#raised pony bar

[samblerg]

Home Bar Dallas Inspiration for a mid-sized modern galley light wood floor seated home bar remodel with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets and solid surface countertops

[103rafes]

TAPE 008 ᯓ★

"The fuck is she feelin' on you for with Hollister on?"

in which BF!Rafe underestimates how possessive citygirl!kook!reader can get over him.

warning : 18+ , smut is involved , slut calling (from reader) , creampie (???)

BF!Rafe and CITYGIRL!KOOK!reader

A party after a solid win at the Enduro, is definitely needed after seeing your boyfriend throw himself at a dirt bike for pride. Well, that's what you think to yourself while you swirl white wine in your glass, the liquid sloshing slowly in the wine glass you had, held between your index and middle fingers.

White, sparkling rhinestones bedazzled the Signature of the Sun mini dress you wore, pearly and almost reflective of the flashing purple and blue lights that happened around the big yacht Topper had rented just for the win; the one which Rafe had rented in advance because he'd known he'd win, and he did in a sense.

You played with the strand of hair you had, curling it around your finger. You'd gotten your hair done for this, to come to the party as Rafe's plus one; his girlfriend - and where was he?

Talking to Topper and Kelce, Ruthie stuck to Topper's side like always. God, you were seriously beginning to hate that bitch, she seemed to be getting more opportunities to talk with your man than you were. You couldn't help the way your face changed into one of clear distaste, rolling your eyes as you turned to converse with your bestfriend who you'd thankfully met at the party.

Versailles, your bestfriend was in her own little designer outfit, a black dress sparkling in polar opposite eye candy to your own. "Is that not your man there, babe?" She asked, an eyebrow raised while you had to this time fight the massive eye roll you were about to, at just the mention of Rafe.

"He's busy," You responded curtly, not trying to be rude but it was getting to you. Seriously, why did he do this? Versailles nodded, but you could sense something off, she seemed uneasy. That didn't sit right with you, "What's up wit'chu?" You asked, and she shifted on her heels, eyebrows raising quickly while her head turned away, glass held to her pink glossed lips, "Does your man know any blondes that aren't his sister?" She muttered low, and you whipped your head around to where Rafe had been, the curls from your high pony bouncing.

Sure enough, you saw Rafe seemingly immersed in conversation with his friends still but with the addition of some blonde chick. Your stare turns into that of a nasty, snake like one, lips curling, "Who is that?" You sneered, and Versailles shrugged, "I don't know, but I saw a ton of guys trying to advance on her, but..she's been giggling and talking to your man for a while now.."

That only made you more angrier, "Seriously? The fuck.." You mumble to yourself as you analyze the random blonde from afar. Hollister clothes from top to bottom, it made you want to laugh. "Where'd she come from, Goodwill? Maybe a goddamn No Frills." You scoffed, eliciting a laugh from Versailles, "Girl..cool down, I'm sure Rafe can handle his own, he's your boyfriend for a reason, right?" She questioned.

That eased your nerves a little; Right, Rafe could hold his own, he wasn't disloyal by any means.

A deep inhale through your nose, and you sighed heavily, "You're right, I'm stressing fo' what..let's go get another drink, mine's out." You murmured, to which Versailles grinned and excitedly linked your arm with hers, practically sprinting you two towards the bar somewhere down the yacht.

The two of you had ended up talking a while longer near the bar as you grabbed your refills, and after a nice 10 minutes did you two finally come back to where you'd originally been. You were laughing hard at something Versailles had said, not tipsy enough to be considered drunk but certainly not sober enough to control your emotions.

Versailles was talking, and she suddenly cut herself off with wide eyes, "Hey, look." She tapped your shoulder before pointing somewhere. You felt slight unease creep into your skin, because you knew that direction was where Rafe was. Begrudgingly, you turned around and were met with the one sight you didn't want to see.

Rafe looked slightly annoyed, hands trying to pry the blonde off him carefully as she tried to grind up on him, getting her hands all over him as the open zipup she wore fell off her shoulders, revealing her tight crop top, and those ass hanging shorts.

Pure adrenaline began to rush through you at the way she so casually touched Rafe; who the hell was this hoe?

Before Versailles could grab you, you were stomping over, the sound of your heels seeming to burn out the sound of the loud music playing on the yacht as you pulled the chick off Rafe by her open, soft blonde hair.

"Get the fuck off him skank!" You snapped, and you could hear the "'ohhh"s that began to come out from Topper and Kelce, looks already coming your way. An offended gasp left the blonde, and her fists clenched, "What the fuck is your problem?!" Her voice was scratching your eardrums in a way that could've made them bleed out, and it only fueled the irritation you had, "My problem? Why's your ass all up on my man?" You asked with all the venom you could muster, the glass in your hand threatening to crack from how hard you were gripping it.

The blondie looked taken aback, seeing someone as gorgeous as you putting a claim on Rafe, but it didn't help her hold her tongue, "He's your man? Does he not have standards?"She spat, and that could've made you see red. "Standards? Don't come talking to me about standards in an all Hollister outfit, bitch!" Your voice grew louder, and heads really were starting to turn.

Rafe meanwhile was visibly cringing, and he tried to grab your bicep, "Hey-" He tried, but you weren't having it, tugging your arm out, "Let go of me!" You snarked at him too, turning your attention back on the girl infront of you, about to speak once more before Rafe grabbed you even firmer by your wrist, "Hey, let's go..c'mon, s'not worth it." He murmured low into the back of your neck, hot breath make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You really wanted to keep this going, put more wood to the already burning fire but deciding better of it, you tugged your wrist out and simply turned on your heel, starting to walk, "Come on Rafe."

Commotion seemed to be settling down a little, your anger somewhat beginning to clear while you prepared to leave, before words caught in your ear.

"Yeah, run back to a Hooters, they need fake boobs there anyway!" The blonde yelled behind your back. Rafe's eyes widened, and he knew what you were about to do. "Shit. don't-"

But you'd already turned right back around, storming right up to the chick and throwing the remnants of your white wine all over her clothes, gasps you didn't care about ringing around the crowd before you threw your glass on the ground and struck, fist colliding in a stinging pain that you replaced with the satisfaction of seeing the blonde stumble and yelp out.

You were pissed; you didn't want to get your nails done again after this, but then again acrylics were purchasable; Rafe was not. Here you were, brawling this chick and her audacity into the ground, a couple of hair pulls that caused your beautifully done hair to become a perfect mess.

"Fucking slut! Go find some other guy to give blue balls!" You yelled, as the girl tried to give you her own punches, failing miserably as she flopped and squirmed like a fish without water, "You fucking witch!!" She shrieked, as you delivered another right hook to her nose, and just as you were about to make her see light, large hands hailed you off the withering girl.

"HEY! C'mon, knock it off!" It was Rafe, and he couldn't believe the effort it took to basically rip you off the girl's body. You panted heavily, reaching down the adjust your heels before you spat on the girl, "You can find ways to fill your pussy at a 99 cent strip club, whore!" You yelled loudly, voice subtly cracking from the frustration bubbling through your body while Rafe tugged you towards him sharply, not with the intention of harming you but rather with the notion to get you to shut up.

"Cut this shit out, she's down, y'did your stuff now let's leave. Now. 'Don't want you causin' more of a scene." He gritted out, and just as you were about to protest, a sharp glare silenced you and you simply shut up.

You could feel the burn of numerous eyes all over your body, some whispers flowing out. Some people were amused at the way you'd put that blonde down, some people were upset you'd overreacted.

But that didn't matter; not with the overbearing that now filled Rafe's truck as you two drove off. Arms crossed over your chest, you didn't know what to say, or how to really start a conversation after all that. You could feel the tension in the car, and Rafe's unspoken words hung heavily in the air.

After a while, you decided to break the ice.

"Listen, you know I-"

"You've done enough."

You fell quiet at that, brow twitching as you scoffed, feeling some uncertainty, "Why was she feeling up on you, Rafe? Especially in fucking Hollister of all clothes-"

"S'not the point here. You punched her, I mean- God, you couldn't keep it in?" Rafe questioned, trying not to be upset. It was difficult, but he also felt guilt; he knew you probably had thought foul things seeing the girl practically climb on him, even if he tried as courteously as possible to get her off.

Your eyes narrowed, now not in the mood to talk. Damn him, he didn't get it.

Rafe knew the game you were playing, and he sighed deeply, "Look, baby, jus'..I'll make it up t'you..a'ight? Jus' calm down." He spoke in a more gentler tone, and it somewhat soothed the wild rhythm that went on in your heart.

A simple hum left you, indicating a half-assed yes that made Rafe relax just slightly.

The two of you got home eventually, Rafe pulling into the driveway and killing the engine, a long exhale leaving him while he got out of the black truck. The two of you stepped inside, locking doors and it was silent for the moments it took for you both to go upstairs. It was like there was a fog between you two, and it made you uneasy. Had you really made Rafe upset with you?

Just as the subtle anxiety of such a thing began to itch at your skin, rough but slender fingers trailed the sides of your waist. "Let me help you outta this.." He murmured, a soothing balm to the worries you'd had moments before. You nodded quietly, feeling slow caresses to your waist before Rafe went to unzip the designer dress off you, giving him view to your back.

Mindlessly, he dragged a cold hand to your spine and it made you shiver a little. Soon enough, the dress was coming off and before it could pool around your ankles to the floor, Rafe caught it and watched as your stepped out of it in your white Miu Miu heels, those satin slingback pumps you adored secretly clicking against the wood look porcelain.

Rafe stood up to full height, putting the dress over the fluffy chair infront of your vanity, all types of makeup over it.

His eyes flicked over your figure, taking in the curves that were now bare to him. He couldn't help himself when his hands slowly massaged the skin of your hips, fingers teasingly hooking into the black lace of your panties, the bows on either side, "You look good in black," He complimented low into your ear, and you felt your heart constrict.

"I know," You answered, trying to keep some of your dignity with you. That dragged a light mimic of a snicker out of Rafe, and his hands began to travel up your body, to where those layered rhinestones sat nicely on your neck. He unhooked the clip behind them, taking the necklace off you, "Jus' wanted to make sure you do.." He set it to where your vanity was, "Thing's a mess," He mentioned, but it wasn't condescending. Teasing, that's what it was.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with your arms crossed over your chest and weight shifted onto one side, hips angled. "K, you're not a girl, you won't understand," You muttered, which caused Rafe to chuckle wile he walked back to you, "Sure I won't, baby.."

It was quiet for a bit, and he could tell the earlier situation was still in the back of your mind. Sighing, Rafe brought his hands to fiddle with the back of your matching lace bra, "I'm sorry..seriously," he started, and when you didn't respond, his brows furrowed with slight desperation, "c'mon..don't be like that. 'know I meant it when I said I'd make it up to you." His hands continued to trace idle patterns, a finger hooked under the back of your bra.

It filled you with anticipation; you knew he was waiting for your answer. With a few moments of contemplation, all you could do was nod. Rafe mentally sighed of relief, and with practiced ease he unclipped your bra, hands moving to slide under it and cup your tits as it slid off, "Fuck..don' know how you 'xpect me to stay sane when you're this gorgeous.." He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, and you leaned into it, feeling heat in the aftermath.

Rafe carefully led you to the neatly made bed you two had in your room, flipping you before pushing you onto the bed gently. He made your legs straddle his waist, his lips connecting to your collarbone and the dip between your breasts, hands softly flicking over the buds in a way that made you keen out.

He knew what he did to you, all your soft spots and everything to make you shake. After a bit of kissing and leaving some new dark spots on the span of your collarbone and neck, his hand moved to palm you where your pulsing cunt was, making a shaky breath leave you. Rafe slowly rubbed his hand where he knew you entrance was, taking great satisfaction in the way soft sounds escaped your soft, glossed lips.

"Look at you, all laid out f'me.." He murmured, "this the girl who just beat some chick to the ground?" He teased as he rubbed two fingers idly over where your clit was covered beneath the lace, giving you no room to respond with soft gasps leaving your throat. He smirked, the one that drove you off the rails as he pressed kisses to your jaw, his hand leaving from between your thighs to take his belt out from it's loops, before pushing his pants down with his boxers, his semi-hard cock freeing itself from it's confines.

He grasped himself, kicking his pants down to his knees before he used an elbow to brace himself over your body, rubbing the head against your pantie covered pussy, "Y'want this, huh? 'Want this thing buried in you, hm?" He almost mocked you in the way he asked, and you softly exhaled, "Don't tease, that's a bitch move."

Rafe snickered at the words, and he rubbed more firmly, making sure you made atleast a little whimper as a quiet groan left his own mouth, "Yeah? You fuckin' love that though," He muttered, "love when I make bitch moves."

He relished in the way your pussy got wet enough to slightly soak your panties, and a soft laugh left him, "Jesus..m'not even in you 'n you're this wet? Must be needy.."

You would've kicked him in the stomach if you didn't have your heels on, which frankly you don't know why Rafe left on. Your train of thought was disrupted when you felt Rafe moving your panties to the side, "Spread." He ordered, not firm but in a way that hinted authority.

You obliged in a way that made you seem desperate, legs spreading nice and easily. Rafe could've moaned at the sight of you obeying so effortlessly, rubbing the tip against your soaked folds. It made your thighs twitched a bit, anticipating in a way that made your tummy heat.

"Rafe, fuck stop-" The words choked up in your throat as you felt your pussy being stretched from Rafe slowly pushing the tip inside. Rafe grunted as his cock bullied it's way past your tight ring of muscles, a groan when he finally felt the head squeeze in, "God, you're tight- always tight." He muttered, slowly moving his hips to have you ease your walls around him, mindless and silent sounds leaving you as your eyes fluttered close.

It took a minute before you felt Rafe beginning to slowly thrust, your walls opening to his intruding dick. Your back arched in a way only Rafe caused, a moan leaving your lips before it was swallowed by Rafe's own against it, kissing you with fever.

Your hands found it's way to the back of Rafe's neck, moaning right into his mouth as his pace begun to speed up, his fucking you nice and deep as his cock forced it's way through your walls, mindless moans beginning to ring throughout the room as skin to skin wetly met with it.

"Oh my fuck, Rafe!" You practically whined out, before a loud whimper and gasp mixed into one when Rafe's tip connected right to your cervix, toes curling at the sensation that filled your entire being.

Rafe panted slightly, muscles constricting as he let go of your panties, both hands now moving to throw your legs haphazardly onto his shoulders, ignoring the dig of your Miu Miu's against his back and neck as he fucked into you deeper, bending down to kiss at the corner of your lip; so close yet so far.

He was hitting that star spot inside you with every thrust, ripping moans and cries from your throat as constellations practically spilled across your eyelids. You felt that coil in the pit of your gut ready to snap.

"Yeah..yeah, moan jus' like that..all f'me, huh? This pussy's mine, 'know I'm not gonna go lookin' for pussy that isn't yours." He muttered between breaths, his thrusts beginning to grow sloppy as he neared his release.

You were so close, you could feel it in sparks as Rafe gave you bliss that you were always reminded of time and time again. Rafe gasped out when he felt you squeeze him like a vice, "Fuck, you're eating my dick," he laughed in disbelief, putting more forces into his thrusts as he reached his thumb down to gather some wetness from your slit, using it to coat your clit and flick it in quick motions, eliciting shaky cries from you.

"Rafe, I'm coming!!" You cried shakily, and Rafe sniffled, sweat coating his back, "That's it, come f'me..c'mon." He encouraged, a husky tone. With a few more thrusts to your bruised cervix, your high hit you with a brutal force, your entire body shaking as you creamed over Rafe's dick, who didn't stop fucking into you until his own release hit him, a loud groan that could've woken the dead up leaving him as he painted your insides with hot, white streaks.

The two of you basked in the aftermath, your bodies trembling faintly while both your highs slowly settled. Rafe brought a hand to lightly brush your hair out of your face, eyes half lidded. He leaned down, gently pressing a kiss under your jaw before you grumbled, "Want me to book you an appointment to your nail tech?"

Your chest rose and fell at a slow rate, heart racing still before you closed your eyes, swallowing. "..Yeah."

Rafe hummed lowly in acknowledgement, face pressing into your neck as he groaned, neither of you in the mood to get up, "K..I'll Applepay you like..$2000." He muttered. Your eyes opened, squinting, "What? Nails are only 150 Ra-"

"I know. You can shop after. S'my way of saying sorry for not jus' shoving that girl onto the floor." He joked softly, and you couldn't help but smile, a slight smack to Rafe's back.

Well, you got clothes out of that one. It was a win win.

-

request any more smuts with any reader personality in mind (you can request for new reader personalities and I'll make them with the fics) right here! requests for fics/smut and/or new reader personalities

note: I'm gonna decompose cuz'a this, I can't BELIEVE I jus' wrote this but ykw I need the likes so whatever it takes, fan service behaviour. Hope this catches the RIGHT side, I'm not actually freaky but I gotta do what I gotta do. PHYS ED 'n biology taught me this for what.

isn't proof read, will be soon though!

[superkirbylover]

FINALLY!!! the VERY final refs for the ponified cast of pizza tower. everypony has the same name except for pizzahead, who's called pizzahoof. pizzahoof was also designed by @c0met-dr01d!! go check them out :]

under the cut is me rambling about their cutiemarks (or lack thereof) and other design choices

gustavo's cutiemark is a pizza with three mushroom toppings, because he's a chef, and earlier in pizza tower development, he was a gnome! this isn't the case anymore though, but i still like to think he is. that, and i just associate him with gnome forest, so it felt fitting. plus, i suppose it adds to the mario comparisons lmao

peppino's cutiemark is a pepperoni pizza alongside a pizzacutter. i know people are raising eyebrows at the pepperoni, but my excuse is... uhh, they're not actually pepperoni. it's like, some vegetarian alternative. probably made of flowers or some shit. the pizza is obvious, he's a chef and he cooka-da-pizza. the pizza cutter isn't just to hammer that in, but it's also a callback to the various times throughout pizza tower development where he used to have a pizza cutter buzz-saw! especially in pizza massacre

noise's cutiemark is a bomb with its fuse lit, because it represents his explosive personality and he often uses bombs. dude is wacky, unpredictable and can be a feral fucking thing. also something about acting, being a mascot or being in the showbiz somewhere in the mix. he has a tail, but it's just... in his suit. he's a dumbass

noisette's cutiemark is a ruby chocolate bar. she runs a cafe, and while she presumably has Really Weird Taste, i figured it would be a really cute fit for her. it's sweet, just like her! and pink. just like her!

fake peppino deliberately does not have a cutiemark. it's to add to the sense of "failed clone," where many aspects of peppino have been successfully recreated (body type, hair color, coat color, outfit, facial hair) but other small things have been muddled or changed by mistake (height, eyes not staying in their sockets, hair being more smooth looking, face shape). not to mention, he's made of dough, like his original clone counterpart. in the show, it's established that only ponies can have cutiemarks. while he looks like a pony, who's to say he really is one?

stick's cutiemark is that television hud you see when you have enough money to buy a boss gate in pizza tower. i chose this cause on top of being a tv, a reoccurring object throughout the game, it also has some modifications to make it more... stick-y. it has his hat and a propeller coming from the top, and if you know stick, that man likes to make shit, specifically to sell and make money. that's also why there's a money sign in the tv. stick has a tail stub but i never really draw it myself. he's completely bald. mind you, he still has his coat, but no mane, no tail. zilch. he's a bald motherfucker. also stick's magic color is green

pizzahoof also does not have a cutiemark. he's a fucking cheese pony, why would he need one? dude just exists to be silly and whimsical. giving him one i feel would go against his character of just being clownish, doing what he wants when he wants, regardless if it means others suffer because of him or not. also, he's MADE of CHEESE!!!

[zepskies]

Being Human – Part 1

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: This is technically my first Dark Angel story, since I wrote Part 1 of this before "Bullseye." It will be four parts. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You’ve managed to keep things playful and friendly with Alec so far, despite his flirtatious nature. But when he asks you for a favor that goes painfully awry, the transgenic has to figure out something that wasn’t in his training: how to apologize. [Set during 2.06]

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Tension, angst, spiciness, implied smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: Training Day

As sad as it is, this is probably your favorite place in the world.

Crash is as divey as a dive bar can get. And yet, it still boasts the strongest, cheapest drinks in Seattle. The music is decent, and the company is good. At least tonight it is, because you’ve met up with Max, Original Cindy, and Sketchy after a long day of slinging packages.

The only problem?

The newest member of Jam Pony, slinking up from the corner of your eye and easing into the seat next to you at the bar.

You turn an expectant gaze to Alec McDowell and his flirtatious green eyes. They take in your jeans and halter top with an obvious perusal. 

“Can I help you?” you ask dryly.

“No, no. It’s what I can do for you,” he replies. You’re about to roll your eyes when he adds, “Let me buy you a beer. Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Just then, the bartender slides you the beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you retort. Glancing around the bar, you note three other girls you’ve already seen him shoot his shot with tonight.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. Your face warms at his proximity.

Damn, he smells good, you think.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

His smile makes your heart beat faster, though you eye him wryly. He opens his smartass mouth to say something else, but you get a reprieve when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink.

It gives you just enough confidence to smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

Alec is still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

“Don’t wanna get clowned, don’t act like a clown,” you tell him sweetly. 

“I know that’s right,” Cindy quips. She orders a Cosmo to upgrade her beer. She must’ve won a bet tonight, if she was able to score enough cash for liquor.

“Hilarious,” Alec says. He pouts a little. “Hey, I’m not some mongrel on the loose. I’m just looking for some honest companionship.”

“Honest?” you laugh. “Now that’s hilarious.”

He gives you a fake laugh, but he watches you go when you slip away from him to join Max and Sketchy in the back room by the pool table. Alec’s smile fades a little.

Cindy raises a brow at him, along with a tan finger.

“No,” she says. “You actually crushin’ on homegirl? For real?”

Alec glances at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”

She gives him a flat look.

“Should I burn some sage?” she asks.

Alec shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Come on. I think Max is calling us over.”

When the two of them venture over to where you and Max are playing a game of pool, Alec’s cocky smile is back. His eyes catch yours when he sits down at a nearby table. Your lips curve while you lean on your pool cue.

For the past few weeks, this is how it’s always been with you and Alec. Push and pull. A sort of caustic flirtation that you can’t in good conscience take seriously. But to his credit, he always tries.

And he seems to always mean it. 

You’ll never admit it, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to resist the pull of him. He’s clearly a guy who doesn’t do attachments, and you have a bad habit of getting attached. Your life is hard enough without adding a dash of heartbreak into the mix.

So Max helps you sharpen your skills at this game while you finish your beer. And…maybe you “unintentionally” tease Alec a little with the curve of your ass when you’re bent over the table, lining up a shot.

In fairness, you’re a bit tipsy.

You spend the rest of the night drinking two more beers and laughing and losing the game—first to Max, then to Alec, and finally to Sketchy. By then, you know it’s time to cut your losses.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulder and start to head out of the bar. But who should slip into your way than Alec freakin’ McDowell?

“Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you,” he says.

You sigh. “Alec, the usual sniping was fun, but I’m tired and I want to go home.”

He stops you with a touch on your arm. He seems slightly more serious.

“It’s a favor,” he says, pulling out a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. You look down at it in confusion.

“I saw on the work chart that you’re scheduled to go over to Sector 4 tomorrow,” he says. “Would you mind delivering this for me?”

Your brows raise at him. He raises $20 in front of your face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smiles.

You take the $20 and the package, though you’re still a little uncertain.

“What’s in it?”

Alec leans in close to your ear. “I’ll give you an extra $10 if you don’t ask.”

His voice washes over you and makes your skin prickle. You’re blushing, but your eyes narrow at him further.

“Make it $20,” you counter.

He scoffs. Though after a moment…he coughs up the extra cash.

“The most expensive damn delivery I’ve never made,” he mutters.

You have to crane your neck a bit, as he stands over a head taller than you, but you smile up at him brightly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you say.

For him, maybe the expense was worth it to get that smile.

You pull up on your bike to what you think is the right address. You don’t usually come to this side of town, even in Sector 4.

It feels a bit like a shanty town and a meat packing district all at once—complete with dodgy-looking street vendors and unmarked vans loading and unloading cargo behind them. 

“Can I help you, little girl?”

You stifle a gasp as your path is suddenly obstructed. A black man and his two white friends have crowded around your bike, but they don’t look normal. Various metal spikes and prods protrude from their faces, neck, and body, but they’re not your typical piercings. The metal is fused into their skin.

Oh shit, you think, as your heartrate picks up. Steelheads.

“I’m just making a delivery,” you tell them. Your eyes dart to your surroundings, trying to catch anyone’s gaze for a little help.

But in big cities like this, everyone knows to keep their eyes down.

Don’t look, don’t tell. Don’t get any trouble.

“I think you might be lost, love,” says one of the other men. He’s British, by the sound of his accent, and is the taller of the two. His skin is pale, though there’s a red ring under his eyes that suggests drugs, or whatever else these three are injecting into themselves.

“Uhh, yeah. I must be. I’ll just go,” you nod, and you start to back up. The ringleader Brit clamps a bony hand on your bike to stop you. He grabs the scrap of paper Alec gave you, which holds the address for your intended delivery.

The Steelhead examines it lazily, before his gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Well, well. I stand corrected,” he says. He gestures to the small package in your hands. “What’s in it?”

You shrug and try to play off your ignorance. Because the truth is, you have no idea.

“It’s not my job to know,” you reply.

“Ah, but you see, it’s our business to know,” the Brit says, leaning in towards you. You lean back with pursed lips.

“This is our little piece of paradise,” says the shortest one. His lips are damn near purple.

“We’re what you call…territorial,” says the leader. He grabs you off your bike while the first man takes the package from you.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you hate the way your voice shakes. “I can just go—”

“Oh, we’ll let you go, little mouse. You’re gonna give a message back to sender,” the Brit says. “But first, a reminder.”

He shoves you back into the nearest wall. It’s solid brick that stuns a gasp out of you. He presses in on you, grabbing your face and dragging a sharp, unnaturally long nail against your cheek, biting into the skin.

It’s painful enough to make you whimper as you feel wetness drip down to your neck. His friends laugh at your discomfort, at your fear. You’re too frozen to reach for the pepper spray in your pocket…

“What’s going on here?” another man asks. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a black uniform. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful to see a cop.

The Steelhead releases you, and the three of them are subtle in the way they back off from you.

“Nothing here, officer,” the leader says. Though he gives you a smirk. “Just accepting a delivery.”

You let them keep the package and pretend that a signature has made it onto your clipboard. You climb back onto your bike and you leave Sector 4 without looking back. All the while, your arms shake and you wipe at the blur of tears in your eyes.

When you get back to the Jam Pony base of operations (a warehouse that feels like a basement), you park your bike out front and head inside.

Your legs still feel precarious. And even though the blood is dry against the cut on your cheek, you know you need to clean and disinfect it at some point.

Of course, you have to run into Alec and Sketchy, who are palling around without a care in the world.

That all stops when they turn to look at you. Their mirth dies on their faces. Alec’s gaze runs over you and stops at your cheek. You dab at your face, tentative and self-conscious. You know you must look like hell. Of course, they can’t let you just go to your locker in peace.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Sketchy asks.

You shake your head. “Fell into a bush.”

You drag Alec aside by his arm, giving him a warning look that further lets him know you’re lying. He follows you without complaint over to the lockers, where you two have the semblance of privacy. Before he can ask you what really happened, you snap at him.

“What the hell was in that package?” you ask. “Drugs? A weapon? Some other contraband? Do you know what could’ve happened to me if I’d gotten caught with that shit? Do you know what almost…”

Tears burgeon in your eyes all over again, and you have to take a deep, shaky breath. 

Alec’s brows furrow in what might actually be concern. He grasps your arm, gentle but firm. 

“Hey, tell me what happened,” he says.

Unconsciously, his grip on your arm makes the memory flash in your mind: of that pale, greasy man grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

You shrug out of Alec’s hold more harshly than you meant to. It makes him raise a placating hand, as his eyes widen a fraction.

“A gaggle of Steelheads,” you say. You breathe tremulously, blinking past your tears. “I was lucky…anyway. Next time you want to ask me for a favor? Don’t.”

 You brush past Alec to get to your locker. There you grab the rest of your things and head out, though it’s quite a few hours before closing time. Nothing gets by Normal, who stops you at the reception desk.

“Hey, hey, Missy! Where the hell’re you going?” he asks. “Get back here. I’ve got packages that need homes.”

“I’m taking some much needed PTO,” you quip.

“You don’t have PTO. It’s not that kind of business,” Normal says.

“Then bite me,” you snap. “How’s that?”

Most of the room stills into quiet shock. You feel the weight of their gazes, your coworkers and friends, including Normal’s slackened face.

You’re normally not one to talk back. You accept your assignments without question, not wanting to cause undue trouble for yourself. Like everyone else here, you need your job, and you have nothing to fall back on.

But it’s enough, and you’re thoroughly done with today.

Your saving grace is that it’s plain to see how shaken up you are, even when you leave. Alec approaches the receptionist desk with Sketchy, drumming his hand on the counter absently. 

“What the hell crawled up her keister?” Normal remarks. “She’s lucky I’m short staffed right now, or she’d be in the can.”

Despite his strong talk, he resumes collecting paperwork and organizing files to distract himself from how much you’d taken him aback.

Alec frowns.

“She uh, had to deal with some Steelheads,” he offers, and hesitates. “...What the hell’s a Steelhead?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re into implants and biotech stuff,” Sketchy explains.

“She would know better than to hang out with those low lives,” Normal interjects. “They’re amped off their gourds on hormones and who knows what else.”

Alec processes that with a deepening frown. He decides to head out onto his next “delivery.”

He makes it to Sector 4 on his bike within an hour, but he still envies Max’s motorcycle. When he racks up enough cash, he’s definitely scoring a faster ride.

For now, he pulls up near the address he sent you to earlier. He never should’ve given you his drugs to sell, especially when he clearly doesn’t know this city well enough yet.

Poor reconnaissance, Alec, he thinks. Sloppy.

Though when did he start to think of himself as Alec and not by his designation, 494?

He’s soon taken out of his musings when he sees a gaggle of three men outside a cargo van. Each of them is uglier than the last, with metal spikes, among other things sticking out from their bodies. Steelheads. They’ve got to be.

These are the guys who harassed you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alec says, climbing off his bike. The men turn to the newcomer with suspicious frowns.

“I’m looking for three fugly Steelheads that hassled a friend of mine this morning,” he says.

One is tall, pale and wiry, and he opens his arms wide. “Well, you found ‘em.”

He has a British accent. The sight of him alone grates on Alec, though all he shows is calm confidence. He teases the short one, who seems to be missing an arm. Apparently he’s “pre-op,” set to get a new cyber arm made of Japanese steel.

Fucking wackos, Alec thinks. Manticore could learn a thing or two from these guys about mutilation.

“Here’s the thing, fellas,” Alec says. “My friend was carrying a package that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to me. You guys took it, and I need to get it back.”

The first man scoffs. “There seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn’t it?”

He approaches Alec, hands on his hips, with his two cronies behind him. Alec can already smell their stench from where he stands. He doesn’t need them to get any closer.

“Maybe your little bitch didn’t relay our message,” he says, pushing his luck.

Alec’s smile sharpens; a deadly warning in and of itself.

“Nobody around here sells Andy but us,” says another of them.

Androxtamine. Alec didn’t care to be a drug dealer. It was just a means to an end in order to pay Max back for her help a little while back. Now, his buyer is pissed that he didn’t get his damn drugs, and Alec is out $500.

He tries to explain that calmly to this group of weirdos, but the leader is just so damn cocky.

“What’s a puff like you need with $500 anyway, eh?” he asks.

Alec’s smirk deepens. He mimics the guy’s accent and replies, “Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum.”

Well, the Steelheads don’t take too kindly to that. They try their best, Alec will hand it to them. But his genetics and training make the resulting “fight” no more than child’s play. He takes his frustrations out of their asses.

He can’t help being slightly more brutal than necessary when he remembers the fear lingering behind your eyes. The bloody cut on your cheek. The way it could’ve been so much worse…

And it would’ve been your fault. Alec’s lips press into a line.

Logan Cale, Max’s rich non-boyfriend and secret “Eyes Only” vigilante, calls Alec halfway through his venting session to, surprisingly, ask for his help.

Alec agrees, because it’s mainly for Max. A creature has been killing cops in Seattle. Unfortunately, the description of a “man-dog” sounds way too much like Joshua, their fellow transgenic in hiding.

It also means Alec has to spend most of his afternoon in a musty sewer.

The job ends up being a bitch and a half, even when Max finally shows up to help out. The true culprit ends up being Joshua’s brother, Isaac, who Joshua is forced to stop before he kills any more policemen who remind him of Manticore’s abusive guards.

The gentle Joshua ends up having to take out his own brother. Something that’s both familiar, and foreign to Alec. (But he’s sure it’s not so foreign to Max.)

It’s a harrowing scene, and a touch too emotional for Alec’s comfort. He leaves Max to tend to Joshua in the aftermath and catches a ride home with Logan. Somehow though, as bone tired and grimy as he feels, Alec can’t feel right about going home just yet.

Something is niggling in the back of his mind, forcing him to hand Logan a scrap of paper that holds your address. (Alec might’ve snuck into Normal’s office before he left for the day to find out where you lived on your employee file.)

“Hey, can you stop at this address?” Alec asks.

Logan glances at the piece of paper and nods. He then looks over at Alec. They aren’t friends, but Logan is perceptive enough to know that something’s weighing on his passenger.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks.

“There’s something I have to do,” Alec supplies.

When they eventually arrive to what seems like an abandoned building, Logan looks over at Alec.

“Good luck,” he offers.

Alec nods gratefully. They aren’t friends, but he supposes Logan’s not so bad, even if he is a slave to Max’s supposed charms.

Alec gets out of the car and head inside the building. It’s old and dirty, and he really can’t believe you live like this. It lacks security and basic hygiene. If he wanted to, he could kick straight through your door with half of his strength.

Instead, he knocks.

A few moments later, he hears your feet padding cautiously to the door.

“Who is it?” you ask. Your voice is familiar and pleasant to his ears, if nervous.

“It’s me, Alec,” he replies.

It takes a second of your hesitation, but you unlock the door and open it.

He eyes your tank-top and shorts, the thin bra, your damp hair, the smell of your shampoo assaulting his heightened senses. 

But the jagged red line across your cheek draws his attention, along with the confusion in your eyes, and the wooden spoon in your hand. Was that supposed to be your weapon of choice? 

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Ah, I told Normal I wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t going AWOL on the job tomorrow,” Alec says with a teasing smile.

You look a bit skeptical, but you let him in when he asks if he can. He smells whatever you’re cooking, spots the metal pot of pasta sauce simmering on the janky-looking stove, and his mouth starts to water. He’s starving, now that he thinks about it.

He then focuses on taking in the rest of the apartment…and it doesn’t take him long. This place is a shoebox.

At least it’s clean, as much as the peeling drywall can be.

“Why’re you here then?” you ask. Alec turns to see you have a hand on your hip. You’re staring at him like he’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out.

You set down the wooden spoon on the counter and face him. Alec’s tempted to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, but he keeps his arms down to his sides instead.

“About what happened today,” he says. “Those guys aren’t going to be a problem for you again.”

You tilt your head at him.

“What’d you do?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Something shy of legal?”

Alec starts to smile. “Maybe.”

You hmph in response. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Alec barely resists rolling his eyes, though he knows he deserves that. Once again, he takes in your apartment. It’s cozy, he supposes, if small.

“You live alone?” he asks. “No roommate? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” you say dryly. “But no. To both.” 

That satisfies him, and yet there’s a little churn in his gut. This place is questionable at best. Doesn’t exactly boast decent security. He’s not too worried about the Steelheads trying to find you, but after the past few months outside of Manticore, he realizes how rough it’s become for humanity after the Pulse, especially for a woman alone.

“You could use a doorman around here,” he remarks. 

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, well. It may not be the Ritz, but as long as the heater doesn’t crap out on me, it’s a decent day.” 

Alec doesn’t know what the Ritz is, but it sounds nicer than this dump. 

You catch the silent look of judgment on his face, making you frown and cross your arms.

“I can take care of myself just fine, okay, Dad?”

Alec frowns and gestures to your face. “Yeah. Right. You’re little miss Fight Club.”

That sparks your temper. You glare up at him with a defiant tilt to your chin.

“This,” you point to your marred cheek, “wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not an idiot. I don’t put myself in stupid situations, except for that one time I ignored my better judgment to help you!”

Alec glowers back at you, but he knows he doesn’t have a good defense. You take a step into his orbit and tap a finger into his chest.

“And by the way,” you add. Your voice cracks like a whip. “Whoever taught you how to apologize did a bang up job!”

By the end of your little rant, you’re breathing deeply, and Alec is barely holding onto his own temper. What cuts through it all are the frustrated tears brimming in your eyes.

He sighs internally.

They didn’t exactly cover this in training, he thinks, but he supposes that's just…Being Human 101.

All too soon, your anger dims into defensiveness. You withdraw from him and gesture to the door.

“Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my shithole apartment so I can finish cooking in peace,” you gripe.

“Wait, wait,” Alec implores, when you try to lead him out. He lets you back him up a step or two, just to seem human, but now he digs his heels in. He looks down at you with true regret. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand finds your unmarred cheek, caressing softly. His thumb swipes across your skin. “I am. I shouldn't have asked you to make that delivery. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

You stare up at him, breathing labored, and making your breasts just barely brush his sternum. Your eyes search his just as much as he is yours.  

He isn’t actually sure who moves first, him or you. But when his lips meet yours, it feels like electricity under his skin. It’s magnets that are meant to connect—it’s his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands and you grabbing his face, sinking your fingers into his sandy brown hair.

It’s teeth clicking and tongues warring as he backs you up to the kitchen counter, and he hefts you up there by your hips.

You squeal in surprise, making Alec chuckle before he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

You start to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he helps you, letting the rest of it slide right off, followed by his shirt and your tank top. His hands smooth up your bare thighs and his thumbs dip in between, squeezing near the apex of your thighs and making you tremble against his chest. Warmth pools in your core even from that simple touch.

“W-Wait,” you whisper. 

It makes Alec pause. His muscles tense. Has he read you wrong? 

He searches your face for a sign of discomfort. If you don’t want this, it’ll be…hard, at this point (for more reasons than one). But if he has to, he’ll let you go.

He’s relieved when you only twist away for a moment to turn off the stove. You return to him with a smile as your hands come to rest on his chest. You bite your lower lip. 

“Shall we continue?” he teases. 

His thumb encourages you to let go of your lip. He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you back to him.

The next kiss burns with a slower passion. One that consumes you enough to hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips. 

He grins against your lips and lifts you again, this time holding you firmly against him. You make another sound of surprise, but you don’t let that stop you from delving deeper into his kiss. 

He carries you into the bedroom and slams the rickety door.

Afterwards, the two of you lay together on the wrong side of your bed. 

Alec lies on his stomach and you on your back. The night had gotten such that you stopped caring which side you typically put your pillow on. Your hair is fanned out on the mattress in many tangles he took pride in creating.

A shitty show plays on your small TV, but Alec is watching with rapt attention. 

He’s kind of cute about it actually, you think. Like he’s never seen a soap opera before. 

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite,” you point backwards. “It’s about a sexy doctor, obviously.”

“Right, because I’m sure doctors always have this much sex with their patients,” Alec quips. 

You snort and shake your head. You stare at the side of his face for a moment, rather than the TV. 

The back of his hand rubs against your shoulder, earning your attention. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He’s still looking at the screen.

“That I’m even hungrier now, but I don’t feel like getting up,” you admit with a giggle. He laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind some chow,” he says. 

You roll onto your stomach, taking some of the sheets with you when your knee slides over, resting against his naked lower back. You lean your chin on his shoulder as your hand travels across his back. 

“Is that your way of inviting yourself over for dinner?” you ask. 

He looks over at you then. He’s grinning, but his eyes are a touch softer, you think.

“If you don’t mind me crashing,” he says.

You shake your head and sift your fingers through his hair. Your gaze drifts down the back of his neck and catches on a strange mark. It’s a barcode, you realize, touching it lightly with two fingers. 

“What’s this? A prison tat?” you tease. 

He chuckles humorlessly. “Sort of.”

Your amusement fades, but your soft fingers along the back of his neck elicit a small shiver out of him. Your touch is gentle. He isn’t used to gentle, and it makes goosebumps spread across his skin. He feels your lips press a kiss to his shoulder next, and he turns his head to look at you. 

Beautiful, he thinks, taking in your face again, and the hint of cleavage down the sheets covering you, hiding the familiar curves he had all too much fun exploring.

“You gonna tell me the story?” you ask. “Or save it for a rainy day?”

Alec lets out a sigh through his nose. “Let’s pencil that one under the ‘Rainy’ column.”

You nod in agreement and bite your lip. These days, everyone has a story they’re not proud of. Even something that keeps them up at night. You don’t press Alec for his.

He’s grateful for that. He leans in and kisses you, nice and slow.

From the beginning, he noticed you. Your tenacity. Your quiet confidence. How you’re always willing to help your friends, and how you’ve never taken any of his shit, even if he knew part of you had been contemplating his suggestive offers. That spark always kept him coming back for more…and somehow, it became more.

In the back of his mind, this scares him a little. Being with you feels dangerous in a way that feels both familiar and foreign, but it’s too late. He’s been hooked by the pull of you. It’s a craving he can’t help but try and fill. Hopefully, not just tonight.  

“You said something about food?” he grins.

You smile and lean in again, until you’re mere inches from his lips. 

“Hmm, impromptu dinner date?” you offer. Alec laughs quietly and nods.

“We kinda went about this backwards,” you say, “but if you like spaghetti and plain sauce, I’m your girl.”

He smirks at that, and thumbs at your chin.

“Then you’re my girl.”

AN: And there's Part 1! It's only my second time writing Alec, so I hope he feels in character. Let me know what you think of this little series so far. 😘💜

There's much more in store over the next three parts, and the next one tackles perhaps my favorite episode (2.11), even if it's the most gutting.

Next Time:

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.  

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore. 

You kiss him then with meaning. With tenderness. 

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl

[writing-until-i-drop]

The Devil Doc & The Flyboy | Sneak Peek

Hangman x Marine Corpsman-Devil Doc!OC

Every time Fiona "Kitten" Reid is deployed, something bad happens. Win-a-medal type bad. And when Warlock is looking for a survivalist instructor for the Daggers during the uranium mission, he's shocked that the top recommendation from his colleagues is a young medical corpsman the Marines she served with dubbed "Kitten." After making a grand entrance at the expense of Jake's older brother and Bob's sanity, Fiona finds herself squarely in Hangman's sights. But he better pay attention in class because her lessons come from more than a textbook...

“Corpsman Reid, at ease.” The Rear Admiral better known as Warlock motioned for her to take a seat. It was the first time that morning she was happy to be in uniform, she would have felt naked in scrubs. 

“Sir,” She dug her short nails into her palm under the table, keeping her composure even as her pulse skyrocketed. You’re a marine, she chided herself, get a damn grip. She felt like the kid she had been before her first deployment with a marine detachment. A timid, little midwestern girl who didn’t drink or curse. The rough necks had had a fun time breaking her in. 

They jokingly called her Kitten. As in a scared little kitten afraid of her own shadow. Then the worst had happened and they’d discovered that the kitten had claws. That’s when she became one of them, a marine. She felt the ghostly weight of two hands on her shoulders and sat a little straighter, meeting the Vice Admiral’s gaze head-on.

“I read your file, corpsman but your ribbon rack tells one hell of a story on its own.”

“Oorah, sir.”

“Two Purple Hearts, three bronze stars with combat valor, if you weren’t a corpsman you’d be well on your way to admiralty and a senate seat.” She must not have done a good job at disguising her disgust at being part of the brass, Warlock’s laughter filling the room.

“I asked for a shortlist of men for a special assignment and imagine my surprise when the first recommendation from a general was someone named Kitten.” Aw fuck. 

Fiona’s smile couldn’t be helped. General Matteo Alverez. He had visited her detachment in Iraq for a dog and pony show and when things went south, as they always seemed to do when she was involved, he’d seen Fiona in action, running towards danger with a stethoscope around her neck.

“Am I going brown side out again, sir?” She could already feel the sand in her boots from another desert deployment. “Give the word.” She wanted him to give it to her straight. As much as she wanted to stay, she would always go if the Navy asked her to.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the scuttlebutt about a classified flight mission,” Warlock raised a white brow, knowing nothing classified stayed fully secret in a town like North Island. She nodded. “Enemy territory is a rough place to be,” Rough was putting it lightly in her experience and opinion. “I want you to prepare them, teach them how to survive. No manual, no guidelines, your experience will be their gospel.”’ That was…insane. She wasn’t an instructor. She would run towards live fire, snap a man’s neck, and put her phone on the bar when Penny wasn’t looking. She was used to doing dangerous and ill-advised things. But teach?

“Sir, I-”

“Before you respond, the General said to remind you that a true marine never runs from a fight.” Fiona sighed,

“Aye aye, sir. Just don’t give me a big chicken dinner when I kill your flyboys’ egos.” Warlock laughed, spilling coffee on his pristine uniform.

“If you can do that, I’ll give you another damn medal for doing the impossible.” 

Big chicken dinner = Bad conduct discharge

Scuttlebutt = gossip

Can't wait for more? Let me know, I'll add you to the taglist.

Fiona and Jake's story is going to have mentions of combat, war, torture (nothing too graphic), too many Navy/Marine inaccuracies to count (I'm doing a lot of research though), plenty of good times at the Hard Deck, Warlock being an enabler, and Jake being the next in a long line of Top Gun students to be hot for teacher.

[politemagic]

Strip Club Owner!Vessel x Reader

feat. Bartender!III, Manager!II, and Bouncer!IV

attempted sexual assault, eepy boys to the rescue, comfort with Vessel, non-descript reader outside of wearing eyeliner and simply having hair (though no specified length), author has never been to a strip club

a/n: this is mostly unedited so I apologize in advance for any errors, I simply needed this to stop haunting my drafts. it was intended to be a blurb but... uh.... I might have gotten a little carried away.

2.4k words

No one's ever seen the owner of the Pink Pony Club, there's a name listed on their business certificate and an owner's office tucked away in the corner, and the light is on six nights a week. Some of the regulars have caught a glimpse of his shadowed figure slipping out the back door, but they'd never know for sure it was even him. Most business in the club was conducted through the general manager, II. He hired the dancers and the staff, running final decisions through the mysterious owner, Vessel. Every night II keeps a watchful eye on the floor of the club, reporting back to Vessel throughout the night.

On this particular night though it was the bartender, III, who caught the commotion at the far end of the bar. The pristine white suit jacket caught III's eye instantly, the only customer to come in wearing such a bright white was some Wall Street scumbag who was already on his second strike at the club. He watched a streak of white as the asshole reached out to grab onto one of the dancer's arms as they walked by, yanking them back to stand in front of him.

III clocked the startled look in their eyes, the panic in their eyes was accentuated by their heavy eyeliner, giving them a similar look of a deer caught in the headlights. It was only their second week at the club, and he could tell by their reaction that this was the first time they'd encountered a more aggressive customer. III grabbed the walkie talkie from behind the bar, radioing for II to come to the bar, but got no response.

Shit. He's probably on his smoke break. III thought to himself.

He glanced back over, seeing the man's hands running along their waist, fingertips digging into their sides in a tight grip, evidenced by the wince on their face as he pulled them closer, their nose crinkling at his rancid breath. III tried calling II one more time, eyes trained on the pair at the end of the bar as he watched their attempts to wriggle from the man's hold. When he saw the anger in the man's eyes, he knew he couldn't sit around and wait for II's response.

III quickly signaled to the other bartender to watch the end of the bar while he slipped out, his long strides carrying him to the back office in seconds, knocking rapidly.

The door cracked open, a chain keeping the office door from opening all the way, when Vessel saw his best bartender bouncing on his heels at the door he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Fucking Kingpin's back." He explained. It was a nickname Vessel himself had coined after the main villain in the Daredevil comics, known for his pristine white suit.

"II?" Vessel asked.

"Not answering."

"What's he doing this time?"

"Got his hands on Y/N." He stated quickly.

A dark cloud passed over Vessel's eyes. If there was one thing about Vessel, it was that he genuinely cared about his employees. He knew they exposed themselves to a certain amount of risk by working at the Pink Pony, and he would stop at nothing to make sure they were safe under his supervision. It was why they'd hired on a new bouncer not too long ago after business started picking up. IV was a retired rugby player, and had no issues literally tossing drunk assholes out onto the street.

"Where." It was more of a growl than a question. He'd approved their paperwork only a few weeks ago, remembering how II described them.

"End of the bar."

The door slammed shut, and III heard the chain sliding out of place before Vessel's looming from appeared in the doorway, brushing past III as he made his way to the bar. He watched as Kingpin's head dipped into the crook of their neck as they tried pushing him away again, and he was seeing red.

"Hey!" He barked, stalking closer to the two at the end of the bar, Y/N's face melting into one of relief at the owner's appearance. When Kingpin didn't move, his lips grazing the skin of their throat as they tried to squirm away, Vessel closed the distance in three easy steps, his hand forcefully yanking his shoulder back and effectively separating at least his mouth from the newest dancer.

"There an problem here?" Kingpin slurred, clearly not registering the pure ire on Vessel's face.

"Yeah. There's a fucking problem. Get your hands off my dancer." He growled, eyes flicking to where the man's hands still gripped Y/N's body, dangerously close to their ass.

"D'worry, I'm good to pay." He said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Afraid you're looking for services we don't offer here." Vessel sneered, his grip tightening on the man's shoulder, a flicker of pain flashing across his face.

"I'm willing to pay extra for this one..." The predatory grin on Kingpin's face had Vessel setting aside his good business sense and shoving the man from the stool, releasing his grip on Y/N in the process.

In an instant, IV appeared behind Vessel. Vessel glanced over his shoulder at the bouncer before just giving a simple nod of his head. Iv wasted no time in leaning down, grabbing the man by the lapels of his jacket and hoisting him to his feet. He yanked him forward before stepping behind him, a firm hand on his collar as he ushered him to the exit.

Vessel could hear Kingpin's protests, but one glance at IV proved that the situation was handled as he forcibly shoved him out the door, landing flat on his face against the sidewalk. If he'd been paying closer attention, he probably would have seen the way that IV spat at (not on, he was a professional after all, but that didn't mean he didn't have a distaste for drunk sleaze balls) him before slamming the door shut.

But Vessel's attention was on Y/N in an instant, checking them over for any visible injuries. His stomach lurched at the sight of the red mark against their collarbone, and he reached out a hand, which they hesitantly accepted before Vessel led them back to his office. As he passed the bar, he gave III a thankful nod before stepping aside to let Y/N into the solace of his office.

When the door closed behind him, the thumping music of the club faded to the background, and Y/N couldn't help the tears that sprang in their eyes.

"Are you alright?" Vessel asked in a surprisingly gentle tone, given the events that had just transpired. They nodded their head weakly, not wanting the owner to think they couldn't handle the job. But as a rebellious tear slipped down their cheek, Vessel slowly took a step forward to tentatively reach a hand out to cup their cheek, his thumb wiping the tear away.

"Are you alright?" Vessel repeated, voice barely above a whisper as they observed the dancer's delicate state. He remembered the way II described them, how upon meeting them he was unsure because of their gentle demeanor, yet watching them on stage he had seen a completely different person. They'd said this would be their first official dancing job, and imagined they'd yet to face some of the harsher realities of their position.

When they shook their head, he slid his hand along the side of their face to cup the back of their head, bringing them forward into a tight, comforting embrace. Their face fell into his shoulder, and he could feel their hot tears seeping through the material of his shirt as he stroked their hair gently.

After a moment they tugged their face away, and he let his arms fall to his sides as they stepped back, wiping the smudged eye makeup from underneath their eyes.

"Sorry, I'm just... He caught me off guard. That's all. I'm fine." They said, though the slight waver to their voice told Vessel differently.

"Are you sure?" He asked gently, tilting his head as he took in their quivering appearance.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Promise." They said quickly and Vessel just shook his head.

"You don't look fine to me, sweetheart." He didn't miss the slight panic in their eyes as he passed them to open his desk drawer.

I'm getting fired. He doesn't think I can handle this and he's going to fire me.

"Let me take you home." He said, and they shook their head furiously as he produced a set of car keys from the drawer.

"No, really. I'm fine. I got this." They said, trying to reassure him despite the new tears threatening to spill down their cheeks. Vessel sighed, setting the keys down on the desk to stand in front of them once more. He slowly reached his hands out to grasp their bicep, giving them time to flinch away, but when they didn't he squeezed them comfortingly.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It's an unfortunate aspect of the business, it's happened to everyone," he says with a deep sigh. "It's okay to be scared, uncomfortable, whatever you're feeling. What isn't okay is you trying to pretend it didn't bother you. No one will think any less of you for wanting to go home, least of all me. It's part of my job to look after you, and that's what I'm doing." Vessel finished, looking deep into their eyes as they slowly nodded their head.

"I can't, I can't afford to-"

"That wasn't my question," Vessel interrupted. "Now, do you want me to take you home?" he repeated and his heart squeezed as he watched them bite down on their bottom lip, nodding their head shyly. A small smile crossed his lips, pleased that they were willing to accept his offer.

"Alright. Go get changed, pack up your stuff, I'll meet you by the back entrance." He said, his hands sliding down their arms to squeeze their hands encouragingly.

He'd spotted II back on the floor and gave him a quick rundown of the situation, explaining that he'd be back in a little bit. About fifteen minutes later the back door swung open, Y/N standing in their comfortable change of clothes and, as promised, Vessel was standing right outside the entrance. He leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone until he heard the familiar squeak of the hinges.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, a gentle hand on the small of their back as he guided them to his black sedan parked in the alley. He opened the passenger door, ushering them inside before closing it and jogging around to the driver side.

He had them type their address into his phone, driving in silence save for the classic rock radio station playing softly through the car's speakers, street lights illuminating Y/N's face as they leaned their head back against the headrest, fidgeting with their fingers.

"If it's any consolation, you're not the first dancer I've driven home after an incident like that." Vessel said quietly as the traffic light turned green.

"Really?" Y/N asked meekly.

"Really."

"So... You don't think I'm completely pathetic?"

"Of course not," Vessel stated firmly, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, hesitating before continuing. "I know what it feels like."

Y/N couldn't hide their surprise at his revelation. "You do?" they asked, Vessel nodding his head.

"Why do you think I want to take such good care of my dancers? I was not so lucky, the first time anyone ever grabbed me like that... The owner just told me to suck it up because it's part of the job. But I don't believe that."

"I had no idea that you used to dance."

"It was something that wasn't a pleasant experience for me, because of the place I worked in. Customers could get away with just about anything for the right price. When I bought the Pink Pony, I wanted the experience to be different."

"Wow..." They mumbled, looking at him closely now. They'd obviously noticed how attractive the owner was in their brief meeting, but they hadn't considered the fact that he had ever been something other than just a businessman.

"So, really. It's okay to need to go home. I wish I had been given the same offer."

"I'm so sorry. I... Thank you." they said sincerely, and that small smile reappeared on his face.

"Of course. It won't be reflected on your paycheck, either. I don't want you feeling like you have to suffer just to make ends meet."

Fresh tears sprung up in their eyes, their heart melting for the man across from them. How could someone be so kind and generous, yet work in such a sleazy business? His heart was too pure for what he'd been through, he didn't deserve to be put through that kind of suffering. They reached a hand out to lay atop of his hand resting on the gear stick, squeezing gently.

"Thank you, Vessel." They said softly, and he turned his hand over, squeezing back.

"It's never a problem, Y/N."

The rest of the ride was quiet until they pulled in front of Y/N's apartment complex, Vessel shifting the car into park and turning to look at them.

"D'you want me to walk you to your door?" He asked, and they really thought the fondness in their heart for him couldn't grow any stronger.

"No, no it's alright. I can do this part by myself." they said. They smiled sweetly at him before gathering their bag into their lap, hesitating for a moment before leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Vessel froze, the simple gesture unexpected but not unwelcome. They didn't give him a chance to say anything else, popping the passenger door open and clamoring out of the sedan. They leaned down, resting their weight against the door.

"Good night, Vessel. Thank you again, I feel very lucky to have someone like you looking out for me."

"Always." he replied, watching carefully as they shut the door, walking quickly to the front door of their complex and unlocking the door. Just before they stepped inside, they turned, smiling to see that he was still watching and offered a small wave. He waved back, waiting until they had disappeared into the elevator to shift back into drive, getting ready to return to the club.

The next day, Y/N couldn't hide their surprise as they found a small bouquet of flowers sitting at their normal spot in the dressing room. They asked the other dancers, who said that they'd already been there when they arrived. When they looked closely, though, they found a small notecard reading simply

We're lucky to have you, too.

[footygirl114]

Cervecería (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hi friends, this is a bit late (but better late than never?) The one I was inspired to write post that champions league win with Alexia beelining it to someone in the crowd. It’s definitely not the best thing I have written but I know if i keep editing it I’ll scrap it so this is as good as it’ll get 

The need to not live through another Canadian winter was the biggest draw that made you start a second business in Spain. Having started a successful craft brewery in Toronto, you knew exactly what you needed to do, when you brought the craft beer craze to Barcelona. 

You had been in the city for 7 months, your restaurant had only opened a month ago but you were happy with how it was going. It was a process to get it open, but once you realised you needed to find someone who spoke both Spanish and Catalan and was familiar with the restaurant business it became a lot smoother. 

You had found a spot near to the downtown without being ridiculously priced, you wanted to draw tourists but you also didn’t want to scare away any locals. The starting days were slow but as more advertising and more interest in different craft beers gre you started to get busier. Fridays and Saturdays were busy enough you had to hire extra staff, but during the week you liked to be the one behind the bar. 

The whole reason you got into the brewery business in the first place, was because you loved to connect with people and share your love of beer with them. The best way you were able to do that was to be the one serving it, plus it was helping with learning Spanish. 

You also drew in a unique crowd on game days, you had all the subscriptions from back home which meant you were able to play many American sports. You also always had at least one TV dedicated to women games. 

About 6 weeks after you opened you were tending the bar on a slow Wednesday night, the crowd had died off after the Barca Femini game was completed, but you still had a few stragglers around. Movement caught your eye where you cleaning tables and you watched a slim female with her hair pulled in a pony tail, black hat and hoodie on walk in and settle at the end of the bar. 

Moving back behind the bar she looked up and met your eyes and immediately you were drawn in to her expressive eyes. You moved toward her and said “Hola, can I get you anything?” 

She smiled at you and said “Agua?” 

You raise an eyebrow at her and ask “You come into a brewery sit at the bar and order water?” 

She chuckles and shrugs and asks “should I sit somewhere else then?” 

“no no no but let me make you a deal” you smile wanting to hear her laugh again.

She raises an eye brow as she asks “What’s the deal?” 

You smirk and step back moving to pour her a glass of water, and a small taster pint of your favourite beer. You place both glasses in front of her as you tell her “I will keep pouring you the finest water all night, IF you try this small glass of my favourite beer” 

She chuckles shaking her head and smiles at you as she holds out her hand and says “deal.” 

You laugh and place your hand in hers, immediately feeling a tingling run up your arm, you tell her “I’m Y/N by the way.” 

“Alexia” she says and releases your hand and grabs the beer glass. She slowly raises it to her lips meeting your eyes over the glass. She holds your gaze as she takes a sip. 

You keep your eyes on her as she places it down and you ask “well?” 

“I can see why its your favourite” she says with a smile. 

Before you can say anything else another customer draws  your attention away. You have to deal with an issue in the kitchen and one with the supply closets. Its almost half an hour later when you make it back behind the bar. When you get back she is standing up looking around for you. 

Smiling you walk up asking her “leaving so soon?” 

She chuckles and says “si, just needed some fresh air. I can grab my bill though” 

You shake your head and say “it’s on the house” 

“Won’t your boss be upset” she asks with a smile. 

You chuckle and say “I think they’ll be okay.”

“well thank you” she says with another smile. Your name is called by another server and you turn toward them as she says “I’ll get out of your hair Y/N” 

You chuckle out a bye before turning and tending to your team.The rest of the night is spent thinking about the Beautiful girl who sat at your bar. You have a feeling you recognise her but are unsure how you would. Until you are closing up and you see her face on the TV, chuckling you can’t help but think how you just embarrassed yourself in front of the queen of football. 

**

You spend the next week elbow deep in testing a new batch of beer. It consumes you when you have an idea and you cannot put it into the taste correctly. Working late one night the bar is pretty quiet apart from a few regulars, you have taken over a table near the far side of the bar which is slightly hidden. Your notes are spread out all over the table and you are completely consumed in them until you hear your name at the bar. 

You had told your staff to act like you are not here, but when you recognise the voice ask for a water you smile to your self and look up and see Alexia sitting at your bar. As you get up to walk towards her you recall that you had seen the Barca team had played earlier in the evening away. 

“looking for me” you ask her as you step beside her at the bar. 

Alexia and your bartender, Sam, turns towards you with their own expressions. Alexia looks happy to see you, and you bartender is giving you the raised eyebrow as she thought you didn’t want to be disturbed. 

“I thought you weren’t here tonight boss” your bartender asks. 

“boss?” Alexia echos.

You chuckle at them both and you say “I’m not here tonight Sam” to your bartender who gets the hint with a chuckle turning away. 

“Boss?” Alexia asks you again. 

Chuckling you move behind the bar and grab a small pint glasses as you tell her “I own the place.” 

She looks at you and with a low whistle she says “Impressive” 

“thank you” you say as you move and pour a glass of another one of your beers. You place it in front of her and say “If our deal still stands this is another one of my favourite beers” 

She grabs it and asks “if you brew them all do you have a least favourite?” 

You chuckle and say “not really, well just the one I cant figure out right now”

“Can I help?” she asks and takes a sip of the beer with a low moan. “sorry that one is really good” she says with a blush. 

You chuckle and say “its cute” and then immediately blush and say “I just cant get what is in my head to translate into the beer. I have this taste I can imagine but I cannot find the right combination of hops and flavours to get it right” you ramble on. 

“What’s the flavour?” she asks with a smile.

You blush almost forgetting she was there during your ramble and say “I am sorry you don’t want to hear me nerd out about beer” 

She shakes her head and reaches across to grab your hand as she says “I kinda want to know everything you’ll share” 

Before you can respond her phone buzzes and she reaches down looking at the screen and then gets up reaching for her wallet. You place your hand on her wallet and say “This one is on the house in exchange for the ramble” 

“You know I can afford to pay for my beers” she says. 

Immediately you shake your head and say “I know you can La reina, but I do really hope this makes you keep coming back” finishing with a wink.

She blushes at the nickname and leans across the bar and presses a kiss to your cheek as she whispers into your ear “You will make me come back.” She then turns and walks towards the door turning at the door with a wink she disappears. 

You continue staring at the door when you hear Sam walk back behind you and say “Nice work boss, I thought you’d lose her with the beer talk” 

You chuckle and whip your towel at her say “get back to work.”

**

The following two weeks you see Alexia 3 more times at your bar, always on days the Barca team plays. You looked her up after the last time and know she’s not playing yet but is very close to being back. You both have flirted but nothing else other than the one cheek kiss has happened. You both just keeping things light and flirty. She has slowly worked her way through some of your staple beers. 

When the next Barca game happens and she doesn’t show up to the bar that night you have to admit that you were very disappointed. You knew that it was all just a fantasy and flirting but it definitely hurt that she decided you weren’t worth it. 

You were deep in the back room tonight still trying to perfect your beer. You kept one small cask in the back room where you used it to experiment with your brews, this time being no different. Your desk back here was covered in notes and you had a white board with formulas and flavours all over it. During the day the back part of the brewery was a hive of activity keeping up with the demand of brewing beers, but at night it was quiet which is when you loved to use the time to work on your own stuff. 

Tonight was no different, you were still a bit hurt and disappointed in your self for being hurt about Alexia so thats why you were staying hidden in the back not out front tonight. The staff knew you were here and knew not to bug you when you were back here. 

So when you heard the door open you didn’t even look back when you said “Sam I thought I told you not to interrupt me tonight” 

You hear the steps falter and someone take a deep breath as they ask “I was just looking for a glass of Aqua”

Immediately you turn and can feel your cheeks blush as you say “Alexia, what are you doing here?” 

She still doesn’t come any closer as she says “I wanted to tell you something, and then if you want me to not interrupt you I will go”

You nod at her and lean back against the desk behind you.

She slowly steps towards you and says “I know you know who I am, and you should know then that I have been injured and not playing for awhile?” 

You nod and smile saying softly “I do know that” 

She keeps slowly stepping closer as she continues “Well that first time I walked in here, was after one of the teams away games. I still wasn’t travelling with the team and I watched them almost lose and knew that I let them down. So I needed some air and went for a walk, I saw the sign on your bar and decided to come in and have some water and then leave.” 

“But you didn’t” you tell her softly as she stops in front of you.

“No I didn’t” she says. “for the first time in a very long time I forgot who I was letting down, I was able to just be me Alexia, not me the captain who let her team down. That was because of you, something about you just drew me in and I kept coming back any time we played so I could be that person again.” 

You smile softly at her and say “I am glad to help.” 

“Last night was my first game back Y/N” She smiles at you. 

You smile back and say “I am proud of you Ale” 

She steps another step closer so she is right in front of you and grabs your hands softly as she says “The only reason I was able to be back last night and not let the team down was because I kept picturing your voice in my head talking about beer. It helped to ground me and remind me that I am Alexia as well as the captain” 

You close the gap even more and move your hand to her cheek as you say “I am glad that you have that then Ale. I am honoured to be able to do that for you” 

She steps closer and looks down at your lips looking back up meeting your eyes you nod slightly and lean in slowly. You feel her breathe on your lips when the door slams open again and Sam walks in as she says “Sorry boss, need to change the keg.”

Immediately Alexia has sprung back from you and you both turn slightly away from each other. “It’s okay Sam come in.”

“I should go” Alexia says “I have training early tomorrow” 

“You don't have to go” you say at the same time Sam says “did I interrupt?” 

“No you didn’t Sam, I was just leaving” Alexia says as she flees the back room. 

“sorry boss?” Sam says with a smirk. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah boss?”

“how did she get back here?” you ask her. 

She shrugs and grabs the keg and says “I may have told her to come back here at her own risk”

“But you still interrupted?” you ask. 

She laughs and says “honestly I forgot, and needed a keg badly. I really didn’t think you would been that position though boss” 

You blush and move to help her as you say “me either”

**

That moment was burned in your brain, every free moment you had your brain was immediately back in the store room. You watched her sit on the bench in the following champions league game, but you at least now knew why she didn’t come in to the bar on that day. You waited the rest of the week for her to show again, she didn’t. 

It was just before bar opening on the day of the second leg of the champions league. You knew that it was home game and you knew that you wouldn’t see her today. You were hoping she would show tomorrow but you can only hope. 

You were sat at the bar, with your note book open and three samples of your newest beer in front of you trying to decide which one would be the closest to the taste you want. You hear the door open and turn and to greet who you would think is one of your servers since you aren’t open and instead you are shocked and say “Alexia! I didn’t expect to see you today.” 

She is dressed in her pre game outfit when she walks closer to you and says “I needed to see you before I go to play today.”

You look at her with a questioning look and ask “you did?” 

She stops right in front of you and says “I cant get you out of my head Y/N” 

“You can’t?”

She turns you and spins you towards her on your stool. She steps right in between your legs and says “I keep thinking about kissing you Y/N, and I know I should be able to focus on football, but I just keep thinking about you” 

“Thats not good than Ale, what are you going to do?” you ask with a smirk. 

She smiles and says “I know what I want to do but I do not have the time for that.” 

You chuckle and move your hands to her hips and you ask “want to make a deal?” 

Smirking she nods and says “what’s the deal?” 

“You go out and with the champions league and you can kiss me as much as you want” you say with a smirk moving your hand to her cheek. 

She laughs and holds out her hand between you and asks “Only if I can take you out on a date too?” 

“deal” and you put your hand in hers shaking it softly. 

“I have to go” she says softly

You nod and whisper “good luck Ale” before turning and grabbing your pen and writing your number down on a piece of paper. You hand it to her with a smirk saying “I hope this will help you focus now”

She smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek saying “I have an objective now I will be fully focused on completing it.” as she backs away slowly. 

You chuckle watching her and say “Good luck la reina” 

**

The month in between the day the deal was made and the champions league final was a tense one, in the best way possible. Anytime you both texted, which was any free time between her trainings and games and your bar, the flirting was relentless. You only saw her twice in the month but she confessed to you that she couldn’t see you or else she would have to, in her words, “press you against the wall and make you see stars.” 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either but you wanted to hear her voice, which lead to phone calls every single night. No matter how late you were at the bar she would sleepy wake up just to ask you about your day. 

The day of the final she called you as she was about to leave in a bit of panic. She needed to hear your voice to remind her that she is Alexia too and not just the captain. All of the media and build up of her return was getting into her head and you knew she just needed to be grounded. You happily helped and reminded her of your deal and you couldn’t wait to taste her. 

The bar threw a watch party and it was packed. The mood was sombre at halftime with Barca being down 2-0. You nervously paced waiting for the second half. When it started and Alexia came on at the start of half you couldn’t help but smile.

It was like the team changed with her and when immediately it sparked the team to score 2 quick goals the bar was electric cheering. When the 85th minute rolled around you were nervous, but you knew that once you saw Alexia gather a crappy clearance from the wolfsburg back line this was it. She cut in once around a defender just above the top of the 18 where she lined up and put a screamer in the top left corner. 

That was it, they held on and the bar was electric and the party lasted all night. You snuck away to speak to Alexia briefly on the phone, but she couldn’t talk as she was pulled away. You turned the excitement you had and finally got the mixture right on your beer. You immediately had given samples out to have a second opinion and it was a hit. 

She inspired you just like you did to her. When the parade for the team was organised and you knew they would be coming out side your bar you kept an eye out. Once it was the time for them to come this way, you pushed your way to the front of the crowd. 

When the team came around the corner you hoped that you would be able to catch her. It was like when she came around the corner she could sense you, as she immediately met your eyes and her smile lit up her whole face. 

You watched as she turned and almost sprinted to you, when she reached you she had placed her hands on your hips pulling you in. You placed your hand around her neck with a smile as she says “A deal is a deal Y/N”

You nod and say “You won it all Ale, time for my end of the deal” and you lean and press your lips to hers hard. She immediately presses back and you lose yourself in her forgetting about the crowd around you. You just feel the sparks only she has been able to give you. 

When the need to breathe comes to much you both pull back and you slowly hear the crowd around you again, where you pull back slightly and whisper “wow.” 

She smiles and says “I gotta go finish this thing” with a jerk of her thumb over her shoulder.

Nodding you say “come by after and you can finally taste my favourite beer I just finished” 

She smiles wide “you finished it?” 

“I did” 

“Then I cannot wait, but only if it comes with the finest aqua you have” she says with a smile and you cant help but laugh and press your lips to hers one more time. 

[sparklingcid3r]

in the book we learn what the brother's personalities are like from ponys pov and after they just had this super huge tragedy. but, before they died what do you think they were like? like how would the curtis parents describe each of the brother's personality?

I’d say that Darry is the only one of them who went through a major personality shift following the Curtis parents’ deaths. Although I feel like Soda was the type of guy who’d be staying out all night, just hanging at bars and parties and going on joy rides with Steve and some buddies. After the accident, he just stopped doing that, realizing that Darry couldn’t take it having to worry about both Soda and Pony at night. Soda definitely grew up quickly after losing their parents, just in a more subtle way than Darry.

Pony meanwhile just got a little more spacey in his own head, seeing things he didn’t quite notice before in the people he passed.

Darry was going THROUGH IT though. Enough that even Pony called attention to it (if I’m remembering that right, I could have sworn he mentions the fact that Darry was not always “like that”). So generally, Darry was more laid-back and confident rather than anxious and controlling. It just came along with having to raise and protect his two younger brothers.

[gingiesworld]

You Fucked My Daughter

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Minors and Men DNI

Y/N pov

I was a part of the Avengers since Nick recruited me after I left the Army. I always admired the Avengers for what they did. Nat gave me a more advanced training in hand to hand combat since I already knew how to use weapons. Truth be told, even when I was in high school, I had the biggest crush on her. And I still do. So right now I am working on my dad's newest suit with him while we wait for most of the others to come back from their mission. So it's only myself, my dad, Wanda and Vision left in the compound. And no one wants to be around them two with their sappy mind stone connection.

"Hey kid, I'm thinking of throwing a party tomorrow." He told me.

"What time do I have to be there?" I asked him.

"I haven't decided yet if were having one yet." He told me makingme laugh.

"You saying that you're thinking about throwing one is you saying that you have already thought about it and have decided to throw one." I told him.

"Well ok then. Be there at 8pm." He told me with a smirk. I decided to go and do some training to pass some time using the training bots that dad had programmed for us.

"Hey Y/N, you need a sparring partner?" Wanda asked as she walked in the training.

"Yeah, no powers though." I warned her playfully.

"Where's the fun in that then." She challenged me. We both walked onto the mats and started to spar. She threw some punches which I had managed to dodge.

"You need to watch your opponent Wanda. Anticipate their next move." I informed her as I pinned her to the floor.

"I don't need this training though since I have powers." She told me

"There will always be a time when you need to know how to fight without them. There will always be someone with the technology to mute your powers and then you will be a sitting duck." I told her as I helped her to her feet.

"The only person I know smart enough for that is your dad." She told me as we started to spar again.

"There will always be someone who is on his level of intellect or higher." I told her as I dodged her advance at me and held her in the headlock. She tapped my arm signalling for me to release her.

"You sound so much like Vis." She whined at me as we both sat down and drank some water.

"Well he is a synthezoid that my dad created so. And I obviously got my genius from him." I shrugged making her chuckle.

"You are definitely a Stark." She laughed as we both stretched. We both decided to call it a day and get showered and ready for the party my dad is throwing tonight. I decided on wearing a red shirt with a black tie and black slacks. I brushed my hair back in a high pony and was ready for the party. I met Wanda on the way out of my room wearing a green dress that matched her eyes.

"You look beautiful Wands. Vision is one lucky...." I paused as I tried to think of what to call him. "I want to say man but then again I don't know." I teased earning a slap on my arm and a giggle from the witch.

"And you look dashing. Nat is going to go wild." She told me with a smirk making me blush. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." She said as we walked with our arms linked to the party. When we arrived we went straight to the bar to order our drinks. "I'm going to see Vis." She told me as she kissed my cheek. I looked around the sea of bodies moving trying to find a certain red head but came to no avail.

"Hey Y/N, you look really good." My favorite voice said from beside me. I turned around to see her in a black dress.

"You look stunning Nat." I said as I looked her up and down from her perfect legs back to her beautiful green eyes.

"Thank you Y/N." She said as she took a sip from my glass before handing it back to me. "Do you want to dance?" She asked me with a raised brow and all I could do was nod. She grabbed my hand and led me into the sea of dancing bodies. She wrapped her arms around my neck as my hands held her waist pulling her closer to me as we moved to the rhythmxof the song. I couldn't help biy admire her perfect features. She truly was the most beautiful girl on the planet. I looked down at her lips and noticed that she had done the same before we both leaned in. Our lips met in a soft passionate kiss which I deepened as I squeezed her hips making her sigh as I slipped my tongue in her mouth. She soon pulled away before she ran upstairs to our rooms. I followed her out and found her in her room pacing the floor.

"What was that?" I asked her as I closed her door.

"What?" She asked me trying to play dumb.

"We kiss and then you run. Why did you run?" I asked her as she stepped towards me.

"I like you a lot Y/N. But you are Tony's daughter. There is a big age gap between us and your dad could throw me out of the building." She said worriedly.

"I don't care about my dad because I really like you too Nat. I always have. My dad doesn't get a say in who I date. I am my own person. And I want you." I told her as I stepped forward. "So please let's just do this. We shouldn't care what anyone else thinks."

She stepped forward and crashed her lips on mine as her hands tangled in my hair. I held her hips as I pushed my tongue in her mouth making her moan. My fingers found the zip of her dress and started to pull it down as she took of my tie and started to unbutton my shirt. We stripped each other and were left in just our underwear. I pushed her down on the bed without breaking the kiss as my fingers caressed her smooth skin. I moved my kisses down to her neck and sucked and kiss every part until I heard a loud moan vibrating from her throat. I smirked know that I found her sweet spot. I moved my kisses to her chest above her covered breasts before I reached my arm underneath her and unclipped her bra and removed it. Revealing her lucious breasts. I took one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked harshly making her moan loud as I massaged the other one. I gave them both the same attention before moving my kisses down her body to the waistband of her underwear.

"Is this ok?" I asked her softly as I played with the hem of them.

"Yes." She breathed out. I removed her underwear before I licked a strip through her folds before applying pressure to her clit. She was a mess of moans above me. I inserted a finger into her aching core thrusting slowly as I sucked on her clit. She bucked her hips to get more friction so I added a second finger before increasing my speed and going rougher and grazing her g spot sending her over the edge screaming my name. I pulled my fingers out and sucked them clean before kissing up her body as she calmed down. She kissed me roughly before she twisted us both around as she waisted no time in taking off my underwear. She reached over to her night stand drawer and took out a double ended strap. She inserted the smaller end in me before she lowered herself on the toy making us both moan. I held her hips steady as she adjusted to the size. She then started to bounce as she rested her hands on my chest. The two of us moaning messes as the toy moved between us. I started to meet her thrusts harshly as her movements started to get sloppy. Hitting deeper and harder as I sucked on her nipples adding to her pleasure.

"I'm gonna." She moaned out.

"Me too." I grunted as we both went faster to reach our highs at the same time. I kissed her softly before I broke it with a smile.

"You have no idea how much I have wanted to do that." I spoke in the space between us making her chuckle.

"Me too. And we can go all night long." She whispered before I turned us both around with the toy still in us both before we went on for another few rounds.

Avenger's pov

The avengers woke up with a hangover, with how much they had drunk last night. Meanwhile Steve's room was right near Nats and he heard everything that had happened in Nat's room. To say that he was disgusted was an understatement. With him being an old timer, things like that shouldn't happen at parties. When he joined the others in the kitchen they all laughed at his tired state.

"I thought super soldiers don't get drunk." Sam teased him making everyone laugh.

"We don't. It's hard to sleep when all you can hear is a constant thumping of a bed hitting a wall repeatedly and Nat screaming Y/N." He groaned as he sat down not realising that Tony was stood there with a coffee until he heard him drop the cup. Then the giggling of Nat and Y/N coming into everyone earshot. Everyones eyes flicked between the pair and Tony.

"YOU FUCKED MY DAUGHTER!!" Tony shouted making everyone jump.

"Well technically I fucked her but you know." Y/N smirked as Nat stood there frozen. Tony looked shocked at his daughter.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you pls write something with purly where curly hurts pony’s feelings and they argue but then curly tries everything to get pony to forgive him :))) basically super angsty with a happy ending

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long but it's also way longer than I anticipated so I hope it lives up to expectations. It's also not edited so please excuse any typos. Please lmk what you think xx

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

“Fuck off, Curly!”

Curly has been told to fuck off a lot in his life. In fact, he’d even say he’s been told to fuck off by Ponyboy a lot in his life- but until now Ponyboy’s never meant it. Not really.

Now though, with his dreamy eyes blazing and his hands curled into fists it’s clear that Pony means it and Curly has well and truly fucked everything up. Tim was right- he really does ruin everything.

“Pony-”

He’s cut off when Pony takes a swing at him, and just barely manages to duck out of the way. It’s a testament to how much he likes Ponyboy and how sorry he is that he doesn't swing back. Restraint is not something he was raised with in the house where he learned to meet violence with violence because it’s better to leave a mark on someone else than to take all that hurt without dishing out your own.

Still. It doesn’t mean he’s not angry.

“Can you just fucking talk to me? I said I was sorry!”

“And I told you to fuck off, so fuck off!” Pony rages back, “You come anywhere near my house an’ I’ll set Darry after ya with a baseball bat! Me’n you are done Curly Shepard! Done!”

He storms off and Curly lets him because he’s lost a lot of people in his fifteen years and knows the look Pony just gave him is as final as any coffin being lowered into the ground or any car disappearing around a street corner.

Suddenly, he has the horrible urge to cry. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek hard until it floods with the taste of iron and makes his way to the liquor store, eager to forget everything that’s just happened and everything he’s just lost.

The broad behind the counter doesn’t seem to get the hint untill he pulls out his switchblade and makes it clear he isn’t asking to leave with the whiskey, he’s telling her he is. She yells after him, something about cops and trouble and Curly doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. 

Tim finds him when he’s drank at least a third of the bottle, chucking rocks at passing trains and spoiling for a fight. He’s close enough to Brumly territory it won’t be hard to find one if he really goes looking, and Marshall Decicio and him tussle often enough all he’d have to do is look at him wrong, but apparently Tim isn’t in the mood to have to drag him off of someone or out of a bar tonight because he pulls up in the beat up old pickup truck and tells him to get in.

For a second he thinks about refusing, about pissing Tim off too so he’d leave him alone like he deserves, but Tim is not the sort to take no for an answer and Curly wants to fight but doesn’t want to fight him, so he relents and gets in. Tim doesn’t say much, but Curly can tell that he knows, and the shame that bubbles up in him makes it so he can’t even look at him.

Ma is holding court in the living room when they get home, high as a kite at three in the afternoon, her buddies all in a similar state. She’s got some of the good stuff out on the table and for a second Curly considers reaching for it, considers taking something that will grant him a far better oblivion than the one his bottle has yet to offer, despite the fact it’s now almost half empty. 

Tim yanks him away before he can.

“I know you love him,” he says, and Curly’s heart fucking sinks because he does, even if he couldn’t say it, and now Ponyboy wants nothing to do with him ever again, “but don’t go down a road you can’t come back from just ‘cause you don’t wanna feel it right now.”

“But-”

“No.” He can’t quite decipher the look in Tim’s eyes through his boozed up haze, “You’re not Ma, Curly. Don’t let yourself be.”

He half tosses half drags Curly to his room then, and Curly considers climbing out the window just to be a shit, but it’s warm in here, and Angel isn’t home right now so for once he has the room to himself. Him’n Pony could’ve been hanging out here, if Curly hadn’t been such a monumental asshole.

Hours later, when Angela gets back she finds him on the floor, lighting match after match just to blow them out again, his whiskey near empty at his feet. He’d thrown most of it up around the same time he choked a lot of it down, and while it hasn’t done much to get Ponyboy out of his head it sure has dulled any plans to go out again and do something stupid. He’d tried standing a little while ago and discovered he couldn’t seem to walk right. 

“Idiot,” Angel says when she sees him, but it lacks any of her usual scorn, and not for the first time Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Angel- who isn’t soft for anyone- can sometimes be soft for him. When he needs her, and sometimes even when he doesn’t.

She grabs his latest lit match and uses it to light herself a cigarette, before hauling him to his feet and dumping him on his mattress. 

“You ain’t gonna puke are you?”

“Already did,” Curly mumbles, suddenly feeling more sick than he has in a while and Angel just nods, sitting next to him and pulling her knees to her chest.

She’s small, like him, always has been but she makes up for it by having a big attitude and a big temper, and right now, a big protective streak. 

“You okay?”

And, no, Curly thinks it’s pretty obvious he isn’t.

Angela nods. “I uh, I heard what happened.”

A fresh wave of guilt claws its way up Curly’s throat. 

“It’s stupid,” Angela continues, and Curly snaps his head up to stare at her. He’d made fun of Pony’s dead best friend. It was cruel was what it was, and Curly has never known how not to be cruel, but there's no one he’d tried not to hurt as much as Ponyboy and then he’d gone and hurt him anyway. 

You ruin everything. Tim’s words from a week ago echo in his head again and he bites his cheek again to stave off the tears. 

“Stupid or not,” Curly hears his breath hitch, “he ain’t ever gonna speak to me again.” 

Angela fixes him with a glare. She’s good at that. 

“Make him.”

“Angel-”

“Are you a Shepard or not? You know well as I do that if you want something you have to take it.”

“Oh sure,” he rolls his eyes but stops immediately when it makes his brain hurt, “I’ll just go over to the Curtis place and start chattin’ while Darrel Curtis beats my head in.”

“Jesus, quit bein’ a drama queen, that's Ponyboy's job. Yours is to fix this.” She rolls her eyes, “Or don’t. Go ahead and rot for all I care.” 

She climbs to her feet, scrubbing a hand through his hair before she leaves, muttering under her breath about how this is the last time she tries to help him with anything.

Curly grins. He’d never admit it, but Angel really is his best friend in the whole damn world, for all she’s a bitch of the highest degree. She knows the score. 

Suddenly, it’s easy to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When Curly wakes the next morning, head pounding and mouth drier than Tim’s sort of humour, he’s ready. It’s time to put his plan into action. 

If getting out of bed was torture, walking into WIll Rodger’s high school has to be his own personal hell. He can already barely stand this place when he isn’t violently hungover, but Ponyboy will be here and Curly only ever wants to be where he is, even if they aren’t speaking right now.

They only have two classes together- spanish, where Curly usually sits beside him and whispers dirty things in his ear Pony has long since learned not to ask the teacher to translate for him- and phys ed. Pony’s too smart for them to be in anything else together, and PE isn’t until the end of the day. No way is Curly sticking around that long.

So spanish it is.

He’s fifteen minutes late when he walks into the class but the teacher just sighs and tells him to take a seat. Honestly, Curly thinks the old guy’s got a soft spot for him. He used to think it was because he speaks spanish already so the teacher didn’t much have to worry about trying to teach him, but Angel speaks it too and Mr. Dimirend can’t stand her so Curly doesn’t know. Must be his irresistible charm.

His usual seat is taken by a blond haired soc Curly decides is his new enemy number one, so he takes an empty seat at the back of the class and gets to work making spitballs.

The first is a direct hit, landing in Pony’s slicked back hair and sticking there, but the guy’s got a mop that could rival Curly’s own and he doesn’t seem to feel it. Spitball two goes wide, then Mr.Dimirend sets them a speaking task and everyone turns to their seat partner and starts talking in a horrible bastardization of Curly’s beloved native tongue, so he gets distracted by sending spitballs at the worst of them. Honestly, this is supposed to be an AP class. You’d think they’d at least try and roll their ‘r’s. 

Socy Blond McFuckface is trying and failing to ask Ponyboy what his favourite colour is when Curly’s spitball lands right in his wide open mouth and the kid gags, immediately spitting and starting to choke. Curly rolls his eyes. it’s not like he’s gonna die from a spitball.

Of course the whole thing kind of becomes a deal, and Mr.Dimirend looks kind of concerned, but Ponyboy is stifling laughter so the whole thing is kind of worth it, even when he gets detention- at least, it’s worth it until he tries to meet Pony’s gaze and share the joke and Pony pointedly refuses to look at him, jaw tightening as he turns back to the front. 

Curly gets up and walks out of class, deaf to Mr. Dimirend yelling after him. What does it even matter? It’s not like he doesn’t already know how to conjugate verbs in the conditional future tense.

Besides, he’s got a more important conditional future to worry about right now.

Phys ed isn’t until the end of the day, but Tim isn’t here to make him go to his other classes so Curly sure as hell isn’t gonna. He thinks maybe he might go key some socs car in the lot just to feel something. Or maybe he’ll try and find Bryon Douglas so he can beat the shit out of him.

“Curly Shepard I know that’s not you skippin’ your english class right now.”

Despite himself, Curly grins.

 “Me? Skip class? C’mon Miss D, you know I’d never,” he drawls, giving his best impression of Angel’s wide eyed innocent look, “I gotta keep all them dirty hoods in line.”

The lunch lady shakes her head, giving him her best unimpressed look even as her black eyes twinkle. Curly doesn’t respect pretty much any adult figure, but he can’t help but like Miss D. She reminds him a bit of how abuela used to be whenever she was sober and before she went senile. Except she’s a lot smaller than abuela ever was, and her skin is a few shades darker than abuela’s, closer to his own shade than to Tim or Ma’s. 

Miss D tilts her head, sizing him up. He fully expects her to frog march him to his english class, scolding him all the while in her native Tamil that he wouldn’t comprehend but would understand just the same. 

“Come with me,” she says instead, tuning on her heel, and Curly knows better than to argue. Usually with the aunties or grandmothers it’s best to do as he’s told.

Miss D leads him through the back door of the cafeteria and through the kitchen, all the way to a tiny back room that’s probably used for prep if the walk in fridge and counter space is any indication. She pulls down a cutting board and parks him in front of it, dropping a pile of tomatoes beside him.

“Here.” She passes him a knife (and isn’t that a bold choice), “Slice them into circles for me.”

“If I’d known you was gonna set me to work I mighta taken my chances with the english class.” 

He wouldn’t and Miss D knows it, because she simply raises an eyebrow at him. Curly picks up a tomato and starts chopping.

Miss D. gets her own cutting board set up, her slices a lot faster and more even than Curly’s, before she speaks.

“You are upset.” She’s not asking, and for the millionth time Curly wonders how she seems to always know everything, “Why? What did you do?”

Curly glares down at the cutting board and slices a tomato a tad harder than is probably necessary. 

“Nothing.”

“Do not lie to me, boy.”

The words are severe but her tone is kind. He’s always been comforted by her accent, a remnant of her life back in Ceylon, so different from abuela’s but alike in how different is it from the drawl of everyone else in the american south. Maybe that’s why she can always manage to get him to spill his guts, even when he doesn’t really want to. Abuela used to be able to make him do the same.

“My best buddy is mad at me,” he admits, and it sounds stupid but it isn’t because Pony is his best buddy but he is also more than that, so much more, and he can’t lose the only person who seems to like him no matter how stupid or reckless or strange he is. He can’t. 

Miss D hums. “And why is he mad?”

“I did something stupid,” Curly admits, the shame welling in his chest along with the urge to go and do something dumb to forget about it, “we were arguing and I said something mean. Like, horribly mean. I forgot that he ain’t Angel or Tim, that it wasn’t like at home where it’s no holds barred and we just move on, yknow? I forgot he wouldn’t realize I didn’t mean it, not really. His house-” he hesitates, struggling to put stuff into words. Feelings have never made sense to him, and now is no exception, “his house ain’t like mine, y’know? Every fight in his family ain’t a fight for survival so he don’t ever say stuff like what I said to him, and I-I ruined it. He’s the best buddy I ever had and I ruined it, the way I ruin everything.”

“I see,” Miss D says, scooping his chopped tomatoes into a bin, and waving him to follow her into the kitchen, “that seems like a difficult situation.”

“Whatever.” Curly says, sick and tired of being vulnerable and mad Pony makes him this way, “I don’t care.”

“Now you aren’t just lying to me, you’re lying to yourself.” 

“It ain’t a lie.” Curly lies.

Miss D shakes her head as she drops a basket of fries into the fryer, the tomatoes waiting on the counter. Must be burger day then- for anyone who can aofford it that is. 

“We were having such a good chat. Don’t run away from me now.”

Curly shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Curly Shepard,” suddenly she’s in front of him, her twinkly dark eyes staring into his own blue ones, “you listen to me now, and you listen good. You do not ruin everything. Some things, yes. You are not always a good boy. But I have yet to hear of an instance where Ponyboy Curtis has not forgiven someone he cares about.”

Curly’s eyes widen, “how did you-”

“I hear much of the school gossip,” Miss D dismisses, waving a hand, “I work in the cafeteria. And you do not have many friends. It was not hard to guess.”

Geez. He really is pathetic when it comes to Ponyboy if even Miss D knows they’re buddies. No wonder Angel rags on him for it. 

“Now,” Miss D. continues, “did you apologize to him?”

“Yes! I said I was sorry.”

“That is not always the same thing.”

Curly thinks back to their argument, to the way Pony’s eyes had darkened, hurt and anger flashing across his face, thinks of the moment he realized he might lose him, of his own desperate pleas, of ‘please, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it’, of ‘Pony c’mon’ of ‘I said I was sorry’. Maybe Miss D is right. Maybe he didn’t mean it, not like he should have. He said it because he regretted it yes, but he said it for himself, because he was afraid to lose Pony, not because Pony deserved to hear it.

“Here,” Miss D hands him a plate of fries, “youve got ten minutes to eat these before your next class, and you’d better not be late.”

“Thanks Miss D.” He doesn’t just mean for the food. Evidently she understands because she gives him a small, warm smile and ruffles his hair before getting back to work. 

Curly eats his fries and goes to class.

Geography is a bullshit course at the best of times, but at least it gives Curly time to think. The thing is, he’s not sure he’s ever properly apologized for anything in his life. He’s not really sure how to do it. For one thing, he’s rarely sorry for anything he does. For another, remorse in the Shepard house consists of stealing each other stuff until forgiveness is granted with a pat on the back or the ruffling of hair. They don’t really do the whole ‘talking things out’ thing. But the Curtis’ do. Ponyboy does. So Curly figures he better figure it out, and quick.

He scrawls some stuff down while the teacher drones on about continents and whatnot, but nothing sees good enough and after his fourth attempt he gives up and starts entertaining himself by pinning the braid of the soc girl in front of him to his desk with his switchblade. She squeals like a piglet and gets yanked back into her seat when she tries to stand up and Curly laughs so hard he almost forgets his knife when he beats it outta there. The girl’s preppy looking soc boyfriend tries to chase him but Curly’s gone before the guy even makes it to the door, melting easily into the crowd in the hallway. 

He skips chemistry in favour of dicking around and smoking with some of the guys he knows from the drag race scene, since Mrs. Costen still hasn’t really forgiven him for pulling the chemical shower last week. The hour passes far too quickly and suddenly he’s in the changeroom, getting ready for PE, and focusing very hard on not sneaking glances at where Pony is lounging about shirtless and chatting with one of the guys from the track team.

Curly kind of wants to throw something. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way Ponyboy’s bare shoulders look or the way he tilts his head when he laughs.

Jesus, it’s goddamn indecent. He should put a shirt on.

Curly changes quickly and leaves before he does or says something else he’ll regret. If he sneaks one more look as he goes at the way Ponyboy’s back muscles flex as he pulls a t-shirt over his head, well, thats no ones business but his own.

Mr.Harris, the gym teacher, is smart for all he is the most annoying fucking teacher Curly has ever had the misfortune of having- and that includes the bitch back in fifth grade who tried to tape his hands to the desk after he put a frog down Carmen Sanchez’ shirt during reading time.

However, Mr.Harris is also apparently going to be his saving grace today, because after he reminds them that they’re doing their wrestling unit (which is dumb, because ground fighting ends a lot easier when you can punch, kick, and aim for the balls) he very carefully goes through the class and paires up people who are unlikedly to actually take it too seriously- that is to say, socs get paired with other socs, and greasers get paired with other greasers.

“Curtis,” Mr.Harris says, “you’re with Shepard. Make sure to show him what we went over since Monday, I don’t have time to reteach those who think chronic absences are some sort of joke.”

“Actually sir-” Pony starts to protest, but Harris moves on, completely ignoring him. Which, hey, no one- especially not judgy old Mr. Harris- gets to ignore his Ponybabe, which Curly would be more than willing to tell him if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure Pony was about to ask him to switch partners. 

“Ponyboy-”

“Don’t.”

“Pony-”

The next thing Curly knows he’s flat on his back on the mat, the wind knocked out of him, and Pony is on top of him, twisting him into a pretzel and not in a fun way.

“That’s called a double leg takedown.” Pony says, breath hot on Curly’s cheek, his eyes hard as emeralds and Curly has never been so simultaneously confused and remorseful and turned on in his life.

They get to their feet. 

“Pony please-” Curly tries, and he’s back on the mat again. Shit he can’t be doing this, rough housing with Pony does things to him, always has, even if Pony’s being more rough than playful. Scratch that maybe especially then.

He should not be thinking about this right now. He’s supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s a single leg takedown.”

Pony’s breath ghosts over hi ear and he shivers.

They set up again. This time Curly is ready, if not prepared. Pony lunges in, and Curly grabs for him but not before Pony sidesteps and throws him down sideways, hastily pinning him before Curly can sit up.

“That’s a hip toss.”

“Jesus,” Curly wheezes, “I get it, you can thow me around with your fancy wrestlin’ moves. You gonna talk to me yet?”

Ponyboy responds by tackling him again.

Fine. So that’s how it’s gonna be. Pony tosses him twice more, once with what Curly is calling a lucky hit and once with some move called a fireman carry that might be the hottest thing Curly’s ever seen. The next time, Curly manages to grab Pony’s leg and hold on tight, driving into him with his shoulder until Pony trips back and they crash together onto the mat, rolling until Curly’s half sitting on top of him, holding Pony’s wrists so he can’t shove him off.

“Please will you just talk to me?”

Pony glares and then turns his head away pointedly ignoring him.

“Please,” Shepards don’t beg but Curly’s begging now, “please, just hear me out. I’m real sorry, I swear it. I owe you a proper apology, I know it. Just give me a chance.”

Green eyes meet blue, softening just a bit, and Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Ponyboy Curtis is ten times the man he will ever be.

“Fine. After class.”

Curly doesn’t care that he gets tackled for the rest of class. It feels like he’s winning anyway.

The bell rings and Curly follows Ponyboy to the changeroom, sneaks a glance at the guy’s collarbone, and prepares himself for the most important conversation of his life.

“Well?” Pony says, once they’ve both lit a cigarette, his free hand shoved deep in the pocket on his blue jeans.

“I”m sorry,” Curly starts,taking a deep drag and looking anywhere but at him, “I didn’t mean what I said but I still shouldna said it in the first place. It was shitty an’ it was meant to hurt you and I swear if you’ll give me another chance I’ll never try and hurt you again. I mean it. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you by accident but I’ll never do it on purpose.”

Pony considers him, head tilted like it does whenever he thinks really hard or laughs without thinking. He’s not laughing now though, but his eyes aren’t as murderous as earlier so Curly thinks that’s probably a good sign.

“That it?”

“No,” Curly swallows. He knows how badly this next part could go, how much Pony had cared about Johnny Cade, how bringing him up is still the surest way to get him all riled up, “I, uh, I never told you I’m sorry about what happened to Cade, but I am. He and I never got along but I know he was your best friend and I’ve been thinkin’ about it since yesterday and if I ever lost my best friend,” he gives Pony a significant look and Pony rolls his eyes, “I don’t think I could stand it. I swear i’ll never say anything like what I said again.”

“That’s right you won’t.” Pony says, and there’s a dark promise in those words, “I appreciate you sayin’ what you said just now, but you don’t get to talk about him. Never again, savvy? You hated him and he hated you. I know it, Soda knows it, hell, everyone does. So you keep his name out of your mouth, alright? I don’t want you in my memories of him, even if you’re gonna be nice about it from now on”

“I savvy.” Curly agrees. It’s true he and Cade couldn’t ever stand each other. Still, they’d both cared for Ponyboy, so Curly will keep his name out of his mouth, for Pony’s sake. “Promise.”

Pony nods and his shoulders relax just a bit. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“So…we’re cool?”

At that Pony laughs outright, and Curly feels the weight that’s been sitting on his chest since yesterday finally lift. His Ponyboy is back. 

“Yeah,” Ponyboy’s smile is soft, “we’re cool. Now let’s get some food. I’m starvin’ and you owe me a milkshake.”

Curly grins and follows him, not caring where they’re going. As long as he’s with Ponyboy he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[moonlightndaydreams]

The Country Club

student (adult aged) Minho x older fem!reader (she can be however old you want)

This had turned into a few random scenarios. MDNI // SMUT ⚠️‼️

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

CW: unprotected piv sex, creampie, nipple pinching, biting/blood kink?, car sex.

Minho works at the Country Club bistro three evenings a week, and it seems you have started eating there three times a week, now you’re aware of his shifts.

Tonight you're dining alone. No rich bitchy friends, nor your husband hanging around like usual. He wonders if you bring them to tease and taunt him, knowing he can look at you but not speak to you, knowing he can't touch you? Minho frowns at the thought of your husband. He doesn’t like the asshole one bit. He feels a jealously burn inside of him just at the mere thought that he owns you.

As the patrons leave one by one, Minho starts to feel nerves bubble up inside of him. Are you waiting for him? Are you going to speak to him? Is he going to feel your warm body wrapped around his aching dick? Are you going to tell him nothing will ever happen between you again? Why does even care?

As you get up from where you’re sitting and walk towards him, he busies himself with tidying the counter behind the bar.

"Minho." you say coolly. Why does your voice go straight to his cock?

"Well well well. If it isn't y/n." he smirks crossing his arms, hiding his nerves. "Waiting for some kind of after-hours service?" he arches an eyebrow.

Your expression doesn't change. "I was actually wondering how you get home after your shift?"

Oh. That. Minho sucks in a breath. "Well...um... I ride my pushbike." he feels his skin heating up. Pushbike? How fucking childish. He's not a kid.

"Well, I’m giving you a ride." it's your turn to smirk.

Minho grins deviously. "A ride you say?"

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

"This isn't where I live." Minho squints as though he's trying to look out the window of your expensive car. You have driven around the back of the country club to a secluded grassed area. It is so dark, save for the small amount of light emitting from the dash.

Minho is absolutely throbbing for you. You're in a short leather skirt, cream sweater and your hair up in a high pony tail. Part preppy, part rich trophy wife.

He swallows hard as you shut off the engine and turn to him.

"Minho." you rest your manicured hand on his thigh. "My panties," you start. "The ones you kept from that first time. I want to know what you do with them." you purr.

"Oh do you now?” He laughs. “You wanna know what filthy shit I do to them, hmmm?"

His eyes watch you peel your hand away from his leg and rest it on your own thigh now. "Yes." you whisper. "Tell me." you slowly guide your hand up your inner thigh, squeezing your flesh here and there along the way.

"Sometimes," he licks his lips lustfully as your hand disappears under your leather skirt. "I put them in my mouth while I fuck into my hand."

You raise and eyebrow. "Yeah? What else?" you say breathily as your hand ventures further up your skirt.

"I wrap them around my cock. Fuck into them. Get it covered in cum." he starts to palm himself. He can't help himself.

"Wanna see what panties I'm wearing now?" you hum.

He nods. "Fuck yeah! Show me."

"I wanna see your cock first. Get it out for me." you instruct.

Minho is quick to comply. He wanted to play this absolutely cool, maybe even be a bit of a mean prick, and tell you to get it out yourself if you want it so bad. But it has been three weeks since he's tasted you, and he didn't even get his dick touched that day. He's only fucked you the once, and he needs to be inside you soon.

"You've got such a pretty cock, Minho." you take hold of it, eyes fixed to where it’s leaking. Then your mouth sinks over him. So warm, so wet. Minho's eyes roll into the back of his head as you take him in deeper than anyone has ever before.

"Fuck, you're good at this." he hisses. "Anyone would think you suck cock for a living."

The way his tip presses against the back of your throat, and the way your lips create a tight seal around his shaft, he knows he's going to cum too soon.

"Hey! You haven't shown me what panties you're wearing." he grips your pony tail and pulls you up abruptly. Your eyes are already watery and you have dribble all over your chin. So fucking slutty. So why does his heart beat so fast?

"You're absolutely right." you say and sit up.

He’s taken by surprise when you suddenly straddle him. His hands go straight to your thighs, guiding you as you are about to lower yourself onto his lap.

"But, you see, I'm not wearing any panties." you bite your lip and lift your skirt as you roll your bare, wet pussy over his length. You're so soft. Soaking wet. He wants to be inside you so bad.

He grips your hips forcing you to hold still. Silence fills the car. This is the first time he is this close to you face to face. His lips mere inches from yours. He hasn't even tasted them. He's fucked you brutally, eaten you out. But he hasn't even kissed you. He lifts his gaze to your eyes, but they are downcast, looking somewhere to the left.

"Look at me." he says low. Eventually, your eyes meet his. His chest tightens. No. No he can't be feeling these things. Fuck boy. He's a fuck boy. That's all he is to you.

So why does this moment feel so vulnerable? Why are you looking at him with soft eyes and parted lips? Where's that wild woman he normally sees?

Before Minho knows what he is doing, he cups your cheek with one hand, and gently pulls your face to his. Your lips connect softly, as though neither of you even know how to kiss. Slow, delicate, careful movements. He moans into your mouth, giving away just how good this feels to him. But you don't pull away, you melt further into him. He closes his eyes, becoming swept away in the feelings you're stirring up in him.

You do pull away, to peel your sweater off, revealing your pink lace bra. Minho barely takes in the sight of you as he pulls you back in to kiss you again. He needs your mouth on his. His fingers expertly unclasps your bra, letting it fall from your body, and he brings his hand around to squeeze your breast.

He explores your tongue with his, wanting to be deep inside your mouth, and grinds his erection against your wetness.

No words are spoken. The kiss isn’t even broken as you lift yourself high enough for Minho to angle his cock at your entrance. He swallows your moan as you lower yourself down onto his cock in one fluid move.

There’s no power struggle. There’s no roughness. You ride him slow. His cock reaches deep inside you. Your lips won’t leave each other. What is happening? Minho can’t understand. He’s only ever imagined fucking you hard and fast.

But this feels so good. He could do this forever. Fuck you slow and deep. He rolls his hips up to meet yours, hitting a new angle. You whimper as he keeps hitting into that spot over and over. He grips your ass, pulling your cheeks wide so he can reach even deeper. He needs to be as deep as possible. He needs to buried in you.

You start to kiss him more frantically, your hips move a little faster. Together, you build up the momentum until you’re finally fucking each other with some aggression. His fingers dig into your ass harder, and then he slaps your ass. Your wet cunt squelches at every thrust. This is more familiar to him. He slaps your ass again, and feels you tighten around him. You’re getting close, he can tell.

Three hard slaps in quick succession has you squealing against his mouth. Another five and you’re coming hard around his cock. Then he grips your hips and starts quickly fucking you up and down like you’re a cocksleeve. He’s so close to coming.

He brings a hand up to pinch your nipple as hard as he can, causing you to bite down viciously on his lip. It all happens so fast. He feels your teeth break the skin, and then then the taste of blood. It’s too much. He rips your head away by yanking your pony tail and tilts your head back, smearing blood from his lip along the column of your neck. He cums hard with a growl, filling you up.

Neither of you say anything as you calm down and clean up, but Minho is deeply confused. Why does fucking you feel so good? What’s this thing you both seem to have about biting?

But more importantly. What the fuck was that kiss, and why did it make his heart beat faster?

Taglist open. msg me to be added.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @chansbabyg @kangnina @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @vanillacupcakefrosting @straykidsholicleigh @fun-fanfics @number1chanstan @jisuperboard @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @wolfennracha

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

i so badly want a wukong pov of being in the zoo, how long do u think he would get stuck in there? a day, two days? a week? a YEAR? would he be seperated from macaque? would he take the zoo monkeys with him when the curse breaks?

monkey orphans seem to be hand raised, which mean they would effectively replace reader with a zoo worker, imagine their reaction to THAT.

face mauling i assume. lots and lots of mauling

… Okay I took forever with this ask. But I am going to give a SMALL glimpse to how this would be. Only because it would be hilarious.

Blood dripped down the zoo keeper’s face as Wukong screeched in his arms, his little claws dripping with his blood. Loud growls and hisses were easily heard. They took you away, you weren’t in sight! Where did they take their precious darling!? The police had to practically drag you away from the two monkeys who hissed and chirped to get you to come back. It didn’t work, no matter how much they called you weren’t answering.

Another worker came up wearing large gloves which got torn to shreds almost immediately.

“What is this breed? I’ve never seen a monkey like this,” The man said as he jumped away while Wukong was dropped into a crate rather unceremoniously. Reader would never be this rough on a cub! How could these people be so cruel!?

With that thought he let out another feral growl, biting and clawing at the man who claimed to be a zookeeper. Growls left his throat, tiny but vicious as he attempted to fight against the humans around him. If he was himself, if he was whole he’d be able to fight against them, he’d be able to KILL them. Their blood would cover the ground easily, and there would be nothing left but blood and broken bones.

‘Macaque!!’ Wukong chirped loudly as his mate was tossed into a different crate. He let out a howl at the mere thought of them taking him away. NO NO NO!!

‘Wukong!’ Macaque chirped angry as he banged against the bars of the crate before it was picked up and he was taken away.

‘NO!!’ Wukong screeched trying to bang against the bars, letting out chirps, chitters and anguished shouts.

“It’s alight little one, we’ll reunite you once we finish with a check up,” A woman spoke up, dressed in a short shorts and a tank top. She looked at him with adoration in her large blue eyes, her long blonde hair tied up in a pony tail as she approached the crate.

Wukong immediately hissed as she approached, she was looking at him with kindness. HE WANTED READER!! He wanted Reader, now now now!! He wanted his darling to snuggle with him and give him scratches. He wanted her to cut him up fruits and give him all the attention he deserves!

He wanted his mate who was always by his side. He wanted his moon, he wanted his calm, he wanted his warrior. For the first time since the curse had started he felt truly and utterly alone. His chest tightened at the very thought, alone? He was alone in a world he didn’t know, with people surrounding him and staring at him like he was some creature to gawk at.

A cold silent fury suddenly built in his chest as the woman let out a coo. He wanted Reader’s coos. The woman was talking, some would call it a beautiful voice but to Wukong it sounded like nothing but nails on a chalkboard.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let that woman hurt you any more.” Hurt them? HURT THEM!? It was those words that sealed their fates.

In an instant there were screams, broken wood, and melting iron. Materials were scattered around as smoke billowed from the standing monkey demon. Like chains snapping away from his soul he knew he was back. He didn’t even have to move to know that the people around him no longer saw the small cute yet angry cub. No they saw what they should always see, the seething warlords with deep gold eyes, and golden fur that covered his body. A thick powerful tail snapped against the ground, the ground breaking from the single motion.

“Hurt me? You think you can keep MY woman away from ME? Maybe I should show you just what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Every words was pierced with nothing but cold fury. Deadly intent soon became clear as he walked towards everyone around him.

“A-A MONSTER!” The last words that filled the air before Wukong let out an enraged roar.

Blood coated the ground, blood dripped down his fangs, his claws and stuck to his fur. Bodies dropped like flies as Wukong slaughtered anyone in his path, traveling in the direction of his mate. Not that he needed to when he watched shadows wrap around every piece of building around them. His beloved’s shadows were always so beautiful to watch.

The sight of his mate was more breathtaking than he had remembered before. Snowy white fur splattered with blood as the shadow monkey made his way directly to Wukong. Their chains now gone they were able to look at each other, really look at each other again. A shiver ran down Wukong’s spine as Macaque wrapped his arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. It was quick, nothing like he REALLY wanted but Macaque’s words stopped him from taking more.

“Let’s go get our wife~”

“With pleasure my love.”

Sooo- This took WAY longer to write than I planned. Yeah over a month. I AM SORRY! But I finally got to it. Adulting is hard sometimes. But I’ve got the work for you.

And yeah, the curse lasts for less than a day in Reader’s world. Why? Because one of the biggest things that keep the curse active is that the monkey duo feels SAFE around each other. They are always together and never leave each other’s sides. However when the curse broke it didn’t just crack of creak, no the thing SHATTERED! So now the zoo has a monkey duo who wants nothing more than to find the woman that the ZOO separated from them.

Remember, Reblogs and comments are always welcome!!

[bavariansugarcookie]

“It’s hot in here,” Steph said, fanning herself with her hand. 

“Going dancing was your idea,” Tim reminded her, laughing when Steph rolled her eyes at him. 

“Someone’s gotta make sure you have fun once in a while,” she said. Before Tim could argue, the song changed and Steph caught his hand. “We have to dance to this song,” she said, abandoning her half-finished drink on the bar. Tim managed to get the rest of his drink in his mouth instead of down his dress just in time for Steph to drag him onto the dance floor. 

It was easier on the dance floor – Tim could let his body move to the music, hanging onto Steph’s hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. The bass thrummed in his rib cage as he scream-sang the words, letting the music wash away Timothy Drake-Wayne and Red Robin, until he was just a girl in a purple dress, dancing with his best friend.

As the song changed to a slower beat, the crowd started drifting away as people headed to the bathroom or the bar. “That was great,” Steph said, but her eyes went wide as she looked over Tim’s shoulder, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Steph?” Tim asked, and she gave him a blinding paparazzi smile. 

Before he could turn and see what had Steph so spooked, he heard a familiar voice drawl, “Hey there, Princess.”

 His instinct was to tense up, to go on the defensive, but he forced his shoulders to stay loose as he turned. “Hi, Jason.”

Jason grinned down at him, and annoyingly the leather jacket didn’t look out of place with all the rainbows and glitter and lace. “Sorry, could you remind me your name again?”

Stephanie caught Tim’s arm and leaned in, her voice bright. “This is my friend, Tiffany.”

“Nice to see you again, Tiffany,” Jason said and Tim was surprised that he sounded sincere. Who would’ve thought that Jason Todd could have manners?

“You ladies busy tonight?” Jason asked, and suddenly Jason’s strange lack of snide comments made sense. He thought they were there for a case.

Tim was about to make up a story about tracking a dealer selling tainted product, but before he could, Steph said, “Not tonight, we’re just blowing off steam.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you busy tonight?”

Jason shook his head slowly, and that was more surprising than anything. Jason in his leather jacket and combat boots, at the Pink Pony Club, for… fun? Steph’s eyebrows shot up, but she just smiled and said, “We were just about to get a drink, if you’d like to join us.”

He was going to say no. There was no way in hell that Jason Todd would say yes to a drink with Tim. But he just said, “Sure thing, Blondie,” and followed them to the bar. 

“Steph,” Tim hissed, and she gave him a cheshire cat smile as she leaned over the bar to order something with watermelon. Tim ordered the same drink with the plum and ginger beer, and Jason pulled out his card and ordered a drink with pineapple and habanero.

“I’ve got this round,” he said, and Tim murmured a thank you while Steph smiled.

“Isn’t he a gentleman, Tiffany?” she asked and Tim shot her a look.

Before Tim could answer, the bartender handed Jason his drink, which had several slices of habanero floating innocently in the glass. “That’s brave,” Steph said. “They aren’t kidding about the heat,” and Jason chuckled. 

“I was gonna order the Elvis is dead,” he said, grinning ear to ear when Tim rolled his eyes. “But banana brandy was a bridge too far for a joke.”

Tim laughed despite himself and Steph’s smile was entirely too knowing. Tim tried to think of something to say, or something to do (he still didn’t know what to do with his hands) when the bartender came to the rescue with Tim’s drink. He took the drink with a smile and immediately took the opportunity to hide his face behind the cup. 

Steph got her drink, complete with a fancy umbrella, and Tim said, “What, the rum sunscreen didn’t do it for you?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Just because some of us never want to try new things…” she said, and Tim flushed, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“I know what I like,” he said, swiping his thumb through the condensation on his glass.

Steph rolled her eyes. “I had to drag her away from her computer today,” she said to Jason. “She’s going to be as much of a workaholic as B soon.”

“That’s both impressive and terrifying,” Jason said. “B tried to get me up to speed on the family business, but I was never much for numbers.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be doing alright for yourself, from what I’ve heard.” 

Jason smirked, shrugged. “I’m doing alright. I don’t have a fancy office like you, though.”

“You should see her home office,” Steph chirped. “It’s horrifying. Like something from a movie about a supervillain hacking all the security cameras in town.”

“Oh really?” Jason asked. “I’ve been needing to upgrade my system for a while, think I could get some IT support?”

Tim hummed. “It depends. You gonna moonlight as a supervillain?”

“You know me, I like to keep my options open,” Jason said with a wolfish grin, and Tim laughed. Steph sipped her drink, her eyes bouncing between them like she was watching a particularly tense tennis match.

(ETA it's on AO3 if you'd like to read the whole thing)

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Take Care of You - Aki Hayakawa

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, hate sex, aggression lol, alley sex, spit kink

A/n: this was a loooot of fun, kinktober day 3 let's goooo

Word count: 2.2k

Read on ao3

“Fuck.” You caressed your throbbing cheek, quickening your pace to keep up with Aki-supreme-ass-Hayakawa. “What the fuck was that for?”

Aki dug into his pocket as he strode down the street, no doubt to fish out a lighter he surely had left on the balcony of his apartment. 

“I said I was sorry,” he said in a voice like cement. Hard. Colorless.

“You did it on purpose.” 

You glared at his disgusting, pony-tailed head and you knew, you knew, he was rolling his eyes. You loathed his stoicism. And you knew you would feel better if he had simply acknowledged you. 

The corner store bell rang, grating on the oncoming migraine simmering at the back of your skull. 

You threw your hands up after giving Aki a few seconds leeway to explain why you were here in the first place. “Why’re we stopping here?” 

“I need to get snacks for Denji and Power,” Aki answered before turning down an aisle. 

“Right,” You scoffed. Never would you understand why a devil-hunter chose to pamper two fiends. “I’m going to pretend like that makes sense.”

You turned the corner just in time to see Aki kneel by the candy racks.

You leaned against a rack, forearm crushing some random plushies. “Remind me why the half-n-half can’t just eat more puke with that cunt devil. Didn’t he swallow it, anyway?”

Your eagle-eyes caught Aki’s eyebrow twitch, but nothing more. 

“That was Denji, and that was one time,” he replied as he grabbed a series of different chocolate bars, holding them up for consideration. “Besides, you don’t know them; they’re easier to control when there’s food around.” 

You huffed. Pathetic. Your eyes never leave Aki as he raises, picks all three of the candy bars and heads to the register to wait behind two other customers. You rolled your eyes and decided to browse the chip aisle. You grabbed something hot and spicy, to fit your mood, and joined Aki in line.

“I’m not with him,” You snapped, pushing Aki out the way as the cashier offered him a bag. 

You felt a flutter of satisfaction as you know he’s glaring at your head before exiting the store, where the two of you took a shortcut into an alley.

“Ow, fuck!” Your hand flinched to your cheek after biting into a chip, acutely reminded of the pain residing there. You emitted a sound of pure disgust as you eyed Aki’s head. “Next time, I’m gonna let you get split down the middle by the devil of the week.” 

A jolt of surprise. Aki halted his stride, hand in his pockets. He looked over his shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You bit back. “Really.”

“Hm.” Aki nodded, understanding. “Then … Who’s gonna take care of you?” 

You bit down on what remained of your chip, despite the pain. 

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” You growled. 

“It’s as I said.” Aki turned to face you. “Who’s gonna take care of you, if I’m not here?” 

Your lips parted. The nerve … You dropped your bag. You charged toward Aki, knocking the grocery bag out of his hand, head tilted up to sneer at him. 

“I outta kill you for that.”

Aki’s eyes remained leveled on yours. Before they flickered down to your lips. 

“But you won’t.”

You felt hot tar boil in the chamber of your chest. You squeezed the neck of the chip back until your fingers itched for something else ― 

Aki was there first: he plunged hands into your chest, dragged you to the sidewall of the alley and trapped you there with his arm, caging you in.

Shock sent your eyes blinking furiously. 

Aki’s gaze hadn’t left your lips. “And I won’t let you die, either.”

He surged forward, his lips crashing against yours. 

Your gasp lodged in your throat. Shock opened your mouth for Aki to slip his tongue in. He shared the spice in your mouth as surprise kept you paralyzed.

Until it didn’t; you kicked him in the shin and threw a punch at him, only for him to catch your clench fist and pin it to the wall. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

You struggled as Aki caught your other arm.

“Let’s settle something right now,” he said, monotone, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the last few seconds, and it infuriated you. “You don’t like me and I don’t like you. But this …” Aki pressed into you, “whatever this is ― is interfering with our work. So let’s handle it and be on our way.”

“I don’t ― nurgh ―!” You continued fighting him, “ ― know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh?” Aki brushed his knee against your crotch where it met the slick accumulating there, dampening the fabric of your pants suit. “This is odd, then …”

Your cheeks grew hot. 

Aki crept to your ear. “What’s this” ― Aki grazed the hill of his knee into your cunt ― “then?”

You were sick of Aki’s breath hitting your face, of the wafts of his cologne making you dizzy. If it weren’t for the fucking dumpster obscuring you from the alley way, you knew he would begetting stoned right now. Still, you could scream.

… So why weren’t you?

Aki trailed kisses up your neck. You were waning off the fight as he pressed himself up against you. You sighed as he nibbled and licked at the skin at the junction of your neck and jaw, fantasized about where to bury his body as he bit hard ― hard enough to leave you marked up afterward.

“Asshole …” You moaned as, in a flash, he had both your wrists by one hand while other found your breast, kneading the soft flesh and exciting the nub probing his palm.

He stopped to come eye level with you.

“I’m gonna let go,” he murmured. “We good?”

“Never.” Your eyes flickered to the side of the street. “Aren’t you at least a little weirded out about doing it in a public place?”

Finally, emoting; Aki raised his brow. “When’d you get so law-abiding?”

He let you go, as promised.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his face ―

“You’re an ass.”

You kissed him. One hand flew to his tie to drag him by it. You bit at his lip as he swept his tongue against yours ― this time you let him, sighing as his hands grazed your neck to caress your face.

“Always ― mm,” You spoke between kisses, “thinking you’re ― mmf ― better than everyone else.”

“In what way?” Metallic clinking told you Aki was unbuckling his belt.

You hopped into Aki’s arms and miraculously he caught you in his arms. You wrapped arms and legs around him, sucking against his tongue as he lay determined to explore your mouth. 

“You’re ― mmm!” You cried out as Aki, finally done undoing his pants, snuck a hand in yours to play with your clothed cunt. “You always ― ah ― think you’re above it all ―”

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone,” Aki said, slipping his hand past the band of your panties. He found your clit with expert speed that disgusted you. “Just you.”

Your head thud against the wall, lips parting as Aki slipped two fingers inside you at once. “Fuuck …” A series of drawn-out moans escaped you as his long, long fingers invited themselves into your drenched hole. 

“Fuck you,” You managed to finish.

His mouth moved against yours, the ghost of a smirk haunting your lips. His other hand gripped your jaw to keep you facing forward. He ground into you, the hefty brick of his erection rocking into your inner thigh. 

The bastard had the nerve to be huge.

“You’re not wet enough,” Aki observed.

You broke the kiss, a bridge of spit connecting your lips, to sneer at him. “Who’s fault is that, simp? Gonna get on your knees for me? Should be easy; just pretend I’m Makima.”

He glared, blue eyes growing glacial. “You’re such a bitch.”

You smirked, considering his anger a victory.

“Just for that ―”

Like lightning, his fingers were in your mouth, forcing it open. Aki spit onto your tongue.

You screamed ― a high, girlish scream brought on by shock ― as he took his fingers out.

“There,” Aki said. “That’s better.”

“Bastard!”

Aki worked his cock from his trousers as your face contorted with rage, pulling your panties and pants to hook on your knees. You refused to look down, knowing full well he was huge and would split you open so good ―

“Let’s just finish this,” he said.

“Yes,” You echoed as he slid the tip of his cock on your fleshy folds. How dare he accidentally discover a kink of yours? How dare! “Let’s.”

He slid into you. Your moan mingled with his. Aki’s fist slammed into the wall as he kept on entering inch by inch. You lurched forward, biting into the shoulder pad of his suit. 

Aki offered you no grace period, fucking into you immediately upon filling you to the hilt. One of your legs slumped to the ground as the other hooked tight around Aki’s waist. Your body bounced with the power of his thrusts. You clenched your teeth, too proud to admit you preferred his wolfish approach.

You reached behind Aki to tug at the ponytail you hated so much, wrenching it from his hair and pulling it free. Aki jerked his head and dark locks fell around his face. You pulled yourself toward him, lips grazing the side of his cheek.

“Knew ― ah ― you wanted to fuck me,” You said into his ear, biting at the shell of it. “Only ― aha ― a matter of when ―”

“Will anything shut you up?” Aki growled.

You laid your head back and rolled it toward him with a smile. You opened your mouth, waiting for him to take the hint. Aki rolled his eyes and shoved three fingers into your mouth. You sucked, closing your eyes to enjoy what of this you could. Aki slapped lazily at your clit; you dug your heel into his back.

Aki was all around you; inside of you, against you, surrounding you. His cologne numbed your senses as he fucked you out of what little sense you had left. His balls slapped against your ass as his pace quickened, turned harder, harsher. His cock speared your insides, turning your legs to jelly. Aki’s muscles grew taut underneath his suit as you tried clinging to him for purchase. His hips jutted into you, rocking you bruise-building into the wall.

You buried a hand in his hair, pulling so hard you were sure some would be free from his scalp and pile in your palm. Aki grunted as you swept at his fingers. You startled when his fingers circled your clit. 

“Wanna see you cum around me,” he said. “Wanna see you forced to shut your mouth for once.”

You opened said mouth to retort something quick and clever ― love to see you try, Makima-simp ― but a loud moan escaped as Aki tore at your walls. His thick cock bruised your insides so thoroughly you were sure you would soon feel him in your throat.

Shit, he might just do it.

He gripped your hips, brought you forward to meet one of his thrusts, and knocked the air from your lungs as he bottomed out inside of you. 

A tightness spread taut inside you, drawing your toes to curl and your head to fog. You clung tighter to Aki as his pace showed no sign of letting up.

“Ah! Aahh!”

“Go on,” Aki urged, the husk in his voice alerting you he was close to a climax of his own. His fingers whirled around your aching clit.

“Gonna cum ―” You rasped, out of your mind.

“Go on, finish on my cock ― urgh!”

Aki made to pull out ― your clenching pussy guaranteed he didn’t. He pressed his forehead against yours, grunting through gritted teeth as you fell apart around him, milking him for all he was worth and more. You pulled on his jacket hard enough to rip out the sleeves. A faint warmth filled you as you bit your lip, grinding up against Aki to ride out your climax. 

“Ah, fuuuck!” You bent your head, pulling Aki close by the back of his. “F ―Fuck …”

The pleasure crescendoed. You bit your cheek, surely drawing blood. The thrill began to wane. Minutes reclaiming lost oxygen restored your sanity. You opened your eyes and through the haze saw Aki pull out at last, a rope of his cum slipping from your cunt a few seconds later.

Aki realized it before you did. “Damnit.”

“Oh, good going, genius.” You hastened to pull your underwear and pants up before you could leak over yourself. “I can’t wait to tell everyone Aki Hayakawa’s pull-out game is weak as shit.”

Aki didn’t answer, watching you as he dressed himself. “I’m sorry.”

Oh, no. You were not about to let him turn this into a serious moment. “Don’t worry about it.” You sighed, waving him off with one hand while ironing your clothes down with the other. “I got it covered. You know I’m never gonna let you live this down, though, right?”

You laughed as Aki closed his eyes. His eyebrow twitched.

“Yeah.”

Aki languidly retrieved the abandoned snacks. The two of you resumed your way down the alley. You looped an arm around Aki’s neck to pull him close.

“Maybe I was wrong,” You whispered into his side. “Maybe you’re not so bad.”

He side-eyed you. “I hate you.”

You flashed him an innocuous smile.

“No, you don’t.”

[zepskies]

Being Human - Part 3

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Remember that in this point in the season, we're in the year 2020 (DA season 2 was released in 2001). And we're about to dive into some rocky waters...

Chapter Summary: The weight of Alec’s secret is starting to create fractures. Because now, you have a secret of your own.

Song Inspo: “Attention” by Avant (ft. Snoop Dog)

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! For smut, elements of mate claiming, fluff, angst, perilous situations, and a cliffhanger...

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: Complications

These are the nights you live for.

The gang’s all here at Crash. You’re accompanied by Max, Logan, Original Cindy, and a fruity cocktail Alec got for you. Though you roll your eyes at the way your boyfriend is trying to hook people into playing a game of pool with him, clearly so he can hustle them. The man has freakish skills.

He’s already won two or three paychecks’ worth off Sketchy, who bows out by necessity.

“Come on. Anyone, anyone! Step right up and test your skills!” Alec calls throughout the back of the bar.

“Babe, would you give it up?” you say, even though you’re smiling. “No one wants to get swindled.”

He turns to you, zeroing in with a flirtatious grin.

“Want to try your hand, sweetheart?” he asks.

You snort. “I think not.”

“Aw, come on. We don’t even have to play for cash. How about sexual favors?” he offers. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes that idea, with a growing smile. His gaze locks on yours. 

“I wouldn’t even mind losing,” he says, giving you a cocky wink. 

You smile, fighting a blush. Max and Cindy roll their eyes. Logan ducks his head in amusement.  

“That white boy nonsense actually works on you?” Cindy asks.

You take a decided sip of your cocktail in lieu of answering.

In the end, Logan steps up to the plate, to much cajoling. When he actually wins, Alec is forced to accept a bruised ago as he forks over $50.

You beckon him over and he joins your half-booth table. You lean against him after he slides in behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, and you know he doesn’t care all that much about the game.

You all cut up as usual for a while, laughing and telling stories from the day of package slinging. Logan patiently listens to all of you Jam Pony alumni commiserating over how each of you would choose to prank Normal (if there were no repercussions). Sketchy ends up with the best idea: putting super glue in the glue stick the man uses on his hair.

When the laughter dies down, Alec offers to buy the next round of beer. He often does, you’ve noticed; he’s a generous person, whether he thinks of himself that way or not. Logan gets up to join him at the bar, wanting to chip in for the pitcher with his “new winnings.”

You shake your head at that. Alec’s pride probably won’t allow competition from Logan for a second time tonight.

“We’re about to be short-staffed again,” says Cindy, earning your attention. “Jenny got knocked up.”

Max’s brows raise, while you give a happy clap and a sound of excitement.

“Oh, good for her! She and Carlos have been trying for months.”

“Hmph. That is one thing I’m not envious of,” Cindy says.

“No kids on your wishlist?” you ask.

“Not a chance, boo,” she replies.

You turn to Max next. “Are you in Miss Anti-Family’s camp too?”

“Hey, ain’t nobody said I’m anti-family,” Cindy cut in. “I believe it comes in all shapes and sizes, and they don’t gotta be your blood.”

You take a moment to think about what she’s saying, and you conceded with a nod and a smile.

“Fair enough, OC. You’ve got it right,” you gestured at her with the hand that held your drink. She clinks her half-empty beer with your glass. Both of you then turn to Max with expectant gazes, still waiting on her answer.

“I’m not into all that domestic stuff, really,” she says. Though her gaze drifts toward Logan, who’s still arguing with Alec at the bar. “My life’s complicated enough.”

Cindy snorts into her glass. You don’t quite get it; maybe because you don’t really know Max all that well, for how often you guys hang out. It’s like she keeps you at an arm’s length. It hurts you sometimes, when you see how close she is with Cindy, but you suppose it’s her right to keep her circle small.

The world’s become a lot tougher after the Pulse. The more people know about you, the more they can use it against you. That’s why finding people you can trust, and even love, is all the more precious.

You glance over at the bar again, where Logan and Alec have seemed to come to a consensus. (Logan’s bowed out of paying for beer.) Alec has a victorious little smile on his face. He looks over, as if sensing your gaze, and he shoots you a wink. Your smile grows.

Meanwhile, Max and Cindy watch you with twin looks of wry amusement.

“So you want the family package, huh?” Cindy asks.

You twirl your straw around your glass.

“I haven’t thought all that hard about it, but…I wouldn’t mind, with the right person.”

Max chortles, pointing a finger towards the bar. “You think that’s Alec?”

Cindy’s brows furrow slightly as she shoots her friend a warning look. You bite your lip and look down at your drink. 

“Now’s not the right time but, maybe someday,” you reply.

Later that night, you treat yourself to a bath in Alec’s apartment. The heater here is amazing. His place is so spacious, with a huge TV in the living room worthy of his obsession with cartoons and soap operas. 

He has another one in the bedroom, where he’s made himself comfortable watching some old sitcom. 

When you eventually get out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you, Alec is predictably glued to the TV. You don’t even think he’s noticed you when you walk by him to grab the change of clothes from your overnight bag, but he pulls you into his lap before you can get dressed. 

“Why the hell do you need clothes?” he says, stealing a kiss. “Those cumbersome things.”

You giggle, and he smiles against your lips. He rolls you underneath him on the bed and you help divest him of his clothes, down to his boxer briefs. He’s in a good mood tonight, you can tell.

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your lightly blushing face.

He smiles, and he takes down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease.

He laughs against your skin. “You’re about to find out.”

Then his mouth drifts away from your neck, burning a hot, wet trail across your dewy skin. He finds his way between your breasts, before he lavishes attention to each one. While his tongue swirls around one pert bud, he rolls the other under his thumb and pinches just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you.

Your back arches off the bed a bit; your fingers rake through his sandy hair, clenching whenever he finds a sensitive spot. Both your grip and your voice spur him on, letting him know he’s in the right direction.

You don’t know this, of course, but before a few months ago, he wasn’t so well-versed in this arena. He’s learned his way down a woman’s body with much practice. And he’s come to find that every one of them is different, each with their own set of tells, as he likes to call them.

For example, he knows that even you don’t mind it fast and rough, you prefer it slow, like this. You like a full work up, with his lips dragging down below your navel and his thumbs guiding your knees open, so he can slot himself between your legs.

Already you’re breathing deeper as he makes his way down, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the inside of your left thigh. His tongue licks a languid stripe up the seam of your pussy.

“Alec,” you whine, like you want him to speed up the pace. Maybe you do, but all he gives you is a smirk from between your legs.

“Patience is a virtue,” he teases.

You huff and will yourself to be virtuous, closing your eyes with deep breaths. “Please…”

He chuckles. “I gotcha, baby. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides up your lower belly, both to comfort you and to hold you down. You cover his hand with yours, but your nails soon dig into his skin as his fingers deftly slip past your folds and find your entrance.    

“Already drenched for me, I see,” he remarks approvingly. He gathers some wetness and finds your clit, circling with the pads of his fingers. He searches for the right angle, using the sound of your voice to guide him.

When you suck in a gasp and shudder, he knows he’s found the right spot. He replaces his hand with his tongue, while he slips two fingers deep inside you. As he works you over, unrelenting when your hips threaten to raise off the bed, he holds you down with a firm hand. Your hands fist in his hair as your eyes close and your mouth drops open with your moans.

Finally, you buck against his chin and let out a wordless cry. He feels your wetness coat his tongue and knows he’s making you come. Your inner walls are still quivering around his fingers when he slips them out of you. He actually licks them clean, making you shiver again at the sight.

Alec crawls back up the length of your body while you catch your breath. He smiles down on you and brushes your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Not about to pass out on me, are you?” he asks. A teasing gleam is in his eyes. “I think I can resuscitate you.”

You laugh breathily in response and pull him down to you, crashing his lips to yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, which isn’t unpleasant. Your nails drag down the back of his neck. Alec groans into your mouth and sinks his fingers into your hair.

Now he’s more on your wavelength as you reach for the waistband of his boxer brief and quickly roll them down. He helps you by kicking them the rest of the way off, allowing you to wrap your thighs around his hips tightly.

“Hey, wait a second,” he says, laughing with his forehead pressed to yours. He grabs your hips and angles you a bit higher, then he reaches between your bodies and holds the painfully hard, weeping head of his cock at your entrance.

He meets your eyes, and you smile and squeeze the back of his neck in encouragement.

As slowly as he can manage, he pushes inside you. He stretches open your inner walls inch by inch. Both of you take in deep breaths and utter mingled moans as he continues to push inside, until the head of his cock reaches the very depths of you.

You toss your head back against the pillow with a heavy breath.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “Just move, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He likes when you call his name, but he thinks he likes even more when you call him baby. He knows that you mean it, unlike women he’s had to pay for.

But he doesn’t want to think about any of those exploits when he’s with you—there’s no comparison. He slides out almost the full length of his cock, before he pushes back in. He builds a slow, sensuous, steady rhythm that serves both of you well.

He actually works up a sweat, and you help him by meeting his thrusts, encouraging him whenever you give him your voice, your instructions and praises, your hands attempting to squeeze the circulation out of his arms.

He's so focused on rocking your world (and his own) that he doesn’t realize what you’re about to do.

He’s deep inside you when you brush your hand along his jaw and utter the truth.

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Alec pauses. 

Both of you are breathing hard, but the fact that he doesn’t say anything makes you freeze. Neither of you have said that before. You hold in your breath. 

Alec’s pupils are blown wide as he dips down, nosing along your throat before he begins to move inside you again. You moan in response as your legs squeeze his hips. He sinks his teeth just above where your neck meets your shoulder, making you gasp and arch against him, gripping his hair tight. 

The way you’re squeezing him so tightly, from the inside out, means he reaches his shuddering end before you do, but he still makes sure you get there for a second time. His fingers reach between you to press and circle around your clit before his last few hard thrusts. It has you coiled tight, before you gasp and moan your release. 

He licks a long stripe along your neck. You hiss in pain when he laps over tender flesh. 

“Sorry,” he pants. 

“You got me good, Count Dracula,” you quip. 

Alec breathes warmly against your ear. He pulls back and examines the bite mark on your neck. He barely remembers doing it.

It’s like…some kind of claim.

Like an animal, he thinks wryly. For the first time, he wonders just what the hell they put into his cocktail at Manticore. 

He clears his throat. 

“Uh, I’m sorry,” he says, contritely. “Didn’t mean to…”

You slide your hands up his arms and catch his gaze. You smile in amusement, even though you’re blushing.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

The two of you don’t talk about what you said.

Or what he didn’t say.  

You don’t know what’s happening, but you think it stems from that night.

Alec begins to pull away from you. 

Dinner plans get “rain checked.” Trips to the farmer’s market, to the park, to Pike Place get cancelled. 

For the next few weeks, the only time you see him is at work or at Crash, or occasionally in the line for boxed and canned goods in Sector 2. 

Max can’t give you a straight answer on what’s going on with him (and really, you should be able to figure out your own boyfriend without her help). So you finally have to put your foot down.

You try to pull him aside at work, in front of the Jam Pony building. He’s on his way in, while you’d been on your way out. 

“Alec, can I talk to you?” you ask. He gives you a strained, apologetic look. 

“I’ve gotta pick up my next deliveries.”

“Alec, please,” you implore. You squeeze his arm enough to hold his attention. “I feel like…like you’re avoiding me. Is there something going on?”

His expression dims further. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“We’re always busy. That’s not it.” You frown, and your body tenses. “Is there…someone else?”

Alec briefly closes his eyes, emitting a short sigh. “No. Nothing like that.”

You let out a subtle breath of relief, because you do believe him this time. But that just makes your next question even more difficult. Your arms cross, to disguise the way you’re bracing for a figurative blow. 

“Then…have I done something wrong?” you ask. 

That hurts Alec even more. Though his training, so deeply ingrained, allows him not to show it. 

“No. No, it’s not you,” he says, wiping a hand over his mouth. “It’s… Listen, I just think we needa slow down a bit, you know?”

“Slow down?” you ask. A trill of panic laces down your spine. “Is it about…what I said?”

Alec doesn’t want to answer, but you both know then that you’ve hit the nail on the head. 

“I just need some space,” he says. “I think it’ll be better for both of us.”

“Really?” you ask. Your voice flattens, and hot tears well up in your eyes.

It threatens to undo him. Somehow, he’s able to hold firm in what he believes he has to do, in order to protect you. Even from himself.

Alec reaches for your cheek. He hesitates just slightly, but he drops a kiss on your forehead.

You don’t want to let him. You can’t help it though; you savor his touch. You feel his warm lips on your skin, and then he’s gone by the time you open your eyes.  

A few days later, you still feel like hell. You manage to reach your locker and you lean against it. Your stomach churns with nausea—the constant sign of your stress as you try to get through your morning.  

On the TV, some government agent is exposing a genetics company called Manticore. That it created “transgenic” subjects as genetically engineered soldiers, often using animal DNA. They escaped almost a year ago now.

They’re not human. They’re living among you. They’re dangerous, and you have a right to be scared.

You’re only half-listening, because the truth is, this sounds like a bunch of fearmongering bullshit, and you’re too tired to be all that alarmed. Humans are dangerous enough, as far as you’re concerned.

The government is probably trying to cover up something even more heinous by concocting this ridiculous story.

You rest your cheek against the cool metal of your locker and just stand there for a while in time in space. You don’t care much about the world around you, until Max comes into your line of vision. She touches your arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.” A vast overstatement, though you know that you aren’t convincing anyone.

You look up just in time to see Alec standing at his own locker. He’d been glancing at you and Max, but being caught by your gaze makes him turn away, closing his locker as he leaves.

Max’s lips press together. She returns her attention to you in thinly veiled concern.

“What happened exactly?” she asks.

“Max, I don’t know,” you confess. “Things were fine. They were good.” 

You let out a deep, exhausted breath.

Oh yeah, you haven’t been sleeping much lately either. 

“Deep in my gut, I have this feeling. Like he’s going through something,” you say. “Or he’s hiding something from me. He just won’t talk to me. Every time it feels like we’re headed somewhere good, solid, he pulls away. I can’t fucking do it anymore, Max. I just can’t take it.”

You slam your locker closed and try to get on with your day before your tears fall. Max sighs and watches you go.

She doesn’t know that you head to the bathroom and heave your breakfast into the toilet bowl, spilling what little you could keep down this morning.

You haven’t been sighted at Crash in weeks, but Alec comes here every night, Max notices. He drinks alone tonight, once again looking more woe is me than ever.

It boils her blood.

She takes a seat next to him and punches his arm with a heavy dose of her transgenic strength. Alec flinches with a cry of protest, but she just glares at him.

“Why are you doing this to her? To yourself?” she demands. 

Alec wants to glare at her, but he doesn’t have it in him. He just quirks his head and sips his drink. He doesn’t even know what kind of liquor this is, but the bartender promised it’s the strongest thing he has back there.

“Leave it alone, Maxie,” Alec says, as he takes a sip. Though strongest be damned, he’s slammed down four of these and he’s still not drunk. Ain’t that a bitch.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“I don’t?” Max raises her brows. “You’re fucking with her head and her heart. And for what? So you can have a little pity party?”

Alec does glare at her this time. “You know what, why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Not until you tell me,” she demands. “Why’re you pushing away someone who clearly cares about you? Not that I get why. If this selfish, pigheaded, asshole behavior is supposed to be charming, then maybe she’s better off without you.”

He slams down his glass hard enough for liquor to slosh out over his hand. 

“Don’t you get it?! That’s exactly it,” he hisses, low enough that only the two of them can hear. “When are you going to understand that we’re a threat to them? We’re being hunted every damn day. You think Ames White and his cult cronies’ll think twice about a little collateral damage?”

“Alec—”

“You think you and Logan are any different?” he adds. “Let me remind you, you were a danger to him even before a genetically engineered virus came into the picture.”

She’s angry, but he knows she can’t argue with logic. They both know that Alec is speaking from a place of experience. 

“So you’re just gonna break her heart?” she asks. “Again?”

Alec shakes his head and casts his gaze down into brown liquor. Max leans toward him with a steely glower. 

“You’re a coward,” she says, before she slips away. 

Alec wipes his wet hand on his jeans.

…Maybe she’s right, he thinks. You’ll probably end up regretting the day you ever met him, but at least you’ll be alive to hate him.

“Oh God,” you utter, a hand covering your mouth. 

You haven’t been to the doctor in several years, but you managed to scrape enough money together to afford this little test. It gave you a more definitive answer on why you’ve spent the last few weeks fighting sickness and fatigue in equal measure. 

How could this have happened? You were on birth control. What could possibly have…

You don’t know what possesses you to go hunting for the little round packet in the medicine cabinet. You examine its contents and confirm that you haven’t missed even one pill of your pharmacy-issued birth control.

On the bottom of the packet, however, you spy something small in the fine print: EXP – 02/2017.

Expired…THREE YEARS AGO?!  

Apparently, you can’t put it past pharmacies to sell outdated meds now.

You sit alone on your couch in silence for nearly an hour. You run down every scenario, every path you could possibly take and try to consider its most likely outcome.

Medical care is a joke nowadays, unless you're still part of the wealthy 1%. That also includes...termination.

Even you did try to find a way to do it, somehow scrounging up the money to end this, the thought alone makes your heart ache.

Alec is young, and so are you. You two had barely been together for six months before he basically broke up with you, and you're not even sure how he'll react when you tell him. (At this point, you don't have high hopes.)

And yet, it hurts. What you'd told Original Cindy was the truth; you want a family. You're tired of being alone, even though the two options laid out before you scare you in equal measure.

A thousand thoughts are still running through your mind, contradicting each other with brutal logic, versus what your heart tells you. But one decision is certain...

You need to talk to Alec first.

You wait until the morning at Jam Pony HQ, when you’ve settled your nerves enough to see Alec. 

He never shows up for work, even an hour into shift. Damn it.

Okay, you suppose you’ll have to do this another way. You grab your phone, and you call him. 

Thankfully, he picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, a bit awkwardly. The two of you haven’t spoken in nearly a month. 

“What’s up?” He doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds guarded, almost hesitant.

“We need to talk, Alec.”

He blows out a sigh. “Look, I haven’t changed my mind.”

You swallow past the pain.

“I know," you dully reply. "It’s not about that, but this isn’t a conversation I want to have digitally.”

“...Okay,” he relents, with another sigh. He sounds a bit distracted. “Uh, I’m taking care of something right now, but I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you stop by my place after work?”

You nod. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

Of course, it’s hard to focus on your work after that. You wonder how many months you have until you can’t work anymore. Until you’ll have to fend for yourself…and for your child. 

With or without Alec, you plan to do whatever it takes.

So you do your best, as you always do, to get through your day. You fight exhaustion and nausea and anxiety with every delivery, but at the end of the day, you have a clipboard full of signatures and a clean docket.

You leave right at 7:00 p.m. to head over to Alec’s apartment. You use your spare key to unlock the door and find the apartment shrouded in darkness. You flip on the closest light switch before you turn to shut and lock the door behind you. 

The door pushes open abruptly. 

It knocks straight into you and throws you off your feet. You crash with a pained cry into a wooden table, knocking off a half-empty glass of whiskey that cuts into your arm when it breaks. 

A pair of strong hands take hold of you and haul you up, spinning you around. You stare up with wide eyes into the face of a man you think you’ve actually seen before. He’s tall, white, dark hair, piercing eyes.

On the news, you realize. You saw him on the news.

“Where is 494?” he demands to know.

You blink in confusion and fear. “What?”

The man rolls his eyes.

“Alec McDowell,” he says.

Your breath stills in your lungs.

“Why’re you looking for him?” you ask. “You…you work for the government.”

“That’s right.” His smile is thin. “It’s a federal matter. And I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”

His grip on your arm tightens enough to make you whimper.

“I don’t know where he is,” you blurt out. Mostly because it’s the truth.

He raises a brow. “He lives here, doesn’t he?” 

You refuse to answer, but the man lowers his gun and seats you forcefully on the couch. 

“Then we’ll wait.”

Minutes turn to an hour. Alec’s late—a fact you’re half relieved about, and half cursing him for. You turn to the man who holds you at gunpoint without even looking at you. Though you instinctively know that any attempts to run will be short-lived. 

His men wait by the door with guns at the ready. 

“Who are you?” you ask. 

The man turns his head and gives you a cold smile. “Agent White, at your service.”

“Okay, Agent White. Why are you after Alec?”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for him for a long time,” he says. 

You frown, with pursed lips. “Why? What do you think he’s done?”

“It’s not what he’s done. It’s what he is,” White says. “Him, and everyone like him.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” you snap.

White rolls his eyes. He lets out a sharp sigh before he stands. He grabs you up along with him. Fear churns inside you, tightening in your throat. 

“I have a better idea,” White says. “Instead of using you as leverage to make him come quietly, I think I’ll just let him walk in, nice and easy. He’ll find you gutted. On the floor. And then I’ll do the same to him.”

Frightened tears well up in your eyes when his grip moves and tightens on your jaw, like he’s thinking about breaking your neck. 

“Wait, please!” you plead. “I’m pregnant!”

White actually pauses, tilting his head. He smiles.

“Interesting.”

AN: Ames White has entered the chat...

EDIT (2-05-24): I made some edits here on the reader's thoughts of what she should do after her discovery. In hindsight, I realized I'd left out some aspects of the world. Specifically how access to medical care would influence her decision vs. what this particular character wants for herself.

Next Time:

“Hello, 494.” A man’s voice—one that Alec would know anywhere. It prickles his skin with unease and makes his blood boil all at once.

“Ames White.” Alec’s teeth grind. “What game are you playing now?”

“This isn’t a game. It’s business,” White claims. “I have something you want. How much are you willing to pay to make sure she stays alive?”

Alec forces himself to calm down, even though his pulse is racing.

“What do you want?”

“You. And 452. With no bullshit on your end,” the agent replies. “Or this girl is going to pay that price for you.”

Keep Reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions

[aryastarkthelittleshewolf11]

Pack: Ned’s Men (Jory & Harwin)

Arya’s description of them at Winterfell -

Jory had always smiled at her, when he wasn’t telling her to get from underfoot. - Arya III, ASOS

“Harwin?” Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen’s son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. - Arya II, ASOS

Relationship & Caring for Arya -

Arya stood in the centre of the room, alone but for Jory Cassel - Eddard III,GOT

Ned could see Arya tense in Jory’s arms. Jory spoke up quickly. “We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace.” - Eddard GOT

“We all lie,” her father said. “Or did you truly think I’d believe that Nymeria ran off?” Arya blushed guiltily. “Jory kept his word,” her father said with a smile. - Arya II, GOT

“[…]There were other wolves for her to play with, we heard them howling, and Jory said the woods were full of game, so she’d have deer to hunt.[…]” - Arya II, GOT

His eyes went wide. “Gods be good,” he said in a choked voice. “Arya Underfoot? Lem, let go of her.” […] “The Hand’s daughter.” Harwin went to one knee before her. “Arya Stark, of Winterfell.” - Arya II, ASOS

She missed him (Hot Pie) more than she thought she would, but Harwin made up for it some. […] , but she left out the stableboy she’d stabbed with Needle, and the guard whose throat she’d cut to get out of Harrenhal. Telling Harwin would be almost like telling her father, and there were some things that she could not bear having her father know. - Arya III, ASOS

“[…] For every man we lost, two showed up to take his place. A few were knights or squires, of gentle birth, but most were common men - field hands and fiddlers and innkeeps, servents and shoemakers, even two septons. Men of all sorts , and women too, children, dogs…” “Dogs?” said Arya. “Aye,” Harwin grinned. “One of our lads keeps the meanest dogs you’d ever want to see.” “I wish I had a good mean dog,” said Arya wistfully. - Arya III ASOS

Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. - Arya III, ASOS

“We have sore need of horses, milady. Armor as well. Swords, shields, spears. All things coin can buy. Aye, and seed for planting, Winter is coming, remember?” He touched her under the chin. - Arya IV, ASOS

Gendry took one look and laughed so hard that wine came out his nose, until Harwin gave him a thwack alongside his ear. - Arya IV, ASOS

“You get away from them, boy — “ “She’s a girl,” said Harwin. “Leave her be.” […] The bars were too narrow to pass a cup through, but Harwin and Gendry offered her a leg up. - Arya V, ASOS

Betrayal of Trust -

They’d been her friends, she’d felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They’d let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but the Hound found Mycah. […] And no one raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold […] , or Jory who was captain of the guard. - Arya II, GOT

The look she gave him was full of hurt. “I thought you were my father’s man.” “Lord Eddard’s dead, milady. I belong to the lightning lord now, and to my brothers.” - Arya III, ASOS

“End” -

Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. “Jaime Lannister murdered Jory, and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have behead them.” - Sansa III , GOT

Whirling, she broke for the door, and when Harwin tried to grab her arm she spun away from him quick as a snake. […] Someone was shouting her name, Harwin probably, or Gendry, but the thunder drowned the out […] - Arya VIII