#on this PALM SUNDAY LIV

[seaofolives]

About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Alea jacta est,” which means—

[macfrog]

call me

idea came to me in a dream. enjoy also! i made a notifs blog! taglist life is NOT for me, babies. feel free to head on over, follow and turn notifs on to be updated anytime i post! 👉 @macfroglets 👈 you’re gonna wanna do it before this sunday…😉🤠

inspired by @bageldaddy who is the author of the dreamiest series on this site, my biggest crush, and also told me not to tag her but i respect my elders so.

pairing: joel miller x call girl!reader

summary: you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) this fic is pro-sex work. reader is a phone sex operator, mentions of anal and oral, dirty talk, couple mentions of daddy, praise kink, mutual masturbation, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 3k

main masterlist

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb. “You’re gonna touch yourself.” “That what you want?” “’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

It started out as a joke, if you’re being honest.

A wine-drunk night with Liv, sat at opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined somewhere in the middle of the cushions. Her blouse was stained pink – your fault, apparently, for making her laugh too hard. Her glass tilted a fraction too far and before you knew it, you owed her a new shirt.

“Say it again, say it how he said it,” she snorted, patting her chest down with the damp towel you’d handed her.

“…quite frankly, disappointed with your performance,” your head tilted back and forth, mocking the nasally voice of your fifty-one-year-old, receding-hairline-equipped boss. Ex-boss. Asshole.

“Oh, fuck,” she heaved, still catching her breath. “That’s so fucking funny.”

You sighed in agreement.

“So…what are you actually gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Sell my body.”

“Dare you.”

“I would.”

“I know you would. And you’d be good at it, too. ‘s why I’m telling you to do it.”

You kicked her ankle. “I got bills to pay, dude.”

“What about one of those call girls?”

And, well. That was that.

You’d googled it after seeing her off to her own apartment, watching her wobbly form stagger across the hall and stab her key a few times into the wood before it landed in the lock. The door closed with an accidental slam which echoed up the stone stairwell, and you crept back to your own place.

Palms either side of your laptop on the counter, face lit in a blue glow, dripdripdrip of your busted tap echoing around your dark kitchen. They asked for an email address – you used the one you’d made up before you realized email addresses were permanent – and a phone number. Said someone would call you to discuss it. You shrugged, hit Sign up and went to bed.

Within hours, you’d spoken to some sharp-accented woman who asked quick, snappy questions and uhuhed her way through your answers. Her name was Erica. She told you she’d look after you, told you to call her with any questions or concerns you had.

All she wanted from you were the basics: you liked sex, you masturbated, you knew how to dirty talk. You sorta knew your way around things like anal, and could manage a convincing pitch for things of a more…exploratory nature.

And then she asked when you wanted to start. You told her that night.

Your first caller – like, ever – was some guy with a midwestern accent who asked you to narrate fucking him. Like, spanking him with a paddle, calling him a bad, bad boy. You threw your nerves to the wind and went along with it, and honestly, had a pretty rad time. He was cool.

But one was enough for your first night. You logged out and went to bed. You told Liv the next morning, and she punched your arm a little too hard and yelled, That’s my fuckin’ girl! Was it hot? Did you…y’know?

No. You never get that lucky. Some calls you can lie idly on your couch and let your limp hand surf beneath the hem of your underwear, push lazy circles against your clit as the dude moans in your ear or gasps when you whine.

Sometimes their mics can pick up the faint sound of them jacking off, and your brain slips you an image that makes your stomach flutter. Sometimes you’ll hang up and take yourself the whole nine yards with your laptop sitting on your mattress, porn on the screen, and your vibrator between your open legs.

It’s pretty intense work. Sometimes.

But all in all: no. You never…y’know.

One week in, you were cooking dinner whilst telling Trevor – thirty-nine, Buffalo, New York – how you’d take his huge, throbbing dick in your throat and let him fuck it. He asked to hear how turned on you were, just talking about it. You lowered your phone down to the pot of macaroni and gave it a stir.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned down the line, “you’re so fuckin’ wet right now, huh?”

Huh.

Tonight, you had pizza rolls. Less sexy.

You just got off another call. Thirty minutes of describing how good you’d take him up your ass. You’re bored, turned off by this point, and tired. It’s almost 3AM.

You pace around your apartment, flicking switches off and tossing cushions back into place. Spilling small sips of wine from your glass onto your tongue as you’re plunged into darkness, one click at a time.

You don’t get much while the sun’s up. Most days, nothing at all. That works for you, though. You can run errands, grab groceries, do sweet-fucking-nothing whilst waiting for the influx of calls that will inevitably come your way by nightfall. When the streetlights come on, the rush hour traffic dies out front, the shuffling of tired feet up the concrete staircase outside your front door slows down – you just log in, and your cell will eventually start to ring.

Your cell, which now lies wedged between the couch cushions. You notice the sound of it vibrating as you’re pulling your curtains closed. Half-way shut, you desert them and wander over. Intrigued.

No Caller ID. The usual. You swipe right. The robotic voice tells you there’s a request on your account for a ten-minute call. Tells you to dial 1 to accept, or hang up.

Ten minutes? At three in the morning?

Usually, at this time of night, they’re longer. They’re drunk, or their partner finally fell asleep, or they just want your attention for a bit. See them through the uncomfortably quiet night.

But ten fucking minutes?

Ten minutes would make you somewhere around thirty-five dollars. They had the option as the timer ran out to extend the call, if they wanted. Most of them did. And that worked fine for you.

You’re unemployed. Who knows what money you’ll have in a week’s time? An extra thirty bucks – probably more – right before bed? A little nightcap?

You dial in and answer the call.

He doesn’t say anything when it connects. You hear the ruffling of clothes.

Your voice naturally dips a couple octaves, coats in something smooth and husky. Glistening, gleaming, sex-driven. “Hello?”

He clears his throat. His voice is deep, rich. More vibration than speech. He speaks with a Southern drawl, like bare skin running over silken sheets. It’s smooth, and sensual, and sexy. “Evenin’.”

You knock the last light switch off with your hip and doddle through to your bedroom. Mornin’, actually. “Hi. What’re you after, baby?”

He takes a beat to reply. More ruffling. He chuckles a little before he says it. “Baby? That what you wanna call me?”

Your glass scrapes softly across your nightstand. You bounce down on your mattress, springs moaning as you roll onto your stomach. Knees bent, your ankles link in the air. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Guess we can figure that one out together.”

“Alright. I like a challenge. You wanna start with your name?”

Another pause. He sucks in a deep breath. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat, thumb picking at your nailbeds. “That’s a sexy name.”

He doesn’t respond. Just gives a non-committal grunt, and a smile pulls across your lips.

“What are you into, Joel?”

He sniffs. “Thought we could figure that out, too.”

Something in the way he says it, the curve in the words, maybe, tells you he knows damn well what he’s into. What he means is: you can figure that out by yourself.

Like you said: you like a fucking challenge.

“You like nicknames? Daddy? That kinda thing?”

A low growl passes his lips. “Not this early on, I don’t.”

You know from the hitch in his voice that he likes it. That little catch at the bottom of his throat, the way the words stumble on their way up. Know you’ve plucked a string deep inside.

“Well, you know you only got ten minutes, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“’kay,” you sing, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You exhale, drawing shapes on the pattern of your bedsheets. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, then? What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Cowboy. It’s the accent. He sounds Texan, or something. His words float through the receiver all wound, coiled up and tight.

Joel doesn’t seem to care. He answers your question truthfully.

“Thinkin’ about what you’re doin’ right now.”

You smirk. Sometimes you like the attention, too. You turn your head, check the clock by your bed. Two minutes have passed.

“I’m…lying in bed, in the dark. Had a couple wines, feelin’ pretty good. But this is all about you, so.”

He chuckles softly. “’m lyin’ in bed, too. In the dark.”

“You feelin’ lonely?”

He takes another deep breath. You figure he does this before he gives most answers. He sounds the contemplative type. Always double, triple checking his sentences before he lets them go.

“Just need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“Okay,” you breathe, “let me. What do you need?”

There’s a long break between the end of your question and the sound he makes before he answers. You pull the phone from your ear and glance at the screen to make sure it’s still connected. Time says another two minutes have passed.

Joel grumbles. It echoes around your ear like thunder in the distance. “You touchin’ yourself?” he eventually asks.

“Uhuh,” you reply, nails picking at a loose thread on your comforter.

“Yeah? How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you mewl, tugging at the seam. Your teeth grit as you yank at it. “So – fucking – good.”

There’s another growl from the other end. It vibrates through your speaker, purrs in your ear.

“You ain’t fuckin’ touchin’ yourself.”

Your hand stops. Your eyes stick on the thread. “I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how.”

You roll your eyes, turning onto your back. Your fingers play with the buttons of your shirt. Fuckin’ – tell me how. “I’m…” you sigh, “…I’m laying in bed, on my back. My hands are –”

“What you wearin’?”

“Isn’t that the sorta stuff you oughta ask when I first pick up?”

He speaks calmer. Clearer. You can hear the smile on his lips. “’m askin’ you now. What you wearin’, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. So he’s that type. Whatever. He’s kind of pissing you off.

“A shirt. And socks. And panties. No bra.”

“’n where you touchin’ yourself?”

You huff. “Between my –”

“Watch the attitude.”

You almost fucking laugh. Your breath escapes your chest in a silent burst. “Between my legs,” you tell him, flat and annoyed.

“Mhm. Above or beneath the panties?”

“Beneath, daddy.”

A tiny groan passes his lips. He doesn’t mean for it to, and a second, angry grumble follows, like he’s pissed at himself for letting it slip.

You take a lock of hair and twirl it around your finger, pulling tight until the tip whitens. “You touching yourself?” you ask, voice sickly sweet.

Joel ignores you. “Take it off. The shirt,” he clarifies, when you don’t answer.

You shuffle around a little, making sure he can hear the movement. You unbutton the shirt until it’s lying loose over your breasts, then tug it down over one shoulder.

“Alright,” you tell him with a heavy breath, laying back on the mattress, “it’s off.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Mhm.”

Joel chuckles under his breath. “Know when you’re lyin’, angel. Take – it – off. Don’t be a brat about it.”

This is half the game for him, you realize. This is his thing. He gives commands, you disobey them, and he kicks you into line. Tells you to behave.

You figure you like it almost as much, going by the heat pooling between your legs.

Your shoulders lift and you tug the shirt over them, tossing it to the floor. You lie back, bare against the sheets, and your hand instantly cups over your breast.

“Better,” Joel breathes.

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb.

“You’re gonna touch yourself.”

“That what you want?”

“’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

You don’t take much more convincing. Your hand slips down your front, cups over your mound. You gasp when your fingertips brush against your clit.

Joel hears. “Yeah,” he hums, “’s a good girl. Take those panties off ‘n rub that pretty little clit for me.”

Your fingertips give one last kiss to the fabric of your panties. Your mouth tips open a fraction. You suck in a quiet breath, and push your hips up off the bed. The lace slips down your thighs in one motion.

Joel’s grunting steadily now, small noises slipping past his lips and into your ear. You spread your legs and push against your bud again, massaging the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, and he groans in response.

“I know, I know,” he’s saying, and you hear the metal tinkle of his belt buckle. The fraying sound of denim being shifted. One slow, relief-filled groan.

His hands are on his cock.

You’d put more effort into caring that he’s been fully clothed this entire time, if you could think straight. You’re applying more pressure to your clit, rubbing faster, harder, then letting your fingers drift downward, move between your gleaming folds.

“Wish I was there with you so bad,” Joel purrs, and your eyes flutter open.

“Yeah?” you choke.

“Yeah.”

“What would you – do to me?”

He shudders. “Would fuck you real good, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, fingers circling faster.

There’s a gentle tugging; a rhythmic breathing. The odd break in his voice when his hand tightens, or you make a sweet little sound, or he catches himself giving too much away.

“Fuckin’ – be all over you. Nice ‘n hard. You want that?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, panting. “Want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you do,” Joel says. You can hear the sticky sound of his precum, leaking from his tip and running between his fingers, being pumped down his shaft by his fist. “Feels good, angel, don’t it? When you do what you’re told?”

“Y-eah,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you picture a tight fist choking a thick cock. Picture that same fist unwinding, curving around your mound, fingers pushing deep inside you.

“Joel,” you whimper, and your fingers move down again, dipping nearer your tight, wet hole.

He grunts in response. “Don’t – not yet,” he tells you.

You whine.

“You got somethin’ else to use?” he asks, then interrupts before you can answer. “Yeah, you do. Go get it, sweetheart. Tell me what you got.”

“V-vibrator,” you mumble, hoisting yourself up and lunging across the bed to your nightstand. You haul the drawer open and sift between balled-up socks until you’re clutching the long, thick shape, fingers tight around the dips and curves.

“Let me hear it, angel.”

You click the button and the toy whirrs to life, vibrating strongly in your hand.

Joel hisses. “Alright, sweetheart, lie back. Gonna put it on that pretty little pussy, alright? Gonna make yourself cum for me.”

“Uhuh,” you murmur, one hand lowering the vibrator between your legs, the other holding the phone to your ear in a vice grip.

You push the round tip down to your clit and your head falls back with a loud moan. Joel sends one straight back at the sound of yours. It fades into a whimper, a desperate cry as you massage yourself with your toy.

Your legs clench as you dip it lower, letting the head nudge against your entrance, sending flutters of pleasure across your dripping cunt.

“Don’t fuck yourself,” Joel instructs, and your hand quickly pulls back. “Save it.”

This mystery man, who you’ve known for – if your clock is right – eight minutes, now; whose name is the most information you’ve gotten out of him; and whose face you couldn’t pick in a lineup…has such a hold on you, that your body instinctively reacts to his every word. An automatic reaction to do exactly as he says, when, five minutes ago, you couldn’t wait to get him off the phone.

You fucking listen to him. Save it for what? your head asks, and you ignore it. You don’t push the toy any closer to your center.

It drives hard against your clit, fast vibrations rippling down on the hot, swollen skin. It sends floods of warmth between your legs, drawing your arousal slick and wet from between your folds.

Your chest is damp, gleaming with sweat. Your breath cuts short in your throat, guttural noises replacing it as they reverberate through your mouth, across your tongue and into your dark bedroom.

Your walls start to clamp around nothing. You angle the vibrator so that it sends deep pulses across your pussy, shutting your eyes to picture Joel’s thick cock burying deep inside you as you climax with a loud, broken cry.

“Yeah, good girl. That’s it. Sound so pretty, angel. ‘s a good girl.”

You’re whimpering his name as you come down, holding the toy to your clit and letting your high wash over you. Your chest jumps, breaths heavy and staggered, gasping for air and then letting it rush out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“You know how good you are at that?” he asks, when your breath steadies again.

You giggle softly. “’s why I do it, baby.”

“Worth every fuckin’ penny.”

You sit in the post-orgasm haze for a few seconds, waiting for the room to stop spinning and your body to feel like yours again. You pull the phone from your sweat-stuck cheek and glance at the time. You have less than thirty seconds left. Joel seems to do the same, for his voice returns to your ear in a gentle, low whisper.

“Alright. Speak soon, angel. Be good.”

The call cuts.

----------

taglist: @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

[tinkabelle24]

To Build a Home

Chapter 1: This is Us Colliding

TW! SUICIDE ATTEMPT, familial abuse, substance abuse (alcohol), blood.

Masterlist

---

Hauling her suitcase behind her, Val gingerly shuffled past the threshold of her new home. The brunette closed and locked the door behind her, before setting her suitcase aside and glancing about the room.

The apartment was tiny. Every room shared the same long and narrow space; save for the bathroom, obviously.

She sniffed, screwing up her nose in disgust. What's that smell? She hurried to open the only window her apartment possessed. Glancing upward, she noticed that most of the 'white' wall paint was stained an awful yellow colour – tobacco smoke.

One of the former tenants must have smoked inside. Disgusting! She made a mental note of cleaning that later.

With somewhat fresher air now billowing in from the bustling street, Val proceeded through the apartment to take in the rest of the space.

She could probably fit a two-seater couch near the end of where her bed would be and a small television unit against the wall opposite it, with just enough room to squeeze through to access the fire escape.

She turned into the cramped kitchen. A small island counter separated the living area and the kitchen, long enough to seat one – maybe two – people. She had a two-burner stovetop, one-tray oven, minimal storage space and just enough room to fit the skinniest refrigerator ever.

It’s so small...

No, stop it.

She had to think of the good that was coming out of all this. She finally had her safe space, away from her. At 22-years-old, she was finally an independent woman.

Before she could let herself feel embarrassed by this, she forced herself to smile.

Mom... she groaned as the negative thoughts seized her mind once again. Why did it have to be this way...

No. Stop it! Shut up!

The characteristic hum of an incoming text message snapped Val out of her thoughts. She immediately grew pale, expecting the worst.

Please, not you again...not now.

Pulling her phone from her jacket pocket, she was almost too afraid to check who it was.

Please , please, please...

Holding her breath, she unlocked her phone. To her relief, it wasn’t who she feared (this time) - it was her best friend, Molly.

[Let me know if you need anything. We’ll be over Sunday to give you a hand. XX]

A small smile pulled at Val’s lips. Molly and her boyfriend Andrew have been unbelievably supportive over the last few days, allowing her to crash on their couch whilst waiting for the keys to her apartment.

She could've continued staying until she had an actual bed to sleep in but, in all honesty, she was looking forward to being alone for a while. She was also tired of listening to the couple moan and groan throughout the night.

The walls were incredibly thin in that apartment...

The brunette sent a quick ‘thank you’ text, then set her phone face-down atop the island counter. She sighed, attempting to rub the fatigue from her face with her palms. She was so emotionally drained, she felt she could sleep forever.

Deciding perhaps a hot shower may help clear her muddled mind, Val made a beeline for her suitcase to retrieve her toiletries and a fresh set of pyjamas.

It was a tight squeeze, but she managed to reach the shower. Cold water ran for quite a while before it finally began heating up; she was only able to shower comfortably for about two minutes, but she was just relieved to have set the utilities up properly.

They don’t teach you these things in school; not in Sophomore year, at least.

Once she was dressed, Val rolled out her sleeping bag then set her pillow atop it. I’ll give Liv a call, she decided, reaching for her phone. It didn’t ring for long before Olivia - her 13-year-old half-sister - picked up.

“Hey, you,” Val greeted, settling herself on top of the makeshift bed.

“Hey!” Olivia replied eagerly. “Where the heck have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages!”

Val winced at that. If she were around, she’d know who’d be on the other line, for sure. She immediately shushed her sister.

“What?” Olivia demanded. “Why are you shushing me?”

“Are you alone?” Val anxiously demanded. “Go to your room and shut the door. Please.”

“Okay! I’m going, jeez...” Val heard a door close on the other line. “Alright, I’m in my room. Happy now?”

“Yes,” she chose to ignore the attitude. “Thank you.”

“What’s this about, then?”

Val held her breath a moment, unsure whether to tell her sister the situation. “I, uh...” she began, threading the absurdly long pillowcase tag between her fingers to help calm her nerves. “I’m...you probably won’t be seeing me for a bit.”

“Why?” Olivia asked, concerned.

“Mom and I aren’t really on speaking terms right now...” she answered, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Why, what happened-”

“Let’s just leave it at that, for now,” Val responded quickly, wanting to be rid of the awful knot that had amassed in her throat. “I’ll let you know what’s going on soon, I promise. I just need a little time to myself, right now.”

“Okay...Are you at Molly’s?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine, Liv,” she reassured. “How’s Noah?” Noah was her 10-year-old half-brother.

“He’s okay.”

“...and mom?”

“She fine, too, I guess...” her sister quietly answered.

“You guess?” Val probed. That retched knot was making its way down to her stomach now.

“Well, she isn’t really talking to us. Just been in her room a lot.”

Seriously? Val sighed, shaking her head. For fuck’s sake, mom...

“Still?” She asked, unable to hide the frustration in her voice.

“Yeah...”

“Okay...Can you do something for me?”

“Like what?”

“If at any point you need to talk, you know I’m always around, yeah? I don’t want you or Noah feeling like you can’t talk to me just because I’m not there.”

“I know. I will.”

“Thank you,” Val glanced down at the digits on her phone. 8:30pm – time for bed. “Alright, well, I should get going; I've got work in the morning, and you have school.”

“Yes, mom!” Olivia teased.

A soft chuckle escaped Val’s lips as she rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Liv. Give Noah a hug for me, will ya?”

“Ew, no!”

“Liv...”

“Urgh, fine.”

“...and please don’t tell mom I called. I’ll talk to her later.”

“Alrighty, then. Night, sis.”

“Night.”

Val ended the call, setting her phone down beside her. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Hopefully that call doesn’t bite me in the ass...

After hauling herself up to brush her teeth, the brunette returned to her sleeping bag where she found her phone illuminated with an incoming call – it was her mother.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Shit. She must have been listening!

What do I do?? Should I answer it? No, don’t answer it!

Val retrieved the device, promptly declining the call before she had the chance to ruminate over it further. Pushing it underneath her pillow, she held her breath, bracing herself for another call. Not even a minute later, her phone went off again. Here we go...

The brunette sat there for a moment, unsure of her next move. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to her mother in three days...

Perhaps she’s just concerned about my whereabouts?

Her phone hummed with an incoming text message. Biting her lip, she gingerly retrieved it from beneath her pillow.

[Where are you.]

Val’s fingers hovered over the keypad for what felt like forever as she decided whether to respond.

She’s just going to keep trying until I talk to her...

[At Molly’s.] She lied.

[When are you coming home?]

[I don’t know yet.]

[Enough of this bullshit, Valerie. You’ve been gone long enough. Come home. You know I need you.]

Val scoffed at that, but she couldn’t prevent the all-too-familiar feeling of guilt from creeping up on her. Perhaps I should go home...

She mentally slapped herself. No, screw that! This is your home now.

[I just need some more space, mom.]

Laying silent in her sleeping bag, Val watched as her phone illuminated, notifying her of the barrage of messages and missed calls she was receiving from her mother.

She counted two missed calls and five text messages, before the room finally went dark. Biting back tears, she turned her phone screen towards the carpet and rolled over. She cried herself to sleep that night.

---

(Two weeks later...)

“Alright you – time for bed.” Raph's eyes narrowed upon his 3-year-old 'nephew' Tyler with a playful glare. They'd just finished watching ‘Toy Story 3’ - one of the youngster’s favourite films.

The terrapin held a three-fingered hand out to guide Tyler off the couch but, apparently, he had other plans. The raven-haired boy dove head-first into his seat and giggled, daring his uncle to react.

Raph shook his head and pursed his lips, feigning a stern look. “Your mom will tan my shell if she comes home and sees you’re still awake.”

Tyler scampered to the other end of the couch and turned to him, grinning mischievously. Raph rolled his eyes. “Figured as much – you don’t give a lick about what happens to me, do ya?"

"Right, c'mere!" Tyler squealed in delight as Raph looped an arm around his middle and hoisted him off the sofa. “First, bathroom – then bed.”

The youngster wriggled as he carried him to the bathroom, to which he countered with a couple mild jabs to the ribs.

---

“Which book are we readin’ this time, bud?” Raph asked as he rifled through Tyler’s collection of books. “And don’t say-”

“Pete the Cat!” The toddler exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down beneath his blankets.

Raph groaned in protest. “Again?” He turned to him with a pleading look. “We read that one last time, and the time before that..."

“Pete the Cat!” Tyler insisted, growing antsy.

“Alright, alright... Pete the Cat it is, then” Raph begrudgingly retrieving the book in question and took a seat at the end of the bed.

“Pete the Cat was walkin’ down the street in his brand-new white shoes...”

Before continuing, he turned to Tyler with a stern look. “I ain’t singin’ for ya though. You can do that part. Deal?” Tyler nodded enthusiastically, and the terrapin narrowed his eyes at him, unconvinced. “Promise?” Tyler nodded again, with the same level of vigour. “Good,” he flipped to the next page. “I’m holdin’ you to that.”

Twenty minutes later, the toddler was sound asleep. Raph had retired to the couch with a beer and another movie whilst awaiting the parents’ return.

April and Casey stumbled into the apartment thirty minutes later, slightly tipsy and falling over one another.

“Hey, guys,” the terrapin greeted as he moved to turn off the television. “How’d ya go?”

“Hey, mate,” Casey replied, tossing his keys into the decorative bowl beside the front door. “Yeah, good. Movie was good, though April didn’t seem to think so.”

“I did so!” April protested; her husband scoffed. “I did like it; I just would've preferred to watch something other than a bromance movie for our anniversary...”

“Ooh, sounds right up my alley,” Raph remarked unctuously, fixing his best friend a suggestive grin. “When’s our next date night? Feel like re-watchin' that bromance movie with me?”

April groaned as Casey returned the look. “Get a room, you two! Honestly...”

Raph promptly shushed her. “Inside voices, would ya? The little monster’s sleepin’.”

The redhead gasped in realisation, then immediately shut her mouth. “Oh, crap. Sorry... How’d he go?”

“Yeah, good,” Raph replied as he rose from his seat to join the couple at the breakfast bar. “We watched Toy Story 3, again, and read Pete the Cat, again.”

“He’s a creature of habit, our boy.” April chuckled.

“Did he make you sing the song?” Casey enquired with a shit-eating grin.

Raph narrowed his eyes at him. “Whaddaya reckon?”

The three shared a hushed laugh before eventually falling silent. Raph took that as his cue to leave.

“Well, I better get goin’, before Leo loses his mind...” He started toward the fire escape, with April and Casey following close behind.

“How’s he going, anyway?” April asked gently.

Raph sighed, turning to her. “Alright, I guess... Can never tell with Leo these days, y'know?"

“Yeah...” She murmured sadly. “...W-what about you? How are you going with everything-”

Casey must have sensed Raph’s discomfort as he gently nudged his wife's arm.

“What?”

“Drop it, hun.”

“I just wanna know how he's going...”

“I know, but this ain’t the time...”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Raph finally cleared his throat. “Right. Well...” He wanted nothing more than to be as far away from this conversation as possible. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna take off now...”

“Yeah, okay,” April conceded, wrapping her arms around herself. “Thanks again for looking after him tonight. We really appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Thanks, mate.” Casey added, offering the terrapin an apologetic look.

“No problem,” Raph replied quickly, pushing open the window to the fire escape. After climbing up onto the landing, he turned to acknowledge them once more. “See ya later.” He then disappeared into the darkness, ascending swiftly and soundlessly to the roof of the building.

He’d lied. He wasn’t going home, just yet. In fact, he’d been actively avoiding the place as much as possible. Tempers flared there often and, believe it or not, he wasn’t the only one at fault for that.

The events that have transpired over the past year have left himself and his brothers reeling – one of them arguably more so than the others.

He was candor about one thing though: his eldest brother would undoubtedly clip him round the ear if he showed up later than 'agreed'. But that wasn’t any different to how he was being treated in any other circumstance; anything and everything seemed to tick Leo off these days.

So, if the consequences were roughly the same, regardless of his actions, then he might as well make the most of it.

Fuck it.

He made for his cache of goodies at one of his favourite viewing spots in Manhattan.

---

In his Nightwatcher days, Raph kept several stores of essentials dotted around the city including alcohol (for drinking, of course... and disinfecting wounds), blankets, a first aid kit and snacks on the chance he ended up stranded which, given he worked alone, was often.

Now that those days were over, he’d misplaced most of them, save for a select few. This one was his favourite; it allowed him to look out over a nice spot of trees and grass as opposed to the concrete jungle he was accustomed to.

The terrapin approached the stack of weather-worn pallets and crouched down. Reaching into it, he retrieved a small blanket enclosed in a plastic bag and unwrapped it, revealing a half-empty bottle of rum and a pouch of medical supplies. He brought the bottle and blanket to a secluded spot on the roof and got comfortable – he'd likely be here a while.

As he drank, Raph tried focusing his attention on the sounds surrounding him rather than those inside his head. They were so incredibly loud sometimes, often threatening to drown out the rest of the world. But he’d already had his moment and said his piece. He couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. It was now time for him to move forward.

But how?

We had the chance to do something – be someone – and, as usual, I fucked it.

Now, we’re stuck living like this, in the shadows, till the whole lot of us fucking die...

He chugged the remainder of the rum, clenching his teeth as it burned all the way down. He groaned, vigorously shaking his head to ease the sensation. He set the bottle down beside him and slumped against the pallets, closing his eyes.

The sound of the door to the roof crashing open snapped Raph out of his thoughts, and he dove for cover.

Head spinning wildly from the alcohol and sudden movement, the terrapin grasped at the pallet stack for stability. Once the world finally stabilised, he pulled himself into a crouched position, peering cautiously over the stack to get a glimpse of the asshole who’d disturbed his pity party.

It was a woman.

He found her pacing from one end of the building to the other, head down and arms wrapped around her incredibly small frame; frantically muttering things he could barely comprehend. Fortunately, he was able to decipher some of the repeated sentences like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘fuck you’... and the one that launched his heart into his throat: ‘please, make it stop’...

Shit...

He was gonna have to tread lightly here. A distressed person atop a five-storey building could end catastrophically if he wasn’t careful. He knew that if the situation escalated then he would need to intervene, but he doubted his alien appearance would be of any comfort to them. What if he made things worse?

The woman raised her hands from her body and ran them through her short, dark locks. Raph watched carefully as she stopped in front of the service door, cradling her head. She remained there a few moments, shifting her weight from one heel to the other.

What she did next well and truly threw him for a loop. In a sudden burst of anger, she balled one hand into a tight fist and drew back, throwing it against the brick wall with all her might.

Raph gawked in disbelief as this tiny human continued her assault – with both fists. He winced at the resounding crunch; she immediately pulled away, crying out in pain. A low growl escaped her lips and he was, yet again, left stunned by her actions.

She kicked the wall – she fucking kicked it – as if she were punishing it for hurting her.

Breathless, the woman finally backed away, hands darting toward her chest. Her body trembled like she were a volcano about to erupt.

Raph braced himself.

It could go either way at this point. He hoped that, by beating on the inanimate object, she would've gotten it all out of her system and just needed some time to cool off.

But he could be wrong, and he didn’t want to be wrong...

Knees buckling, she collapsed to her knees and started bawling. Raph’s heart sank as he fought the urge to look away. It was unlike any cry he’d heard before; it felt deeper, sadder, helpless - raw. It was incredibly painful to watch. What happened? He couldn’t help but wonder...

Raph turned outward to rest his aching body against the pallet stack. He listened as her condition steadily grew more subdued, to the point where he could barely hear her at all.

That was a good sign, wasn’t it? She seemed calmer, more in control. Should he leave? Should he stay? He didn’t want to intrude any further than what was necessary.

He shifted again to check on her – she was gone.

Shit.

He’d lost her. How could he have lost her?? Surely, he would've heard the service door open if she'd used it, so she must still be up here with him.

Panicked, the terrapin craned his neck to get a better view of the area. He turned toward the door – nothing. He turned to his left, toward the edge of the building she previously approached.

There she stood, mere feet from the thigh-high concrete barricade; the only thing separating her from a fifty-foot drop to the pavement below.

Before he knew what was happening, he'd leapt from his hiding place, shouting for her to “STOP!”. The woman let out a startled shriek as she whirled around to face him. He’d landed a few feet from her, close enough to reach her should the need arise.

He got a better look at her then, aided slightly by the yellowy glow emanating from above the service door.

She looked young, about eighteen- to twenty-years-old if he dared to take a guess. Her plump lips and large, wide set brown eyes were in stark contrast to her pale, almost translucent skin. Her hair was short and choppy, with the longest strands sitting just above her narrow shoulders.

She looked thin – too thin. He could see just about every bone in her body, save for the areas covered by her absurdly large shirt and sweatpants.

Raph’s nostrils twitched at the familiar scent of blood. Remembering her scuffle with the brick wall, he glanced down to inspect her hands; they were tightly wound around herself, hidden beneath folds of her shirt. No matter, the red smeared across the white fabric told him everything he needed to know.

As Raph lifted his gaze to hers, she flinched. “It’s alright,” he reassured. Cautiously, he brought his hands to his plastron – palms out – so she could inspect them. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya...”

Her eyes darted to his open palms, then back again, her already rapid breathing growing quicker. She stepped back.

“Hey, don’t-” Raph’s stomach lurched as her backside pressed against the barricade, the sudden obstacle causing her to lose balance. She screamed, flailing her arms out in a vain attempt to stop herself.

She was going over.

The terrapin lunged forward, grasping her forearm to steady her. She grabbed him instinctively, nails digging into his scales as she frantically grappled for stability.

“It’s alright," he gasped. “I gotcha...” He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. She trembled against him as he carefully turned her away from the edge, then ever so slowly released her arm.

“Oh, shit...” She struggled loosening her grip on his arms. “Oh, f-fuck!”

A few moments passed before she finally worked up enough courage to let go, and his gaze fell on hers once again. It wasn’t just fear he saw in her eyes this time; there appeared to be something else...guilt? Shame? He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but it surprised him.

Her eyes darted back to the edge of the building, then to him, then to the door. “I’m...I’m so-”

Raph’s brow-ridge furrowed in both concern and disbelief. What’s goin’ on here? Is she seriously tryna apologise? To me? Why? What the heck for? What?!

She didn’t stick around long enough for him to find out.

He watched as she retreated for the door and disappeared.

---

Masterlist / Chapter 2

[ink-flavored]

Six Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @zonnemaagd, thank you!

it's more than six lines, but i'm gonna use this game to show off a fun conversation I wrote for the Unnamed Dream WIP -- now with real names!! Instead of placeholders!! Wow!

Mangrove slouched down again, expectantly, and Asim slung the pack off his back. Carefully, he retrieved the artifact, wrapped in the fabric just as he’d left it. The moment his fingers touched the first corner to unwrap it, it thrummed in his hand. Asim threw off the wrap until he held it in the palm of his hand, a single layer the only thing separating it from his skin. The rune shimmered a soft green. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. It pulsed, magic tingling his palm. “Old,” Mangrove rumbled, amber eyes glistening. “They have brought us old magic.” “You’ve seen it before?” “We have felt it. The roots remember such power.” “What kind of magic is it? Do you know?” “The Speaker might ask us—what kind of magic are we? What kind are they? The old magic is.”

Tagging: @sigridhawke @duelistkingdom @liv-is @hallwriteblr @stuffaboutwriting @thecrookedwriterspath and anyone else who feels like it!

[truck-fump]

Donald <b>Trump</b> greets Anthony Kim, pro golfers at LIV Golf Miami final round - The Palm Beach Post

New Post has been published on https://www.google.com/url?rct=j&sa=t&url=https://www.palmbeachpost.com/story/sports/2024/04/07/donald-trump-attends-final-round-of-liv-golf-miami/73236131007/&ct=ga&cd=CAIyGjUzM2UwMTY5ZmFhZTIwMGQ6Y29tOmVuOlVT&usg=AOvVaw1BJvDciEHHa-9FkCFPIDi0

Donald Trump greets Anthony Kim, pro golfers at LIV Golf Miami final round - The Palm Beach Post

Former U.S. president Donald Trump was at Trump National Doral Miami on Sunday as the final round of LIV Golf Miami started.

[kindredspiritsnotsorare]

Happy new church-year!

Felt like sharing one of my favourite 1st sunday in advent hymns (in swedish).

1. Gå, Sion din konung att möta, Jerusalem, gläds åt din Gud.

Go, Zion and meet your king, Jerusalem, rejoice in your God.

Strö palmer på väg för Messias, bered dig som väntande brud.

Spread out palm(leaves) on the road for the Messiah, prepare yourself like a waiting bride(as in waiting for her groom)

Refrain:

Var glad, var glad, var glad i din Herre och Gud. Var glad, var glad och hylla din konung och Gud.

Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice in your Lord and God. Rejoice, rejoice, and praise your king and God.

2. Han kommer från eviga fröjder, han lämnar sin tron av kristall...

He comes from eternal joy, he's leaving his crystal throne...

...sin ära i ljusets palatser och lägges på strå i ett stall.

...(and) his glory in the "palaces of light" (heavenly dwellings) and is placed on hay in a stable.

(Refrain)

3. Han kommer till jorden att bringa ett offer på korsträdets stam.

He comes to earth to be sacrificed on the stem of the cross(tree)

Att dö för vårt syndiga släkte och föra rättfärdighet fram.

To die for our sinfulness (through generations of man) and bring forth righteousness.

(Refrain)

4. Han kommer ur graven med byte, och skuggornas boning blir ljus,

He comes out of the grave with "spoils" (i.e. the people resqued by his victory over death), and the space where shadows lived fills with light.

Och gravarnas slumrare väckas till liv utor seklernas grus.

The sleepers in the graves are waken (to life!) out of the dirt/("pebbles") of the ages.

(Refrain)

5. Han kommer till sörjande hjärtan, och livet får annan gestalt.

He comes to mourning hearts, and life becomes different.

Han kommer med makt att regera, tills Gud uti alla blir allt.

He comes with power to rule, until God becomes everything for everyone.

(Refrain)

It was a bit difficult to translate some of the phrases because the language is sorta poetic you know? But I find it really beautiful. The fist verse seems to be heavily inspired by Zephaniah 3:14.

[fadedseas]

accents.

nick amaro x fem!reader

summary: you hadn’t noticed nick’s accent until this very moment, and he made sure you wouldn’t forget

warning: light smut

it wasn’t the first thing you noticed about him.

no. that had been the smile that stretched across his face and softened the hardened expression on his face as he swiped at the tea you had accidentally spilled on his shirt. you were also too busy looking and feeling absolutely mortified, stuttering over your words, offering quarters for a laundromat, or to pay the bill for any dry cleaning that he would need.

“nah, this old thing is definitely not good enough for any dry cleanin’ place.'' he laughed and you didn’t even notice it then because for the first time, you saw him. you were struck by how much his face lit up and the gentle joy in his eyes and the melodic tenor of his laugh. it sounded rusty. as if he hadn’t laughed in a while. 

“i’m nick” he held out his hand and you took it, and you felt the gentle brush of butterfly wings in your stomach as you shook it. 

you told him your name, “it’s nice to meet you nick - or should i say officer?” you raised an eyebrow at the badge at his hip. 

“detective,” he chuckled. he nodded towards your now half empty cup, “how about i get you another one of those?”

“honestly, it should be me getting you another one - whether it’s a coffee or a shirt.” you used this as an excuse to brush your fingers against his firm chest.

“i’m ok with that,” nick nodded, “as long as i can get the one after that.”

you didn’t notice it during that coffee, or the one he bought you after that. or during your first date at an italian restaurant that nick swore was close to his mother’s authentic cooking. or during the next six months of your relationship. 

you noticed it during a random sunday in march.

you breathed in deeply as you stretched, squeezing your eyes shut against the pale light of morning, feeling the warmth of your sheets around you and wanting to never leave your bed. your hand reached out next to you, coming into contact with warm skin that made you freeze for a second before twisting your body around to meet nick’s warm, amused gaze. 

“i expected a warmer reaction to having your boyfriend shirtless in bed with you.” his fingers traced the curve of your cheek to your chin, drawing your face up to meet his for a kiss. 

“no weekend work? what about zara?” you nuzzled your nose against his, smelling the scent of his skin.

“at maria’s for this weekend - her parents are visiting. liv gave me the weekend with strict instructions to not look at my phone for work.” 

“mmm so you’re all mine,” you smirked, pulling yourself on top of his, pressing your body against his. you could feel him harden against you. you smirked as you slowly ground your hips against his.  

“completely, mi amor,” he groaned into your kiss, twining one hand into your hair while the other traced its way on top of your thin cotton tank top to rest itself on your underwear. 

you broke the kiss to move down towards his chest, “any plans for this weekend then?”

“maybe we go to that game that we were talking about last week - i can probably get tickets,” nick’s voice stuttered as you continued to move south, kissing your way down his toned abdomen (long live the nypd physical exam). 

“mmhm,” you hummed, “and what else?”

“maybe some lunch in central park,” his breath caught as you nipped at his skin.

“and?”

nick’s laugh was breathless, “maybe some coffee - “

you jerked your head up, “wait some what?” 

nick’s brows furrowed, surprised by the sudden change in conversation, “some coffee?”

“wait say that again?”

“say what? coffee?” 

you pulled yourself up to his face, “you have an accent.” 

nick’s hands fell on your waist as you pulled yourself up on your elbows, hovering over his amused expression. “what are you talking about, “mi amor?”

“you have an accent - like a real, true-blue, new york accent - i can’t believe i didn’t notice this before,” you laughed, your hand stroking his thick dark hair as you pressed your lips against his and swept your tongue against his. 

“why? because i said coffee? c’mon, i’m half-italian. and baby, we met at a coffee shop, don’t you remember?” nick’s fingers slipped underneath the strap of your tank top, sliding it down your shoulder.

“how could i forget? but i was too distracted to notice at the moment,” your head rolled back as nick continued to roll your tank top down, revealing your breasts. 

“oh really? distracted by what?” you shivered as nick’s words ghosted across your left breast.

“you,” you could feel nick’s smile as he drew himself up and captured you in a long kiss. 

“oh really? what about me?”

“don’t make me inflate your ego even more amaro.”

“don’t make this difficult - tell me” nick insisted, his fingers skimming across your collarbone, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“i don’t know - everything - your eyes, smile - just touch me please.” 

“that’s f**kin’ adorable, mi alma.” you could feel his hand smooth up the length of your body to palm your breast, with his fingers artfully swiping at your n*pple as you whimpered at the sensation that sizzled through your body. 

“do you like my accent mi amor? do you like the sound of my voice?” you could’ve sworn his new york accent thickened as his voice deepened with want. his vowels distorting and lengthening as he whispered his want for you in the early morning. you gasped as he flipped you over, lowering his body over yours. your hands automatically gripped his broad shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. you loved just how small he made you feel underneath him.  

“yes,” you moaned as his hands traveled down to hook your legs around his, pressing himself against you fully. “please nick - i want - “

“i know what you want,” nick’s hands tightened around your thighs, almost bruising, “and you know what i want mi amor? i want you to beg. i know you like my accent, so let’s see what else my mouth can be good at.” he smirked as his fingers hooked the edges of your underwear.  

afterwards, when you were left panting against your pillows as nick poured you a cup of coffee in bed with a smirk on his face, you mentally concluded that the accent really isn’t the only thing nick amaro’s mouth that you love.   

[homerjacksons]

Sonny Carisi Week Day 3: trust Word Count: 2388 Pairing: Barisi Summary: Snippets of Sonny and Rafael’s relationship over the years in moments of trust AO3

i. the beginning

Sonny’s brain was hazy with scotch and the smell of Rafael’s cologne. He knew it wasn’t the drink, though. He’d only had one finger, poured by Rafael from a bottle he kept in his bottom drawer for nights like this, nights spent hunched over paperwork as the clock ticked over to a new day.

He took a deep breath, breathing Rafael in, and watched as his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Rafael asked, only a slight hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Course,” Sonny said with a huff of laughter, shaking his head and lowering his gaze.

When he looked up again, Rafael’s eyes were still on him, shining in the dim lamplight, his face closer than Sonny remembered.

“I’m trying to...to tell you what this means to me,” he said, covering Sonny’s hand where it sat on his knee. “I’m telling you you’re not the only one. It’s not one-sided.”

Sonny blinked at him, because it turned out he must have stopped listening, lost in the greens of his eyes and the woody musk of his cologne, tired from a long night of paperwork and an even longer day of police work.

“You—me? Really?”

“You, yes,” Rafael said with a grin, cocky even though Sonny knew his heart must be racing.

“But—I—why?”

Rafael’s grin slipped and he tilted his head, giving Sonny’s hand a squeeze. “Because you’re you.”

“I’m—“

“Just trust me?”

Sonny studied him for a moment, not sure exactly what he was looking for. This wasn’t high school where the girls pretended to like him on a dare, or college where the boys kissed him as a joke. This was work, this was Rafael, telling him he felt the same.

He nodded, meeting Rafael halfway for a kiss, his entire being shaking as his heart burst with warmth and nerves and excitement and affection.

Because of course he trusted Rafael, even if it seemed too good to be true, even if Rafael loved teasing him above all else.

This was real. This was happening.

ii. fear

Sonny longed to reach out to Rafael, to hold him, to never let him go. He could see the fear that Rafael tried so hard to hide and he felt so grateful that he was trusted enough to see it, even if it broke his heart.

They got a cab back to his apartment after all necessary questions had been answered, and though they didn’t utter a word, Sonny held his hand the entire time, and Rafael held back with a fierceness Sonny had never felt.

As soon as his apartment door closed, Rafael let out a shaky breath as though he’d been holding it the whole time, and Sonny caught him under the arms as his knees buckled, entire body suddenly shaking.

“Hey,” Sonny whispered, pulling him in close. “You’re safe. It’s over.”

Rafael nodded, gripping Sonny as though his life depended on it.

He let Sonny lead him to the bathroom, and Sonny took his time removing Rafael's blood-splattered clothes while he sat, staring at a spot on the wall, unseeing.

He didn’t have the words, not really. He wanted to rant about how stupid Rafael had been to duck his security detail, about the ongoing death threats that had been a sore spot between them for months. He wanted to express the guilt he felt at not being there to protect his own boyfriend, at not being a better cop, at not finding who was behind the threats before it was too late.

Mostly, he wanted to cry, all that fear and hurt and anger and helplessness having been locked up inside him just below the surface, threatening to burst from the moment he heard 1 Hogan Place had been evacuated and Rafael was being held in his office by a man with a gun.

But he knew none of that would help. He knew, even before they’d got home, even before the events of the day, just how much all of this had been getting to Rafael. He knew because Rafael trusted him enough to let him see between the cracks in his facade.

So instead, he talked about something Jesse had done the previous day, about Bella’s new job, about his Ma’s insistence that they come to dinner that weekend. Anything to fill the awful, deafening silence as he cleaned another man’s blood off of Rafael’s skin.

iii. content

Sonny shot Rafael a grin over the kitchen island before turning back to the pan in front of him to flip the pancakes.

“What?” Rafael asked through a laugh, folding the newspaper beside him as he reached for his mug.

“Nothing, just…” Sonny trailed off with a shrug, unable to wipe the grin from his face. “Nothing.”

The truth was, he couldn't quite believe his luck. He'd imagine it a thousand times, what it might be like to wake up beside Rafael, to spend a morning filled with lazy kisses and a breakfast made from the heart. He'd imagined all the different ways it could happen, but the real thing was better than anything his mind could have come up with. Seeing Rafael, still soft with sleep, in a threadbare shirt with ruffled hair was everything.

Rafael studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed, before taking a sip of his coffee. “You look far too pleased considering how early it is.”

“It’s almost ten!” Sonny shouted through a laugh, flipping the last pancakes out onto a plate. “That’s late .”

“Not for a Sunday,” Rafael muttered under his breath.

It was such a small thing, but something new to file away about Rafael. Not a morning person, definitely not on weekends. Something else he could commit to memory. Something else he got to see all because Rafael trusted Sonny enough to let him into his home, to let him spend the night, to let him make him breakfast and look after him the way he deserved.

He slid a plate of pancakes across the island to Rafael before making his way around the counter with his own, still grinning, giddy with awe and affection.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rafael said through a sigh, but he smiled at Sonny as he said it, pulling the plate closer to him before drowning it in syrup.

“I know,” Sonny said around a mouthful of pancake and bacon.

Rafael shook his head with a roll of his eyes, but Sonny wasn’t bothered. He’d learned a while ago not to read Rafael’s teasing and exasperation as a form of affection.

iv. fear part 2

Sonny paused in his doorway, hand already on his gun before a quiet, “It’s only me,” issues from his living room.

He let out a shaky breath and closed the door behind him, letting his head fall back against it, closing his eyes, willing his heart to calm down.

Of course it was only Rafael. Who else would it be?

“Hey,” Rafael said softly, closer now, and Sonny startled at the noise, eyes flashing open.

Rafael took his hands gently, concern etched into his face in a way Sonny was sure he’d only seen directed at victims before. It made his stomach churn.

“Liv called me,” he explained, cupping Sonny’s cheek gently. “Told me you...might need me here tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Sonny muttered, closing his eyes again.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

He took a deep breath before turning his head to press a kiss to Rafael’s palm.

“You didn’t have to come.” He took Rafael’s hand away from his face, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m okay.”

“Maybe I needed to see for myself.”

The slight waver in Rafael’s voice took him by surprise, and he nodded, pulling Rafael towards him.

“I’m okay,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to the top of Rafael’s head.

He didn’t say just how close it had been, how he’d nearly not okay, how he wouldn’t be standing here right now if his Lieutenant hadn’t come at just the right moment and saved his ass from his own stupidity.

He didn’t say how he’d stared down the barrel of a gun, sure he was about to die, or the way he’d been certain at first that it was Cole’s gun that had fired, that it had been his blood spilled.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted after a moment, allowing the exhaustion he felt to seep into his words. “Not sure how, uh...how well I’d sleep tonight without ya.”

Rafael pulled back, smiling so softly it made Sonny’s heart clench in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have slept at all,” he said, taking Sonny’s hand again to lead him into the apartment properly. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He nodded, allowing himself to be led to the bathroom, allowing himself to be looked after in a way he never really had before.

v. the end

“You’re leaving?” Sonny shouted, breathless from running up five flights of stairs.

Rafael winced and turned away from him, continuing to pack his suitcase. “Evidently.”

“Fuck,” Sonny said through a breath, gripping Rafael firmly on the arm, forcing him to turn. “Just like that? Without even talking to me first?”

Rafael looked down at the tie in his hands, fiddling with the tag, still refusing to look at Sonny.

“I thought I meant more to you than that.”

He hated how broken he sounded, hated the way his voice cracked as his throat tightened, eyes burning with tears he wouldn’t let fall. But it was enough to make Rafael look up at him, his own eyes wet and shining.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sounding just as broken as Sonny felt. “I knew if I spoke to you, my resolve would crumble and I...I have to leave, Sonny. I have to.”

“Why?” He was aware he was shouting but he couldn’t quite stop it. “You won, you’ll find another job, you—“

“I love you.”

Sonny blinked at him, the fight leaving him in an instant. The words were offered as though they were an explanation, but they just added to his confusion.

“Then stay.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rafael whispered. “But this is what I need. This is what I have to do.”

Sonny studied Rafael’s face, read between the lines in his broken, pleading expression. He wanted to fight, to beg, to do anything to make Rafael stay, but he knew it was no use. His partner was as stubborn as they come, and he could see this decision hadn’t been made lightly, nor would it be easy, so he nodded.

“I love you too,” he whispered as he cupped Rafael’s cheek, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

Rafael closed his eyes, leaning into Sonny’s touch for a moment before smiling at him, still sad, still broken. Sonny’s heart ached to fix this somehow, but he knew he couldn’t.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Rafael said suddenly, a fierceness in his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Not unless you want it to be.”

“Of course not,” he said without hesitation.

He gripped Rafael’s face in his hands, and Rafael grabbed the front of his shirt, and their lips crashed together clumsily, all teeth and passion and longing and tears, and they fell into bed, packing abandoned for now, desperate for one last time together before everything changed.

vi. a new beginning

“So…” Rafael slid another drink across the table to Sonny. All his usual bravado seemed to have gone, replaced by a shyness and uncertainty that didn’t suit him. “You...seeing anyone?”

Sonny laughed, surprised by the question, and shook his head. “Nah. You?”

Rafael shook his head, smiling at Sonny over his glass. He still looked nervous, and before he could think better of it, Sonny leaned across the table and kissed him, soft and sweet and chaste, as though they hadn’t missed a day.

“God,” Rafael said through a laugh as they broke off. “I’ve missed that kiss.”

Sonny hummed in response, pleased with himself and his own bravery.

“I never stopped thinking about you, you know,” Rafael said quietly, barely audible over the chatter around them.

“I’m pretty hard to forget.”

Rafael rolled his eyes, biting down on a smile.

“You said it wasn’t goodbye,” Sonny said with a shrug, suddenly shy himself as he played idly with the condensation on the tabletop. “I guess I trusted you.”

“I meant it,” Rafael said quickly, reaching across the table to take Sonny’s hand.

“You stopped calling though,” he said, not meeting Rafael’s gaze.

Rafael sighed, and moved to take his hand away again, but Sonny stopped him, linking their fingers.

“I thought I was setting you free,” Rafael admitted with a sad smile. “Liv kept telling me I was an idiot but I—“

“You are an idiot.”

After a beat of silence, Rafael barked out a surprised laugh, throwing his head back.

“I missed that,” Rafael said through a sigh. “You just speaking your mind.”

“Well…” Sonny trailed off with a shrug, a grin slowly taking over his face.

They sat in silence for a while, just drinking, hands back on their respective sides of the table though Sonny longed to touch him again, to be closer.

“I never stopped loving you,” he admitted, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

Rafael didn’t look surprised at the admission, though. He simply nodded with a sigh.

“That was the problem. I thought if I stopped calling, maybe you’d...fall out of love.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sonny said with a sharp shake of his head. He stood, moving around the table so he could sit beside Rafael, so close their knees touched. “For someone so smart, you really are stupid.”

Rafael hummed in agreement, but before he could say anything, Sonny kissed him, fiercer now, pulling Rafael into him, pouring years of pent-up longing into the action.

When they broke apart, both a little breathless, Rafael grinned at him, pressing their foreheads together.

“I never stopped loving you either, you know,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“Can you forgive me for being an absolute idiot?”

Sonny smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Rafael’s lips before pulling back to stand up again.

“Already forgiven,” he said easily, holding out a hand for Rafael to take. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

[drac-ho]

Rita Skeeter Part 2 (Draco x Reader)

This was so highly requested I didn’t really have a choice lmao. Sorry it’s been literally over a year, I have had no idea where to take this at all

Also I’m a horrible person 

PART 1

TAGS: 

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 “Not so fast.” Your head whipped around and met your father’s stern eyes. Accompanied with him was your mother. “Where exactly would you go? You’re fifteen.” You were lost for words. 

“Dad you can’t seriously be angry with me–” You begin before being cut off. 

“I’m not angry Y/N. I’m disappointed. You know what the Malfoys stand for. You really think Harry will be happy to hear you’re running around with a boy whose parents were responsible for the loss of his family?” Your Dad looked between you and Draco, your mother just stood by his side silently as he let out his anger. “And what about our family?” You shake your head as you let the tears well in your eyes. He was right to be angry with you; your parents stood alongside the Order, fraternising with the enemy would of course have led to your punishment. 

“Draco’s different.” You whisper. You look at him for the first time, his head bowed as he stared down at his feet as small tears leaked from his own eyes. You’d never seen him cry before. “I love him. You may not understand but he’s kind, he’s loving. He’s a good person.” 

“And you are children. Come on. We’re going home.” Your Dad walks over, grabbing your arm as you resist against his pull. You quickly whip around and reach for Draco’s hand as they gently brush together, your father’s strength significantly more than your own and pulling you away from Draco’s faint touch. 

“Home now.” You hear a voice call out from behind Draco; Lucius. His long white hair shone in the light as he threw you a disgusted look. Draco’s eyes streamed faster as he whispered his goodbye.

“I love you.” 

You’d been at home now for two weeks. You had sent numerous owls to Harry, Ron and Hermione explaining yourself and writing about a dozen apologies yet had only received a single letter from Hermione, explaining that Harry just needed time and that Ron - of course - was just following suit, claiming Malfoy was a “spoilt git”. Draco, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. You’d heard that he’d already been sent back to Hogwarts by his parents and that he acted as if nothing had changed. A part of you wasn’t surprised - he played his front whilst you were together, nothing really had changed. You knew that for now the radio silence was best.

Your Mum and Dad were still upset with you. They said they had forgiven you and you were due back at Hogwarts on Sunday evening, but you could tell they wouldn’t be trusting you for a long time yet.

“Sweetie,” Your Mother began as you lay in her arms. You were sat in bed reading a book before you went to sleep when your Mum came in, laying down next to you and wrapping her arms around you like she used to when you were a child. “I don’t know what you were doing with Draco but–”

“Mum,” You cut her off. You really didn’t feel like having this conversation right now; you’d already heard it enough from your Dad. “You don’t have to say anything.” Your Mum shook her head, her slender fingers continuing to run through your hair. 

“I don’t have the same viewpoint as your Father, Y/N.” Your breath hitched in your throat as you replayed what she said in your mind. Sitting up, you turn to look at her. “I once fell for a Slytherin. Before I became friends with your Father, of course. His name was Oliver Thompson. We dated for over a year and he was amazing. So smart, so loyal and so romantic but he was a bully. He hated the world and he hated anyone who wasn’t a pureblood. It all ended in tears, of course, but he ended up changing his ways. I’m not saying Draco would do the same, but don’t believe exactly what your Father tells you. You’re the master of your own destiny. Just don’t let him break your heart and make sure you’re certain of him before you make any decisions, Y/N.” You stared down at your hands as you thought about what she was saying. Why had she kept this a secret? 

You spent the rest of the night and weekend thinking about the conversation until you were getting on the train back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had promised that Rita Skeeter was no longer allowed at Hogwarts and ensured the topic of your relationship was no longer in circulation. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione had welcomed you back with open arms and the four of you acted as if nothing had happened between you and Draco - he wasn’t even brought up. You didn’t see him around school, either. 

It remained like that for the rest of the year.

“He’s a death eater, Hermione.” Harry shot, quickly looking down as you pulled your head up from your book. You hadn’t been listening to the conversation in the carriage but Harry’s tone pulled you from your reading. 

“What are you three talking about?” You asked, curious now. Ron and Hermione looked between each other before Hermione hesitantly replied. 

“Harry thinks that Draco Malfoy is now a death eater.” Your stomach twisted at the mention of his name. Even though the two of you hadn’t talked for two years now, it still hurt to hear his name - you were still upset and angry that he had just managed to move on as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you.

“Hm.” You began, shaking the hurt expression from your face. “I wouldn’t be surprised. His parents are pretty harsh, I mean he told me once–” Hermione widened her eyes at your response and you stopped yourself from continuing, not exactly wanting to re-hash old, painful memories from your nights atop the astronomy tower. “Never mind.” You drew your attention back to the book in your lap, picking up where you left off as you noticed your friends’ conversation drift off into the distance. 

The first evening back for fifth year went by so fast; you barely had time to breath as you were being dragged from the hall, to the common room where the annual party had taken place, to your dorm room where you still lay awake. 3am. You sighed, rolling out of bed as you put on your slippers. Thoughts were washing through your mind without giving you a seconds peace. You needed to get some fresh air. 

Before you knew it, you were walking up the stairs of the astronomy tower. You knew the way without being caught like the back of your hand - although you didn’t come here as much now as you did a few years ago, you still liked to occasionally watch the stars sparkle in the dark night sky. 

A sound stopped you in your tracks however. At first you thought it was the sound of someone laughing but after climbing a few more steps you realised it was someone crying. Deciding whether or not to turn back, you eventually made the last few steps to the top where you saw him. 

You’d recognise the pale white hair anywhere; he was wearing his black suit that he seemed to be sporting nowadays, his back faced to you so you saw how ruffled his hair was. Draco’s head was in his palms and his body was shaking with each sob. You’d never seen him cry before, even when you were together. 

“Draco?” You whispered, taking a few small steps towards him. He stopped, stood up and turned around, his eyes a sore red as they reflected his pain and his back hunched as if he had lost all hope. “Are you okay?” He shook his head, holding out his arms for you to wrap yourself into his embrace. You were hesitant at first, your anger still residing in your mind as you thought about how he had completely ignored your existence these past years. But you somehow found yourself wrapping your arms around him as he completely broke down on you.

“I can’t do it Y/N.” He spoke in between sobs. “They’re - they’re asking me to kill him. And I can’t do it.” Your heart was in your mouth as you comprehended what he meant. Maybe Harry was right about what he said on the train - but surely Draco wouldn’t choose to become a death eater?

“Who? Who’s asking you to kill?” Draco pulled away, his hands resting on your upper arms as he looked down at you.

“Voldemort. He’s asking me to kill Dumbledore.” Your heart was beating in your ears as tears began to fill your own eyes. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I never meant to hurt you or anyone... I was just trying to do what he wanted me to do. I’m sorry.” You hugged him again, pulling him tight as he cried against your shoulder. You watched the constellations in the sky, remembering how Draco’s eyes used to reflect the stars; now they just reflected his pain. But for one thing you were certain of: you still loved him. 

[noladyme]

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 6

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 5

When we returned to the suite, Carl was gone. Eric sat with his elbows on his knees; staring in front of him. “Pam, give us some privacy”. Pam lingered at the door for a moment, before speaking. “I don’t want a little sister”, she sneered. “There. I said it”. For a second, Eric sent her a confused look. She left the room, and closed the door behind her.

For a long moment, I just stood there; waiting. Eric sat still as a statue, making me more uncomfortable by the second. “Is everything ok?”, I said. “Sit”, he said. I walked over to the other side of the coffee table, and sat down on the couch there; worried. “Did he find out I can’t be glamoured?”. “No… Carl doesn’t know anything about you, or your past…”. “What’s that supposed to mean”.

Eric met my eyes with a hard expression. “Carl had information for me about Godric”, he said. “Apparently, he felt obligated to tell me – as his new business partner – that Rose and Stan are going behind my makers back… Trying to start a civil war”. “So… you have a witness… proof”, I said. “We do…”, Eric said. “But it won’t do Godric much good, because apparently, he’s broken vampire law”. I looked down at my feet. “What did he do?”. “You know what he did. You were there”. He’d connected the dots.

I closed my eyes, and sighed deeply. “Godric was trying to protect you… He didn’t want me to tell you, because…”. “Because he knows I’ll die before letting the Authority execute him”, Eric said. “Doesn’t change the fact that you should have told me”. “He made me swear… He saved my life, Eric. I was pretty much dead, beat to a pulp; and he saved me, by giving me his blood”. “But first, he fed on you”, Eric said. “It was part of our deal”. “Yes, well… Try as he might, Godric is still a vampire. And your blood is… it’s hard to refuse, once you’ve had the scent; let alone, taste”.

We sat for a moment longer in silence. “I’m not going to apologize for not telling you”, I said. “I swore to Godric I wouldn’t tell anyone about what had happened. At the time, I didn’t know why…”. “That’s why he wanted to speak with you yesterday… To make you promise again”, Eric said. “No… Last night, he told me why he didn’t want you to know… But he didn’t make me do anything”, I replied. “I made the promise of my own accord. To keep him and you safe… And Nora, I suppose. I didn’t think you’d want her hurt either”. “That’s so very… human of you”, he muttered.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but luckily Eric was in mood for a subject change. “We have an event in a few hours”. He got up to stand, and I followed his lead, moving towards my room. “Wardrobe preferences? Dinner or dessert…?”, I asked. His lips twitched into a sly smile. My slight attempt at getting him in a better mood, had apparently worked. Eric followed me to the door, and turned me around; wrapping an arm around me. He slipped a hand underneath my robe, to stroke the inside of my thigh. “Candy. Arm-candy… That purple number I found in the bottom of your suitcase, should work”. “Eric, that’s a slip!”, I said. “So?”. His fingers travelled north, soon reaching my folds; which were already wet. It didn’t take much for Eric to get me going. “I can’t just wear a slip in public… Oh, wow…”. Eric let his long finger between my labia and in to me, and used my slick to moisten his fingertip; before stroking at my clit. “I really need to… fuck, that feels amazing”. “So warm and sweet…”. His words came out in a growl. “And wanting to be ravaged”. The last part came with a teasing smile. “Not that sweet”, I whispered, and took a hold of his invading hand, to lift it to my mouth. I closed my lips around his finger, and tasted myself on it – sucking – all while keeping my eyes on Erics.

I backed away, letting the finger escape my mouth with a small pop. Eric gave me an anticipatory look, as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants, and kneeled on the floor in front of him; pulling the fabric down over his erection. As tall as he was, I had to stand on my knees to reach Eric with my mouth. He drew in a gasp, as I stuck out my tongue, and let the head the head of his dick rest on it for a few seconds, while I stroked him gently up and down. “Solsken…”, Eric groaned, when I closed my mouth around him, and sucked him deeply in to my mouth. Eric was tasty – sweet and salty at the same time – and the soft skin stroking against my lips, as I moved my head, was like brushing my lips against velvet. I hummed around him, and smiled up at him with my eyes. He placed his hand on the side of my head, playing with my hair between his fingers. The sounds of grunts and moans from above me, egged me on; as I was bobbing my head back and forth – making swallowing movements and sucking in my cheeks. I cradled Erics balls in my palm, and massaged them; soon feeling them tense up.

Suddenly, Eric took a firm hold of my hair, and used his other hand, to raise me to my feet. “You’re asking for it…”, he growled. “Bed’s too far away”. “What do you mean? It’s right…”. Eric threw me against the wall; before lifting me up to straddle him, and thrusting into me – hard. “Eric!”, I croaked. With wild abandon, Eric pounded in to me. He wasn’t trying to drag anything out this time, and the sheer force of his thrusts made me worried I’d be walking funny afterwards. He was in fact ravaging me. With wanton grunts and groans, Eric had his way with me like this; while I whimpered from the delicious assault. He kissed and nibbled at the skin on my neck, without extracting his fangs. I would have gladly agreed to him feeding on me, but remembered what he had told me about having gone overboard earlier. I held on hard to Eric as he fucked me, cursing breathily into his ear; while scratching my nails across his back. I would have left marks, maybe even very deep ones; had he not been healing so soon. We came at the same time; me with a loud moan, and Eric with a guttural growl.

“So. You’ll wear the purple dress”, Eric smirked. “Not happening”, I chuckled. He lifted me off him, and set me down on the floor again. Steadying myself against his tall frame, I got on my toes, and kissed his lips.

---

I was wearing the purple slip. After Eric literally having tried – in vain, of course – to glamour me into putting it on, I obliged. I’d put a black sequined mesh number over it, making me feel a little less exposed – but still sexy as hell. Heels were apparently required again, but I was getting in to the habit of wearing them.

The event Eric had mentioned, was another party. This time, all of the sheriffs were attending, apparently; as there was a line to get in to the large building – one of those large warehouses where rich people had their terrible art exhibitions. “What is this thing?”, I muttered to Pam. “Another mingling situation”, she said. “Everyone running for sheriff will be kissing each other’s asses, to get votes”. “And my job is…?”. “Looking edible, and not falling over… Oh, and try not to die”.

Eric clearly had zero patience for waiting in any lines, and walked straight up to the door with Pam and me in tow. The girl standing there gulped when she saw the tall Viking. “Sheriff Northman, Area 5; with party”, Eric said. “I am sorry, sheriff; but there is a line”. Eric hunched over, and looked the girl in the eyes. “I don’t see a line”, he said with a soft voice.

“Are you trying to glamour the staff, Northman?”, Carl said; having appeared in the doorway. “You know me, Carl”, Eric said. Carl let out a roaring laughter, and held out his arm, gesturing for us to step inside. We entered the building, which was already full of people; both vampires and humans. Most of the latter were dressed much like myself – meals on heels. “I hear you’re paying for this shindig”, Eric said. “It was a chance for me to clear my conscience”, Carl said. “After all, that unfortunate event involving someone we both know, did happen on my turf, last year”. We headed towards a large buffet table, set up with human drinks, and what looked like carbonized blood. I hoped it was TruBlood. Both Eric and Pam took a glass; and I stood behind them, like a good little blood-bag. Eric sent me a discrete look over his shoulder, letting a sly smile break the mask of the cool debonair.

“Do you have a show set up for us?”, Eric asked. At the far end of the wall, staff was hanging up some frames and screens, for some sort of installation. “Yes well, speaking of said event… The human in question just so happens to be a photographer. I thought I’d throw him a bone…”. Carl ran a hand through his well-coiffed hair. “Wasn’t he glamoured, after what happened?”, Pam asked. “Of course he was. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to clear my guilty conscience… Oh, here he is now! Thomas Porter!”.

I felt my knees give, and almost fell over; when a pair of hands caught my waist from behind. “Whoa, there, miss!”, a cheery voice said. Eric spun around; his eyes aflame. “Please let me go”, I whimpered. I stumbled forwards, and Eric caught my arm. I couldn’t meet his eyes, simply stood shivering in place. “Looks like you drained a bit much from miss Sunday, here”, Carl smiled. “Thomas, do you mind?”. I turned around, and looked at my former assailant. “Of course!”, Thomas said, and grabbed a glass from the buffet table. “Here you go, a drink will freshen you up”. He held out the glass to me. Come on. It’s just one drink, as friends. “I…”, I breathed. Eric pushed me to stand behind him. “Stay away from her!”, he growled.

Carl held up his hands to calm down the situation. “You’ll have to forgive sheriff Northman, Thomas. He’s a bit protective of his human”, he said. “I know how it is”, Thomas said, and rolled his eyes smilingly. “Sheriff Northman, thank you so much for hiring me to restore that picture. It was like having a piece of history between my hands” “That’s right!”, Carl said. “I heard you two had been in touch. You’ve never met before, though. Have you?”. “I never had the pleasure, no”, Thomas said. “But I’ve met miss Sunday before. When she came to pick up sheriff Northman’s picture…”. He winked at me, and I felt bile rise in my throat. Erics stance was taut; he was ready to pounce on Thomas. Just as I noticed him about to bare his fangs, a voice interrupted him.

“Eric!”. Godric was standing next to his son, and Eric instantly froze in place. “Inte nu”. “Du borde ha gjort det då…”. Godric met my eyes with his own saddened ones. I parted my lips, but couldn’t speak; so simply shook my head. ”Gentlemen, I don’t speak Swedish, but this is a party… Not Thanksgiving dinner with the family”, Carl chuckled. Thomas cleared his voice. “Well, I need to go make sure the pictures are hung in the right order…”, he said, and gave me a final smile, before walking away. “And I have to go make sure the ice-sculpture doesn’t melt!”, Carl said; disappearing just as quickly.

Eric was clearly trying his best to control himself. “Pam, take Liv back to the hotel”, he said. “No… I’ll be fine”, I muttered. “I’m going to kill him”, Eric snarled. Godric gave his son a hard look. “You will not”. “He is a monster, and him being here could get you executed!”. “He doesn’t even remember what happened!”, I said. Erics jaw was clenched, and his eyes read bloody murder. There was a long pregnant pause, before Pam decided to speak. “With all due respect, even I feel fucking uncomfortable now”. A young, beautiful waitress walked past us, with a tray of drinks. “I you’ll excuse me…”. She pressed her glass into my hand, and followed her intended meal.

“Your child is as willful as mine are”, Godric said, a smile ghosting his face. “She is as loyal as yours are as well”, Eric croaked, and looked at his maker meaningfully. “Which is why I did not want you to know”. Godric looked at me with an almost hurt expression. “I wish you hadn’t told him”. I stood there with Pam’s glass in hand, before finally snapping out of it, and putting it on the table. “She didn’t. I had to find out from Carl… Not only are you throwing away your post as sheriff, you also fed from an insignificant hum in a dry state; before giving her your blood!”. I tried not to let my face show, what Eric’s words where making me feel. “Everything you’ve taught me, and now you are breaking your own rules!”. “She is not insignificant, Eric… You know that; you’ve tasted her yourself. Her blood is precious”.

I clenched my jaw, and a choked groan escaped my throat, as I stood there, and let myself be spoken about. Godric turned his eyes to me. “I am sorry. You have done so much for me; and yet I still allow us to speak of you in this way”. I nodded, but did not immediately reply. “I hope I have not offended you”. “No, sheriff Godric. You haven’t offended me at all”, I said quietly. The ancient vampire looked up at Eric, who had a sour and yet guilty expression on his face.

“Godric, you will get arrested… killed!”, Eric said, breaking the tension. “If I do, it will be my end. I will not let you to go down with me”, Godric replied. “I will not allow…”, Eric began. “You will… or I will command you”. Godric put his hand on Erics shoulder. “It will hurt this human if you…”. “I don’t give a fuck about that!”, Eric roared. Godric smiled softly. “Yes you do”. “Varför ville du då inte låta mig bli av med honom?”. Hurt traced Erics voice. Godric shook his head. ”Eric, as your maker, I command you to not act on this matter”. Eric nodded grudgingly. Isabel appeared from the crowd. “Show’s about to start”, she said. “You need to make an appearance”. Godric nodded. “We will speak later”, he said to Eric, and to me, it seemed; as he gave me a slight smile, before walking away.

We stood for a long moment, not saying anything. Around us, sheriffs from the different areas were conversing, most of them obviously looking for support to win another term. I wished another sheriff would come speak to Eric, to interrupt the silence between us. Finally, Eric looked at me. “You need to remember your place…”. “Don’t act all pissy with me, because your dad yelled at you!”, I sneered. Eric grabbed my arm, and seemed about to speak again, when that weird classical techno music began again, and Pam appeared; wiping her mouth, from a stray droplet of blood. “Am I interrupting something?”, she asked, not even pretending to care if she did. “No”, Eric said, and let go of me. “You’re gonna want to see this… both of you”.

Quickly trying to regain my composure, I followed Eric and Pam towards the installation. Up close, I saw that the pictures in the frames were of exotic dancers – on, off and behind stage. The pictures were all hung up in threes. One of them as they prepared for their performances; one mid-performance, on stage; and one after – as the dancer was either catching their breaths behind stage, getting a drink, or having a smoke. I recognized a few faces of former co-workers from Sugar and Spice, on some of the pictures. Thomas was talented. He’d managed to capture the rawness of my former profession beautifully and devastatingly.

“Everybody, gather round!”, Carl said, from the small stage set up below a large white screen. Godric stood to the side of the stage, with Isabel and Stan; representing the hosting Area. A waiter came over to Carl, and handed him a microphone. He took it, and chuckled. “I forget, not everyone in the room have as good hearing as some of us… It’s with great honor and privilege – and due to the fact that I paid for this thing – that I can welcome you to this event tonight. I hope you are all enjoying the drinks. You have probably noticed that willing donors are posted throughout the room, if the TruBlood-cocktails are not to your liking. I had a taste of a lovely female, by the name of Stacey, a few minutes ago – and I recommend her highly… Being from a dry state myself, I’m happy to take part in the local attractions”. He smiled leeringly. “Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you all to a very talented artist; that not so long ago moved to Dallas, to set up a new studio here. He is the man behind the pictures on the wall here; which are all for sale, by the way… Thomas Porter!”.

Thomas sprang onto the stage to applause from the humans, and nods from the vampires. Eric tensed up again. Thomas took the mic from Carl, and nodded nonchalantly at him. “Thank you, sheriff Rockford”, he smiled, before turning to the audience. “For the last few years, I’ve been trying to capture humanity in its rawest state; and found that it was no more pungent than in the strip-clubs of America. The installation you’re about to see, is called Truth. Hit it…”.

Heavy rock-music began playing, and the lights went down. On the large screen, pictures began revealing themselves to the beat of the bass and drums. Close up portraits of dancers flashed, and then slowly, in series of three – as they were hung on the wall – were pictures of them before, during and after performing. Pam looked amused as she gazed up at the screen; clearly enjoying the pictures of the women more than the men. Eric, on the other hand, showed no emotion.

I knew what was coming before it happened. A series of closeups of a familiar face flashed across the screen, before a picture came up of a woman holding a cigarette between her fingers, and looking at the camera through a mirror, as she was applying lipstick. I had been wearing my red sequined bra that night, and a pair of frilly black booty-shorts. No shoes. The next picture was as I was on stage, with a seductive grin on my face and one leg in the air; snatching a 10-dollar bill from a patron, with my toes. “Flexible…”, Pam muttered smilingly. Eric shrugged in agreement. “When was this?”. I was finding it hard to breathe. Looking up at Godric, I could see that he also remembered exactly when these pictures were taken. Forgetting for a moment how angry I was at him, I grabbed on to Erics arm. “Eric… Oh, fuck!”.

The final picture popped up. It had been taken from a distance; shortly after Godric was supposed to have glamoured Thomas. I thought he’d left the alley, but he must have stayed behind – hidden, somehow – and taken the photograph. On it, Godric was kneeling on the ground, with his arm around my back; and his open mouth to a gash on the top of my breast. It wasn’t the only wound I had. My entire body was covered in bruises, and my cheeks were stained from my mascara running.

There was a murmur of voices, before Stan’s voice roared from the stage. “Where was that picture taken?”. He knew very well, where it was taken. Carl held up his hand. “Stan, is this really the time…?”, he began. “This was on your turf, Rockford! Wasn’t it?”. Stan wasn’t letting up, and Isabel was looking more and more worried by the second. Godric kept his eyes on the floor. “Stan…”, Isabel said. “California is a dry state!”, Stan boomed. “Godric broke both human and vampire laws!”.

Fangs popped out everywhere, and Rose and the rest of the vampires who had gathered around Stan at the opening-ceremony, stormed the stage to surround Godric. Eric and Pam sped onto the stage, and stood in front of Godric; guarding him. There were flashes of vampires running to take a side. In the midst of the chaos, humans were running scared for the doors; and I was frozen in place, terrified.

A pair of abnormally strong hands strong hands for a human clamped around my arm, and pulled me towards the exit. “Come on!”, Thomas said. “No!”, I croaked; having somewhat found my voice again. “I’m trying to save your ass! It’s about to be a bloodbath in here…”. He yanked at my arm, forcing me to follow him.

“Everybody, calm down!”, Isabel yelled from the stage. “The Authority has been contacted, and this will be handled properly, by the right chain of command”. “Bullshit!”, Stan growled. “As deputy to Godric, I still outrank you”, Isabel said. “Stand down”. “Fuck you! He’s going down…”. “You won’t lay a hand on him”, Eric snarled; his body taut, and ready for a fight. Godric stepped forward. “It’s alright, Isabel… Eric”, he said. “I will hand myself over to the Authority, when they arrive. I will stand trial”. “Godric, no!”, Eric said. “Silver me”, Godric said. “I am sure Stan and Rose brought chains”. Rose smirked, and waved over a pair of humans, who were carrying silver chains.

I went to run towards the stage, but stumbled in my heels; and Thomas pulled me up to stand again by the waist. “Don’t touch me… You don’t even know me!”. Thomas pulled me close, holding me flush against his body; and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You didn’t think I would ever forget you?”. I pulled my head back, and met his eyes. They were deep, cold and penetrating. I drew in a big breath, and screamed. “Eric!”.

Every vampire on the stage turned to look, and Eric sped towards me. He grabbed Thomas, and threw him against the wall. With surprising gentleness, I was scooped into Erics arms; and he held me against his chest, as I fought to breathe calmly. “I’m not going to let him touch you again”, he breathed. “I won’t let anything happen to you”. Through my tears, I was confused by seeing Stan run to Thomas’ side, and help him back on his feet.

“Enough!”. A short, balding vampire in a suit, and carrying a silver tipped cane, had entered the room; with what looked like a SWAT-team at his heels. “Fuck”, Eric said. He put me down on my feet, and tucked me in to his side. “Who’s that?”. “Someone you don’t want to know…”. I nodded slightly.

“Sheriff Godric…”, the angry looking vampire said. “Magister”, Godric replied, and stepped down to greet him. He sighed heavily. “What the fuck…? I was in the middle of dinner, and suddenly I’m called out for this shit?”. He looked up at the screen, which was still displaying the picture of Godric feeding from me.

“I have to get you out of here…”, Eric muttered. He looked towards Pam, who was at our side in the flash of an eye. “Hotel. She doesn’t leave the suite. If I’m not back before dawn, you leave Dallas as soon as you can”. “Eric, I’m not leaving you”, Pam said. “If you try to stop them, they’ll kill you…”. Eric looked at her with hard eyes. “And you…”, he said. “I don’t want you here for this. Do as you’re told”. Pam looked down, and nodded. “Eric, are they gonna hurt Godric?”. He didn’t respond. “I’ll tell them… I’ll tell them he was trying to help!”. “No, you won’t. I’m not risking your life as well”. I grabbed on to his jacket, but he tore my hands free, and brushed his lips against my forehead. “Go”. “No, Eric. I…”.

Pam’s arms were around my waist, and before I knew it, I was in the back seat of the limo we’d arrived in; dizzy, from having been whisked away at vamp speed. “What’s happening?”, I croaked. Pam looked worried for the first time since I’d met her. “Stop talking…”. “Is he coming back?”. “I said, stop fucking talking!”. She snapped her head in my direction, and I saw blood in the corner of her eye. She was crying.

---

Pam was pacing the floor of the suite, constantly picking up her phone, and then putting it down again. For once, she was the one fidgeting. I was seated on one of the couches, not moving; save for the shudders of fear streaming through my body. Fear for Godric, myself; and Eric.

“Stupid, stubborn… fucking Viking!”, Pam said. “He can’t leave me like this. If he dies, I’ll kill him!”. “Yeah…”, I agreed in a whisper. “Well, get in line…”. “And then he just sends me off to babysit his human”. I frowned at her. “I’m not his human”. “He’s paying you a shitload of money”, she said, raising a disbelieving brow at me. “You’re his”. “I’m my own; doesn’t matter how much he’s paying me. No one owns me”. I sighed. “Look; money or no money, I don’t want him dead any more than you do… Even if he is a dick on occasion”.

Pam looked at me in confused wonder for a moment, before grabbing a sandwich from the mini-fridge, and tossing it on the couch next to me. “Eat…”, she said. “I’m not hungry”, I said. “Bullshit. Eat”. I didn’t have the energy to fight her on it, so simply opened the plastic wrapping, and took a few bites from the sandwich; before getting up to go to my room and change. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your dress the other night”, I said, as I passed her. “It probably cost more than I make in a year, but I’ll pay you back for it… somehow”. “Liv…”, Pam called after me. I turned to face her. “For the record; I don’t hate you… Not that much anyway… And you have nice tits”. I raised a brow at her. “Thanks… I guess”. Pam gave me a slight smile; and I closed the door behind me.

I got into the fluffy robe, washed most of the makeup off my face, and brushed my hair; needing to keep busy. I was tired, but didn’t want to sleep. I knew I’d have nightmares both about the evening’s events, and what happened to me the year before. I already had to fight away the memory of seeing myself on that screen, beat to a pulp.

Hearing the main door to the suite open and close, I sprang for the bedroom door; opening it. Eric was stood there, holding Pam in his arms; and gently stroking her hair. “I was so worried”, she sobbed. “Shh… I’m here now”, Eric said, and pulled back to smile down at her. “Inga tårar”. “Fuck you. I’ll cry as much as I want. I could have lost you!”. “Everyone is ok”. I didn’t speak, simply took in the scene; smiling at the gentleness of it. Eric looked at me over Pam’s shoulder. “Pam, go find someone to eat. You must be starving; those drinks back there were atrocious”. He kissed the top of her head, and she wiped her eyes, before leaving the room.

I timidly stepped in to the room. “Is Godric ok?”, I asked. “They’re setting up his trial and sentencing for tomorrow night”, Eric said somberly. “Before the sheriffs’ announcements”. “That soon…? Doesn’t a trial take several days?”. Eric shrugged off his jacket, and threw it over one of the recliners. “Not for us…”. He stood with his back to me; and I stepped over, and put a hand on it. “I’m so sorry, Eric… I’ll testify… anything…”. “No”. He turned around, and took my still outstretched hand. “I can help. I was the one…”. “No…! Liv, they won’t care what happened to you with that photographer; and if you let it slip that Godric couldn’t glamour you, they will kill you”. “But maybe…”, I tried. “Why do you care?”, Eric said. “You’re not mine… not Godric’s… You have no reason to help us”. I met his eyes again. “I don’t know. I suppose… I don’t want you to get hurt”, I said quietly. “You know how you tell me I have no sense of self-preservation?”. Eric narrowed his eyes at me. “I think we might have that in common”. “And you want to protect me…”, he said. I nodded. “I know you’re plenty capable of taking care of yourself; but…”. Eric’s expression hardened, and he let go of my hand. “I am. Implying anything else is insulting”. I swallowed hard. Warm and sensitive Eric was gone. “Of course…”.

My old phone rang in my room. “I should probably take that…”, I muttered. Eric gestured standoffishly for me to go ahead. I picked up the call. “Liv! You promised to call me…”, Bills voice boomed through the receiver. “Are you alright? Do you need me to come to Dallas?”. “No, Bill. Everything is ok”, I said. “I’ll be back in a few days. Fuck, why are you all on my case about this?”. “Because we care about you. I care about you”. “I’m fine!”, I sighed. In the blink of an eye, Eric had snatched my phone from me, and put it on speaker. “Yes, Bill. Liv is perfectly fine; in so many ways”. “This conversation is between Miss Sunday, and myself”, Bill said. “Eric, give me back my phone!”, I hissed. I jumped for the phone, but he held it up in the air; seemingly enjoying the sight of me jumping up and down. Looking down, I saw that the sash on my robe had opened, and Eric was looking at my breasts bouncing. I punched him in the chest. Eric simply smiled. “Liv!”, Bill barked. “Eric, put her on, right now!”. “Liv is currently unavailable, as she is still in my employ. Feel free to tell Sam Merlotte the same thing”, Eric said. “And that job is letting you feed on her, and have sex with her?”, Bill said. “Yes”, Eric said.

I felt like I’d been slugged in the gut by a sledgehammer. I should have known that was what this was all about; especially after hearing him speak the words he had earlier. An insignificant human. I clenched my jaw, and sent Eric a venomous look. “Bill… Mr. Northman is right; I’m his for the time being”. Eric flinched slightly when I said the word his. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for calling”.

Eric hung up the phone, and tossed it on the bed. “I have a meeting in 20 minutes”. “Will you be needing my services, sheriff Northman?”, I asked, not meeting his eyes. “No, not tonight”. “Then, I realize I can’t rescind your invitation into this room, but please get out”. Erics face dropped, and he took a step forward. “Get the fuck out”. The vampire recoiled from my words. “This is about what Bill said”. I couldn’t hide my anger and hurt anymore. “This is about what you said… And the fact that I was stupid enough to think I was anything but another fangbanger to you”. He stood up straight, towering over me; looking anywhere but at my face. “I guess it’s my own fault. I just got confused about everything, because you seemed so upset about Sam and Bill…”. “Bill Compton cares about you… Sam Merlotte cares about you…”, Eric sneered. “And I care about them. They’re my friends”. Eric raised a brow at me. “Is this jealousy, Eric?”, I asked. Suddenly, he had his hand around my throat; and stared angrily into my eyes – his fangs bared. “I don’t get jealous about humans”, he hissed. “Especially those which aren’t mine”. “No… I get that, now”, I hissed. “I’m just a well-paid bloodbag, right?”.

Eric seemed stricken by my words, and quickly removed his hand from my throat. After a short second of regaining his composure, he seemed to be back in business-mode. “You will stay in the suite. You don’t leave, unless it’s with me or Pam. And get some sleep. You look tired and anemic”. “Yes, sir”, I said. I walked over to the door, but before Eric could say anything else, I closed it in his face.

I sat on the bed for a long time, just letting myself feel. After a while, I heard the words I had heard that night, a year before. This is all you’re good for, anyway. Lay back and take it. You’re mine… Then the tears came – unrelenting and with deep heaving sobs. I was such an idiot to think I ever mattered. Even Godric had only saved me, because he wanted my blood in return. What I was, was nothing more than a stripper, a bloodbag; and a prostitute to a man, who didn’t give a shit about me. I slapped my own face, to snap out of it. There was nothing wrong with that. I was doing a job, and it was paying well. What stung, was the fact that I’d lied to myself; letting myself think that I’d mattered to him. “You’ve watched Pretty Woman too many fucking times”, I chided myself.

I crawled up under the duvet on the bed, and even though I’d only shared a bed with Eric for two nights – well, two days, if you were getting technical – it felt lonely to lie there. I fell into a restless sleep.

---

I woke a little before sundown, still rattled and sad from the happenings the night before. Eric was gone; but Pam had sent me a message letting me know to stay in the suite, unless she came to get me.

I picked at the stale sandwich I’d brought with me into my room, and then called up Sookie. “Hello?”. I heard glass being moved around, and sounds of cooking in the background. “Sookie? Shit, sorry, I forgot you were probably at work…”. “Hey, sweetie! Don’t worry about it. It’s a slow shift… Sam says hi!”. “Tell him hi back”, I said. “How are you doing? Bill told me about that phone call, but he didn’t go in to detail”. Bill Compton, always the gentleman. “He’s not coming out, is he? I can’t deal with any more vampire-bosses right now…”, I muttered. “Things not going so well with Eric? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”. She sounded worried and angry. “Not physically. He just…”. I sighed deeply. “Sookie, we had sex”. There was a long pause, where all I could hear was Lafayette yelling out orders, and chairs being moved around. “Sook’?”. “You had sex… with Eric Northman… Was it good?”. “Sookie!”, I yelped. “I’m sorry… But… Well, was it?”. I could hear her smile in her voice. “Yeah… It really was”, I said, my cheeks burning red, and Sookie sniggered. “But now he’s treating me like just another fangbanger… I didn’t come out here to be his on-call prostitute. I thought maybe…”. I couldn’t finish my sentence.

I heard Sookie sigh heavily. “He is a big butthole of a vampire…”, she said. “Look, you’re absolutely not the first woman to fall for his tall, blond and mysterious thing… There ain’t nothing wrong with that”. “Then why do I feel like shit?”, I asked. “Because society has told us, that its wrong for women to enjoy sex…”. “Sookie Stackhouse, the feminist… I like it!”, I said; finally feeling a smile trace my lips. “I wish… I wish I’d never come out here… That I never met that 6’4, incredibly good looking, charming and… fuck, Sookie! I was really beginning to like him…”. “You’re only human… Liv, you have done nothing wrong, don’t let him get to you. You just chin up, and finish that job… maybe quit it with the sex-part, though. Get the money, and move on… Take me to a nice dinner when you get back, you’ll be able to afford it; and then you can tell me if…”. “The carpet matches the drapes?”. “Liv!”. Someone called for her in the background. “Sweetie, I gotta run. Call me or Bill if you need anything, ok?”. “I will. And, Sookie…? Thanks”. “See you soon”, she said, and hung up.

While in the shower, I made a decision. I was going to do what I had been hired to do, even if I hadn’t been completely aware of what that meant, when I said yes. But I was also going to do as Sookie had said. There wasn’t a chance in hell, I was going to let that big butthole of a vampire get to me anymore; he was going to get what he paid for, and nothing else.

While drying my hair, I called Pam on the phone Eric had given me. “What?”, she replied, after the first ring. “I need your help”, I said. “In more ways than you know. I repeat… What?” “I want to earn my money, and do the job I was hired for… I guess I’m asking WWGD…?”. “I don’t speak church”, Pam replied. “What Would Ginger Do?”.

I felt a gust of wind, and suddenly Pam was stood in front of me. “Will it piss Eric off?”, she asked. “Maybe… Is that a problem?”, I asked. “He ruined my dress, took away my room; and then almost died on me. No problem at all”, she smirked, but then raised a brow at me “One thing, though… Take it back ”. “Take what back?”. “You know what…”, she sneered. I sighed heavily. “Fine… You’ve never, ever pooped".

---

A few hours later, I was in couture again; at least Pam had told me it was. My chest was bound as tightly and as high as humanly possible, by a black satin corset-top; but when Pam had seen me exit the room after having put it on, she spun me around, and bound it even tighter. I had on a short skirt in faux leather, and strappy high-heeled sandals, that I was sure to twist my ankle in, at some point. I’d done my make-up and hair as I used to, during my dancing days; and I knew I looked both fuckable and eatable. Because of this very reason, I’d put a robe over my clothes. Pam looked hungry.

I was finishing painting my nails a dark color, when Eric entered the suite; wearing another suit – this time, with a shirt underneath. He looked every bit the powerful vampire-sheriff he was. ”What is that smell?”, Eric snarled. “I’m doing my nails, sir”, I said. He took three long strides towards me, and looked down at my freshly painted nails. “You’re keeping me locked up here, I needed to do something to pass the time”. “Doing as you’re told is part of the job, sunshine”, he retorted – letting whether this time, he meant sunshine as a term of endearment, or an insult, hang in the air. “Sir, yes, sir”, I said quietly, and screwed the lid back on the polish, blowing on my nails. Eric took the bottle from the table. “Where did you even get this?”, he asked. “I told you not to leave the suite”. “Pam”, I answered.

Eric shook his head in annoyed defeat. “The trial is in an hour; upstairs. The Authority figured out you’re the one on that picture; and they want you to testify, despite my insistence that you can’t remember anything”. “You told them that?”, I asked. He looked at me with warning eyes. “Yes, and you’ll repeat those very words to the Magister”. “I’m not going to lie! Are you crazy?”. The Viking-vampire tensed his whole body, bared his fangs, and roared at me. “You will do as you’re told, miss Sunday; because that’s what I hired you to do!”.

I wanted to scream, throw something, or even punch him in the face; but that last part would probably hurt me more than it would him. Instead, I stood my ground. If he wanted an obedient little fangbanger who did as she was told, and groveled at his feet; he’d get one. I got off the couch, and shrugged off the robe; exposing my outfit. “Yes, master”, I said. Erics eyes widened, and he turned to face his progeny. “Vad fan håller hon på med? Vad har du gjort?”. ”She asked for The Ginger. I thought you’d want a bit of an upgrade from that”, Pam said, amusement in her voice. I raised a brow at her. “Hey… I wanted to piss him off, not get killed”. Eric rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this. We have a trial to attend”, he said, and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go”. “I can walk myself”, I said, and pulled my arm out of his grasp, before grabbing my purse. He clenched his jaw, and opened the door for us to leave the room. The first thing that happened after I stepped out into the hallway, was that I almost fell over. Pam caught me by the arm, and pulled me upright. Eric had the decency to keep his back to me, as he laughed.

---

The top floor restaurant had once again been rearranged for what seemed like a party. I don’t know what I’d expected form a vampire-trial, but this was not it. The vampires present were all dressed to the nines, some of them in fashions that seemed to stem from decades before. There were very few humans in the room; probably to avoid having to do a mass glamour when the trial was over.

Eric strode confidently through the room, with people stepping aside as he went. I heard murmurs, and felt eyes on my back as I followed. “… the human Godric fed from”, I heard someone mutter, as I passed a group of sheriffs and their entourages. “Wasn’t she a stripper?”. “Northman likes them flexible and half naked. Haven’t you ever been to Shreveport?”. “… seems like the type”. I looked back at the group, and had to stop myself from hissing at them. I wasn’t out to get killed after all. Pam grabbed my arm, and made me keep up.

Walking up to Isabel at the center of the room, Eric solemnly nodded at her. “Is he in the building?”, he asked. “He’s been silvered all day in the magisters quarters… I would have stayed with him, but they wouldn’t let me”, Isabel said, a pained look in her eyes. “I know… You’ve been a good deputy to him”, Eric said. “But I should have been there”. “What difference would that have made? They would have found out eventually”. “No… Last conference, I should have been there. I could have stopped it”. Eric let out a frustrated growl. “You can’t blame yourself”, Isabel said. “All we can do now, is give testimony to Godrics character. Maybe we can claim the picture was fabricated… Have your human say it was a misunderstanding”. Eric gazed back at me. “She doesn’t remember what happened…”, he said, giving me a meaningful and warning look.

The hell I didn’t. I remembered everything.

---

[dcbbw]

Six Sentence Sunday 5-23-2021

Thank you for the tag, @ao719​! I am hopeful to get both of these posted tonight, but it may be split between tonight and tomorrow.

Sneak peeks under the cut ...

Friday Night Chat—DC AU’s COVID AU (and it isn’t a one-shot! Hahahahhahahahahaha)

Liam positioned himself on the sofa so he was fully looking at Riley. His eyes squinted as he scrutinized her face. “You need to tighten your pores, Riley B., and maybe moisturize with an egg mask.”

Riley made a face as she inched away from Liam. “Stay away from my pores!”

“Someone is still missing!” Olivia exclaimed as her eyes searched the Zoom squares.

“Here I am,” Madeleine’s voice drifted across laptops; shortly afterward, everyone watched as she sat gingerly on the edge of her loveseat next to Leo.

“What’s wrong with you?” Maxwell asked, his face frowned with puzzlement.

“I have a boil,” Madeleine said stiffly. “Down there.”

“A seafood boil,” Leo quipped. He winced when Madeleine punched his arm.

“Is it painful?” Alyssa asked.

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “No, Lyssa. I always walk and sit this way. Hell YES, it’s painful! I’ve been putting hot compresses on it AND squeezing it, but it just grows bigger and gets more painful.”

“You need to get a drawing salve. Black salve is best, and you can get next day with Prime shipping from Amazon,” Drake spoke. “Swear to GOD, rub it over the infected area, and before you know it … BUSTED!”

“And you know this … how, Walker?” Olivia’s green eyes were bright with curiosity.

Drake’s eyes cast downward, and his tone was awkward when he replied. “From a friend,” he mumbled.

Madeline peered at Maxwell and Olivia’s back wall. “Is that … DMX?”

Maxwell nodded. “Yup! Liv and I are attending a memorial service for him later.”

“There’s going to be potato latkes and weed,” Liam offered helpfully.

“OOOHHHH, can I come?” Alyssa asked eagerly.

Olivia stared at the screen. “No.”

 Lap Dance—JGL Birthday Fic (and it IS a one-shot) Preview is kinda NSFW

She begins walking towards me with an uncertain gait, but her heels tap steadily and sure across the parquet floor. I turn off the music and she looks at me with a lost expression, as if she has no idea what to do without music guiding her movements.

“We’ll make our own music,” I say.

“You’re different from the others,” she observes as she straddles my lap, the tips of her fingers resting lightly on the tops of my shoulders.

The nylon of her stockings rubs against the denim of my pants. “You’re about to find out just how much.”

She looks at me apprehensively; I give her a slight smirk as my fingers comb through her hair while my gaze holds hers. I feel her hips wriggle against mine, and I place my index finger over her lips. “Don’t move,” I instruct.

My fingers make their way through her tresses and drift across the nape of her neck. Her skin is cold from the air conditioning and feels soft yet dry. 

Papery. 

She shivers under my touch. I bring my hand around to her cheek, and my fingertips trace the contour of the right side of her face while my eyes drink in her features.:

Her face is caked with makeup, but not sloppily: bold blue eyeshadow, false eyelashes, heavy rouge. Her lips are shiny with bubble gum-scented gloss. She smells faintly of freesia.

My hand goes further south, and I am hefting a breast in my hand. The woman is not overly endowed, but the flesh feels weighted against my palm. My free hand cups her opposite breast before my thumbs and forefingers begin pulling and pinching at rosy-colored nipples. I see her eyes cloud over with lust as my fingernails drag along the underside of erect, sensitive skin.

“You like that?” I murmur.

In response, her face leans in closer to mine, her lips slightly parted. I catch a whiff of mint and bubble gum before pulling my face away. “I don’t kiss,” I explain.

And I don’t. Kissing is an intimate act, and there is nothing intimate about what she and I are doing. This is a business arrangement: an agreement with a price tag and time limit.

Just as it is with every woman I’ve been with.

Not tagging anyone; if you see this and wanna play along and share, please do so!

[loveandprose]

a sunday kind of love: an svu fanfic

On Sundays, she doesn’t let herself get mired down thinking about all the time they missed out on together. 

On Sundays, there’s just them and the present moment, loving each other and the children they share between them.

Olivia knows without checking the time that it’s way too fucking early when he wakes, his broad, weathered hands curling at her backside to tug her back into the rightful, protective haven of his body after she drifted away at some point in the night. She loves that as much as touch is part of the way they love and communicate now — after so many years of carefully toeing that line — they still both need their space so often in the night.

“Liv,” he rumbles, low and sleepy in her ear, brushing her hair away from her face to the curve of her neck.

She half-heartedly swats his chest. “Fuck off,” she murmurs, but there’s no malice to it as she burrows her nose into his neck to shield her face from the rising sun. He chuckles throatily and the calloused glide of his palm at her lower back sends her toes curling up against his calf, heat pooling low in her belly. Ugh, damn him.

A fun and fluffy little glimpse into the future. More here.

Also on AO3.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 15 September 1839 TRJ

4 3/4

10 1/4

Damp morn[in]g F[ahrenheit] 60 1/2° at 5 a.m. I am all ready now at 5 35/..

no c[oa]ch h[ou]se .:. p[ai]d for man watch[in]g the carr[ia]ge

last night ./50 and p[ai]d Gross this morn[in]g for p[ai]d yest[erday] for

d[itt]o d[itt]o ./50 – w[i]th all the [?] I ha[ve] made, it is

6 3/.. when we get off – 3 min[ute]s lat[e]r than the ti[me] –

damp hazy morn[in]g – forest immed[iatel]y on leav[in]g the Stat[io]n

neith[e]r of us slept well last night – A- [Ann] m[u]ch bit –

we had noth[in]g b[u]t plates and caps and sauciers and knives

and forks and tab[le] linen and our doub[le] bedd[e]d r[oo]m and serv[an]t r[oo]m and

p[ai]d 4/20 – Scotch firs this morn[in]g bark[e]d all r[ou]nd

for a yard or 2 fr[om] the gr[ou]nd at 6 20/.. lit[tle] dist[an]t left

fjord or lake – r[oa]d red coarse as yest[erday] sandy b[u]t good tho’ m[u]ch r[ai]n

in the night – forest and lit[tle] breaks all the way to

Säcjarvi [Sackjarvi] at 7 1/2 – one h[ou]se in the forest – sm[all] b[u]t goodish

  Sept[embe]r Sun[day] 15

Nisalax

Urpala [Uppsala]

as the Gent[leman] s[ai]d at Högfors one might sleep at

Helsingfors [Helsinki] 237 v[ersts]

Wiborg [Vyborg] 44 1/2 v[ersts]

St. P- [Petersburg] 181 v[ersts]

Säcjarvi [Sackjarvi]  b[u]t

Urpala [Uppsala] seems

a good deal the

bet[ter] of the two –

Same sort of forest r[oa]d as yest[erday]

b[u]t less populat[io]n and bould[e]rs n[o]t so strikingly large –

the soil here a fine red gravel as yest[erday] and many

[expanses] of gravel-conglorn bould[e]rs –

mo[re] cattle this morn[in]g than ev[e]r bef[ore] s[in]ce Abo [Äbo] – no

sheep today as yest[erday] so few in these north[e]rn count[rie]s

can on[l]y be just en[ou]gh to supply the inhab[itant]s w[i]th wool and

a lit[tle] cheese and mutt[o]n – they salt the legs (the hams)

for winter – the Russ[ia]n male costume this morn[in]g ver[y] pret[ty] and pict[uresque]

a whi[te] frock coat and red belt or blue or dark and

often bound w[i]th the sa[me] – the wom[e]n wear a [strong]

linen? dark w[i]th narrow red stripes for pettic[oa]ts, and a bodice

or jack[e]t .............. and a whi[te] hand[ker]ch[ie]f

on the head – they all wear the red strip[e]d stuff – or

I ha[ve] seen many men wear it for jackets and trousers

8 25/.. sev[era]l baggage lit[tle] waggons and 1 horse and so[me] sold[ie]rs on f[oo]t

now at 8 25/.. just cross[e]d lit[tle] bridge ov[e]r lit[tle] stream and

cross[e]d a broad[e]r str[ea]m so[me] ti[me] ago the on[l]y two str[ea]ms

this stage so far – the forest too less swampy than the forest yest[erday]

at 8 3/4 consid[era]ble br[ea]k in the forest – unpaint[e]d

hamlet (we pass thro’) – one of the long[e]st flocks of

sheep we ha[ve] seen (recent[l]y shorn) – log houses

the trees n[o]t even flatten[e]d big boulder all among

the cot[tage]s – peas[an]ts wear bl[a]ck leather gloves like our

 Russ[ia]n costume

man bl[a]ck beavers w[i]the buckles

 SH:7/ML/TR/14/0006

Sept[embe]r Sun[day] 15

hedg[in]g mittens – hardly out of the hamlet

bef[ore] the young forest beg[i]ns ag[ai]n (Scotch fir and birch, alder

bushes ev[er]ywhere in the swampy places) – but mo[re]

break, and anoth[e]r fields hamlet (scattered) bef[ore] at 8 55/.. and at 9

one neat lit[tle] ochre-yel[low] and whi[te] seam[e]d stat[io]n h[ou]se

at Nisalaks the old[e]r port[io]n of the h[ou]se und[e]r the sa[me] r[oo]m unpaint[e]d

flatten[e]d log-h[ou]se – br[eak]f[a]st boil[e]d milk and Wiborg [Vyborg] (criks?)

Wiburg  [Vyborg] 29 2/6

Säcjarvi [Sackjarvi]  15 1/6

Kiskila 14 1/6

Helsingfors [Helsinki] 252 1/2

St. P- [Petersburg] 105 5/6

br[ea]d tied up in a

sort of rose – and made

tea, and took my pint bot[tle] full

away w[i]th us – all

ready at 10 – off at 10 20/.. fr[om] Nisalax

we sh[oul]d ha[ve] liv[e]d bet[ter] here than we did at Urpala [Uppsala] I suspect –

nice lit[tle] stat[io]n – a lit[tle] meat on the fire boil[in]g when we ca[me]

in, and our milk ready in 10 min[ute]s or 1/4 h[ou]r – In 5 min[ute]s

pass thro’ the lit[tle] hamlet – and then forest rocky forest and big bould[e]r ag[ai]n

r[oa]d coarse red sandy as bef[ore] b[u]t good forest, till 11 1/4 good riv[e]r – 2 or 3

good wood, yellow paint[in]g h[ou]ses scatt[ere]d ab[ou]t and lit[tle] unpaint[e]d scatt[ere]d

hamlet – nice bit of open cultivat[e]d count[r]y – the

r[oa]d red sand (b[u]t good) and the soil red sand – still damp and

rath[e]r hazy – (Read[in]g Handb[oo]k artic[le] Moscow) soon

forest ag[ai]n – at 11 3/4 lookd[o]wn up[on] bey[on]d us (left) the

handsom[e]st gent[leman]s h[ou]se we ha[ve] seen in Finland, surround[e]d

w[i]th park-like gr[ou]nds – lit[tle] hamlet scatt[ere]d hereab[ou]ts –

h[ou]se and 2 wings – whi[te] w[i]th pea green roof – at 11 51/..

one neat good yellow, and whi[te] pilast[ere]d stat[io]n at

Kaskila and br[oa]d sheet of wat[e]r at a lit[tle] dist[an]ce in

front – anoth[e]r pavill[io]n-like gent[leman]’s h[ou]se alm[o]st in front

(to the right) fr[om] our stat[io]n yel[low] w[i]th pea green roof and whi[te] corners and

a whi[te] hexastyle portico (w[i]th pedim[en]t – the gable end) beautif[ull]y

   Sept[embe]r Sun[day] 15

paint[e]d c[oa]ch h[ou]ses and stabl[in]g and unpaint[e]d barns and cot[tage]s

scatt[ere]d ab[ou]t the fine sheet of wat[e]r com[in]g close to the h[ou]se – ver[y] pret[ty]

Wiborg [Vyborg] 15 1/6

St. P- [Petersburg] 153 2/3

Niserlax 14 1/6

Helsingfors [Helsinki] 266 ½

here – one stage

last night to U- [Urpala] [Uppsala]

ver[y] pict[uresque] – and

[?] this morn[in]g – big boulders ag[ai]n conglom[era]te red granite as yest[erday]

pict[uresque] foresty stage to here – corn (rye) out in cocks

here – soon Scotch fir forest ag[ai]n – the cranberry and moss and heather

dispute as us[ua]l possess[io]n of the rock and bould[e]r

a lit[tle] farm and at 12 17/.. 3 lit[tle] stacks of corn thatch[e]d w[i]th straw and then spruce branches laid

on the top – here and ev[er]ywhere ab[ou]t they lay spruce fir

branches at the doors to keep one clean [crossed word] inst[ea]d

of mats when it is dirty as it alw[a]ys m[u]st be in wet weath[e]r

w[a]s this cust[o]m of strew[in]g branches in the way (as palm br[anch]

as our sav[iou]r rode al[on]g etc.) orig[inall]y to keep one out of the

dirt? now at 12 50/.. sandy and heavy r[oa]d uphill in the

forest – at 1 fr[om] the top of hill Wiborg [Vyborg] in sight, and

its fine island fjord, immense expanse of

wat[e]r and 10 arch wood br[idge] ov[e]r arm of the fjord on

left to w[hi]ch we wind d[o]wn and cross (deals and big bould[e]rs)

now at 12 7/.. 1 7/.. – beaut[iful] wood[e]d islandy expanse of

wat[e]r on each side – ver[y] fine dri[ve] fr[om] here –

at 1 10/.. cross anoth[e]r 10 arch wood[e]n br[idge] – the large

sq[uare] tow[e]r and 3 sm[all] point[e]d tow[e]rs of Wiborg [Vyborg] full in

view left fr[om] the br[idge] – fine wood[e]d dri[ve] fr[om] here – the

wat[e]r right – damp ver[y] sm[all] drizzling r[ai]n – bouldery com[mo]n

just bef[ore] ent[erin]g Wiborg [Vyborg] – at 1 20/.. the 1st barrier and archway –

then at 2[n]d archway and wat[e]r and wood br[idge] 13 arches, to cross

a steamer lying at the quai – ver[y] fine view of fjord and town

the old brick cast[le] close (right) on a lit[tle] isl[an]d – this w[a]s the large sq[uare]

tower I saw at the top of the hill at 1 –

enter the town at 1 25/.. – at the Society’s house good Inn at 1 1/2 –

  Strew[in]g Spruce

branches inst[ea]d of mats

 SH:7/ML/TR/14/0007

Sept[embe]r Sun[day] 15

S[e]nt Gross w[i]th my passp[or]t to the police – asleep –

c[oul]d n[o]t be seen till 3 – had my h[ai]r done and A. [Ann] and I out at 2 40/..

took Gross to shew us the police – close to the gate by w[hi]ch we ent[ere]d

the town – recross[e]d the br[idge] on 20 wood piers pillar each form[e]d of 5 –

then up the fort-hill – near the br[idge] right on ent[erin]g the town beaut[iful] view of the fjord and suburb to the

westw[ar]d – ret[urne]d by the wat[e]r side – obs[erve]d the big pieces of red

felspar [feldspar] in the porphyritic (conglomerate?) of their

rocks – then on pass[in]g the bridge ag[ai]n and reent[erin]g the town

turn[e]d left along the rampart – A- [Ann] stood sketch[in]g the

old brick cast[le] on a lit[tle] isl[an]d fjord or [crossed word] moat

all r[ou]nd – A- [Ann] sketch[e]d the old cast[le] – its tower 8tagon [octagon] that

Look[e]d sq[uare] in the dist[an]ce – the 3 upper stories of the tower[e]d seem roofless –

the fjord on this side (tow[ar]ds the sea) ver[y] beaut[iful] islandy and

wood[e]d as far as one can see – the wat[e]r on the opposite side

the town ver[y] pict[uresque] but mo[re] like a pret[ty] islandy lake –

Deal sheds – a large raff y[ar]d near left (look[in]g n[or]thw[ar]ds) and lit[tle]

unpaint[e]d hamlet scatt[ere]d a long way along the waters

edge – hamlets (too, right, and nearer, sweep[in]g round to

the town) a large handso[me] suburb w[i]th good ch[ur]ch

yellow w[i]th red roof and tow[e]r cupola pea green – Viborg [Vyborg]

a large town tak[in]g in its suburbs – a large handso[me]

ch[ur]ch in the large sq[uare] oppos[i]te our Inn – 2/3 the men one

sees are sold[ie]rs in their long plait[e]d-in-behind fawn-grey

gr[ea]t coats – they look like monks or women?

then al[on]g the rampart to a lit[tle] pastern gate – w[e]nt out

by it ab[ou]t 1/2 way or mo[re] tow[ar]ds the good suburb –

then turn[e]d (right) tow[ar]ds the sea (along the outside

rampart breast-work) of the fortress –

w[e]nt to the waters’ edge – tast[e]d the wat[e]r – merely

a lit[tle] brackish – n[o]t at all salt – beaut[iful]

view fr[om] a round knoll of bare granite rock of

 ca[me] in at 5 1/4

din[ner] at 6 to 6 3/4

out at 7 for a

min[ute] or 2 to see

the ch[ur]ch en face

 Sept[embe]r Sun[day] 15

each pier form[e]d of five uprights w[i]th a spur

fr[om] each side of the foot of each upright

on the top of the rock (right, on ent[erin]g the town – and close to the

bridge – so[me] sort of fortificat[io]n there) – on the top of the rock

large when bare, obs[erve]d the sa[me] ochre-yellow moss I saw

on the large old oaks in the park at Stockholm – and in

ret[urnin]g by the water side a lit[tle] of the blood-red moss I first obs[erve]d n[or]th

of Upsala [Uppsala] – scarp[e]d a lit[tle] off w[i]th the point of my parasol

stick – it w[a]s pulpy and vegetable-like – tho’ the wat[e]r trickl[in]g

d[o]wn it, made it look shin[in]g and so like recent blood, I alm[o]st

th[ou]ght at 1st (there being b[u]t a lit[tle] patch of it) that it might

be blood –

 the wide expand[e]d, lovely, wood amphitheatric islandy

fjord – the light at 4 3/4 beaut[iful] – the dark

distant bound[ar]y of pine forest back[in]g

the smooth light wat[e]r ver[y] fine – A- [Ann]

th[ou]ght she h[a]d nev[e]r admir[e]d a scene mo[re] –

2 brigs on the stocks here (lit[tle] trading vess[e]ls)

ret[urne]d by the gate nearest the sea the road winding

within the outworks – then saunt[ere]d along

the rampart w[i]thin the walls – ver[y] fine

view (nearly the sa[me] as bef[ore]) of the fjord, b[u]t

saw rath[e]r mo[re] of it – good town – a

reg[ula]r fortress – remind[e]d me in this resp[c]t

of Rocroi where we slept last y[ea]r –

ca[me] in at 5 1/4 – wr[ote] a lit[tle] din[ner] at 6 –

ver[y] good fried Sprax a fish tast[in]g a lit[tle] like carp?

excell[en]t veal cutlet w[i]th curr[an]ts on the top and lemon

and I ate it w[i]th excell[en]t pres[erve]d raspberry, and on ver[y] good

pres[erve]d green gooseberries look[in]g like olives and pres[erve]d

candied lemon, and sago pudding, and good coff[ee] aft[er]w[ar]ds -

 SH:7/ML/TR/14/0008

Sept[embe]r Sun[day] 15

aft[e]r din[ner] the oppos[i]te ch[ur]ch door op[e]n, w[e]nt in for

a min[ute] or 2 – a sort of priest or man ab[ou]t the ch[ur]ch ca[me]

to see wh[a]t we sh[oul]d do – 2 candles burn[in]g at 2 silvery shrines –

b[u]t nobod[y] in the ch[ur]ch – too dark to see m[u]ch – b[a]ck at 7 1/4

and h[a]d Grotza b[u]t so long ab[ou]t gett[in]g and pay[in]g for [Podoroshma]

and chang[in]g mon[e]y and pay[in]g up bills that it w[a]s aft[e]r 9 bef[ore] all this w[a]s done –

the sm[all] damp r[ai]n and haze clear[e]d off bet[ween] 2 and 3 p.m. and

aft[er]w[ar]ds fine aft[ernoo]n and ev[enin]g F[ahrenheit] 58° now at 9 10/.. p.m.

our bill 16/20 – c[oul]d get no copp[e]r mon[e]y – pretend[e]d they

h[a]d diffic[ult]y in giv[in]g me 2 five kop[ek] pieces change ag[ain]st

the bill – and in chang[in]g my mon[e]y they ga[ve] me two

25 kop[ek] bills and one 5 kop[ek] – 55 Rub[les] for my Finnish rubel

notes some kopek notes 75s. and a few 50s.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Witch Beauty

Been wanting to do an undercover story for this series- here it is 

Warnings: Usual SVU, Undercover SVU, light swearing  and shower smut

"Once you guys are ready, we will run over tonight again. Barba should be here by then" Liv closed the door of the locker room and you went into the bathroom.

"I can't go out like this-Amanda swap outfits please"

"Nice try, the answer is no"

"Come on Y/N, let us see you" Sonny yelled through the door.

Sonny and Amanda burst out laughing when you stepped out.

"Don't be ass holes" you spat at them "Amanda, why do you get to wear pants? I have nowhere to hide my gun"

----

"So the preps are mid 20's. Perp one is 5 foot 8 inches with red hair, prep two is 6 foot even with Sandy Brown hair. They target women in pairs, they talk the victims into going back to their apartment, walking them through the park nearby and they attack them there. They are highly dangerous, they have done a number on all the girls they have attacked. One will have scratch marks on his neck from his last victim. Unis will be around in the club with Carisi and will around the park, Fin and I will be in the van, and if you want to join us"

"How many victims so far?" Rafael asked

"4..."

"You two need to shut the hell up and leave me alone" Rafael turned his head and when he seen you, his mouth dropped open at the sight.

You had heavy dark eye makeup, deep red lips and dead straight hair. You had a black choker around your neck with a moon on it which was your hidden camera, a boob tube black leather dress that didn't leave much to the imagination, just covering everything, with a small v slit on your left thigh, with low black platform heels.

Rafael met your eyes and you rolled them at him with Amanda and Sonny laughing behind you. Amanda was dressed in red leather pants, a black halter neck top with an open back, heavy makeup and large hoop earrings; her hidden camera. Sonny was in black jeans and a white button down, wearing glasses; his hidden camera.

You walked straight over to Rafael who was sitting at the conference desk in the bullpen, he stood up and gave you a hug, not kissing you because of your makeup

"Hey Rafi, keep these safe for me please"

You handed him your heart necklace, heart bracelet and his grandmother’s ring. He nodded with a smile and put them in his pocket.

"Rollins, Carisi do we have a problem?" Fin asked hushing them from laughing

"No" Amanda answered holding back laughter.

"Y/N looks like she just stepped out of The Craft" Sonny and Amanda burst out laughing again and you rolled your eyes.

"I'll be waiting at the car" you turned on your heels and headed for the lifts.

----

"Sorry for teasing you" Sonny grabbed your arm to try and get you to look at him.

"Yeah you know it was all fun and games" Amanda grabbed your shoulder from the back seat

"You guys mention it again and I'll craft your asses, turn yall into frogs" you all laughed.

Just then your phone chimed.

10.30 pm: Rafael- Stay safe Hermosa, I'll be in the van waiting. I love you

10.32pm: Y/N- I love you Rafi, see you when it's all over xx

"Ok we're here, you both know the signal, if it gets too much just let me know and I'll gets you’s out of there" Sonny grabbed your hand and squeezed it and looked at Amanda giving her a nod. Sonny's phone rang

"Hey Liv"

"Ok Carisi, all your cameras and sound are working. Send the girls in now, you follow in 10"

“Everything by the book Detectives” Rafael yelled from the other end of phone.

Because Rafael was in the van with Liv and Fin, they each had a monitor. Liv was watching Sonny's camera, Rafael watching Amanda's and Fin watching yours. Of course he didn't argue when Liv put him on Amanda's camera, he got to stare at you on the monitor.

As different as this look was for you, you looked beautiful, very Gothic but stunning. He could tell you were uncomfortable, but of course only he knew that, he knew that look you had on your face. He wasn't happy that you were undercover, dressed like that trying to catch two rapists, but he was there which eased him, and as annoying as Sonny was he knew he wouldn't be far away from you. At times Sonny was just as protective of you and he was.

---

You and Amanda were dancing and resting the same drink that had gone hot. Sonny was standing leaning on the bar as he scanned the room. He finally seen the preps walking down the stairs, he caught your eyes and gave you a double wink.

You step closer to Amanda's ear, "They’re here". Amanda spotted them and when she seen them go to the bar, she pulled you with her to stand behind them.

You guys made sure you were directly behind them so when they turned they bumped into you both. On one preps neck you could see scratch marks from where his last victim tried to get him off her. You looked at Amanda who noticed them as well and you stood up on tippy toes for the camera to get a better look at the marks.

"Barba, Liv look" they both looked at the screen and seen the scratch marks down his neck.

"We keep on top if this, we don’t need a situation with either of them " Rafael looked at Liv dead in the eyes.

----

"ALL UNITS GO GO GO" Liv screamed over the radio

"I SAID GET OFF ME" you managed to lift your knee between the perps leg and knee him hard in between them, he fell back leaning down to cup himself, when you brought your knee up again and kneed him in the nose causing him to fall back on his back. Sonny and some undercover uni's came running around the path and seen you standing over him while he held himself with both hands. Liv and Fin went running for Amanda who also managed to subdue her perp.

Liv gave Rafael strict instructions to stay in the van when it was time to go, he agreed half heartily and continued to watch your screen seeing everything unfold.

"That's my girl" he said to himself when he seen how you protected yourself.

"Good job ladies, let's get back to the station" Liv patting you both on the back

Sonny drove you all back, Liv wanted you and Amanda to question both guys first to see if they would crack being questioned by you both. Rafael sat in the back with you holding your hand and squeezing it, you looked up at him and he winked at you.

Amanda got changed first. You both agreed to leave you hair and makeup on to spook them so they knew they attacked under covers.

You couldn't wait to get out of the dress, it was too short and too sticky from sweat. You reached around to the zip, but it wouldn't budge. You pulled and pulled but nothing happened.

"For fuck sake" you muttered to yourself about to unlock the door to go and look for help when you heard the other door open.

"Hermosa, are you ok? Your coffee is getting cold"

You unlocked the door and Rafael saw how flustered you were.

"Are you ok?"

"The zipper is stuck" he chuckled at you and walked in closing the door behind him locking it.

Rafael put his hands on your shoulders and spun you around sweeping your hair over one shoulder. After a couple of tugs, he managed to get it undone. He lent over and started to kiss your shoulder which sent shivers down your spine.

"Rafi, I have to get changed, the others are waiting"

You turned to face him and kissed him on the lips. He wasn't wearing a tie, and had the first few buttons undone on his shirt, you kissed down to his neck, back up along his jaw, up to his ear.

"I'll make it up to you when we get home"

"I can't wait" he kissed you back and left you to get changed.

Within two hours you and Amanda got both confessions and they were sent to be processed and arraignment on Monday morning.

It was the early hours of Sunday morning when you and Rafael finally both got home from Sonny dropping you off.

"I need a shower, Rafi wanna join me?" You pulled him into you kissing him deeply.

He ran his hands down your side and cupped your ass lifting you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist and he walked into the bathroom.

He placed you down so he could start the water. You were undressed before he even turned back around. You opened the mirror cabinet and pulled out your make up wipes and started to remove the heavy makeup. He turned around and took in your naked form, looking you up and down. You seen his face in the mirror,

"Better catch up Counselor" You smirked at him.

You had never seen him undress so quickly before and he was on top of you, running his hands down your sides and peppering kisses along your shoulders and neck, you could feel him hardening against your thigh.

You turned to face him and he pulled you into the shower and pushed your back to the wall. He started to kiss your neck and ran his hand down your naked side across your hips and too your opening.

"You looked so hot tonight. I was fighting to keep my hands off you" Rafael purred, you giggled

"Rafi, I looked like a witch"

"A hot witch-wow so wet, all for me?"

"Always for you Rafi"

He spun you around and pushed your front against the shower wall kissing and lightly nipping at your neck, you reached behind and took his length into your palm and started to rub him from base to tip.

"Keep that up Hermosa-oh-" he took a large gulp.

"Bend over" you pushed yourself off the wall, spreading your legs more and sticking your ass out, he rubbed his length along you,

"I have been wanting to do this to you all night" and without warning he slipped into you in one go. He paused for a second knowing that he would come too quickly if he got too carried away. You noticed his pause and knew exactly what to say to fire him up again,

"You ok back there Guapo?"

Just saying that one single word is Spanish sent fire through him and you knew it, and started to pound you hard and fast.

Moans filled the room, " Rafi...I" he reached around and started to rub clit with his thumb, which was pulsing and hard.

"Rafael" you screamed, tipping him over, he grunted your name and his thrusts slowed to a stop.

He pulled out a moment later and helped you get your balance and turned you to face him. He was trying to slow his breathing, but he lent against you kissing you deeply, he pulled away to catch his breath and he tucked a piece of hair behind you ear,

“Its so hot when you call me Guapo”

[akacatholicism]

“Do thou be confident of Me”

V.  S. Peter was the first to benefit by his Master’s humiliation.

And how much this humiliation conferred upon all the faithful, the most blessed Apostle Peter was the first to prove, who, after the fierce blast of threatening cruelty had dismayed him, quickly changed, and was restored to vigour, finding remedy from the great Pattern, so that the suddenly-shaken member returned to the firmness of the Head.  For the bond-servant could not be “greater than the Lord, nor the disciple greater than the master981,” and he could not have vanquished the trembling of human frailty had not the Vanquisher of Death first feared.  The Lord, therefore, “looked back upon Peter982,” and amid the calumnies of priests, the falsehoods of witnesses, the injuries of those that scourged and spat upon Him, met His dismayed disciple with those eyes wherewith He had foreseen his dismay:  and the gaze of the Truth entered into him, on whose heart correction must be wrought, as if the Lord’s voice were making itself heard there, and saying, Whither goest thou, Peter? why retirest thou upon thyself? turn thou to Me, put thy trust in Me, follow Me:  this is the time of My Passion, the hour of thy suffering is not yet come.  Why dost thou fear what thou, too, shalt overcome?  Let not the weakness, in which I share, confound thee.  I was fearful for thee; do thou be confident of Me.

- Pope Leo the Great, Sermon LIV: On the Passion: Delivered on the Sunday before Easter (Palm Sunday)

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 22

(gif by @vanessacarlysle)

All my perpetual fretting over Tia’s reaction to the news of my reconciliation with Colton was all for…well…. It was all 100% necessary. She yelled phrases such as “if you wanna let the asshole back in your bed, you can clean up the mess he’s gonna make,” and “what did the dickhead do to convince you?” Both valid, however brutally honest they may have seemed. I made up my mind not to push it on her just yet, but to tip-toe through the tulips, if you will, until she warmed up to him. The two of them were quite similar in more ways than one, so they were bound to fall into at least a civil relationship sooner or later. Or, there unpredictable, combusting similarities would eventually just explode like the boom of a nuke. 

As for progression on the Ritter/Elliott home front, things were moving along nicely. We were back to our morning coffee routine at The Grind, and our running schedule had been carefully decided for Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. One of those particular Sunday workouts had navigated us to the new home Colton had purchased as of late, so he could give me the tour. He’d met me at my apartment that morning, carless, but I hadn’t considered where he’d began his run from.

He’d moved in a little over 5 months ago, and judging at first glances the deposit was heavy for a place like this. The brick front, two story structure must have been newly built on the street because the miniscule grassy path he did have in his side yard, was just ever so slightly sprouting from the clumpy, muddy surface. He led me up a black painted front porch through the front door, seemingly eager to show off his purchase from a successful years earnings.

“Home sweet home. Here we are!” He remarked before breaking the plain into his den. “Whatddya think?”

I thought it wasn’t the place I pictured him in, for starters. Not in pessimistic manner or anything, the space was merely more modern, and suburban for what I imagined his quarters to be like. The cabinets of a kitchen just to the right of the main entrance, were bright white, and stealthy black appliances accentuated more bleach white on the walls. Upon trailing deeper into the area, we entered a hardwood floor living room, where the navy of his leather couch shined under the natural light blazing in from a large window.

“It’s super nice, Colt! You keep it so… clean.” Seriously, there wasn’t a stich of the rug out of place. No molding take-out boxes on his countertops, or discarded shoes strung wildly about.

“Give it time,” he pointed at me with a wide smile. “I ain’t been here long enough to destroy it yet.”

“Don’t expect me to come over and clean the place, mister. This girl is no maid,” I said overlapping my arms in a forewarning.

“You could be. Hey, we could get you one of those little outfits and everything,” Colton said wagging his eyebrows in suggestion. “I’m gonna go shower real quick, then we’ll take the bike back to your apartment. Just hang out here, and give me 20. Unless of course, you’d like the tour of my shower too..”

Okay, yes please! I need to get a good luck at the tub. Inspect the plumbing, and the drains or whatever..

“I don’t have a change of clean clothes, silly. But, you get all squeaky clean, then I’ll take you on the tour of my new place. The bedroom is to die for...” He dropped his head back in a cantankerous huff as if I was torturing him for my own pleasure.

While he left me unsupervised, fidgeting on the couch, I decided some friendly, not at all psychotic girlfriend snooping would be harmless. Wandering aimlessly in my sock feet about the sitting area and kitchenette, something in particular sparked my interest plastered on the double doors of his refrigerator. In carefully executed newspaper snippets, were all of my published works from the last three years held up on display by small, coinlike magnets. One piece I’d written on an injured All-American local boy who had withdrawn his commitment to Pitt due to apparent substance issues. Various tidbits from the usual Steelers coverage, and my article from his fight with Mendez.

Thin, chalky newspaper nearly covered the entire spread of the left side freezer door. He appeared to have saved nearly every published work that had my name attached to it. What made the gesture even more monumentally romantic, was that The Pilot wasn’t available for subscription, nor a newsprint you could grab at any local convenient store on your morning milk run. It was only available for purchase at two outdoor newsstands in the city, one being a small cart on the sidewalk at the front entrance of our main office. The other was easily a 20-minute commute from any of the local businesses he frequented. Neither spot being one he’d cross by coincidence on his morning jog through downtown, or even the closest grocery store, or Mac’s. Meaning the man had made a specific trip, every Thursday morning to spend $3.75 on a paper that he could’ve searched the internet for. I sketched a feathery finger over the printed words, hearing a single dolloped tear drip below at my feet to the crisp tile of his kitchen floor. He really had never sincerely left me, just like he said only a handful of days ago.

“There’s more in an old cardboard box on the rack under the coffee table.” His stealthy, barefoot approach behind me was completely undetected, or I had just been so preoccupied with my discovery that any background noise was hushed.

I faced him, startled, carelessly forgetting to wipe the still running stream of tears, and hiccupped to repress audibly weeping.

“Oh, woah. Woah, baby. Hey, what’s wrong?” Colt stepped once to reach me, and cloaked me into the embrace of his grey tee, blotched with undried remnants of his shower. He placed both hands to my cheeks, leaving my face trapped between his scuffed, worked palms. Eyes searching over my face, like he was looking for the reason of my tears written somewhere across my forehead.

“I’m fine, seriously. It’s nothing.” I nearly snorted to sniff the running of my nose. Yeah, that was convincing. He’ll be right off your back now.

“Talk to me, Livvy. What’s goin’ on, huh? I know tears when I see ‘em. Especially yours.”

“You did this? You kept them? All, of them?”

A hesitant, “U” shape danced over his lips at my question. “Of course I did, babe. Well, I almost missed one week, but I told the guy at the stand I’d give him 20 bucks if he could get me a copy.”

It drew a laugh from both of us, mine still mixed with some joyful tears.

“It’s got your name on it, Liv. Hell, I woulda paid all the money in my wallet if you had written the alphabet down and had it published. I told you once I was proud a’ ya’, and I meant it.”

“I just didn’t… I never thought… I didn’t know you cared this much. I’m surprised you went through that trouble, especially since we weren’t even together for over half of these.” I looked back for the tenth time over the collection marked with my signature.

“I think that’s when I started to care so much. When we weren’t together, I mean. Because y’know, that’s the weird, twisted fucker I am,” he said rolling his eyes.

His hands departed from my face, and one was now pinching the bridge of his masculine nose in frustrated contemplation. I didn’t see the normal abundance of equanimity in his eyes now that normally dwelled there, and I was well aware that he was struggling for the words he sought. “I’m a head case, Liv. I find the love of my life, and talk to her like dog shit, because that’s obviously what a sensible man would do? God… What fuckin’ sense does that make?”

“Honest? It makes perfect sense, actually.” I comforted him, trying to distinguish the fires of aggravation, and self-loathing I could see kindling behind his eyes. “It’s the typical reaction of a man who’s never been in love before, and doesn’t have a damn clue how to handle all the things his feeling all of a sudden.”

“I know exactly how t’ handle it now though.” Colton said snatching me like a flimsy sack of potatoes into his grips, and reaching for a sly kiss.

When his arms outreached though, one of the tattoo additions I had been suspicious of when we bumped into each other at the Temple that fateful day, revealed itself like a shiny penny catching the beams of the sun.  Carefully placed on the tender, hairless skin of the underside of his bicep amongst his dedication to the Andy Warhol bridge, and a Latin phrase “Fortis Passioni deditus” translating to “strong willed”, was a small 21 needled in varsity print.

I immediately locked a grip around the evidence in question, raising it further into the light to investigate whether my eyes had been viciously deceiving me. He didn’t dispute, either from downright perplexity, or for the simple fact that he knew exactly what had won my attention and wanted me to snoop it out a little more closely.

Once I had wiped sternly over the numbers with a thumb, seeing they were indeed permanently etched onto his smooth skin, I looked intently upward to his waiting face. I wanted to smile in cheesy satisfaction, I wanted to cry in earnest adoration, and I wanted to claw the very ink out of his skin as backlash for his silly, erratic decision. But no, not really. The sensible, rational Liv rallied admirably to find a way to veto what he had done and hammer him with venomous disapproval. Thankfully, my fanatical love for the man eclipsed the once “safe” nature I carried, and all I wanted to do was fall at his feet.

“Took ya’ long enough, 2-1.” He smiled barely showing a top row of teeth.

“Wh..when?” I tripped over my tongue.

“Few months after the Mendez fight, I think. Was gonna put it on my chest, next to ma’s date of remission. But my guy down at the parlor said here looked better.” The man explained so coolly as if a shrine to my basketball number, and his pet name for me drawn onto his flesh was just something people did so commonly. Seriously, it sounded as if he was just reading off the lottery numbers in the Sunday paper.

“A few months? So, you did this after you dumped me? We weren’t even together and you got this tattoo?”

“Are you mad? Like…seriously upset with me, Liv? I mean, yeah, it was a little reckless, but that shoudn’t surprise you, baby,” he snickered. “But I knew I’d get you back, Livvy. Or I was gonna damn die tryin’. The way I saw it, it would either end up being something meaningful to our story that we could tell our babies in 10 years. Or, if I didn’t win you back, I’d have to look at it every fuckin’ day and think of the colossal mistake I made.”

10 years? Babies? DON’T FAINT. DO NOT.

“Lucky for you then, huh? Your plan played out for the better, I suppose.” I stretched on my small toes to pat my nose to his.

“So, you like it then?”

I didn’t bother to reward him with praise, instead just sucked a hearty kiss from the thin part in his opened mouth, humming sensually.

“Colton?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Take me to bed. Now.”

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