow if you’re ever in the mood.”
Dora crossed her arms, annoyingly reminded of Holly’s job. She stomped over to the sofa and fell into it, groaning. She was frustrated. Very frustrated.
“Blue tubes?” Holly asked, sitting down and putting Dora’s feet in her lap.
“Holly, just... Grrr!” Dora really hated her right now. “What the hell are you even doing here?”
“Carla was worried about you. You weren’t picking up your phone, so she called and asked me to check if you were still at the bar. She said you promised you’d be home hours ago.”
Groaning, Dora slapped her forehead. “Damn it, that’s right. I kinda lost track of time.”
Holly giggled, looking at the half empty bottle of whiskey. “Yeah, I see why. Can’t blame you. ... So are you and Red Hood, like, together now?”
“No.”
“Do you know his name?” Holly prodded.
“No.”
“Have you seen his face yet? I mean without that little mask on?”
“No.”
Holly smiled. “Oh, so it’s just casual?”
“No! I mean I don’t know!” Dora said, aggravated. “We were kinda figuring that out when you barged in.”
“Hey, I didn’t barge in.”
“You might as well have. Why didn’t you leave when I told you to?”
Holly shrugged. “C’mon, he was practically halfway out the door once he realized I was there. Sorry, but not sorry, Dee.”
“Oh, fuck off, Holly.” She was actually annoyed and angry with her.
“Hey, I’m game if you are. Seeing you two together kinda got my motor running.” She traced circles on Dora’s knee, and a mischievous smile spread on her face.
Dora slapped her hand away and blushed, embarrassed. “Stop!”
“Fine, fine!” Holly said, laughing. “So are you going home tonight?”
“No. I’m too fucking tired to walk five blocks.” Dora swung her legs off Holly’s lap and dragged herself to the bed. She kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans, glad for once her bra was already off.
“Mind if I crash here tonight too?” Holly said while typing up a text to Carla.
Dora didn’t say anything for a moment, considering it. “Fine,” she groaned. “Take the couch.”
Sprawling out, Holly smiled. “If I had left... you were going to rub one out, huh?”
Dora threw a pillow at her.
#
$3,000 for flooring. $6,000 for the new pool tables. $4,000 for the new bar counter and the shelf behind it. $3,000 for all the new booths, tables, and chairs. $4,500 more to renew the liquor license. $6,000 to restock all the liquor the LU had destroyed. Plus another dozen odds and ends eating away her funds. All of it was covered by the loan she had gotten for mortgaging the Montgomery building, but every invoice still cut deep. $8,000 monthly, for the foreseeable future, to pay it all back.
Dora brooded in one of those newly upholstered booths, with invoices and receipts spread out on the table in front of her, silently trying to keep her composure. The bar averaged about $20,000 in revenue a month—on a good month. With all the usual expenses coupled with her debt, she would barely break even every month, and probably not see a decent profit for years. She needed an accountant to be sure, to help trim the fat off her expenses and work out more efficient payment plans for all her loans. Her mother had kept books for the bar and the flats in the building for almost 20 years, but she was far and away from qualified despite the experience. Even if a CPA was willing to overlook all the extortion and laundering in the books, Dora didn’t think she could afford one.
What she really needed was her father. He would know what to do.
“Oye, mija, que vamos hacer? Estas segura con sus opciones?”
Dora snapped out of her thoughts and back into reality. The foreman of the contractors her mother had hired stood by the table, looking at her with an impatient expression.  “I’m sorry, what?” Dora asked.
The foreman rolled his eyes and spoke to her in heavily accented English. “I want to ask you, are you sure you do not want marble? Looks better than wood.”
It was Dora’s turn to be annoyed. She had already told this guy she didn’t want marble countertops for the bar, she wanted wood. Marble was too expensive. “El madera, por cierto.”
“And for sinks? My men have the porcelain packed in the truck.”
Dora groaned. “Steel. I want the steel sinks.”
“Sorry, but is not whole point of remodel to make bar look better? You had wood counters before, had steel sinks before.”
“Listen, dude, I’m not made of money. If you want this job, then just do what I say and don’t argue with me. I could always find some Americans with licenses to do it.”
The man gave her a nasty look for a fraction of a second, but wiped it away just as quick. It still left Dora feeling ashamed. “Of course,” he said, and turned back to his men with a nod.
She hated to pull that card, not just because it was a complete bluff (she couldn’t afford licensed contractors), but more because it was undermining these immigrant workers who were as much Santa Priscan as her mother. She felt a bad taste in her mouth just having said those words.
She looked again at the papers strewn across the table. She had lost her train of thought, not that she had made any progress working out how to dig herself out all this debt. Right now the only plan was to just carry on, earn as much as she could, and chip away at the balance. Perhaps small, but regular payments would keep the debt collectors off their asses. The overhead left just enough for her family to get by, not as well off as before, but good enough—assuming her tenants upstairs didn’t keep moving out. With an exhausted sigh, Dora stacked up the papers. Her desk in the office hadn’t been big enough for her to work on, but at least it had provided her some privacy from the contractors. Maybe she could sneak in a nap while she was in there.
“Is there any room in all that left for me?”
“Rochelle!” Dora lit up at the sight of Rochelle’s bright green eyes and even brighter smile. She pulled her into a fervently tight hug. Dora hadn’t seen her since the night the LU trashed the bar, and in the wake of all that had happened, she forgot how much she missed her best friend. “I’m sorry I haven’t called you back, things have been crazy busy around here.”
Rochelle looked around at some of the unfinished parts of the bar—the bullet holes in the barshelf, the hole in the wall leading to restrooms—she seemed amused. “Yeah, I can see that. I leave you alone and everything goes to shit.”
Dora suppressed a laugh. “Why are you here?”
Rochelle’s forehead puckered but there was a smirk on her lips. “What the hell do you mean, ‘why am I here?’ I’m here to make certain I still have a job! The Alibi’s hosted three crime scenes within the last fucking year, two of those within the last bloody month—and I really mean bloody now, Dee. It’s been totally trashed. I heard from Holly that you sold the fucking place.”
“I didn’t sell it. I mortgaged it.”
“Dee, I don’t know what difference that makes here in the states... I don’t even know what to think. You haven’t called, you haven’t texted.”
“I’m so sorry, Rochelle. And of course you still have a job. Honestly, I just couldn’t find a minute...” Just thinking of all the distractions lately made her head spin. Applying for the loans, dealing with vendors and licensing, looking for cheap contractors, then all the renovation work, both what I have to oversee and what I have to do myself. And to top it all, Red Hood stopping by and causing a swirling wake of... feelings... and disappearing. Now that she thought of it, Dora realized what she really needed all this time was a friend, a confidante. She needed Rochelle.
“Wow, Dora,” Rochelle said, concern etching on her face as she studied her. “You really look like you need to relax.”
A bitter laugh broke out of Dora. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Rochelle hugged her tightly, and it took all of Dora’s self-control not to break out crying.
“Do you need help with anything?” Rochelle asked, rubbing her shoulder.
“Not really...” Dora looked around the barroom—at the floors, the furniture, the fixings—the hole still in the wall. There wasn’t much left that she or anyone else unskilled could do that the contractors couldn’t do better or quicker. She and Red Hood had taken care of all the small stuff last night.
“Well, the place is going to look better. Nevermind the shit that happened in here, it was due for an update anyway,” Rochelle said looking around. “You got new pool tables, I see.”
“Yeah, they cost me $3,000. Each.” Dora walked over to the nearby wall and flicked a switch, turning on the lamps hanging over the tables. Those were $75 each.
“Red felt?” Rochelle touched the fabric on top of one of the tables, her eyebrow arched.
“Figured it was a refreshing change from the usual green.”
“Is that all?” she asked with a knowing smirk. “Why not black or blue or purple?”
It didn’t occur to Dora why she had picked red felt over the other colors until just now. “It... matches the bricks.” She gestured at the walls. She didn’t feel too badly about the pool tables, knowing that they were a safe investment. Having two new and balanced pool tables with fresh untorn felt and a full set of balls would certainly attract customers. Especially here in Crime Alley, where the denizens liked to wager on everything. Her brain then began to whir thinking of the possibilities—if she struck a deal with a bookie and got two or three flat screens, maybe they could bring in a bit more customers... The cellar was a perfect place to host poker games... but she was getting ahead of herself. Would her father have approved of the Alibi becoming an underground casino?
“Yikes,” Rochelle eyeing Dora’s brain blast with concern. “It’s obvious you need to unwind a bit, so why don’t we play a game of 8-ball?” She didn’t wait for an answer and racked up. A game of rock-paper-scissors let Dora break. She made a solid in, so she lined up another shot. While she did that, Rochelle asked, “So this Red Hood guy...”
Dora’s cue hit the felt. She cursed. This game was meant to calm her down. “What about him? He’s the reason we’re in this mess, isn’t he?” She shot again but didn’t score.
“Oh, cut the act,” Rochelle said. “Holly told me everything.”
Dora pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. “Then there’s no point in me telling you.”
Rochelle took her shot. It went wide, but she didn’t seem to care. “I know what happened, Dee, but not how you felt about it.”
Being honest with herself, Dora felt like she was dying to see Red Hood again. She was anxious to hear his voice, to talk to him. Red Hood had hinted that he had grown up on Park Row like her, so she wanted to know who he was—his name, if they had met before—she was almost certain she had. But just as much... she wanted to see his face and his body again, and run her hands all over him—and she wanted his hands, his lips, and whatever else all over her body too. However, she was wary because she had been drunk at the time... and horny. It had been years since she was last intimate with a man and Red Hood stirred something within her that she was having trouble holding back.
She told as much to Rochelle, in less direct words.
“Wow, you’re really smitten, aren’t you?” Rochelle said.
“Smitten?” Dora wasn’t sure what she meant.
“I think you might be falling for this guy.”
Dora couldn’t deny that she was physically attracted to him, and interested in his identity, but... was she attracted to him emotionally? “How can I be? I don’t even know his name. I haven’t really seen his face. We’ve spent no time together.”
“There’s more behind the mask, behind the guns, and behind all the killing, Dee, and I think you know that,” Rochelle led Dora over to the window, careful not to let the contractors overhear. “There’s a who and a why under that red bucket, and it’s vibing with your who and why—name and face be damned.”
“You think so?”
“I ship it. I’m on board SS Red Hood x Dora,” Rochelle said with a smile. “When are you going to see him again?”
“I have no idea. We didn’t really get a chance to swap phone numbers or anything like that. I don’t have a bat-signal or anything like that to summon him. He just kinda... drops by whenever I need help.”
“Note to self, find a red searchlight.” Rochelle laughed. “Oh, and speaking of dropping by.”
The front door chimed as a tall old woman walked into the Alibi. Leslie Thompkins. There was a hard expression on her face that Dora was not used to seeing.
“Leslie? What are you doing here?” Dora went to greet her.
“I was passing by on my way to the clinic and I saw the construction. I was afraid you had sold the place until I heard you talking. Did I hear that right, Dora? Are you involved with the Red Hood?”
For a second, Dora was incredulous that she had been overheard, then she noticed that the window she and Rochelle were standing by had no panes on it. “I, uh...” Leslie’s glare of disapproval was scorching. It was precisely why Dora hadn’t told her mother, to avoid the same judgement.
“I’ll go tell the guys about this window,” Rochelle said, walking off. Dora looked at her desperately, urging her to stay with just the expression on her face, but Rochelle just mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Dora, what are you thinking? He’s a criminal. A murderer!”
“Leslie, listen, he’s not like that. He helped me out a few times—”
“Helped? How? By killing people?”
“It was self-defense,” Dora pointed out.
“Then why does he avoid the police? Why does he wear a mask? Would your bar be this demolished if it weren’t for him?!”
“I nearly died. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him,” she said, trying not to raise her voice. “He didn’t trash the bar, the the cartel did. Red Hood’s done nothing but help me.”
Leslie gripped the strap of her bag tightly. “At what cost, Dora?”
“What do you mean, it cost me nothing!” But as soon as she said that, a jolt of realization struck her.
Red Hood originally wanted 15% off her total revenue, but after he sold the cocaine Carla had been running, she was off the hook. How come she never thought of it before? The “cost” had literally been flooding Gotham with drugs, even if it was to bougie brats on the Upper West Side. As much as Leslie had a soft spot for low-income minorities, Dora wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Dora, think about what you’re doing,” Leslie urged. “Is the survival of this bar really worth getting in bed with a crime lord? Think of your family.”
With that last remark suspended in the air, Leslie left the bar, leaving Dora with a sinking feeling in her chest that was getting heavier by the second. Leslie couldn’t possibly know the truth, but her choice of words caused a thought to occur to Dora. What did Red Hood really want from her? Did he really care about her, or was his affection just a front? Was he seducing her so she would comply with his racket? With men, he had no choice but to use force and bribery to get his way, but with women... all he really needed was his charisma. Was she the only female business owner in Park Row he had wooed?
[v0.3.15.1]
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albionscastle · 7 years ago
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Don’t Play With Me
I have no trouble seeing Jack as a semi knight in shining armour type of guy as well as just drop dead sexy with the words when he wants to be.
There’s a part 2 in progress but it’s one I definitely can’t write at work ;)
FIC MASTERLIST
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Your phone signaled a text message just as you were about to walk into the building. Grabbing at any delay you could, you pulled it from your clutch, stopping just outside the doors.
JL: Harry’s havin a movie night, ye up fer it? YN: Can’t, about to go to a wedding I don’t want to be at. Wish I could though. JL: Why are ye goin if ye don’ wanna be there? YN: Bride is my cousin, I have to go, but my ex is the best man. JL: The fucklump wi’ the kid? The one who ghosted ye?” YN: That’s the jackass. JL: Jesus, that sucks. Where is this shindig, maybe ye can sneak away early and come over.” YN: At the lake. I doubt I’ll make it over. Tell everyone I’m sorry. I should go in, ceremony is about to start. JL: Call me if ye need anything.
You put your phone on silent and took a deep breath, wishing that any one of your friends was here instead of you being alone. But no, you had to be stubborn, preferring to go stag rather than with an obvious pity date. Fuck you really were an idiot sometimes.
Fiddling with your dress the whole ceremony, you were aware of your ex’s eyes on you. You could have shot your friend Lisa for picking the damn thing out for you. Dresses were not your usual wardrobe choice, least of all flowy, romantic numbers with no backs.
“Show that prick what he’s missed out on.” she had cooed earlier that day as she finished your makeup.
That was the problem, you thought, as the day went through its stages. He had winked at you in a way that made your stomach churn. And your family had noticed, every comment being about you showing off for an ungrateful fuckstick you loathed. You would have been better off staying invisible.
At least Jack would have teased you about suddenly being a girl, before handing you a beer and leaving you alone.
Alone and wishing he was the one winking at you in some private joke, and then touching you, and then…
You shook your head, that kind of thinking would do no good. Jack was your friend, nothing more.
Two drinks into the reception your phone vibrated again.
JL: How’s it goin? YN: I may drink myself into oblivion, or hurl. Jury’s still out. JL: Tha’ bad? Is he givin ye grief? YN: NO, I mean he winked at me which was enough to make my skin crawl. My family is being a bit...wearying.
There was a tap on your shoulder as you read his reply, causing you to jump, dropping your phone. Your ex picked it up and you shoved it aside without finishing.
JL: I cannae blame him so much fer winkin at ye, tha dress is stunnin.
You never even saw Jack standing near you at the bar.
“Well you look sexy. If you were trying to rile me up you succeeded.”
“Fuck off, I didn’t wear it to impress you.”
“Could have fooled me, you know I always liked when you showed off those tits. Could have got one that showed off your ass too though.”
God, how had you never seen what a dirtbag he was until after it was all done between you.
“You always were crass. Besides what do you know about my ass? You didn’t touch me below the waist the entire time I knew you.”
You were oblivious to Jack choking on his beer just out of sight.
“Why do you have to be like that babe? We had a good time.”
“You had a good time, I just faked one. Every time.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Sweetheart, you aren’t exactly a prize specimen to be throwing away opportunities.”
“What opportunity would that be? To lay like an inflatable date while you get your rocks off? I’ll pass thanks.”
“I don’t see anyone else stepping up. Come on baby, let’s sneak away for few and you can re acquaint me with that talent tongue of yours.”
You were actually going to throw up.
“I’d rather drink battery acid.”
He took a step forward, reaching his hand toward you and you instinctively stepped back, colliding with a human wall.
“There ye are lass, yer cousin wouldna le me away tae find ye.”
Jack’s voice was somehow in your ear and you stiffened in shock as his body moved flush with your back, the knuckles of one hand gliding up and down your bare arm.
“Jack?” you managed to squeak as his lips brushed over your bare shoulder.
“Who’s yer friend?” his tone told you he knew exactly who you were talking to.
“Not my friend.” You smiled as Jack slid his other hand around your waist. “My ex.”
“Ohhhh, right mate, I shoul be thanking ye then.”
Your ex looked uncomfortable as the - superior-in-every-way - Jack grinned smugly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, if ye hadna let her get away, she never would ha ended up wi’ me. I ken a prize when I see one.”
You almost laughed at the angry look on your ex’s face, but any thought of him was quickly eradicated as Jack pressed his mouth to the tender spot below your ear.
“Come and dance wi’ me.” he murmured, tugging you toward the dance floor.
You left your ex without a second thought, following Jack to the centre of the floor and reveling in the feel of his arm around your waist as he pulled you close to him.
“Jack, what are you doing here?”
“I couldna in good conscience leave ye alone wi’ the wolves.”
“What about movie night?”
“Lisa an Harry needed some alone time. An there’s a wee chance she filled me in on the history here.”
“Oh God.” you went bright red.
“Dinna worry, she didna tell me anythin half as bad as wha I just heard.” his voice was tight.
“How much did you hear?”
“All of it, I was ri there. Ye never saw mah text about seein ye in tha dress did ye?”
“I think I got interrupted.”
“Tha ye did, and the bugger is still starin at ye.”
“Fuck him.”
“No mah type love.” Jack winked at you and heat pooled in your belly.
God he was gorgeous. And he was watching you, his blue eyes alight with mischief as you bit your bottom lip against the way he was making you feel.
“Tall, dark and arrogant not your type, Lowden?” you quipped with a laugh.
“Nah lass, curvy and spunky fer me.” he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Tha dress looks fucking fantastic on ye.”
You shivered as his voice deepened and rolled over you, fingers gliding across the bare skin of your back.
“I almost didn’t wear it, I feel so self-conscious.”
“Don’ be, half the men here can’t keep ther eyes off ye.”
That thought didn’t help, at all.
“Jack.” you whispered, your cheeks burning.
“Tha prick is chompin at the bit to get at ye, an he’s no gonna get close.”
“Thanks Jack, you’re a regular knight in shining armor.”
“Och no, no armor, tha shite chafes.” he laughed. “Yer welcome, wha are friends fer?”
Yeah, friends. That was the big issue wasn’t it? For a moment, as his lips had touched your skin, you had allowed yourself to hope, imagine. For a few minutes you swayed together, silently. You could feel your ex’s eyes boring into your back, making your skin crawl. You shivered and Jack’s hand on the small of your back drew you closer to his warmth.
“So wha happened wi’ tha lump?”
“The usual. He ghosted me after 9 months of dating, never spoke to him again until tonight.”
“Sounds li a real dreamboat.”
“I really know how to pick them.”
“Don’ do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it sound li it’s yer fault. Man like tha is just rubbish.”
“Guess they all are then.”
“No all of us.”
Your eyes met his, caught in the intensity of his gaze.
“I swear if tha bastard doesna stop lookin at ye like tha I’m gonna deck ‘im one.”
“It’s not worth it Jack.”
“Sure woul make me feel better.” he muttered, his palm sliding up your back to press your body closer to him. His other hand moved your arm to drape around his neck, fingers dancing down your arm, then your side to rest on your rib cage.
You felt your breath catch as his cheek brushed against yours, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the top of your ribs.
“Woman like ye deserves tae be worshipped.” he whispered in your ear, a shiver running up your spine.
“Get off, Lowden,” you huffed. “Stop playing.”
“I’m no plain. If ye were mine I’d make sure ye were screamin mah name wi’ yer fingers pullin out me hair.”
The breath left your body in a whoosh of shock and heat.
“Tha woul just be the start, the whole neighbourhood woul know mah name by the time I was done wi’ ye.”
Your knees began to wobble as Jack’s mouth made contact with your earlobe, tongue darting out to trace the edge near your earring.
“Jack!” you hissed, feeling his smile against your ear. This was taking things too damn far. And not far enough. You were a ball of tension and want, your feelings fluttering all over the damn place.
“Dinnae fret lass, I’ll no embarrass ye in front of yer family. But I cannae guarantee tae keep mah hands off ye when we leave.”
“Jack, be serious, that’s not funny.”
“Do ye see me laughin, lass? I’m takin ye home tonight and ye’ll no be sleepin.”
“You’re pretty damn sure of yourself.”
“Yer cheeks are red, ye’re pantin in me ear and yer heart is poundin. I think we’ve danced around this long enough, don’t ye?”
What could you even say to that? To any of it? You had no idea how things had changed from his earlier playful behaviour. He’d been playing a part, hadn’t he?
“Yer over thinkin, luv. It’s no complicated.”
“Would you be saying any of this if I wasn’t wearing this dress?”
“Actually this whole weddin business put rather a crimp in me plans. I had intended tae have ye on the couch wi’ me as usual, Harry picked ou ‘The Notebook’ tae watch.”
“I hate that movie.”
“Aye, but it’s go that one scene ye know. I was gonna lean over an tell ye how much I wanted tae do that wi’ ye.”
“You’re kidding! Jesus Jack, have you never heard of asking someone out, like on a date?”
His flush told you that he hadn’t thought about doing that and you felt that hopeful flame in your heart sink. He was just like the rest of them, only after you for one thing.
“I’m not some piece of ass that you can tap into whenever you start to get horny.”
“No! Lass it’s no li tha.”
“Save it Jack. You’re just like every man I’ve ever been involved with. You treat me like a piece of meat. It’s ok to sleep with me, act all friendly, but I’m not good enough to be girlfriend material.”
Not wanting to cause a scene you had slid out of Jack’s arms and kept his hand in yours as you led him to the door. Once outside and alone though, you dropped all pretense.
“Go home Jack, forget all of this. You just got carried away with making that asshat jealous. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Please love, it’s no wha ye think, I swear tae ye.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” you said sternly, turning to walk back inside, your heart aching as you listened to him walk away.
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toglidethroughlife · 7 years ago
Text
Islands in the Stream (A Choices Fanfic)
Pairing: Dave x Sam
Category: Friendship/Fluff? (Like there’s barely any plot in this, really. It was just really fun to play out in my head.)
Summary: The Major Crimes Unit enjoy Karaoke Night
Author’s Note: I believe it’s Most Wanted Appreciation Week right now?? Happy Most Wanted Week, guys! 🎉
“To my favorite Texan girl, Sam Massey!” Reza cheered, raising his beer to the rest of the team.
Everyone raised their bottles to clink with his.
Sam shook her head, an incredulous smile on her lips. When Reza had suggested that the entire team go out for drinks to formally re-welcome Sam to L.A., she had almost said no. She was still only here on business, she told herself. She stayed behind to catch Hayley Rose’s killer, not to sit around drinking beers and making friends. But Dave had convinced her otherwise.
“C’mon, Sam. There’s nothing we can do until Forensics finishes up their report.” He had leaned into her ever so slightly, a challenging tone to his voice. “What do you say? Have a few rounds with us? I’ll even take you back to your hotel after.”
To her great surprise, she was actually enjoying it.
They had taken her to a quaint little bar a few blocks from the precinct, not one bit of L.A. snobbery in sight. The music was fun but relaxed, and most of the people inside seemed like regulars who already knew each other. The bartender had even greeted Dave and the gang when they got in, bringing them a round of beers and some hot wings almost immediately. The mood was so warm and inviting, Sam almost felt like she was back home.
“Thanks, Reza,” Sam said as she took a pull from her beer. “This place is great! I think my friend Evan would even like it here.”
Sam didn’t see the flash of jealousy on a certain detective’s face as she mentioned her dear partner back in Texas.
“I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” Reza exclaimed excitedly, pulling out a flyer from his pocket. “It’s karaoke night!”
She was pretty sure her face froze in shock. Mirasol was the first to speak.
“What? Why do you always do this, Reza? We’ve told you before, we don’t do karaoke.”
Reza wasn’t fazed by her pessimism. “But Mirasol! It’s country night! It’s perfect for Sam!”
Mirasol simply rolled eyes and took another sip of her beer.
“Nikhil!” Reza called. “You’ll sing with me, right?”
The dark-haired man appeared to be thinking about it. “Hmm, maybe some Patsy Cline. Or Dolly Parton. Definitely Dolly Parton.”
Reza clapped his back generously. “That’s the spirit!”
His gaze turned to the two detectives who had yet to make a sound. “Dave? Sam?”
Dave shook his head. “Uh, no. I don’t sing.”
Sam tried her best to hide her amusement. “Is this stage fright I hear?”
“I don’t get stage fright,” he argued, “I just don’t make a habit of making a fool of myself.”
The corners of her lips twitched into a smirk. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Dave rolled his eyes good-naturedly and brought his bottle to his lips.
As soon as the bar manager had opened the stage for performers, Reza and Nikhil had volunteered immediately. Reza was up first, one of his reluctant teammates in tow.
“Hi, everybody! We’re starting tonight with a little Taylor Swift because my colleague here secretly knows all the words to her songs.”
Mirasol’s hand landed on Reza’s arm with a loud thwack.
“Think he’ll survive through the song?” Sam asked, clearly enjoying the scene in front of her.
“Sure,” Dave grinned. “You haven’t seen Mirasol after a few drinks yet.”
Soon enough, Mirasol was singing her heart out, moving on stage enthusiastically with Reza.
Our song is the slamming screen doors 
Sneaking out late, tapping on your window
“My God. Miracles do happen,” was all Sam was able to mutter afterwards.
When you’re on the phone, and you talk real slow, 
‘Cause it’s late and your mama don’t know
Dave just laughed and took another swig of his beer.
Nikhil went on next, his stride confident as he took command over the stage.
As he began singing the opening lines to Dolly Parton’s classic, I Will Always Love You, Dave’s eyes inadvertently landed on a certain blonde marshall.
If I should stay 
I would only be in your way
She had been such a good sport about the entire night, indulging in Reza’s wish to do Team Karaoke Night. If only she knew how big of a deal this was to him.
Dave smiled as the three cheered on when Nikhil began hitting the high notes of his song.
And I wish you joy and happiness, 
But above all this, I wish you love
Sam’s eyes suddenly met his as she turned to grab her beer.
And I ~ will always love you
Dave froze as her eyes held his for the longest second of his life.
Then her lips curved into a smile, and she raised her drink at him.
He returned the gesture and they both drank generously from their bottles, breaking eye contact.
Dave was pretty sure the alcohol was messing with his mind.
He should have been cheering on Nikhil like the rest of the team, but instead, his thoughts were on Sam. He still couldn’t believe she was actually here with them. That he got to keep her longer, even if only for a few more weeks.
Hayley Rose’s death was tragic and unnecessary, but in that moment, he almost wished the case would take longer to solve so that he got more time with her.
Dave gave himself a mental smack on the head. What are you thinking, Reyes? Obviously, you aren’t. Stop thinking!
Nikhil finished his song and gave a dramatic bow. The whole bar cheered and applauded.
“Nice work, Nikhil!” Mirasol raised her hand at him, and Nikhil happily clapped back.
“But of course, darling,” he replied with a posh accent, but Reza cut him off before he could say any more.
“Shh! They’re gonna announce the next performers!”
Dave should’ve seen what was coming.
The manager held a piece of paper in his hands as he spoke into the microphone.
“David Reyes and Samantha Massey!”
Dave didn’t miss how Sam tried to pretend like she wasn’t freaking out.
“Is there a David Reyes and Samantha Massey in the house?” the manager called once more.
Reza’s hand shot up in the air. “Over here!”
“No, no, no,” Dave said, shaking his hands at the crowd, “I can’t sing.”
Turning to Reza, he added, “I’m gonna kill you for this.”
Reza was grinning from ear to ear. Sam took one last pull from her drink and stood from her seat.
There was determination in her eyes as she met his gaze.
“What do you say, Reyes?” She nodded towards the stage. “Let’s dance.”
Reza pushed him off his seat. He didn’t really have a choice anymore.
They made their way to the front of the stage and Sam proceeded to tell the manager what song to put on.
“This okay?” Sam asked him, her voice slightly shaking.
Dave tried to shrug off his nerves and put on his charm. “Sure, I’ll just follow the lyrics on screen.”
She let out a deep sigh. “Here goes nothing.”
The familiar tune started playing, and Dave cleared his throat before he began.
Baby when I met you there was peace unknown 
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb 
I was soft inside 
There was something going on
His voice was shaking, but Sam was smiling at him encouragingly, so that was good, right? He shifted his weight awkwardly, turning to his left to face her. 
Her voice joined his in the second verse.
You do something to me that I can't explain 
Hold me closer and I feel no pain 
Every beat of my heart 
We got something going on
Dave was so in awe of how good she sounded that he almost missed his cue. Sam tried her best not to burst into laughter.
Tender love is blind 
It requires a dedication 
All this love we feel needs no conversation 
We ride it together, ah ha 
Making love with each other, ah ha
Butterflies were forming in his stomach as they got to the chorus, but he told himself to just focus on Sam.
Her eyes were locked on his, and in that moment, he let himself get lost in them, the rest of the bar fading away.
Islands in the stream 
That is what we are 
No one in between 
How can we be wrong 
Sail away with me 
To another world 
And we rely on each other, ah ha 
From one lover to another, ah ha
The crowd’s cheering broke him from his trance, and suddenly they were back in the bar, two people singing semi-awkwardly on stage.
But Sam was still looking at him with those smiling eyes of hers, and right then, he didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. He would be a fool any day with her.
Later that evening, after everyone had said their goodbyes, the two of them were walking back to his car, Dave making good on his promise to take her to her hotel.
“That was fun,” Sam said, a satisfied grin on her face. She was feeling buzzed, alcohol and adrenaline running in her system.
“Yeah. We should do this again. Preferably, without the karaoke,” he said, chuckling.
She nudged his arm playfully. “You weren’t that bad!”
“Next to you, I sounded horrible. You didn’t tell me you could sing!”
She laughed, her voice echoing lightly against the quiet night. “Didn’t think I’d ever have to.”
He realized then how much he still didn’t know about her. How much he still wanted to know about her.
But even so, he didn’t feel the need to know everything immediately. He already knew enough.
“I’m glad you’re here, Sam.”
He knew he didn’t need to elaborate any further when she smiled.
She knew what he meant. “Me too.”
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