#so i open the fridge. put beer in the bottom drawer.

[byechristopher]

Quiet.

– MATT STURNIOLO SMUT.

Author's note: Y'ALL. Shout-out to my Matt girls. This is my first Matt fic ever. I love everything about this fic – I love when women get ready when their crush MIGHT be there, I fucking love petnames and I feel like Matt definitely uses a lot too, I love movie nights and Matt would definitely finger his girl under the covers, I love dom but gentle Matt. I love it. Bye. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: long and filthy smut. Minors dni! Semi-public?, fingering, petnames, dom!Matt. Didn't proofread!

"So, can you swing by?" I hear my friend's voice through the phone.

"Absolutely. Heading to the market in a bit, grabbing some beers, and I'll be at your place by 9PM. Sound good?" I reply, rummaging through every drawer to find my wallet.

"Perfect, babes. See you there!" she says. After exchanging greetings, I hang up, sliding my phone into the back pocket of my pants.

Considering Matthew freaking Sturniolo will be there, I'm already dressed with makeup on, not wanting to waste a single second; I aim to be there ASAP.

Not that I'm trying to impress Matt (yes I am), but there's been a thing between us (I refuse to call it a "situationship") since we all started hanging out. I've been part of that friend group for nearly two years now, and from the moment I joined, Matt started being quite flirty. And ever since then, we just casually flirt, make-out, have sex.. very casual.

Now, after a few weeks of not seeing each other (though we talk on the phone almost daily), I want to be my best self. I've done my skincare, enjoyed a three-hour-long bath, styled my hair in loose curls, put on comfy clothes – the whole shebang. If I've done this for nothing, I'll scream. Internally.

None of this matters now, because I am outside my friend's apartment, clutching the paper bag of beers in one hand and my scarf in the other one. I knock on the door, patiently waiting but instead of my friend, of course it's Matt who opens it, dressed in his signature black hoodie, black jeans, his usual chain dangling around his neck and his usual rings decorating his fingers. He looks.. delicious.

"Didn't expect me to open the door." it's more of a statement than a question, so I smile and nod.

"Not really, no." I chuckle, not moving an inch.

"You told me you'd be here by 9. So I'm here." he says with that captivating voice, taking a step closer, slowly pulling the door handle without closing it.

Cupping my cheek, he moves in, rubbing my bottom lip with his thumb, gently 1smudging my lipgloss before leaning in for a kiss. I release my scarf to grab his free hand, tugging on his fingertips as I reciprocate the kiss.

"You look pretty." he whispers against my lips and I smile.

Before entering, I pause him, rubbing his lips with my thumb to remove my lipgloss from them. Chuckling at his knowing stare, I say, "come on, let's go!" gently pushing him inside.

God help me, he smells amazing.

After greeting everyone and putting the beers inside the fridge, I take off my scarf and my coat, heading to the kitchen again so I can help with the snacks and the beers.

"Guys, I'm sorry in advance but you're probably going to freeze your ass off. Something's wrong with the heating so I'll just give y'all a ton of blankets." our friend apologises but we all brush it off.

"Bitch, we used to hang out in dark alleys in WINTER when we were younger, literally shut up. We can take it." another friend says, rolling her eyes and I laugh. We are all living the same lives, it seems.

After deciding which movie we will watch, with the snacks and the drinks on the table and the blankets ready to provide us with warmth, we were finally ready. I did have my eye on Matt so of course, when he patted the spot next to him on the small settee while looking at me with a smile, I almost ran to make sure I secure my place next to him.

The movie has started already, Matt is sitting next to me and we have two blankets covering us – his hand is on my thigh and my thigh is over his leg. His thumb is rubbing my leg through my pants and it's much more distracting than I could ever imagine. I do make sure to curl up against his side and he smiles, making sure the blankets are covering me properly.

Not even fifteen minutes have passed and I already feel the need to pee; that goddamn wine. I excuse myself and practically run to the bathroom, only to come back a few minutes later to see Matt almost laying on that settee. All the lights are closed but I know he can kind of see my reflection because of the big TV screen, so he can see the question marks all over my face – where the hell am I gonna seat?

He smiles and he pushes the blankets to the side, sitting up a bit and spreading his legs so I can sit in between them.

Well, fuck.

Sitting down in between his legs, I grab his thighs to support myself and make sure my whole back is pressed against him, leaning back to practically lay on his chest. I pull the blankets over us and he pecks the top of my head, almost as if it was a reward.

Seeing where all of this is going, I thank whoever is up there because our friends are quite far from us, all fully facing the TV. Matt quickly wraps his arms around my waist, resting them on my belly and I can feel how cold his hands are even through my shirt. Minutes go by and I can feel Matt playing with my shirt, his cold fingertips already touching my bare skin, raising goosebumps on it. He drags his short fingernails up and down my sides, making me smile because he knows I like that.

His hands slowly drag themselves up, pulling my shirt over my chest, my breasts now free, "love when you're not wearing a bra." he whispers in my ear and I chuckle.

My hands are on his knees and his hands are on my breasts, cupping them and caressing them, pressing small kiss on my neck, "you smell amazing.." he whispers, "do you think you can be quiet for me, pretty?" he pecks the tip of my ear.

"Yes, Matt.." I whisper back, getting comfortable on his chest, still pretending to watch that movie.

His hands are massaging my breasts, rubbing and pinching my nipples with his long fingers, tugging on them every now and then – it is hard to keep quiet but I've done this many times, I'm sure I can handle it.

Sitting with bent knees now, he hums, pressing another rewarding kiss on the top of my head, "keep playing with your tits for me, hm? I'm gonna take care of you." he whispers and I want to moan just by the words he says.

I nod and cup my breasts instead, massaging them gently as I feel his hands moving down to my thighs – he massages them and spreads my legs open gently, placing his legs on my feet to keep my legs in place. I feel his fingertips hooking around the waistband of my pants and panties, gently pulling them down as I slowly raise my hips to make it easier for him.

"You have to be very quiet now, okay?" he says and I immediately nod, desperately needing him to touch me there, "tease your nipples. I want to see you struggling." he chuckles, keeping me close to him.

I gently hit his leg and he can't help but laugh – I keep teasing my nipples, just like he ordered, keeping my eyes to the television even though I can feel his fingers dangerously close to where I need him the most. Finally, one of his fingers gently touch my clit, rubbing in circle motions as his breath fans over my ear together with the softest moans. I can feel him dragging his finger down, only to chuckle at how wet it is down there – I almost whine.

"God, I wanna taste you. You're so wet." he whispers and circles my entrance, collecting my juices and focusing back on my clit.

"Matty.. please.." I whisper back, my hands now leaving my sensitive breasts, grabbing his thighs instead.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he says and gently slaps my pussy, making me gasp softly.

I couldn't speak – all I can think about is his fingers inside of me. But I feel like if I open my mouth now, I won't be able to keep my moans in. I buck my hips, needing to feel more pressure on my clit but he's having none of it. He pushes my hips down and flicks my clit in the softest way possible, which makes me want to cry.

"You know how it goes. Use your words." he uses two other fingers to spread my pussy, making it easier for him to rub my clit with his middle finger.

"Please.. Matty.. I need.. your fingers inside of me.." I beg between shaky breaths, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"See?" he kisses the side of my head, "there's my good girl." he says and just by that, I almost lose it. But then he finally pushes a finger inside of me and I have to cover my mouth with the blankets.

His middle finger pushes in and out of my wetness and I squeeze my eyes shut, really trying not to let out the moans that have been threatening to come out this whole time. His other arm is wrapped around me, keeping me in place as he rubs my clit and fingers me at the same time with his other hand.

"I'm going to add another finger, baby. I need you to keep that pretty mouth closed, yeah?" he warns – the hand that was gripping my waist is now keeping my mouth closed, I nod anyway.

He slowly takes his finger out and instead, he rubs my entrance with two fingers. He gently pushes and I wince softly in his hand, "you can take it, baby, shhh." he whispers and I really need to fucking moan now. He finally pushes both of his fingers inside of me and I want to cry from how good it feels. My nails dig into his thighs and luckily (for him), he's wearing jeans otherwise it would definitely leave a mark.

He starts moving them in and out, slowly, still covering my mouth under the blankets with his other hand as his lips move to my neck. He starts sucking on the skin, licking it and biting it as he pushes his fingers inside till he's knuckles-deep.

"I wish I could kiss you right now – the way you would moan into my mouth trying to kiss back, turns me on." he takes my earlobe in between his lips, gently sucking on it.

His fingers start moving at a much faster pace and I'm sure that if the TV wasn't this loud, everyone would hear the noises my pussy makes from how wet he made me. He curls his fingers inside of me and I close my eyes, really struggling to keep my mouth closed now, "pretty girl. Do you think you can take a third finger?"

I wrap my fingers around his wrist and slowly move his hand away from my mouth, letting him know I have my moans a little bit under control now (not even close), "please, Matt.. I need it.." I whisper, my voice is trembling. Still, I grab his free hand and pull it closer to me, taking a finger into my mouth and I can feel his bulge against my back.

"Darling, don't do that.." he warns, "or I'll have to fuck you in front of everyone." he whispers and bites my neck.

Finally, he's pushing a third finger inside and I really need to cry. He's finger-fucking me at a fast pace, he's being rough but gentle at the same time, it's overwhelming, "touch yourself, baby. And don't stop."

I quickly move my free hand, rubbing my own clit gently as he fucks me with force – I am so close and he knows it, I can feel myself clenching around his fingers.

"Matty.. Matt.. fuck, I'm – please.." I am almost completely under the covers because I can try to keep my moans in, but my expression definitely cannot be hidden.

"Are you going to cum for me, baby? Come on. Come on my fingers." he's so gentle when he speaks but his fingers are merciless, and that contrast is what drives me over the edge.

"That's it, baby.. that's it." he whispers and I finally cum, trembling a little but I try not to make it so obvious.

He takes his fingers out slowly, caressing my legs in order for me to calm down before he brings them close to his mouth, licking them clean, "when this movie is over, you're leaving with me. I'm eating you out in my car."

He drives me crazy.

[talkfastromance4]

Watermelon Sugar–Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 3.3k

warnings: some body insecurity, brief smut scene

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

Jake told you about the bbq pool party happening on July 4th, he really did, but you were nervous for two reasons; you didn’t have a suit and you were anxious for him to see you in one. While you were having breakfast on the patio the day before, he was going over how he’d be gone shortly in the morning to do a flyover at the base but then he’d be back at eleven with the others. He insisted you invite Brynne, Serena and Dom but Dom always heads back home to spend the holiday weekend with his family. 

“I think I’ve got all your favorite foods for tomorrow, and some hard seltzers in the fridge by the bar. Is there anything else you need?” he asked and you bit your lip. “What is it, Sugar?”

“I don’t have a nice suit to wear,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“No big deal, let’s go shopping,” he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and pulled away from the table. 

“No, wait–” you grabbed hold of his forearm, he looked down at you. “Can–can I go by myself?”

He opened his mouth but then closed it. “Sure. I’ll have Reynolds take you. Buy a suit for every day of the week, okay?” He kissed your hand that was on his arm. 

So you did, you bought the ones that made you feel good in them and decided to wear a blue two-piece with white stars. You also bought a blue wrap to wear over it as a safety blanket when you were in front of Jake. Jake kissed you goodbye before he left to fly and you slept for another hour before getting up and getting ready. 

You’ve just finished putting on red lipstick that matches the red ribbon tied in your hair when Jake gets home. His flight suit is tied around his waist, his hair still a little sweaty and his aviators are hanging off his nose. 

“Don’t you look pretty,” he smiles, tossing his keys and wallet on his dresser. You’ve moved all your makeup stuff in his room, he bought a vanity for you to use along with the makeup you use and a bunch of stuff you’ve only dreamt about using. 

“You look hot, I mean–” you shake your head, “you’re sweaty.” He smirks at your comment but doesn’t really acknowledge it.

“Yeah, it’s a scorcher out there,” he says, sifting through his drawers for an American flag style swim trunks. “Make sure to put on sunscreen. Everyone should be here in an hour.”

“Okay…do you need my help with anything?”

“All taken care of, Sugar. Too bad you’re all dolled up, was gonna see if you’d want to save on water and take a shower with me.” He stands in front of you, tracing the contour of your face with his fingers until they’re under your chin. He tilts your head up. 

You shift in your chair making sure your wrap is covering you. Jake notices, his brows furrowing but again, he doesn’t say anything. You’re thankful for that. 

“Maybe next time,” you finally respond coyly. 

“Okay, Sugar,” his thumb drags over your bottom lip. “I love this color red on you.” 

And then he’s gone heading towards his bathroom singing the chorus to ‘Danger Zone’ before shutting the door. 

***

The party is in full swing and you feel a little more at ease when Serena and Brynne arrive. They gushed about your new suit and admired the other ones you bought. As soon as the three of you entered the pool area, Rooster smiled at Serena who quickly went over to him by the pool. He was standing on the first step, beer in hand and a bucket hat on his head. 

“He better ask for her number today, or Dom is gonna kick his ass,” Brynne sighs watching your friend flirt with the pilot. 

“He hasn’t yet?”

“Nope. And S keeps dropping hints but he’s oblivious.”

“I’ll say something to Jake. I know Rooster’s crazy about her,” you smile then notice Phoenix by the bar. She keeps glancing at Brynne while talking with Bob, her eyes traveling over Brynne’s cherry red suit. “Hey, Brynne, have you met Natasha yet?”

You take Brynne’s hand dragging her around the pool towards the bar and in front of Bob and Natasha. 

“Hey guys, this is Brynne. My friend and coworker. Brynne, this is Bob and Natasha,” you introduce. Brynne’s eyes glitter when she meets Natasha’s and they shake hands and Natasha offers to get her a drink. 

They move to the other end of the bar initiating small talk and that makes you happy. Warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and hot lips are on your cheek in a kiss. 

“Hey Sugar, are you thirsty?”

You nod and he moves behind the bar to get one of your hard seltzers, he pops the tab and slips it inside a coozie. He adds a steel straw then hands it to you.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” he asks taking a pull from his own beer. 

“Umm…” you suck on your straw, eyes downcast. 

“Let’s put some on before you go in the pool,” he pats the side of your hip affectionately. “C’mon.”

“Jake, I–”

He gives you no choice and tugs you along towards the house. Coyote and Payback say hello to you, they’re seated on the lounge chairs discussing something about football. Fanboy is relaxing in the sun. 

The cool air feels good from the dry heat outside as you enter the house, Jake still leading you through the house and into the bathroom on the first floor near the laundry room. He opens the closet grabbing a tube of sunscreen. 

“I can put it on myself,” you say quietly, arms crossed over your chest making sure the wrap is still secure around you. 

“I can get your back,” he smiles clicking the top open. “And you can rub my back, too.”

“Jake, I don’t–” you cover your face with your hands. 

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” 

You shake your head, eyes closed. 

“Sugar, talk to me please. What’s wrong?”

“I’m self-conscious,” you mutter. 

“Self-conscious of what?” he takes hold of your hands and you let him remove them from your face. You open your eyes to stare at your joined hands between you. 

“Of how I look. I’m not tall and toned like Serena is and I don’t have the nice curves like Brynne does…I’m…I’m not–”

“y/n, look at me,” his voice is soft. You force your eyes up, his thumbs are rubbing the backs of your hands. “You’re beautiful, exactly the way you are. Your height, your size, your curves, all of it. I told you you’ve been tempting me since day one and I mean it, you don’t even realize how much. If you don’t want to take off your wrap yet, that’s fine, I’ll get Serena to come and help you.”

“No, she’s busy with Rooster,” you shake your head. You take a deep breath. “You can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod removing your hands from his. Your eyes stare at his white tank top covered chest as your fingers untie the wrap. You continue to stare at the center of his chest as you pull it off your shoulders and he remains silent. 

“Damn,” he breathes and you finally look up at his face. His green eyes are widening as he moves over your suit. “As I live and breathe, darlin’ you sure are a sight for sore eyes.”

Your cheeks are burning from revealing your suit and from his words. He reaches behind you to get the sunscreen and he pops it open again. He starts at your shoulders, making sure to rub it in under the straps and over the hills of your breasts. Your heart is hammering and you wonder if he can feel it. His fingers tickle your stomach as he rubs in lotion there, and goosebumps appear when he gets the sides. 

“Can you turn around for me?” he asks softly and you do. He squirts more lotion on his hand and starts at your shoulders.

You watch him in the mirror, his face in concentration and you avoid your own gaze in the mirror. He moves your hair over your shoulder and you feel his hand slip down behind the clasp at the center of your back. 

“Here,” you murmur and unhook it so the only thing holding your suit up are your hands cupping it to your breasts. Your eyes meet in the mirror, questions burning in both of your gazes but neither of you voices them as he continues to spread sunscreen on your back. 

Did his hands get hotter? You try to concentrate on your breathing, the tips of his fingers dip a little below the waistband of your bottoms. More goosebumps, more heat. Part of you wants to remove your top and see what happens, part of you wants him to do it. 

To your surprise, Jake hooks the clasp back together and brings your hair back into place. 

“Can you do me now?” he asks your reflection. 

You nod as you readjust  your breasts in your suit so they’re more fitted and you can see Jake watches your every move. The way he’s looking at you fills you with a bit more confidence each time. When you pick up the lotion bottle he yanks off his tank top and turns around, you choke on the air you’re breathing because he’s so tan and muscular. He has freckles on his shoulders and a small birthmark on the very low part of his back. It looks like a heart. 

You squire the lotion in your palm and then swipe your hand over his whole back. His muscles tightened and you were mesmerized by the strength of them as you rub in the sunscreen. You make sure to get his shoulders and up into his neck. Your hand curves with his spine as you go lower and get the sides of his stomach. Without even thinking, your nail traces over that birthmark, Jake takes a deep breath. 

“Okay, turn around,” you say. 

When he does, he crowds your space, his arms caging you in between him and the counter.

“I already got my stomach, can you put some on my nose?” he asks scrunching his nose in indication. 

“Yeah,” you bite your lip and put a little more on your two fingers. You stroke your fingers over his nose and onto his chin, pressing the excess under his eyes and onto his ears. When you’re finished, you keep his face held in your hands.

You stare at each other for a second before lips are on lips and you’re somehow on the counter with your legs wrapped around his waist. His body is hard and hot and muscled against yours, his hands pulling you into him, your back bowing so you’re as close as you can be. Your fingers are in his hair and he moves one hand to cup and squeeze your breast. You moan into his mouth and then he shifts the suit down, his thumb and forefinger tweaking your nipple. You moan again and Jake moves his kisses down your jaw and to your neck and then his mouth is covering your breast. 

His mouth is hot and his tongue is slick and wet as it circles over your nipple. His teeth dig into the swell of your breast while his tongue flicks and presses on your bud. 

“Jake,” you sigh falling against the mirror watching through hooded eyes as he opens his. He keeps his gaze on you as he shifts to your other breast, his hand yanking the suit down. He doesn’t close his eyes until his mouth is on you again, a contented sigh coming from him and you keep your fingers curled in his hair. 

The noises he makes as he suckles on you electrifies your blood cells and you need him closer. It’s when you start to grind your hips against him that you yank on his head. His mouth releases your breast with a pop and his eyes are bright green. 

“We haven’t–we shouldn’t–” you’re panting trying to get the words out because so many thoughts are racing through your mind. 

You’ve opened up to him more, you’re more comfortable with him, you’re sleeping in his bed more frequently but the paperwork and Betty’s health are at the forefront. This is just an arrangement, he’s said you tempt him and he’s been tempting you a lot more too lately. 

“You’re right,” he nods but peppers kisses along your breasts before tucking them back into your suit. “We have guests. I got carried away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No need to be sorry, Sugar,” he smiles crookedly and shifts on his feet. “I need a few minutes before I can go back out there.”

Your eyes immediately fly down to his waist where you can see a bulge over the stars and stripes of his suit. 

“Oh. Oops,” you bite your lip trying to hide your smile.

“Yeah, oops,” he murmurs, tugging your lip from your teeth into a kiss. He groans when you kiss him back excitedly. “Okay, trouble, time to head out before we’re discovered.”

“You’re the troublemaker,” you tease hopping down from the sink. You pick up your wrap and adjust yourself again. 

***

You went back outside and stepped into the pool water, you also needed to cool down after what you and Jake did. The rest were in the pool and Jake jumped in with a big splash then took you in his arms. Rooster started to complain he was hungry an hour later. You were the only one left in the pool floating on one of the floaties Jake bought special for the day.

Rooster and Serena were sitting on the pool steps and Brynne and Phoenix were sitting on the edge talking. You watched Jake as he gathered all of the grill stuff, and he even put on an apron that said ‘Kiss the Chef’. You suck on your drink through your straw watching his arms flex as he cleans the grill, a sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders. 

You slip off the floaty and exit the pool just as Serena and Rooster wade in deeper, their fingers loosely linked. Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk towards him, water rolling over your body and when you’re close enough you lean up and peck his lips softly. His eyes flutter and he grins.

“What was that for?” 

“Your apron says to kiss the chef, so I did,” you giggle and finish off your drink. 

“I’ll kiss you too, Hangman,” Roster makes kissy noises behind you.

“Hard pass, Bradshaw. Go get your kabobs, man,” then he turns his attention back on you. “Did you put more sunscreen on?”

“Yeah, but it won’t work. I’ll still burn,” you shrug then turn around but Jake swats at your ass and you yelp. 

You grab another seltzer and the start taking pictures with Serena, Brynne and Phoenix. Jake and Bradley look your way when you all squeal as Coyote does a cannonball in the water. Phoenix and Brynne exit the pool getting cozy at the bar, Brynne even kisses Phoenix’s cheek for a picture.

“That’s good, Brynne is chill compared to the last girl Phoenix was with,” Jake comments.

“Yeah, your Sugar sure is sweetening up our group, ain’t she?” Rooster nudges Jake’s shoulder then goes over to Serena who is struggling with her beer bottle. 

When Jake has the food on the grill, he retreats inside to grab the extra plate of watermelon Rhea had cut up for the day. Jake always makes sure she spends holidays with her own family and he brought the plate out to you. You snatch a piece and take a bite, the juice dribbles down your chin and into your cleavage. You hold the piece up to Jake and he takes a bite, juice dribbling down his chin as well. 

You giggle then lean on the pool edge to swipe it from his lips. You suck it off your thumb.

“See, you’re trouble,” he cocks his head to the side and starts to stand.

“Leave the watermelon,” you tell him and snatch the floaty. You climb back on and make grabby hands for the plate which he hands you. “Thank you.”

The food is great as you all sit down to eat it and then Rooster runs off to grab the fireworks he brought. He sets them up with the help of Bob. Jake hands you some water because all you’ve had all afternoon are seltzers. The dry heat is really getting to you and your suit is starting to feel uncomfortable which only means one thing.

You’ve got a sun burn. 

You sit on Jake’s lap as Bob sets the fireworks off and you start to shiver now that the sun is no longer in the sky. Rooster and Serena were making out as the fireworks lit up the sky. You remember to tell Jake that Serena wants Bradley to ask for her number. 

“He’s an idiot, he has no game,” Jake shakes his head, “I’ll tell him.”

Everyone is gone by eleven o’clock and Jake tuts when he sees how red you are as you remove your makeup in his bathroom. 

“Sugar, you’re so sunburnt. You didn’t put more on after I did it for you, did you?”

“I did, I swear! But I told you…sunscreen doesn’t work on me for some reason,” you flinch when you dry your face off with the towel. 

He sighs heavily. “Take a cool shower and I’ll put aloe on you.”

You do what he says and it hurts when you put on the satin pajama set. The straps are thin but hit your burning skin in just the right way. When you exit the bathroom, Jake is already showered and tugging on the draw strings of his basketball shorts. 

“C’mere my little tomato,” he gestures to his bed and you crawl on it delicately. You lay down and lift your shorts up higher on your thighs and the bottom of your shirt. “Sugar…”

“Put it on please,” your body trembles as you shiver some more. Being in the heat all day is finally escaping you as you’re in the controlled temperature of the house. 

Jake rubs it on your thighs first, the cooling sensation of the aloe feels wonderful. It’s colder on your stomach, his fingers brush the underside of your boobs but you’re in too much pain to really get excited about it. 

“You’re gonna have to take your top off so it doesn’t cling to your skin, that’s not going to feel good,” he shakes his head. “You don’t have to sleep in here if you’re uncomfortable–”

“No, can I please? Your sheets are cooler than mine,” you pout and sit up delicately. 

“Of course you can,” he smiles gently. You begin to lift your top off but it pinches at your shoulders and you cry out. “I got it.” 

Jake removes it as softly as he can, folds it, places it at the foot of his bed and puts more aloe on his hands. He’s gentle as he rubs it over your shoulders and down your arms. By the time he gets to your back, it’s already dried on your front. He puts some on your hands and more on your chest because that’s where it’s the worst. 

“I’m getting you SPF 100 so this doesn’t happen again.” he sets the bottle on his nightstand. Your picture in a small frame.

“It won’t work–” you start to say slipping under his sheets. 

“Yes it will. SPF 30 was no help to you, Sugar.”

You sigh as you settle into his sheets, the coolness helps with the aloe but you’re shivering like crazy. Jake grabs your hands and blows on them. 

“If you wake up and it still hurts, I’ll put more on you.”

“You don’t mind I’ll be sleeping with my top off?” your teeth chatter.

“Sugar, I wouldn’t mind if you decided to sleep nude,” he kisses your cheek and shuts the lights off.

[funnyexel]

Til’ Sea Do Us Part

Arthur Curry (Aquaman) x Black Female Reader

Summary: After being in a complicated fling with Arthur, you take a much needed vacation to clear your head. But when your vacation uncovers an unexpected surprise, what will you do once confronted?

Warning(s): L Bombs, Hair pulling, Smut, Degrading, Praise

Word Count: 4.7k

Grabbing a shirt from the big pile of clothes on your bed, you fold it up and place it in your suitcase. Packing had to be the worst part of going on any vacation, your room would always be left in a total wreck afterwards.

“Knock knock.”

You sigh, already knowing who would have the nerve to knock on your door and actually say the words 'knock, knock'.

“What.”

You say, knowing who was at your door before you ever opened it because there’s only one person who knocks like that.

“Am I disturbing you.” He pushes past you and goes to your kitchen.

“Actually, yes. You are.” He rolls his shoulders as he cracks a beer he got from your fridge.

“Too bad. What are you doing anyway.” He leans over, seeing the tornado in your room. Going in it, he immediately sees the suitcase.

“You’re leaving?” A serious statement finally leaves his mouth.

“Yeah?” You go back to folding and packing.

“Where are you going.”

He crosses his arms, demanding a response.

“Wow. You never listen to me.” You huff, being more aggressive with your clothes.

“What do you mean. Yeah I do, all the time unfortunately.” You roll your eyes, walking up to him and his arms relax at his sides.

“If you did you would know where I am going.” You shove a pair of pants into his chest, pointing to your dresser.

“Third drawer.”

“Don’t do this to me now. It had to be a while ago.”

He chugs his beer and quickly throws it away. Well to be fair, you did tell him around a month and a half ago so it has been a minute.

“A cruise. I’m going away on a cruise, Arthur.”

Done with the outfits you start packing panties and bras.

“Yeah, with your best friend. See, I do listen.” You chuckle in the slightest.

“Whatever you say.”

You take a few from your drawer and place them in two piles.

“Woah! What are you planning to do with those panties?” He points to a dark green lace panties you have in your hands.

“I’m a grown woman, Arthur.” He shakes his head and snatches your underwear.

“I’m gonna need you to keep it pg on this cruise.” He says stretching his arm up so its impossible for you to reach your underwear.

“Stop being a child and give me that.” You hold out your hand and he stares down at you not letting up.

“Come on! I don’t have time to play around, the boat is leaving this evening.”

You reach up, putting your hand on his shoulder, “Please,” You plead, he sighs and finally hands it to you.

Zipping up your suitcase, you roll it in the hallway by the front door. You shove him out your room, “Aria will literally kill me if I’m late.”

“It won’t be the end of the world.” He tries to persuade you to let him stay but you are relentless.

“No. But it will be the end of our vacation.” He turns to you in your doorway, towering over you.

“A moment can’t hurt…come on.”

He leans down mere centimeters from your lips. Temptation calls out to you, just one moment won’t hurt. You put your lips against his. A peck is all that could be managed with how fast you pulled away.

“Arthur, I can’t do this.” You keep your distance with your hand on his chest.

“What do you mean? Its a kiss.” He bites his lip, thinking about that teasing peck.

“A kiss that turns into touching, that turns into sex, that turns into you…not wanting a relationship after you rocked my world the night before,” You see the guilt in his eye,

“We tried that whole thing and it didn’t work. I know what I want and I’m not settling for less.” He runs his fingers through his hair.

“I rocked your world, huh?” He smugly says, but the unamused look on your face says that this isn’t the time to joke.

“Bottom line is, you’re not ready for commitment.” You take a deep breath, slowly closing the door on him.

“So I’m going to pack matching lace sets, short dresses and swimsuits that shouldn’t be labeled as such because I’m not casual sex, I am a person that deserves to be valued and not seen as a personal fuck toy.”

You closed the door on him, not letting him issue a response. It needs to sink in for him. You met up with Aria and got on the cruise, as soon as you both got your bags sent to your room you changed into swimsuits and lounged on the top deck by the pool.

“and I told him, I’m not casual sex, I deserve to be valued as a woman.” You tell her, taking a sip of your margarita.

“I know thats right. It was long overdue. You let him get away with too much shit.”

You take out the straw and down the drink, sighing.

“He fucks so good.” She laughs at your blunt words.

“And he can be sweet from time to time. He checks off all the boxes and I mean all.”

She opens her mouth to ask you further questions but ultimately takes you word for it. Continuing to listen you ramble on.

“He just can’t commit. Its always something and its always me!” A worker picks up your empty glass and asks if you want another.

“Pina colada with extra vodka please.” They nod to you.

“Darling, that’s just men. There’s always something wrong when you find the “perfect” guy. Whether that be snoring or in-laws. Sometimes I wonder if life was easier when we were dating women.”

She puts on her shades.

“For now lets tan or get darker in our case and we’ll continue this conversation in the room. I can feel the conservative stares.”

You chuckle at her and smile closing your eyes.A few days in and your battling a crazy hangover. You were in the Bahamas for two days, Aria had family there so she spent time with them while you recovered. You got food and everything but you stayed in the room.

“When you see him after the cruise, tell him how you feel and if he isn’t honest with you then forget him for wasting your time.”

Her words repeated in your head, thats one thing you could depend on her for. Telling you what you needed to hear, no matter how much you hated it. Looking out on the balcony from the comfort of your bed, the sun was long gone and the moon shined on the ocean. You contemplated going out to the deck party but you didn’t want to push your luck, you were convinced you were one shot away from throwing up if you didn’t recover properly.

“I guess drinking my problems away only does so much.” You smack your pillow over your face.

A banging was irritating you and the tv wasn’t doing enough. Getting out the bed you drink some water from the fridge and the banging continues, at this point it wasn’t in your head. Looking around, you figured that it was coming from the balcony door. Opening the locked door, you’re immediately backed into the room.

“I can handle those little outfits you wear but body shots is where I draw the line.” He says as he locks the door behind him.

“How did you get here?” You ask, jaw dropped.

“And you saw my story?” He looks at you from head to toe and shifts his stance.

“Of course I saw it. Me and 600 other people.” You nod.

“Why are you here? Did you get so horny, you had to track me down?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. Thats not the reason I came. I came because-“

“-Let me stop you right there. You came all this way somehow. Cut to the chase.” You tell him sternly with your finger placed against his lips, having a strong feeling he was on the verge of ranting.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, not making any moves yet.

“No, you cannot.”

Who were you kidding of course you wanted to kiss him, honestly kissing barely touched the surface of what you wanted him to do to you.

“I understand. My life was a mess the week you were away. I found out I was a potential royal air to Atlantis, my half brother reeked havoc on the surface, tried to kill me in a duel, I found my mom, became king and I had a few near death experiences on the way.”

That is hard to follow up. Staring at him, your jaw slightly drops to his summary.

“This all happened in a week?” You exclaim in clear bewilderment. Processing everything he said to you, you smile to him.

“You found your mom.”

He smirks, you know how much it means to him to finally be with his mom. He always talked about how he wanted to at least have a conversation with her, he wanted her to see his growth and now he finally has that.

“So you’re a king?” He hums to your question, “Hopefully they know what they’re in for,” He nudges you, chuckling at your remark. Noticing how close you are to him, your breathing slows.

“I thought about what you said and is that really what you think? I see you as a sex toy?” You take a steady step back, your mind sways in distaste at those words leaving his mouth.

“You can reassure me all you want but your actions say so much.”

The eye contact was intense, he was looking for a lie something that told him you were lying but there was nothing. You were telling the truth. At this he practically collapsed on the bed, his hands stabilizing himself on his knees.

“Y/n, I don’t know what to say. What can I say?” He laughs sarcastically to himself.

“I don’t see you as a sex toy. I never did. Ever. I just…I have issues and I know you deserve way better than what I have to give you. But I want you. I always did, still do and I tried to stop, move on but that didn’t work.”

He says pouring out his truth to you. You know exactly what he’s talking about. That long night you two shared together, he lost his restraint? Pushing his hair back, he watches as your face goes through so much realization at once.

“I can work on my commitment issues. I can grow, I can mature. I will do whatever I possibly can to be a fraction of the man you need.”

You’ve never heard him speak about his feelings and issues so much. When you tried he would always change the subject but he was facing it head on. Whatever he’s been through definitely changed him for the better.

“Arthur.”

His name lingers on your lips as you move closer, standing directly in front of him. Doing your best to hold back tears, you take a breath.

“I-I…” The words couldn’t manifest on your tongue as you burst into tears. Wiping the tears away, you see him staring at you and embarrassment fills your whole being.

“I’m sorry. I need a moment.” You go to the bathroom in a rush.

Looking in the mirror, you shake your head. Crying in front of him had to be a new low. In the two years, you’ve cried over the whole mess of a relationship you both had, if you can even call it that, but you never cried in front of him. At all. He sat in shock. What did he say? Did he say the wrong things? His mother told him to speak from the heart and thats what he did. The whole thing is so overwhelming. When you saw him, you were determined to break things off but now you can’t bring yourself to do it. As corny as it might sound, it would feel like a piece of you was taken if you were to do it. Pulling yourself together, you grab a tissue, open the door and there he was ready to knock.

“I’m at a lost for words,” You sniffle, blowing your nose, “I was holding onto this for two years, just to hear you say that as I was ready to break this off.” He backs up as you get out the bathroom. His face visually drained, the optimism he had before now disappeared.

“Do you mean it?” You hiccup and he perks up, “I don’t want you saying all this to get in my pants.” You point to him and he puts his hands up, shaking his head.

“I mean it. I do. Sex didn’t even cross my mind.” You grace him with a small smile, complimented with puff eyes and tear stains.

Slowly he cups your cheeks, wiping your face with his thumbs. Leaning into you, he kisses the top of your head and hugs you. Rapping your arms under his arms, he holds you tightly and close to his chest. Stroking your head.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” He mutters into your bonnet. The embrace was loving as if he was deathly afraid of losing you.

“I don’t want you to keep crying so let's stop talking about feelings for now.” You chuckle into his chest, looking up to him.

“I agree.”

You both figured things out yet tension was still in the air. Jealousy was somehow in the air. Shifting his head down, he kisses you. It’s no mediocre or shy kiss it was demanding and wanting. He was fully in the moment and so were you. Moving your arms up, you hooked them around his neck and he moved his down to your waist. Forcing his tongue in your mouth, he takes a breath through his nose. Drinking you in, squeezing your waist to make sure this moment is real. He went through so much just to recognize a great woman like you and understand not to let you go. This is the perfect moment. The moment for him to prove himself to you in this new relationship. Breaking away from the kiss, you hum as you lean your head back.

His kisses trail down your neck. Erratic patterns all over it, with the way he’s moving you know the hickeys will be more than visible even with your melanin skin. His touch is burning on your cold skin, you’re convinced steam is radiating off you with every touch and kiss.

“mm, arthur.”

You breathe out, sigh of relief leaving your lips as your shorts slide down your legs. He stops briefly, making sure you want this. Looking down to you, tenderness is seen in his eyes.

“touch me arthur.” You strip your skimpy shirt, revealing the matching set he was teasing you about.

“Keep talking to me like that and you might not like what I do.” He smiles, gripping you by the thighs and dumping you on the bed.

“This is your favorite color isn’t it?” You tempt him, the green lace on your body the physical representation of temptation.

The amount of wetness piling up in your underwear clearly amusing and exciting him as you hear a grunt rumble from his chest. Eyeing your body with a burning flame and pouncing on you, crawling on top of you. The bikini line that shows under your bra, your brown skin turning a shade darker from the sun, your tired hungover gaze and your curves. The dips on either side of your hips, the little chub on your stomach thats perfectly proportionate to your thighs and your soft shiny skin.

He notices everything, the inside of your thighs were calling to him, blinding him with the sparkly trail of wetness that left your cunt, your cute aching cunt. He shouldn’t be rewarding you, he thought, he should be punishing you for leaving him with a painful boner every time he saw you. But punishing is for another day, tonight is all about making everything up to you. Goodness are you attractive, your beauty alone makes him forget about every problem, every responsibility he has. All he thinks about is you when you’re in his view. He ran his hands over your body, soft touches from your knees to the inside of your thighs to tight squeezes at the sides of your stomach to light rubbing on your arms.

Reaching behind your back, he unclips your bra taking a good look at your breasts as he throws the clothing to the side. His hands cup your chest and you roll your eyes, slapping your hands on top of his to ensure he doesn’t move them. A cocky smirk plays at his lips as he leans down into your ear.

“tell me what you want,” he breaths lowly against your cheek, a moan falling from your lips as his knee nudges your clit.

“I want you to fuck me. Fuck me into the sheets. Please, please, pretty please.”

Your desperation meets no ends as you immediately beg him, you’ve experienced his strokes before, you know what you’re in for and thats what makes this even more of a tease.

"I guess I should give you what you want. Since you asked so nicely.”

You nod repeatedly as finger plays with the hem of your underwear. Yanking them down your legs, you kick them down, flinging them off them bed. You make things too easy for him, who needs foreplay when you’re so wet. Pushing a finger in your tight hole, its goes in without a problem. Unbuckling his pants, he takes them off and pushes them to the floor. Cock on full display for you, rubbing his soaked finger on the head of his dick, his breath shuddered. Pumping his dick a few times, he makes sure he’s his hardest for you before lining up with your hole.

You tap your stomach in anticipation, waiting patiently to be filled up with his big cock. Pushing through your squeezing he groans, halfway through he stops to take a few deep breaths.

“I missed your hole.” He grunts lowly, sounding pussy drunk when not even his tip is inside.

“Your pretty little pussy.”

His hand reaches down rubbing your clit as he hastily bullies his way inside your gummy walls. Your toes curl at the stretch and you feel the coil in your tummy winding up with each moment he's inside you.

“no one...m'..can fuck- fuck me like you.”

You gasp as he leans down, moving out of you and pushing in, he smirks. You’ve been craving this even if you never wanted to admit it out loud, you were singing like a canary for him and he couldn’t have loved it more.

“miss me, baby?” His hips pulled back and snapped forward, finally finding a sinful stroke.

He was knocking into you like he didn’t travel thousands of miles to see you on this boat. Speaking of, the rough currents of the deepest waters couldn’t touch the way he thirstily thrusted into you. The hangover will be the least of your worries later. Tightening your legs around his waist, your nails move across his back, threatening to break the skin barrier, shortened moans leaving your lips as wind is knocked out of your lungs with every move of his hips. He was determined to fuck that bonnet off your head so he can pull on your braids, making you tell him you love him, he knows you do. Why would you put so much effort into a person and relationship if you didn’t, but he was executing this step by step.

“w-wow.. A-arthur.” Your core was twisting and churning, your fingers could not match up to the climax you’re about to get from this man. His words are now registering to you.

“I did…m-miss you. Oh fuck. Yes! I did.” You whine in his arms, his hand tries pushing your legs down, all you can do is smile as he looks you in the eyes. Trapping him in a tight hold, your cunt soaks his dick, his tip curving and scraping the top of your g spot. Your nails scratched down his entire back as you came down from your high, moaning.

Prying your legs off him, he sits up, resting them on his shoulders. All the while watching as your face twists up from the sensitivity, the skin slapping matched with his balls hitting your ass over and over makes you want to stay on this boat forever.

“You’re so tight. Loosen up a little.” He asks as his movements slow down, he knows you’re doing it on purpose now.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says referring to him getting lost in you, shaking your head you grab his hand and interlock your fingers.

“its okay…” You smile to him and your hooded eyes gave away how dick drunk you are but if you say you’re okay then you’re okay. Keeping the slow pace, he pounds into you. The position mocked missionary and your soul honestly can’t take anymore of him staring into you with his piercing eyes. His other hand made its way to your head as he flipped you into another position, pulling off your bonnet and he holds onto your braids.

“Arthur!” You wince, head being pulled back and your back forced to arch, he had you on all fours. Right where he wanted you.

“do you have to be…this rough?” You whine and grunt as he holds your braids tighter. He’s considerate of where to pull your hair, so he doesn’t yank out your braids.

“What makes you think you don’t deserve it? I could do much worse. If you want that.” He says to you in between pants, his voice hitting a dangerous low in your ear. The promising opportunity leaving a smirk on your lips. Hitting your high once again, your body tingles all over, it felt like butterflies but more intense. Its confusing, isn’t it a tad bit too late for butterflies at this rate? he’s literally inside you.

“Tell me something.” He gathers your attention, pulling you completely out of your bliss and thoughts as his pace reaches a halt.

“And don’t lie to me.” He speaks deeply into your right ear, a message only meant for you to hear as his hand goes down and cups your mound.

“Do you love me?”

You bite your tongue, wincing at the pain. Out of all the things he could say…he said that.

“Is now really the time-“ You turn your head to the side, able to see him out the corner of your eye.

“Yes. Now is the time.” His expression is neutral, no joking or anything of the sorts, he is 100% looking for a truthful answer. You sigh.

“I do love you.”

The silence consumed the both of you as you stood on the bed in fucking position. Was that the answer he’s looking for?

“Say it again.”

He demands, rubbing on your clit as he grips your hair tightly.

“I love you.”

You bite back moaning the words, your fingers tangling in the sheets more and more.

“Again.”

Your legs cross at the ankles as you forcefully squeeze him in you, his fingers on your clit isn’t nearly enough.

“I love you, Arthur.” You exclaim, swallowing heavily and he shifts forward, his beard tickling your shoulder and cheek.

“I love you too.” He says in your ear, a smirk painted on his lips, as he kisses your cheek, neck and shoulder. Taking in a deep breath, you grin.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ﹤⋆

Breathing in and out, you sniffle at the hair that went up your nostril. Moving the hair out your face, you shift on the pillow, basically hiding your face in it. Nothing registered for you yet, for all you care its a regular morning in bed. A slight chill on your neck causes you to shrug and blink your eyes open, turning over your eyes focus on the surroundings.

“Look who’s finally awake.” She says in an sarcastic tone, looking up from scrolling on her phone.

“when did you get back?” You ask in a whisper, your throat sore as hell.

“Last night, although I had to take a detour because of all the ruckus you were making in here.”

She was definitely waiting for you to wake up to tease you. Letting out a short embarrassed giggle, you wave her off.

“you sound like an old lady.” She chuckles at your comment and sighs.

“could you pass me a shirt, I’m pretty naked.” Aria throws a shirt at your head, slipping it on, you sit up and look next to you. Arthur is passed out cold with a raging case of bedhead, the sight is one to be photographed and framed. Stretching and rolling your shoulders, you blink slowly as if your brain is still mush.

“Never thought I’d see the day where an underwear would be flung on my bed.”

You laugh, holding your stomach as she points to the panties she placed on the table in-between both beds.

“So thats where I kicked it.” Getting out the bed, you grab the underwear and put it with your dirty stuff, putting on new undies.

“What time is it?” You ask, picking up the clothes on the floor, folding his up nicely and placing them on the foot of the bed.

“11:42” You nod, stifling a yawn as you scratch your head.

“What on earth did you do to him?”

She utters, genuinely concerned as she stands over him, eyeing the visible hickeys, bites and marks all over him.

“Someone was hungry.”

“Do you ever get tired of teasing me.”

You ask, half rhetorical and half serious. Lifting up to stretch your stiff limbs as you watch her movements.

“Nope, you know what else I never get tired of?”

“Wine.” Your tired voice mixed with her joyous voice in a harmonious yet comedic way.

“So if you’ll excuse me, I have a wine tasting to get to.”

She grabs her purse and waves you off as she leaves the room. A sharp pain hits you in your bladder and you run to the bathroom. As you use the toilet, the pain leaves your stomach and you go back into the room.

“Good morning.” His raspy morning voice just makes you want to crawl under his skin.

“Good morning.” You shoot him a warm smile as he motions you to come closer. Standing by the bed, he reaches up and traces your jawline, rubbing your chin with his finger tips.

Pulling you down to his level to kiss you tenderly, a low moan leaving your lips, his hand moving up underneath your shirt to squeeze your hip.

“How are you feeling?” He breaks the kiss, sits up and off the bed in his boxers.

“I’m good, my stomach is hurting a bit but I’ll live.”

“Where is it hurting?” He helps you lift up your shirt and watches as you point to the area below your belly button.

“Somewhere here.” You grunt softly, accidentally touching the sore spot.

“Here?”

You shake your head.

“Here?”

You see what he’s doing, one hand trying to point out the problem and the other caressing your back, making its way to your butt.

“Here??”

He stares at your stomach, glancing at you for a moment, making you chuckle and utter a no. Your eyes go wide as he gropes your ass, playfully grabbing his wrist, you shake your head.

“You’re not slick.” You chuckle with him.

“Relax, I’m trying to assess your situation, so be a good patient and stay still.” He cackles mid sentence and finds his composure.

“The whore is jumping out, Arthur.” He bursts out laughing as you reach up to fix his hair, pulling down your shirt, you put on your shorts and point to his clothes.

“Let’s get some breakfast, I’m hungry.”

You tell him as your stomach rumbles. Putting on his clothes from last night, he turns to you as he messes with his hair.

“I’ll have to leave soon.” He warns you and you nod.

“Time is money then.” You grin, grabbing your phone and walking to the door with him close behind, before you open the door he spins you around.

“I love you.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek and one on your lips.

“I love you too.”

You kiss him back several times as if you weren’t sure the others were up to par.

“Alright now we can go.” He says while opening the door for you and putting on some shades.

“Is that mine?” You ask as you walk through the hallway to the elevators, fingers interlocked.

“Yeah.”

writing list

[lesbiantaylorswiftstan]

today is canada day, so here are some canadian things that i think the bau members would enjoy

hotch would love tim hortons. he wishes they had it in the states. he'd love going on a timmies run through the drive thru on the way to work. he'd love the ubiquity of tim hortons. not quite on every street corner, but pretty darn close. he would enjoy cheap, decently good coffee, and it would be so practical. his turn to bring snacks for jack's soccer tournament? box of timbits for the kids and one of those portable coffee things for the grown-ups. he doesn't know what to get someone as a gift for christmas/birthday/promotion at work? tims gift card

rossi would love canadian wines. obviously, he loves italian wine first and foremost, but he'd enjoy a good niagara region or okanagan valley wine. he'd love to go on a getaway to niagara-on-the-lake and spend the days doing winery tours, playing golf, and not answering his phone. i think he would also love roots. he'd never wear it outside the house, but he would love some good quality roots sweatpants, sweater, and wool socks

jj would love canadian snacks that aren't sold in the states. she always forgets to eat real meals when she's working, so she keeps one of the drawers of her desk stuffed with snacks. if she went to canada, she'd buy so many snacks to stock her desk with. ketchup chips, all dressed chips, coffee crisp, smarties (the canadian kind, not the american kind - we call those rockets), butter tarts, nanaimo bars. she'd find ketchup-flavoured cheetos at the store and buy so many bags of them. she'd totally get stopped at the border for accidentally trying to smuggle kinder surprise eggs into the us

emily would love québecois and northern ontario french. she learned french in france with parisian teachers, which is completely different from the way french is spoken in québec and northern ontario (which are also different from each other), both in terms of accent and vocabulary. i think she'd love trying to understand their accents and picking up new words (mostly things like tabarnak, câlice, etc)

in my mind, reid has a total sweet tooth, so i think he'd love all things maple. maple cookies, maple fudge, maple candies, maple lollipops. i forget what it's called in english, but his favourite thing would be tire d'érable. maple taffy? the thing where you pour hot maple syrup on snow and then put it on a popsicle stick and eat it. he'd have maple candies living in his pockets and at the bottom of his messenger bag for ages

derek would love small-town ontario craft breweries. obviously craft beer exists outside of canada, but literally every small town in ontario has a craft brewery or two. it's like a big thing. my dad's a beer guy and he takes detours driving places to stop at his favourite craft breweries or to go to a new one. i feel like derek's the kind of guy who enjoys cracking open a cold one after a long day of flipping houses, so he'd enjoy getting a two-four of different kinds of craft beer from a local brewery and stocking his fridge

i tried so hard to think of one thing penelope would love, but honestly i think she would love everything. she'd come back from a trip to canada with so many souvenirs. a roots toque, a bottle of real canadian maple syrup, several snacks that aren't sold in the states, handmade moccasins, a mug with indigenous artwork, and a little bobblehead moose dressed as a mountie for her desk

[slaymybreathaway]

YOU'VE REALLY GOT A HOLD ON ME

♡Chapter Six♡

Masterlist Chapter List Prev Chapter

Word Count: 1,549

Content: mentions of underage drinking & hangovers, language, miscommunication, a little bit of shouting, mentions of jealousy... but it's rlly rlly fluffy I promise

1963 ♡ The Curtis House

Mr Curtis crept downstairs, trying his hardest not to make a noise, as he didn't want to wake anyone up. The fact that his eldest son was alseep on the couch, still wearing the clothes that he had on the night before, took him by suprise.

He walked over and tapped him lightly on the face. "Hey, junior. What are you doing here?" Mr. Curtis sked.

Darry groaned and put his hands over his eyes, as they hadn't yet adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight pouring in from the living room windows. "What?" He asked, his voice slightly raspy as he hadn't used it in many hours.

"Why aren't you in your room?" The man rephrased his question and tilted his head slightly. Mr. Curtis was a tall man with a decent enough build and short, dark hair. He looked exactly like Darry, just twenty years older.

Darry yawned and sat up on the couch. "Gracie's asleep in there, she stayed over last night," he explained.

"Oh," his father spoke, before shrugging his shoulders. "Well alright then," he made his way into the kitchen.

One thing that Darry really appreciated about his dad was that he didn't ask too many questions, he just dealt with what information was given to him and minded his own buisness.

"You're up early," Darry observed as he followed his father into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm trying to suprise your mom by making breakfast," he said taking ingredients out of the fridge. "So I gotta be quick before she wakes up and I'm gone,"

Darry let out a smile, his parents were one of the few married couples that he knew who met in high school and were still completely head over heels for eachother years later. It even made someone as tough as him believe in true love.

"Hey- uh, can I ask you a question about something?" he leaned against the sink, figuring that if anyone knew how to help him it would be his dad.

His father noticed the serious tone in his voice. "Of course, what's going on?" He mixed up all the ingredients in a big bowl.

"When did you know that you loved Mom?" He looked at his Dad looking for an answer... for both the question he asked and the one in his mind.

Mr Curtis cracked a smile, he had a feeling that he knew what this was about. "Well, if I can pick the exact moment that I knew, it would be in the summer before out senior year of high school. We went to the beach with a few friends and I decided to chase her with a jellyfish. She ran away and as I tried to run after her, I fell over a sandcastle and flat onto my face. She laughed so hard that she had to lie down and it was in that exact moment that I knew I wanted to spend every day of my life hearing her laughter... and I have,"

Thoughts flooded Darry's head like a tsunami, whirling around until he finally came to a descision. When he zoned back in, his father was plating up the breakfast and the coffee was ready.

♡

The first thing that Gracie noticed when she woke up was her pounding headache.  

The second was the discomfort of her leather skirt that she was still wearing.

All that she remembered of the night before was going to the party, drinking way too much beer and Darry carrying her up to bed. Everything else was a blur, as if she was remembering the night through frosted glass.

If anyone could clear her foggy memory, it was Darry. She went over to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms. She then changed into them and then untied her shirt, buttoning it all the way up. She looked like shit, with last night's makeup smudged across her face and her hair knotted beyond belief, but she couldn't give a fuck.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Gracie finally opened the bedroom door. As she stepped onto the landing, she saw Mr. Curtis carrying two plates of pancakes up the stairs. It made her realise that she hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, and her stomach rumbled just thinking about food.

"Morning," Mr. Curtis sent her a knowing smirk before he disappered into the bedroom that he shared with his wife.

Gracie walked down the stairs, gripping onto the banisters so that she wouldn't lose her footing and fall down. She heard the radio playing an Elvis song from the kitchen, Return to Sender.

The girl slowly trudged into the kitchen and saw Darry standing by the stove, chuckling to himself at Gracie's heavily hungover state. "Morning Sunshine," he spoke sarcastically.

Gracie groaned in response as she sat down at the kitchen table and put her head on her folded arms. Darry laughed harder and put a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee down infront of her. The girl lifted her head at the smell of coffee and took a sip before starting on the food.

When she was about halfway through her breakfast, a daunting thought popped into her head. "I didn't say anything... weird last night, did I?" She asked Darry, who was now sitting on the seat opposite her.

"No, you didn't say anything..." he shrugged as he spoke, which Gracie knew was his tell whenever he lied.

"You liar! What did I say?" She asked, covering her hand with her mouth in shock. She honestly didn't remember a thing.

Darry laughed in response. "Just that, you called me a liar... repeatedly," he let out a smile.

Gracie creased her eyebrows in confusion "Why did I call you a liar?" she tried to remember as she ate another fork-full of pancake.

"Well," Darry started "I told you that I was taking you home because I cared about you, which I do, and you said that I was lying because I only cared about Shelly?" He shook his head at the memory and took a sip of his coffee.

Gracie hid her face behind her hands in embarassment. "Anything else?" She asked cautiously, in fear that drunk her confessed her feelings to the boy sitting infront of her

"Not really,"

Thank. Fucking. God

Gracie looked up at Darry and sighed. "Hey, I'm really sorry about how much of a bitch I was to you last night. I'm sure that you and Shelly are going to have a great time at prom and-"

She was cut off by Darry bursting into laughter once more, as if she was saying something humorous. "I didn't ask Shelly to prom," he explained, once the laughter had subsided. "She lied to make Paul jealous or something, I'm not quite sure,"

Gracie's mind was taken up by two emotions; relief and dread. If he didn't ask Shelly to prom, it was probably because he already had another date...

"I have no date right now, but there is this one girl that I'd like to ask," he looked straight into Gracie's eyes as he spoke but the girl was too busy feeling her heart shatter to notice the undertone in Darry's voice.

"Oh, what's her name?" She responded, looking blankly at the wall behind Darry's head.

He looked away and shut his eyes tightly. "Shit Gracie, you're really gonna make me say it?!" He snapped. He was never good with directly showing how he felt.

"God, I was just trying to take an interest in your life. No need to shout at me!" She stood up and stormed away. She was stopped in her tracks by Darry's next comment.

"Yanno what Micheals? Sometimes you can be so full of yourself that it blinds you!" He follows her to the living room, running both of his hands through his hair and letting them rest at the back of his neck.

Gracie turned to face him once more. "What are you talking about, blinds me from what?" She asked in a confused tone.

"It's you," Darry voice lowered back to a regular speaking tone as he took a deep breath. "You're the girl I want to bring to prom,"

The pair stood facing eachother for a moment as Gracie stood, speechless.

When she finally processed what had been said to her, she threw herself at Darry with such force that he stumbled back a few steps as he caught her.

"So do you wanna go with me?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Gracie pulled away from the hug to look up at him. "Sorry, I already have a date,"

The girl watched as Darry's expression turned to a look of worry and shock, like he had just been told that someone ran over his cat. "What! Who?"

Gracie cracked a smile. "I'm just fucking with you," she burst into laughter, clutching onto his arms to stop herself from falling onto the floor.

"Youshould'veseenyourface!" She spoke breathlessly between spurts of laughter. Darry looked at the girl in his arms in with the biggest smile on his face because he knew.

He wanted to spend every day of his life hearing laughter.

Taglist:

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[fantasy-innit]

high | wilbur soot x reader

first one shot! enjoy!

tw, smoking and drinking

DONT HATE I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS PLS LMAO

words: 1222

cc!wilbur x non cc!reader

gn!reader

2am- brighton, england.

a pearly pool of water splashed around wilbur’s grey sneakers, soaking his white socks into an uncomfortable slush around his feet. he shielded his body from the rain with a black, compact umbrella and a maroon, zip-up sweatshirt he picked up before he left.

wilbur was adorned with only a yellow t-shirt and track pants, the yellow now a deep mustard with water seeping through to his chest. his soft coils flattened against his forehead as he tore his body through the nocturnal winds.

what was supposed to be a tipsy, middle of the night walk, turned into a search for shelter- this rain wasn’t going to get better. 

wilbur searched his brain, thinking of someone’s place he could wait the rain out in- he needed someone who was awake at 2:13 AM. 

the only person he could think of was y/n, his friend who was studying at the university of brighton. it was a quick walk to their dorm, and there wasn’t a doubt in wilbur’s mind that they weren’t awake.

y/n had been in his life for so long- he had always admired their caring personality that never failed to make him smile. they are my soulmate. the only person i feel like i can be myself around.

wilbur found an awning to stand under and sighed, pulling out his phone, finding their contact and calling anxiously.

“yo, wil? whats upppp?” they smiled through the phone. y/n sat at their desk studying for their english exam with music running through their headphones and into their ears.

wilbur laughed quietly. “im near your dorms, its pouring, please let me in.”

“did you even try to check the weather?”

“its not my fault i indulge on a cherry vodka every once in a while! the thing is that i’m a tad intoxicated and i would loveeee if i could come over for a bit and dry off.”

y/n rolled their eyes and closed their spiral notebook that was labeled ‘english :)’ and slipped on a pair of slippers. “ok, im coming down to let you in. be here quick.”

they hung up and wilbur quickly ran to their dorm complex, he had been there plenty and knew where it was even if he was under the influence.

he pounded on the glass door that could only be unlocked with a keycard, scaring y/n who was standing on the other side of the door scrolling on their phone.

they opened the door and stared at him. “wil you are a mess. i have a shirt you can change into, but your out of luck in the trousers department. you can sit on one of my bath towels. don’t you dare get naked again.”

“dude that was like 6th form... let it go....” he joked.

y/n puffed out a sigh. “i’ll let it go when the trauma goes away.”

“that was a fun time, though.” wilbur said, walking alongside y/n on the way to their dorm room. “that was the first time we drank together i think.”

“yeah,” they smiled, sarcastically. “that’s also where my smoking addiction started!”

wilbur laughed. “you’re still on that?”

“well i wouldn’t call it an addiction. its more of a social thing.”

“speaking of social...” wilbur trailed.

y/n furrowed their eyebrows at him as they unlocked their dorm room with their key. “what does that mean?”

“its a friday night. shouldn’t you be.. partying? like every other uni student on a friday?”

they smiled and grabbed a towel from their closet and setting on one side of their bed for wilbur. “well my roommate is down at a club or something so i decided i would take this time to study up. guess i wont be doing that. want a drink?”

“sure. what’ve you got?” wilbur asked as he grabbed a sweatshirt from your closet, turned around and slipped off his shirt. he threw the sweatshirt over his head and sat on the towel y/n placed for him.

they opened their mini fridge and examined the drinks on the bottom shelf. “i got a 6 pack of stella and a 6 pack of wine coolers. your choice.”

wilbur smiled, and pointed to the wine cooler. “you know im not a beer man.”

“that makes one of us!” they laughed, grabbed a bottle opener and popped open his wine cooler. they cracked the tab of their drink and took a few cold sips.

“well now that this is a social thing, you got anything?”

y/n rummaged into their desk drawer. “pre rolled, the way you like it.”

“i just cant roll, okay?”

“yeah..” y/n laughed and opened their window.

the night went on, the two smoking and drinking inside of y/ns cozy dorm.

the warm smoke drew into y/n’s lungs, and they enjoyed it. they had missed wilbur’s company, even if they had only not seen him for a few days.

“look, y/n- tonight has been amazing. but i have to ask- what are we?”

y/n turned their head and put out their joint, their ceramic ash tray filling up even more. they mumbled, “i dont know. what do you want?”

“i dont know. but i know for a fact that this isn’t the wine coolers talking. you’re such a puzzle, y/n. i can never figure you out. some days you love me, some days were just like two best friends.”

y/n looked at their feet. “i don’t know. i think it’s obvious that i like you but i  guess im just scared to commit. what if we dont work out? what if you find someone new? ive always felt inferior to you, especially now with all your fucking followers..” they laughed quietly, but sighed.

“you are the only person that makes me feel worthy of anything, y/n. no matter what i’m going through, i can go to you.”

y/n chuckled and grabbed the joint from in between wilburs fingers. they drew from it and smoke sprawled through the air.

“so beautiful even when you’re abusing drugs.” wilbur joked

“don’t even start that, wil...” they laughed and rested their head on his shoulder.

wilbur fiddled with his fingers. “i think you’re the one- i really do.”

“you’re crazy.”

“i dont care! please, can we just give this a shot? if it doesn’t work it, which it will work out, we can still be friends. just.. please.”

“...” y/n thought, passing the joint back to wilbur. “fine. fine.”

wilbur put the joint in the ashtray, smoke still in his lungs. he whisked it out and turned to them. “so does this mean-”

y/n grabbed the collar of the sweatshirt, pulling it in. “this is definitely the beer talking.”

“i dont care.” wilbur softly took their cheek into his hand and pulled them into his lips.

for the first time, wilbur felt love in a kiss. as if it had been stored in their throat and jetted into his as they kissed, like no feeling he had felt before, he pulled away and flopped backwards onto their bed.

“wow. i cant believe i just confessed my undying love for you under the influence of like 4 wine coolers.” wilbur laughed as he observed the small cracks in the dorm ceiling.

y/n laid down next to him, staring up at the ceiling as well. “maybe you’re just a light weight”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Push

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, mentions of violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your daddy’s in business with the Sheriff but a dirty cop has not limits.

Note: This is my first Lee Bodecker fic. Obviously it’s a dark on so mind the warnings. Lee is just awful. Like what a bastard, the worst!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

‘She said "I don't know if I've ever been good enough I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in”’

-Push, Matchbox Twenty

🚔

You traced the small crack along the lip of the plate. The dinner set your mother had been so proud of was wearing away. Everything had started to since her death. The farmhouse seemed darker, more desolate amid the sentinel pines, your father's shed more sinister though the childhood tales of what was within had long since been dispelled. The walls shuddered with each gust of late autumn air.

The house was empty but for you. Your brothers were at about their usual business, Arn and Cal at work at yard and Will in his classes, though more likely bumming cigarettes behind the church. Your father had rumbled off in his old Ford pick-up not an hour ago but hadn't given you a reason. He never did and it was better that way. Better you didn't ask questions or speak out of turn. Focus on yourself, in the work that needed to be done as the men bustled in and out of your purview.

You set the plate on the mat to dry, a soapy bubble dripped down the back as you plunged your hand back into the water. You piled the dishes one after the other, scrubbing and scouring. The clink of the thick glass painted with faded petals and the old silverware was thunderous in the chilly kitchen.

You heard an engine, quieter than your father's cantankerous truck. The gravel mulched under the tires and you grabbed a rag to dry your hands as you walked through the front door. You peeked out the window as the cruiser pulled up; the old black and white with its blue and red crown.

Sheriff Bodecker came around maybe once every two weeks. You didn't keep track, you never spoke to him. Your daddy always took him to the shed for a beer and a chat. The uniform took a cut of the profits from your father's sill. The moonshine sold better than the beer sold at the store in town but wasn't allowed on the shelves. the lawman turned his eye for a percentage and the occasional jug of the brew.

You watched the sheriff brace himself against his door and lift himself out of the car. His jacket was zipped up against the impending winter but could barely contain his stomach. He reached into his car and plopped his hat on his head before he slammed the door. His boots were just as loud as his tires as he rounded the vehicle and paced towards your daddy's shed.

He turned back, hands on his hips, and peered across the empty lot. The big blue truck always greeted visitors, not that there were many. You watched the sheriff retreat and as he neared the porch, you let go of the curtain and pressed yourself to the door.

Your brothers and your father were the only people in your life. You minded the house and spent your spare time with one of your mama's old books or a needle and thread. 

The door shook as he knocked. You blinked and slowly turned. You grabbed the handle but didn't pull. He must have known your daddy wasn't there. A fool could guess that.

He banged again and you twisted the knob. Slowly, you pulled the door open just a crack. You looked through with one eye as the sheriff felt around impatiently in his pockets.

"Daddy ain't here," you said quietly.

He tilted his head and grinned. He scoffed and ripped his hand out of his jacket.

"I guessed that. Be a shit officer if I couldn't," he snickered. "Pardon the language, miss."

"I don't know when he'll be back," you said.

"I got time," he checked his watch.

There was a moment of silence as he looked at you. You gulped, uncertain.

"Sorry, we don't get many visitors. Guess I should invite you in… I got coffee? Tea?"

He considered you through the inch between the frame and the door. "You gonna have to open up for that," he said, "you got anything sweet?"

"Some leftover cake from Arn's birthday. It's probably stale." You answered as he placed his hand flat on the door. "It's strawberry cream."

"Mm, you make it yourself?" He asked as his other hand rested on his belt.

"Mama's recipe," you explained.

"Well,” he pushed on the door, "Can I come in then or am I eatin' on the porch?"

You stared at him and slowly stepped back as he put more weight against the door. He dropped his arm as you were flush to the wall and he stepped inside. You looked at his boots as he pulled the door from your grasp and threw it shut behind him. He chuckled as he turned to you again and looked at his feet.

“Not meaning to mess up your floors, miss,” he wiped the treads on the mat.

“It’s fine. My brothers never did care much either,” you waved away his words and retreated, “I’ll get you that cake.”

You went to the kitchen and took the glass lid of the cake dish. That was your mother’s too. The long crack up the side made you want to cry. If she could see how the life she’d left behind had become so distorted. You took a plate from the mat and dried it before you laid it out. You cut a slice from the cake and carefully angled it onto the saucer.

“Should I put the kettle on?” You asked as you looked over your shoulder.

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a chair before he sat. The wood groaned under him. He put his hat on the table decisively.

“You got milk? I had a coffee on the way.” He sat back in the chair and spread his legs wide.

“Milk,” you repeated as you neared and set the plate on the table then grabbed a fork from the drawer. You handed him the silver then went to the fridge, “Should be enough.”

You poured him a glass and put it down beside the plate as he greedily cut a bite out of the sponge with his fork. You went back to the sink and stuck your hands in the tepid water as you fished out the last few bowls and scrubbed them one at a time. You could hear him chewing behind you as the metal hit the porcelain with each bite.

“You really don’t entertain much, do you?” He asked.

“Sheriff?” you pulled the stopped and grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands.

“You know, I go ‘round folks’ houses and the wives, they smile, flip their hair, even excuse themselves to powder up,” he remarked, “And here you are doing your washing. Your back to me and everything.”

“I told my daddy I’d have ‘em done,” you shrugged. “Besides, I wasn’t expecting ya.”

“I rarely announce myself to shiners,” he rolled his eyes, “Must be quite the life, hmm? You cleaning up behind four boys. You look old enough to have a man of your own to worry about.”

“Maybe,” you wrung the dish towel. 

“Most girls your age are outta their daddy’s house and settled down with a babe on their hip. Even two.” He said.

You frowned. “Well, Sheriff Bodecker, are you married?”

He squinted and tilted his head. He smirked and said ‘no’.

“You’re older than me. Maybe you’re the one who’s overdue.”

“Not too old,” he stabbed the last morsel of cake.

You turned away and grabbed a cup and wiped it dry. You went about drying each piece as he sat quietly. You sensed his gaze as you put away the dishes. The tension mounted as you snapped shut the cupboard and he tapped the plate with the fork.

You were relieved when you heard the gravel crunching outside. Your daddy was back. The putter of his old truck was a welcoming sound.

“That should be him,” you said as you went to the table and picked up his plate. 

He set the fork atop it and grabbed your wrist before you could back away. “You take good care of a man.”

You swallowed and resisted the urge to pull away. “Not too many men can take care of themselves,” you uttered.

He laughed and let you go. He stood and you quickly scurried away to dump the plate in the sink. “Probably right,” he said as he took his jacket and pulled it on, “Definitely not in the ways a woman can take care of a man.”

You turned the faucet as the front door clattered. “Sherriff?” You father called down the hall, “You in here?”

“Here, Rhett,” He flipped his hat on and winked at you, “Son of a bitch, I’ve been waiting long enough.”

🚔

There was a cluster of brambles deep in the woods. A carpet of red, orange, and yellow leaves slowly wilted to brown beneath your feet as you climbed through the brush. You clutched your basket in one hand, your fingers cold even inside your gloves as the winter crept nearer with each day. 

You were the old scarf with the uneven edges. The first one you knitted yourself after your mama had shown you how. Your fleece jacket was hand-me-down from Cal, the sleeves were too long and it puffed out from your body when you zipped it, an old oil stain along the left side. Your skirt, your own creation from two of your mama’s, hung to your knees, your stocking barely thick enough to keep out the chill. The heel of your right boot flopped as it threatened to fall off entirely and made the trek all the more treacherous.

You tossed walnuts into your basket every now and then if they weren’t crushed or caked in mud. The trees muffled all noise the deeper you got and the trees loomed darker above. You stopped at the overgrowth of leaves and vines. Blackberries and raspberries hung plump in the last harvest of the season. You preferred the wild berries to the grocers; they were larger and juicier.

You set down your basket as you pushed through the sharp, thin branches and began to pick. You knelt to grab those hidden at the bottom, dumping handfuls atop your collection of walnuts.

You heard a rustle behind you. Subtle, soft. More likely a deer than a bear. You peeked over your shoulder but didn’t give much heed to the disturbance. There was always some creature flitting around in the forest. You tuned back to your work, your gloves dappled with the dark juices of the berries as some were so soft the burst on touch.

The bushes behind you shook and a twig snapped.

“What you doing out here all alone? I thought you were a bear.”

You stood as you recognized the voice. You dropped the berries in your hand into the basket before you turned and clapped off your gloves. “I thought the same of you.” You blanched as you saw his gun in hand. “You hunting out here with that?”

Sheriff Bodecker looked down at his pistol and scoffed. “Maybe,” he looked up as he kept his gun in hand, “How you know about these berries?”

“They’re wild. There for the taking,” you turned back and pushed through the brambles as you plucked berries from the bunch, “Mama used to take us here when we we’re kids.”

“You lookin’ to make another cake?” His boots crushed the leaves and sticks as he neared.

“Conserves; jams,” you answered bluntly as your basket filled with each handful. “Too bad strawberries are all gone for the season.”

You sensed him watching you as you stooped again. He reached down to your basket and took a raspberry. He popped it in his mouth as he straightened. You glanced over, his gun was pointed at the ground but still in hand. He knocked it gently against his leg as if thinking.

“Tart,” he said, “I prefer strawberry. Sweeter.”

“Mmm,” you grumbled as you dug through the bush, “Well, they charge too much down at the grocer for ‘em.”

It was quiet but for you pushing past the bramble and filling your basket. You could hear him breathing above you as he watched, transfixed by your simple ritual.

“Never told me why you’re all the way out here,” you said as you contented yourself with your haul. “Should I be worried? Some criminal out here hiding in the branches?”

“Sitting by the river on my break, as I do,” he shrugged as you lifted your basket. “It’s a far way back to your daddies. My cruiser’s closer. I can take you home.”

“I prefer the walk. Gives me an excuse to be away.” You smiled and made to step past him.

“We can take our time,” he caught your arm.

“Thank you, Sheriff, but I can find my own way back.”

He turned you to him and raised his gun. His eyes searched your face as he pressed the muzzle to your cheek.

“Ain’t much on the first look but after a while, you’re not so bad,” he said as you stiffened, “If you didn’t dress like a matron, you might even be pretty.” His gun fell to the collar of the jacket. “Usually men don’t offer favours to girls who ain’t pretty.”

“Let go of me,” you pleaded softly, “Sheriff…”

He pointed his gun skyward and released you. He holstered the pistol and laughed to himself.

“You go on lift up that skirt and give me a good look. Then I’ll drive you back to your daddy’s. You have my word as an officer of the law.”

“Pardon--”

“Shhh,” his hand lingered on the pistol, playing with the little strap that would snap it into place, “No one needs to know. Just a peek.”

“Sheriff--”

“Girl,” he cleared his throat, “Ya gonna do what I tell you or I’m gonna make you do worse. Now go on.”

He snatched the basket out of your hand and you let out your breath, relieved at least that he no longer had his fingers on his pistol.

“It’s cold out--”

“You argue with your daddy this much? He don’t seem the type to bide it and let me tell you, he seems a lot more tolerant than me.” He took another berry and chewed it, “So lift your skirt and we’ll be on our way.”

You stared at him. He smirked and licked the dark juice away from his lip. You hands shook as you bent and clumsily felt your skirt. You gathered the hem and stood. You bunched up the fabric around the bottom of the coat and he tutted in satisfaction.

“Turn around for me, girl,” he softly swung the basket, “Bend over so I can get a nice look at you.”

“Sher--”

“I really don’t wanna knock ya around and you don’t want that either,” he warned. “Two seconds. That’s all it will take.”

You gulped as bile burned your throat. You turned, careful not to catch the loose heel of your boot, and held your breath. You bent forward slowly.

“Further,” he ordered. The thin cotton of your underwear stretched across your ass. “Well, you got a much nicer backside than I expected.”

You let out a sharp breath as he pinched your ass and you stood suddenly. You stumbled forward and dropped your skirts. He laughed as you spun to face him. He shoved the basket against your chest. 

“See how easy that was,” he leered at you as you took the basket. “Who you hidin’ that body from? Maybe your daddy’s a selfish man, hmmm? Keeping you from all the men.”

“Can we go?” You muttered as you tried to hide behind the basket.

His blue eyes bore into yours and he shifted on his feet. His hand rubbed the front of his pants as he side stepped you.

“Sure, cruisers ‘round the bend.” He waved you past him and waited. “Come on, you said you wanted to go.”

You walked past him along the trail and he followed, close as his loud breaths filled the air. He pointed you down the path with curt orders and you came into sight of the broad river. His car was parked just off the sideroad that led back to the town. 

His keys jingled as he brushed by you, dragging his hand across your rear as he did. He opened the passenger door and looked at you. You neared and quickly got in, sitting on the long seat within. He closed the door harshly and rounded to the other side. The car dipped with his weight and he shoved the keys in the slot.

“Come here,” he gestured with two fingers, “Closer.”

“What?”

“Put the berries down,” he pointed to the other side of you and you placed the basket on the seat.

“I should be home sooner than later. I gotta start cooking--”

“I’ll get you there,” he grabbed your arm and slid you over the seat. He flipped his hat off and dropped it over the basket. He slung his arm over your shoulders. “Go on, put me in first.”

He gripped the wheel with his other hand and you blinked dumbly. You realised what he meant and pushed the shifted into gear.

“You cold? You’re shivering,” He said as he carefully turned the car, “Just tryna warm you up, girl.”

“I’m fine,” you crossed your arms as he drove at a snail's pace up the dirt road.

“I’m cold,” he gave an exaggerated ‘brrr’, “Do me a favour. Unzip me.”

“What?” You tried to pull away and he bent his arm around your neck, his hand along your chest as your head was nearly on his.

“I’m hard as fuck. You did that. Now take care of it.” He growled. “Get these damn pant unzipped and finish it.”

“Let go--”

“You don’t start listening and I’ll tell you’re daddy what a whore you are. Up in the woods flaunting your ass to the wind.”

You stared down at your stitched skirt. Your mama’s. You only wore her clothes. They were modest. You’d once worn a dress your friend Laverne had given you, more modern, with a shorter skirt. Your daddy belted you until it was ruined.

Your hands trembled as you felt along the Sheriff’s stomach and fumbled beneath. You unbuckled his belt clumsily and found his fly ready to burst. You pushed his zipper down as he groaned and he lifted his arm over the seat. His underwear was tight to his bulging cock.

“Now don’t keep wastin’ my time and take me out,” he snarled.

You pulled the elastic down and he popped out above it. You hesitated as you stared at his throbbing tip.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” You confessed.

“Christ, girl,” he snickered, “Grab it and just… move your hand.”

You shuddered and wrapped your fingers around his cock. It was as thick as the rest of him. You gripped it but still had no idea what to do next.

“Up and down. Like your polishing a shotgun,” he urged, “A nice long barrel.” You bit down and slid your hand along his length. “Tighter,” he gritted through his teeth, “Faster…”

He purred as you played with him. He drove a little faster and steered with one hand as his other hand clawed the back of the seat.

“Fuckin’ don’t know, girl, feels like you know exactly what to you,” he uttered, “Got me close already.”

You stared at the middle of the steering wheel, the silver emblem, and tried not to think about what you were doing. His hand fell to your back and he caressed the back of your coat. He grasped the cloth in his fist as his grunts grew louder and longer.

“Grab that coffee cup,” he demanded, “Go on, you don’t wanna make a mess.”

You took the cup with one hand and popped the top off with your thumb. It flew onto the floor and he hummed.

“Hold it at the tip, before--” He choked on his words and you quickly moved the cup. 

He hit the brake and white ribbons streamed from his cock and laced the rim of the cup and your fingers. White globs slid down the paper and you slowed as a chill went through you. You pulled away your slimy hand and the cup. He took the latter and tossed it out the window and sighed.

“Shit, girl, that was good,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped his glistening cock before covering himself up and zipping up his pants. “Get cleaned up.” He tossed the cloth on your lap, “Not far from home, now.”

🚔

Your days passed like molasses. Ever since your venture into the forest, your life slowed to an interminable pace. Your thoughts were darkened by the sheriff’s shadow. You scrubbed, scoured, and swept but could not rid yourself of the memory. The scene played over and over in your head. You swore you could feel him still spread across the palm of your hand.

A week after, when he drove up behind the boys on their return from town, you watched through the window in dread. Cal, Arn, and Will hopped out of the truck and greeted the sheriff. The four of them went to the shed where your daddy was, the latter peeked over at the house as he passed.

You were reassured that your brothers were there. The sheriff wouldn’t, really couldn’t, try anything more. You went back to basting the thick chops. As you made to cap your homemade sauce, the back door opened and your daddy looked in from the mud room.

“You bring out some glasses for the lot of us. And put an extra chop on for the sheriff,” your father slurred. He’d already started drinking. “He be joining us tonight.”

He left before you could respond. He usually drank his swill out of old jars and saved your mother’s dishes. You coated another chop in spice and set it with the rest before slipping them in the oven. You washed your hands and counted out five glasses. You hugged them in your arms and stepped into your boots. 

You pushed the screen door open with your elbow and tramped down the steps. You crossed to the shed and kicked the door with your boot. “Daddy,” you called through the wood.

Will slid open the shed door and you stepped inside. You went to the table and placed the glasses down on the old chipped surface. You stood and looked around. Your father filled each with the clear shine from a large jar.

“Isn’t he a bit young?” You said as Will sat back down.

“Not your business, woman,” your daddy spat, “Go back in the house. To your business.”

“Yes, daddy.” You sniffed and looked at Will. He gave an apologetic smile but none of your brothers ever stood up against your daddy.

“Lady not joining us?” Bodecker asked.

“Ha, that girl gets a whiff of this stuff and she’d be on her back. This ain’t no drink for ladies,” your daddy chortled. “About time you tried it. What you been doin’ will all that swill I give ya.”

“Boys at the station like it. I think they’re some of your best customers, ain’t they?” Bodecker countered. “Besides, I been tryna stay clear of the drink.”

“One night won’t hurt,” your daddy coaxed.

You went back to the door and slid it shut behind you as the men continued to chatter. Well, they would at least drink themselves too senseless to bother you much.

🚔

You cleared the table of the empty plates and scraps left by the drunken men. They had been loud and raucous, so much so you’d eaten your dinner at the counter to avoid them. When they finished, they left in a stumble, though the sheriff seemed as steady as ever as he trailed behind. He stopped at the door as he held it and peered back from the mud room at you.

You washed the dishes and put them away. You wiped down the table and fixed the chairs around it. The night was moonless and eerie. The wind wailed and shook each window and door in the house as it seemed to blow right through the walls.

The mud room door clattered again. It had been over an hour since the men returned to the shed. Their voices no longer carried in the air but the shed remained alight from within. You turned as Bodecker closed the door. He carried a tall glass of swill as he stopped in the door frame.

“Lightweights,” he said, “All your men passed out. Think one of ‘em pissed in their pants.”

“You’re drunk,” you said as you kept behind the table.

“Not really. I couldn’t finish mine,” he crossed to the other side of the table and set down the glass, “Why don’t you finish it for me?”

“I don’t drink that stuff,” you said, “Dump it out on the grass.”

“You work so hard. You should have a little fun,” he rounded the table and slid the glass across it as he neared, “Come on. Have a drink.”

“I don’t--” He grabbed you suddenly, wrestled you down into a chair and held you there by your shoulders.

He lifted one hand and felt around his belt. He flicked his holster open and rubbed the pistol with his thumb. 

“Drink it.” You watched his hand on his gun. He slid it out just a little. “Ugly things men do when they drinking. “Playing with guns… sometimes don’t always end up so fun. Don’t think the young one would make it in the hold.”

“No, you--”

“Drink,” he sneered. “It’ll loosen you up.”

You reached for the glass and he nodded. He snapped his holster closed and pulled a chair over to sit in front of you. You put your lips to the edge of the glass and the alcohol stung your nostrils. You tipped it, slowly, and tasted it with a gag. It was vile, stringent, and fiery. He pushed it up with two fingers until you were choking on it. He didn’t let up until the glass was empty and the shine dripped down your chin.

You slammed the glass down and coughed. You touched your throat as your head spun and a warmth nestled in your cheeks. You tried to shake away the haze that washed over you.

“That’s it, girl,” he purred as he leaned forward, “You feel better, don’t you?”

“N-no,” you stammered as you gripped the chair.

“’Daddy’,” he said, “Girl, you had me hard in there… you too old to be callin’ that man, daddy.” He stood and shrugged off his leather jacket, “But you be right to call me daddy.”

“I don’t feel…” Your stomach burned and you tried to stand. You stumbled and he caught you.

“Don’t you get all jumpy on me, girl,” he sat you back down. “You gonna hurt yourself.”

You slumped in the chair and braced your head. You felt terribly dizzy and your inside were alight. You heard a jingle and looked up as Bodecker unzipped his pants. You recalled the day in the car and filled with panic. You stood again and this time staggered, falling onto your knees with a cry.

“Mmm, it’s okay, girl, you can stay down there,” You looked up as he pulled his cock out through the vee of his pants, “Come here.” He grabbed your chin and yanked you forward, “Open up.”

You snapped your mouth shut and tried to wriggle free of his grasp. His other hand came up behind your head and he pulled you close. His fingers spread across your head and he used his other hand to poke his cock against your lips.

“I’ll break that pretty little jaw of yours and tell your pa he did it,” he growled, “Now come on.” You shook your head and he slapped you, hard. He seized you again. “Open!”

Your mouth fell open and your vision blurred as he shoved his cock inside. He forced himself down your throat and you kicked your feet as you grabbed at the front of his pants. He groaned and held his cock at its limit.

“And I thought you were good with your hands,” he pulled back and thrust back in. Your eyes rolled back as they teared up and you choked. “Mmm, much better.”

He started slow at first, though each tilt of his hips was relentless, deep and painful. You struggled to breathe around him and it only seemed to feed his lust. He gripped your head between his hand as he fucked your mouth, the sloppy sounds made your head swim as the slobber leaked down your chin and his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pulled out of you suddenly and shoved you away. You fell back onto your ass and wiped your mouth. “You tryna end this night early or something.”

He let out a breath and watched his cock bob before him as he grunted.

“Get up and get your drawers off.” He ordered, “Then I want you like you was in the woods, huh? Skirt up.”

You wavered as you tried to climb to your feet. He caught your errant arm and pulled you up. He spun you and you swayed. He bent and his hands crawled up your skirt as he felt around. He ripped your underwear down and let them rest at your ankles. He turned you to the chair and pushed you forward. You fell and caught yourself against the seat. He threw your skirt up and bared your ass.

Your legs quaked as he pressed his hand between your legs and felt around. He rubbed your cunt as you squeezed him with your thighs. He pinched you and drew away.

“You don’t wanna make this harder than it needs to be girl,” he sneered, “You’re in no state for that.”

He stepped closer and bent over you. His arm wrapped around your middle as he felt around below you with his other hand. He caught the tip of his cock and guided it to your cunt. He pushed it along your folds, sliding it up and down until he found your entrance. You whimpered and pushed back against him, too weak to break free.

“You fight and it’ll hurt more,” he grunted as he pushed his tip into you and you yelped. “Fuck, you’re tight.” Another inch and he stopped as he took a breath, “Holy hell, girl, you really weren’t lying. You ain’t been touched.” 

He growled and inhaled the scent of your hair as his hand gripped the chair next to yours. He thrust into you in a single tilt and you exclaimed as he stretched your walls. You reached to the back of the chair and latched onto the crossbar as you tried not to sob.

He stood, slowly and pushed deeper into you as he grabbed your hip. His other hand kneaded your ass as he began to rock. His groans were as steady as his motion as he dipped in and out of you. He curled his fingers and dug his nails into your flesh as he panted, his stomach bouncing against your ass.

“Be as loud as you want, girl,” he barked, “No one gonna hear you.”

He rutted into as the chair shifted below you. He kept a hand on your hip as his other trailed up to your shoulder and he arched your back. His zipper bit into your flesh as he sped up, slapping against you harder and harder as you whined louder and louder. It hurt terribly and your entire being thrummed with an unknown sensation. 

You closed your eyes as your vision swirled and your arms shook. He pulled you back so you stood against him, your back curved as he hammered into you. You were on tiptoes as he didn’t let up and turned you against the table. Your fingertips brushed the top as you reached out blindly and his hand stretched across your neck as he forced your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m gonna cum, girl,” he hissed, “You fucking whore. You’re going to make me cu--”

He grunted and his hips spasmed as a warmth seeped into you. He gave several, final snaps of his hip and slowed. He fell forward with you bent beneath him against the table. Your legs were limp as he crushed you with his weight. His heart pounded through his chest and he gasped for breath. 

You sniffed and pushed back against him. You were suffocating. You needed him off of you. You needed him out of you. 

“We ain’t done yet,” he hooked his arm around you and pulled you back to sit on his lap as he fell into the chair. “You got two minutes to get me hard again or you can clean me up with your mouth.”

[autumnsart22]

A Dream Come True: Shigaraki x Dabi x Reader part 2/2

Part 2 of the fanfic my friend wrote! 

Warning: SMUT 🔥

Dabi strode off down the hall and you started to work on putting the rest of the groceries away, and cleaning some dishes in the sink. Shigaraki stood up from the table and walked into the kitchen. He looked around before looking at you, raising the empty beer bottle. You opened the drawer that held the trash and recycling and he threw it in with a loud clunk. He stood there in the middle of the kitchen for a little while before you finally asked,

“Can I help you?” 

“You’re standing in front of the fridge.” he states plainly.  You roll your eyes and move out of the way as he grabs another beer. He makes his way back to the table and sits down.

 You both pass the time in silence as he sips on his beer and you finish cleaning the kitchen. At some point Dabi comes out of the bathroom still drying his hair with a towel wearing nothing but your brother's old pair of black joggers that look slightly too big but the strings in the front were tied tight preventing them from falling any lower. Dear god what have you done to deserve this? He switched with Shigaraki who took his turn in the bathroom while you scoured the apartment for extra blankets and pillows and threw them on the couch. When Shigaraki was done in the shower he came out in a long sleeve white shirt and your ex-boyfriend's old pair of grey sweatpants. He joined Dabi who had heated up one of the soba cups from the store. 

“Okay I’m gonna go shower, you can just...yea” you spoke out loud trailing off as neither of them paid you any attention, and you left to go to the bathroom. You peeled off your work clothes, just some black jeans and a black blouse, throwing them into the same pile of clothes as Dabi and Shigaraki’s. You took your time washing your hair and and shaving your legs feeling like you deserved to pamper yourself a little given your night. You weren’t that tired given that you basically turned nocturnal since working at the bar. When you felt fresh and clean you dried off and wrapped yourself up in a towel to head to your room. Once you changed into some sweats and a tank top you made your way back out to the living room to find Dabi, now wearing a black t-shirt, and Shigaraki on the couch both nursing another beer while talking in hushed tones which again halted the moment they saw you. They both looked at you. 

“What?” You said confused on why they were both staring at you. 

“I have more questions,” Shigaraki stated, finally averting his gaze away from you, although it seemed reluctant. 

“Okay...shoot” you said walking into the kitchen for a glass of water then plopping onto the middle section of the couch in between them. If there was one piece of furniture you splurged on it was this couch. It was a huge ‘U’ shape and could fit up to 10 people if they squished side by side. Shigaraki and Dabi were both sprawled on the two sides of the couch with you sitting in the bottom of the U. 

“What sort of art or shit do people create about us?” 

You almost choke on your water. That was not the sort of question you were expecting. 

“Why?” you said suspiciously.

“You mentioned it earlier and I’m curious,” Shigaraki said, making large hand gestures swinging his beer bottle around. He must be getting kinda tipsy. 

“Fine but if I’m answering these questions. I’m gonna need a stronger drink” 

“All out here princess” Shigaraki says, taking the last gulp of his beer and waving it towards you. 

“Same here.” Dabi says holding his beer bottle up, as though expecting you to take it. You stand up and grab both bottles and chuck them into the recycling, then grabbing a bottle of rum from the back of your cabinet. You make your way back to the couch and take a large swig shuddering as it goes down. Shigaraki motions for the bottle and you hand it over passing it to Dabi afterwards. 

“Okay so back to my question” 

“Well people write and draw all kinds of shit. Everything from just realistic art or funny art to overtly sexual” Shigaraki raises an eyebrow at this. 

“What you don’t believe me?” You ask laughing slightly cause if only they knew. 

“People think of crusty in that way?” Dabi laughs. 

“Hey like you’re any better staples. Y/N who do people like more?” Shigaraki shoots. 

“That’s gotta be Dabi. He’s pretty well known as being attractive” 

“Fuck you” Shigaraki pouts and Dabi smirks to himself. 

“Hey it’s not my fault, and trust me there’s still a ton of shit about you. And some of both of you” You said this last part quickly while taking another large swallow of rum. You couldn’t help yourself. 

“What do you mean the both of us?” Dabi and Shigaraki looked at you hesitantly.

“Well people like to put you two together. It’s called shipping, or they just pair you together as like a duo in fanfiction” 

Both of their reactions looked like they were about to gag and murder the other at just the thought of what people had had them do to eachother. 

“Okay that’s the most disgusting thing I have ever heard in my life” Dabi says reaching for the bottle which you hand over willingly. 

“Moving on from that,” Shigaraki says, shaking his head as though to physically erase his mind. “So Y/N you’re obviously a fan. Who are your favorites?”  

“I don’t know. I have a lot of people I like and don’t like. It depends.” At this point your brain was becoming warm and fuzzy but you didn’t want to let anything slip out that could be potentially embarrassing or would make the two men turn against you. 

“Bullshit. Spill” 

“I told you it depends” 

“On what?”  he said this with a sneer. 

“I don’t know” You said exasperatedly.  “my mood, who’s been most present in the media. It just depends on what I’m looking for.”

“What you’re looking for?” Dabi repeated confusedly. 

“Next question” You state simply. 

The two villains raise their eyebrows at you, curious at your evasion of the question, but your lips stay shut. 

“Fine we’ll come back to that one Princess.” Shigaraki complies.“What do we look like in the show? I mean do we look different in real life?” 

“Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out how to get you guys back?” you ask. 

“Not much we can do about it. I’m sure the rest of the league and Kurogiri are tracking down those thugs right now, so answer my question” 

“I don’t know. I guess you look kinda different, but I can still recognize you. I can show you if you want?” Shigaraki looks at you with affirmation. You get up to get your computer which you hook up to the tv screen in front of the couch. Dabi and Shigaraki turn so they can see the television, both laying down on their backs. You open your laptop (sorry I am basing it off my computer) and type in your password. 

“Is that Shoto?” Dabi says disgustedly. There was in fact a fanart picture of Todoroki amongst the collage that was your background screen. 

“Oh yeah. He would be in the it depends list” you say timidly quickly opening up the browser to cover up the background. 

“Why the fuck did he look like some 20 year old model?” 

“I told you, it’s fanart. People draw characters the way they see them or want to see them. Shoto is also really popular amongst fans if not the most I would say” 

Dabi makes a noise of revulsion. You turn back to start typing in Shigaraki’s name into the browser and instantly images pop up as well as the fandom wiki and regular wiki articles. You click on images and start to scroll through. 

“This is weird” Shigaraki says slightly in awe but disturbed at seeing this world's visions of his life. “Here give me that” he says gesturing towards your computer. You hand it over reluctantly. 

“Seriously?!” he says grabbing the laptop. 

“What?” you say hesitantly. Did you forget to close out of something?

He lifts the computer for Dabi to also see the two stickers on the sides of your trackpad. 

“The anger explosion boy and pro eraserhead?” Dabi said, judgement was obvious in his tone. 

“What?” you said defensively. 

“Nothing I just thought you’d be a villain girl and all” 

WTF, you think. What was that supposed to mean?

“Why do you think that? And who says I’m not?” 

Dabi raised an eyebrow in interest but didn't answer your taunts, instead turning back to the screen. Shigaraki has been scrolling through and tapping on pictures of himself making little noises and reactions. 

“This is fucking weird” He states again, the screen was stopped on a very sultry piece of fanart of Shigaraki. 

“Take that down you freak. No one needs to see your crusty dusty body like that. Hand it over.” Dabi tells Shigaraki. 

Shigaraki passes the computer over and Dabi searches his own name seeing all the pictures of him, although significantly more fanart pops up for him. He scrolls for a little bit but becomes weirded out or downright just bored at the photos of him. He then goes back to the wikipedia page and starts to read. While the two men continue to look at the screen and read information about their show, you stand up and head to the kitchen feeling peckish. You wander through the kitchen opening and closing all the cabinets waiting for something to catch your eye. You open the fridge and close it moving onto the freezer. Your eyes scan the contents when you spot the pint of chocolate fudge ice cream. You take it out and grab a spoon making your way back to the couch. When you get to the couch both Shigaraki and Dabi are staring at you again with intensity and amusement. 

“What?” you say, plopping back into your spot, struggling to tear open the plastic and resorting to using your teeth. With both of them still staring at you as though waiting for something, you look at the screen and see that your messages are open. You take a second to read the new text from your friend. 

‘Dude have you read this Shiggy Dabs fanfic? It made me 🤤🥵’

‘This ones similar to the last one you sent me, so be prepared⛓️😂’ 

Your heart sank as you saw the familiar logo of Ao3 underneath those texts. 

“What were you saying about being a villain girl?” Dabi said, smirking. 

“I––” You had no idea what to say. 

“Aww is the Princess embarrassed” Shigaraki says teasingly. 

You try to get up to leave but a hand roughly pulls you back down and you hide behind your hands refusing to look at the two villains. This was so embarrassing. What were you going to do? Now they knew that you liked them. That you were like the other people in this world that they had been disgusted by all night. They weren’t likely to just let this go. If only you could get to your room and lock the door maybe they would just leave. 

“Come on don’t be shy. Are we on your depends list?” 

They take your silence and continued evasion as an affirmation. 

“Hmm…” You hear Dabi hum lowly. “What exactly are we dependent on? What are you looking for when you search for us?” Dabi asks, already knowing the answer. 

“Come on tell us” Shigaraki coos. You shake your head. You could feel both of the boys drawing closer to you like school bullies cornering you in the bathroom,  but you didn’t dare look up at them, too embarrassed. That’s when you heard typing. Your head whips up to see Dabi replying to your friend. 

‘What exactly do you mean by similar?’

By the time you read what he wrote they were already responding. 

‘You know 😂  the usual non-con threesome with you and dabs and shigs. Kidnapping, ropes, degradation, similar to all the other fanfics 😋 tho in this one you cum four times and each a dif way😳 ’

If your stomach dropped even more. It would have touched the ground. 

“So not only are you a villain’s girl but you’re a kinky little slut too?” Dabi says chuckling. He was practically next to you staring at your frozen figure as you looked at the screen. 

“I should have known when you walked out here with these cute little things poking out” He reached over and pinched your nipple tugging on the metal barbell through it. You squealed instinctually pulling away but he caught the top of your tank top effectively pulling it down revealing your breasts, each decorated with a metal piercing. 

You motion to cover them, but your hands are once again forced behind your back, however this time Shigaraki had the pleasure of restraining you. 

“Let go of me!” you yelped at the humiliating assault. 

“I thought you liked this?” Dabi said in mock sympathy. “Just how many times have you gotten off to us?” 

You were squirming trying to remove yourself from Shigaraki’s grip. 

“Answer the question” Dabi said, pinching your nipple again. You yelped in pain but you could feel the slick starting to build between your legs. 

“A lot okay. Now let go!” 

Dabi and Shigaraki complied surprisingly. You regained your breath and pulled your tank top back up. The next few minutes passed in silence as Shigaraki took another swig of rum and Dabi continued to scroll through the different My Hero wikipedia pages. You got up still in shock taking your forgotten ice cream back to the freezer. You had lost your appetite. 

What were you supposed to do now? You were still slightly scared of them after what just happened but you couldn’t ignore the arousal that had been sparked deep within you. You had dreamt of this many times. This wasn’t much different than the different fanfiction you had read, and honestly this would be on the tamer end, but that was just fiction. But were you really going to pass up this chance? How could you? Yet why’d they stop? You were surprised and honestly kinda disappointed they had now that you were standing in the kitchen. And with that you had made up your mind. You are not going to pass up this chance you could never forgive yourself. 

You made your way back over to the couch but didn’t sit down. You stood in front of them silent staring at your feet, trying to figure out what you wanted to say. 

“What?” Dabi said as though nothing had happened. 

“Why’d you stop?” you asked timidly. 

“Hmm? Because you said so.” Dabi said as though this was an obvious answer to a stupid question. 

You looked at him surprised.

“Don’t believe me?” He said with a small chuckle. 

When you didn’t seem to get any less anxious he continued with a sigh.

“Look Princess, I may be a bastard and sadistic villain but I don’t go wishing pain on everyone, especially ones with cute tits. Of course if they’re into that then I’m down” He said this so casually it seemed almost wrong, all while he continued to watch your computer screen. You assumed it was in part due to the alcohol, but still. 

“you’re blocking the screen,” Shigaraki said annoyed. 

“Was that all princess?” Dabi said mockingly

 “Well….” 

“What?” Shigaraki spat. 

“Hurry up,” Dabi said flatly. 

“What if I wanted to continue?” You said finally looking up at them. They both looked at you intently, then gave each other a look and were smiling when their eyes fell back to you. 

“Our little Princess wants to live out her dirty villainous fantasies...huh?”

You nod. Wait did they just say our?

“Come on tell us what you’ve dreamt about?” Dabi says beckoning you over to him with one finger.

Once you’re in front of him, he pulls you down onto his lap so you're facing him. You look at him hesitantly biting your lip.

“You’re the expert of these little situations, Princess” he says holding his hands up for you to guide them. You take his hands slowly, unsure of your actions and guide them back to your breasts. He gives you a smirk and gives you a good squeeze, causing a small moan to escape your throat. You instinctually grind down into his lap feeling his member start to harden beneath you. You lean your head back as Dabi pulls your tank top over your head. You look over at Shigaraki who’s staring at you starting to palm himself through the sweats. 

“Him too princess?” Dabi asks you, giving your nipples a pinch causing you to moan all the while still staring at Shigaraki “Mmmhmmm” 

This was enough for Shigaraki to slide down the couch to where the two of you were. 

“Tell him where you want him, otherwise he won’t know what to do, I can’t imagine he’s done this before” Dabi encourages.

“Oh shut up” Shigaraki hisses, but he focuses back on you when you grab his hand and bring it to your neck. He insticutally keeps one finger raised, but you push that finger down with the rest deep into the side of your neck limiting the oxygen flowing to your brain, enough to give you that high. Flooded with pleasure you grind down again into Dabi feeling your underwear starting to become uncomfortably wet. 

Looking into Shigaraki’s crimson eyes, you could feel them boring into you just as hungry as you felt. He leans in close, lips barely ghosting over your own. You could feel both of your breaths mixing in the millimeters between you two when Dabi gives a harsh tug to both your nipples causing you to gasp. Shigaraki seized this opportunity to violently smash your lips together. Your hand reaches into his hair, gripping for support as the initial ferver and clash of teeth dies down into long passionate tangling of tongues as you explore each other's mouth. His rough lips scratching into your’s was a sensation you’ve imagined many times but none of it lived up to reality. He nipped lightly on your bottom lip making you lean into him more. 

Dabi’s hands continued their exploration of your torso, moving down your sides to your hips and around to your ass. He squeezed and kneaded them with his strong fingers. Shigaraki squeezed your neck again sending another rush of euphoria to your head making you moan into his mouth before he pulled away to attack your neck and take over teasing your breasts. You look back at Dabi with hunger in your eyes.

“What now princess? What do you want?” He says with a devilish grin. 

You grind down into his cock again which is now hard as ever. 

“Uh-uh. Use your words.” he says giving your ass a squeeze. 

Shigaraki rolls your nipples in between his harsh fingers sending waves of pleasure and pain throughout your body, causing you to roll your head again and let out a short moan. When you look back at Dabi, you speak in a low breathy tone, almost a whisper. 

“Abuse me” 

With those few words, Dabi smirks and slips his hands underneath the waistband of your sweats. “As you wish” 

Shigaraki continues his attack to your neck sucking and biting, leaving red and darkened patches curving down your shoulder and back. Dabi continued his groping, and you could feel the rough staples scratching at your flesh and his nails digging in harsher than before. His hands slide down the curve of your ass tugging your soiled underwear to the side. 

“Hmmm you’re so wet.” Dabi said, ghosting his fingers over your dripping entrance.

“You little whore. Getting so wet for a couple of villains” You shiver at the sensitive touch and degrading words. Gripping to Shigaraki’s shirt and grinding down trying to gain friction, you notice Shigaraki palming himself again. You replace his hand with your own, wrapping your fingers around his clothed cock, squeezing lightly. Shigaraki groaned deeply in your ear, sending vibrations straight to your core while Dabi’s fingers dip slightly into your needy hole but only enough to tease more juices and whimpers out of you. You try to push down onto them only for him to retreat. 

“Please...stop teasing” you whine.

“So needy Princess huh? You want my fingers in that little cunt of yours?” 

“Yes. Dabi. Please” you didn't care at this point how pathetic you sounded. The pressure in your core was building and you needed to be pushed over the edge. 

“Go on...make yourself cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it,” Dabi said sneering at how desperate you looked. He finally allowed two fingers to sink into you as you lowered your hips again. You were always amazed at how much deeper fingers other than your own could reach, and Dabi’s in particular could reach places you could never dream of finding on your own. 

The effect was immediate. You started to roll your hips, bouncing slightly on Dabi’s fingers. You’re grip on Shigarak’s member stalls as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. Shigaraki, displeased by this fact, guides you inside his sweats, pumping himself with your hand. You could feel the precum leaking from his slit as your fingers smear it up and down his shaft. Shigaraki continued his abuse of your flesh, moving down biting and sucking till his teeth latched onto your sensitive nipple. You whine as Dabi’s other hand had found your clit. He twirled it between his fingers letting his nail drag over it. This added stimulation drove you closer sending shivers up your spine. 

��Mm close” you whimper as your movements on Dabi’s fingers become sloppy. 

“Come on princess. Make yourself cum, make a pretty little mess all over my fingers” 

Dabi presses into your clit and you grind down hard again. Dabi wickedly curls his fingers pressing into that soft spot inside you releasing the knot of pressure that had been building in your core.Your legs shake and you clamp down hard onto his fingers which are still moving in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm. 

You weakly fall forward onto Dabi’s chest as Shigaraki releases your hand from his dick. You can feel Dabi’s fingers pull out of you and when you open your eyes you see him playing with your sticky release coating his fingers. You watch as Dabi brings his fingers to his mouth, smearing some on his lip and licking it before taking them into his mouth, sucking and cleaning yourself off of him. 

“Princess you’re delicious” He says smiling down at you making you blush at the crude compliment. 

“My turn to taste'' Shigaraki said, pulling you off Dabi’s lap. He positioned you on your back, your head resting on Dabi’s thigh. As Shigaraki did away with your sweats and underwear, you pulled Dabi’s mismatched lips to yours. The feeling was heavenly. You could still taste yourself on his tongue as he explored your mouth. You tugged needily at Dabi’s shirt and he pulled it off only breaking the kiss for a brief moment. 

You savored the wet and slow pace opposite to Shigaraki’s fast and rough, both pleasure in their own ways. You’re breath hitched and you moaned deeply when you felt Shigaraki’s wet tongue lick the length of your core, swiping up the sticky left overs from your previous release. 

You look down at Shigaraki. He had positioned himself between your thighs, knees slumped over his shoulders. He was staring up at you licking his lips before attaching himself to your clit sucking at it harshly. You could feel that ball of pressure tighten again in your stomach and you let your head fall back to Dabi’s thigh, eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of the hot wet mouth working at your sex. You’re hand threaded its way into Shigaraki’s silky blue hair, tugging lightly, only making him suck harder. 

You felt Dabi’s hand on your cheek and you opened your eyes looking up into his sapphire eyes before he turned your head. You were met with Dabi’s unclothed cock. Your eyes followed the Jacobs ladder of staples up his shaft to the head where you could see a bead of precum sitting at the slit. You smile thinking how in the hell fanfic got this detail right. 

“What’re you smiling at? Impressed?”

“Hmm...No piercing, huh? Guess they got that part wrong” 

“You people are sick” he says chuckling before directing his dick into your mouth. 

You take it gladly bobbing your head down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks before sliding back up, letting your tongue catch on each of the staples. Dabi let out a low groan, putting his hand in your hair to keep it away from your face. 

You continue to work your mouth on Dabi’s cock while Shigaraki continues to swipe his tongue through your sensitive folds. You moan around Dabi’s length when Shigaraki slips a finger inside, causing you to buck your hips, pushing his tongue deeper into you. 

The vibrations from your tight throat had Dabi pushing your head down taking his entire length. You gagged around his cock, choking for air but that only drove you further into your pleasure. Shigaraki added another finger and started pistoning into you violently while sucking at your clit once again. You moaned, tugging at Shigaraki’s hair, signaling you were close. You could tell Dabi was close too as he took control and started face fucking you, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. 

Shigaraki added a third finger stretching you wider and driving you over the edge for the second time as you gasped around Dabi’s cock, legs squeezing around Shigaraki. Your orgasm drove Dabi to the edge as he thrust into you again and kept your head down as your throat tightened around his length. Thick ropes of cum shot from the tip and slid down the back of your throat. You took it all swallowing until you couldn’t breathe anymore pushing Dabi away. You’re head lolled on Dabi’s lap as you recovered from your high. 

Dabi was leaning back breathing deeply with his eyes closed. Your brain was still foggy but it wasn’t long until you felt something back against your sex. Looking down you see Shigaraki lining himself up with your entrance, coating his cock in your juices. Your eyes widen at seeing his length out in the open. It was not as decorated as Dabi’s but it held the same presence, being about an inch longer although not as thick as Dabi’s. Shigaraki looks up at you when he lines himself up, the tip merely resting against you, and sees your nervous expression. 

“Huh didn’t think I was getting you this wet for nothing. I ain’t wasting a drop of this pussy” 

He stared into your eyes as he steadily pushed into you. The stretch was almost unbearable. You squeezed your eyes shut trying to make it through the burning stretch. 

“Shit you’re tight. Feels like my dick is in a vice... fuuuuuck… relax” Shigaraki hissed. 

You could barely register his voice let alone his request. You could barely breath focusing only on the pain as Shigaraki continued to push against your walls. 

“Hey patchwork stop sleeping and get her to breathe” 

Dabi shifts underneath you and you feel his hands run down your sides outlining your torso. Even though he didn’t have his quirk, his hands were hot and soothing as they rubbed against your skin. 

“Come on Princess.” You open your eyes slightly to see Dabi looking down at you patronizingly. 

“You’ve been doing so well,” He said brushing your jaw with the back of his hand. “And you wanna feel good right?” 

You nod meekly. 

Dabi leans down so his lips are hovering centimeters over yours. The smell of alcohol on his breath tantalizing and his minty scent making your head spin. 

“Breathe Princess. Just focus on me” He whispers before putting his lips on yours. You melt into the kiss doing exactly what Dabi says, exhaling through your nose and focusing on the way his cold staples scratch against your skin while his soft tongue dances with your own.  

When you break the kiss for air it’s only because Shigaraki has managed to bury himself to the hilt. You can feel him pressing against your cervix deep inside you. You look  at him again and find him head tilted back, eyes closed, taking in the feeling of you pulsing around him. Even though you know it’s not out of consideration but pure self indulgence, you're glad that he hasn’t started moving yet as you adjust to his length. Eventually it seems the lust of needing to rearrange your insides trumped being his own personal cockwarmer. His eyes fell on you again as you pulled out till only the tip was inside before bottoming out once again. Each time slowly pulling out only to thrust back in at full force.

You were still adjusting to his length, but soon the burning sensation of being stretched and pounded turned into addicting pleasure. You resumed your kiss with Dabi whose hands had found their way to your breast as Shigaraki increased his pace. Soon you were being knocked senseless by Shigaraki’s ruthless pace. He always has been fast on screen, so why did you think he’d be any different here. Moans and gasps escaped your mouth as the tip of Shigaraki’s cock hit your cervix. Once again the pressure began to build in your core. You began to whimper as you were pushed closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuckkk I’m close. It’s like you're pulling me deeper. So fucking good” Shigaraki panted out falling to his hands on either side of your hips for support. You whimper again and claw at the couch cushions as you could feel yourself just on the brink when Dabi’s hand slides down your stomach and begins rubbing at your clit. You cry out and clamp down hard on Shigaraki legs shaking and eyes rolling back as Dabi’s ministrations send you through your third orgasm of the night.

You feel Shigaraki thrust once more hard and then hot thick jets of white paint your walls. You shudder at the feeling of being pumped full, your sex still milking him of everylast drop. Shigaraki finally pulls out of you and lays back on the couch catching his breath savoring the last waves of his high falling down. 

You too were recuperating and limp, unable to move. Your mind was hazy from the alcohol and the relentless stimulation.  You were so tired that you didn’t even care about cleaning up but rather drifting off to sleep right there. However you were jostled from these thoughts as Dabi had rolled you off his lap and onto your stomach. You could hardly keep up with his movements as he stood and walked around you. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of hands lifting your hips that you looked back to see Dabi fisting is dick that looked painfully hard. You couldn’t fathom another round right now but you were still so weak from your last high that you didn’t have time to prepare before Dabi thrusted into your already abused hole. 

He sighed once he was buried inside you. He leaned down so his chest was hovering above your back the heat making your skin prickle. He leaned down till his breath could be felt on the back of your neck. 

“Mhmm… ’m so close already and you’re gonna let me pump you full, aren’t you princess”

You couldn’t respond because your overly sensitive body was already reacting to Dabi's hard cock pressing into you, stretching you wider around his girth. Even though your mind was fading in and out, you involuntarily pressed your hips back to make him go deeper, seeking out the friction your body needed to overdose on. 

Dabi was the exact opposite of Shigaraki. He took his time, thrusting in and out, making sure you felt every staple and ridge of his cock dragging against your walls savoring the way they pulled him in. Overstimulation caused tears to form in the corners of your eyes only soft whimpers escaping your mouth. Dabi continued slow and deliberate, letting out low breathy grunts with every thrust. On the edge once more, never fully recovering from before, you were longing to be undone one last time.

“Please Dabi” you mewl.

Dabi snickered in your ear before snaking his hand under you and pressing his fingers to your clit which was all the stimulation you needed to moan out and squeeze around Dabi who came at the feeling of your gummy walls constricting around his pulsing length. You felt his seed fill you up and mix with Shigaraki’s inside you. Dabi dropped down next to you, rolling you onto your side so you were effectively spooning with his cock still inside you. You could hear movement apart from you and Dabi, and in opening your eyes you saw Shigaraki standing pulling up the sweats that were bunched at his thighs. He noticed you staring at him. 

“Tch. I don’t cuddle Princess and I gotta piss” His tone was crude but laced with content from having a good fuck. “Don’t let a single drop out Dabi” Shigaraki stated before walking down the hall. 

Dabi didn’t respond but seemed to have no intent on moving as you felt his member begin to soften inside you. You couldn’t be more concerned about the implications behind Shigaraki’s comment or the fact that you still had a dick inside you. You were just tired and groggy from the night's events and thankful that you were finally able to be comfortable and close your eyes. You didn’t think Dabi was really a cuddle after sex with a stranger kinda guy but you weren’t complaining. He was warm and made you feel safe despite knowing he would most likely kill you in any other context. You let your eyes close again, head falling onto Dabi’s arm, giving into the waves of exhaustion coming over you. 

When Shigaraki came back from the bathroom he found you and Dabi still in the exact same position he left you in. Dabi opened his eyes when he heard Shigaraki come back into the room. 

“Is she out?” Shigaraki asked. 

“Think so,” Dabi said, finally pulling out of you and tugging the joggers back up to his hips. He slides out from behind you, but you don’t even realize, body only curling inwards at the loss of heat. Dabi stands and looks down at you with Shigaraki. You look so worn out and peaceful. Your body exposed for them, hickeys and bruises forming where Shigaraki ravaged your neck. Your ass is still red from the pounding, and welts forming where Dabi’s strong fingers dug into you. However the best part was probably the shine of slick spread on the inside of your thighs as a stream white cum dribbled from your used hole. 

Shigaraki notices this and sits down by your feet.

“What’re you doing?” 

“I told you I don’t want any of it out. Got a problem with that?” 

“Nope.” Dabi said rolling his eyes and walking away. “I’ve learned to not try and figure out your sick mind”  

Shigaraki looked back down at you. 

“Good. I have plans for her.” Dabi rolled his eyes again and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shigaraki ran a hand up your thigh and you flexed at his touch, still unconscious. Shigaraki ran his fingers down the length of your core smearing the juices there before scooping up the stream of cum still leaking out of you and pushing it back inside you. His two fingers easily slipped into your stretched whole, but that didn’t stop a small whine from slipping from your throat. Shigaraki moved his fingers lazily in and out of you pushing the cum deeper. His eyes shot to your face when your hips bucked instinctively against him, your face was scrunched and staggered breaths and sniffs escaping your slightly parted lips, but you were still out, lost in whatever continued fantasy your fatigued brain was conjuring. 

Shigaraki pushed into you a few more times selfishly pressing into the soft spot inside you that had you clamp down onto his fingers one last time. You gasped and curled further into a ball. When Shigaraki pulled his fingers out you hummed, face still scrunched, but he got up and left to the kitchen to wash off his hands. 

When Dabi came back he met Shigaraki in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water and leaning against the counter. 

“What do we do now?” Dabi asked casually.

“Well I don’t know ‘bout you but I’m fucking exhausted” 

“Do you really think the rest of the league will be able to figure this out?” 

“Kurogiri is smart enough, even if the rest of the league is useless with this sort of thing. However I am curious what this sick twisted universe has to offer us” 

“Whatever you say” Dabi says walking back to the couch, and lifting you bridal style. You lean into his warmth as he carries you to your bedroom plopping you down on your bed and closing the door. 

When you open your eyes the next morning, you feel your head throbbing against your skull. The bright light streaming in through your window was enough to make you want to stab the sun till it was nothing more than an ember. You closed your eyes again trying to remember the dream you were having but as you searched your brain, pieces of your dream seemed to turn into memories. You shot your eyes open and sat up. It was just a dream right? Realizing you were naked and that your skin felt sticky and dirty was enough to make your head pound harder than before. Wasn’t the fact you were hungover proof enough that last night events had taken place? No, there was still a chance you had just gotten drunk and imagined it all, but you had to be sure. You sprang out of bed and pulled on some loose shorts and a shirt, impatiently throwing open the door and speeding down the hall to where the proof you needed would be.

The living room was lit by the bright sunlight streaming through the curtains. The golden rays illuminated messy blankets and pillows strewn across the couch, an empty rum bottle, a pair of your sweats and tank top buried on the floor, but no one was there. You felt nauseous trying to piece everything together along with the aftermath of the alcohol. You rush to the sink in the kitchen and puke up the contents of your stomach. You grip the counter and close your eyes until you felt more confident in your body's ability to keep everything inside. You slowly open your eyes and look around, mind going back to what happened last night. However you get sidetracked by a bright blue sticky note sticking up from your countertop. Walking over to it you read. 

“Kurogiri is a smart man. We’ll be back Princess.  PS I want the blood out of my pants.” 

[stories-and-such]

As Laurel stepped into the apartment, she could hear the water running in the kitchen. She dropped her keys on the coffee table in the living room along with her bag and turned her head so she could see into the next room.

“Hey you,” Dinah smiled. She put the final dish on the rack and wiped her hands on the towel by the window. “How was work?”

Laurel smiled, turning her back on the kitchen and heading upstairs. She dropped her coat on the chair in the corner of the room and kicked her shoes off by the closet door, not bothering to actually put them away. She knew it drove her crazy, which is partly why she did it. It was amusing to hear her complain.

“How many times have I told you to take your shoes off before you come in the room? They’re dirty, Laurel, and we have carpet in here. Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean a carpet? Very.”

Laurel chuckled quietly and tossed her shirt on the floor.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She could feel the mattress dip on the other side as Dinah laid down with a deep and tired sigh.

“God, I am exhausted. Should we just order in?”

Laurel nodded and dialed the number to the Chinese restaurant only a few blocks away. She ordered the food quickly, not having to think about it at this point, and hung up after offering a quiet ‘thanks’ to the man on the other end of the line. She let out a long sigh and laid back on the bed, running a hand through her hair.

She laid there for a few moments, thinking about what else she needed to do around the house. She needed a distraction, something to do so she wasn’t just sitting here, alone with her thoughts.

Deciding to start by cleaning up the mess she’d just made in the room, she got up from the bed and went over to Dinah’s side of the room. She opened the bottom drawer where she kept all of her sleep shirts and pulled one of them on.

It smelled like her. The faint scent of her vanilla perfume clung to the shirt so she clung to it, pulling the collar close to her nose. She took a deep breath and let the smell bring back all the memories she’d tried so hard to forget - the good ones, the bad ones, all of them.

There was a knock at the door, which pulled her out of her thoughts. She wiped at her cheeks when she felt the tears slide down her face and cleared her throat as she climbed down the stairs.

She grabbed her wallet out of her bag and opened the door. The man on the other side offered her a kind smile as he handed her her food. Before he could give her the total for the order, Laurel handed him thirty dollars.

He reached into his pocket to pull out her change, but Laurel simply waved him off.

“Keep the change.”

The man looked confused. “But your order was only-”

“Doesn’t matter,” she smiled. “Consider it a tip.”

“This is a very generous tip,” he chuckled. “Thank you, miss.”

Missus, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

“It’s no problem.”

The man happily pocketed the money and dipped his hat at her before he turned around to leave. She closed the door once he was out of sight and headed into the dining room. She set the food on the small table and grabbed two plates and some silverware out of the cabinets and drawers, along with a beer from the fridge.

“You know, one of us is going to have to cook eventually,” Dinah laughed. “We can’t just live off of Chinese takeout.”

“Why not?” Laurel argued, shoveling some more noodles into her mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Laurel smiled down at her almost empty plate. She looked over at the other end of the table where Dinah always sat and closed her eyes as she tried to imagine her sitting there.

She could see her as clear as day; shoulders slightly slumped forward after a long day at the precinct, bright green eyes looking at her like she was the center of the universe while Laurel told her about her day, her plump lips turned up at the corners, trying to contain her smile after Laurel told her some dumb joke. It was almost as if she was still there.

Laurel finished eating and cleared the table, washing the dishes while she stared out the window. She could see why Dinah loved to do the dishes now. The view from up here was pretty amazing.

She watched quietly as cars drove by, as people walked down the street while they walked their pets, as a kid ran down the sidewalk dragging his kite along, beaming up at the sky when he stopped and saw that it was still in the air. She smiled at him and put the last dish on the rack the way Dinah always did. She dried her hands on the towel and threw it on the island, not bothering to put it back where it went, something that always drove Dinah insane.

She walked over to the living room and decided to watch tv. She threw herself down on the couch and browsed through the channels, not finding anything that caught her attention. Eventually she settled for some horror movie since there wasn’t much else on.

She sat back and watched as a girl ran down the stairs while the killer was only a few steps behind her. She chuckled at the dumb decisions the characters made and looked over to her right where Dinah always sat, feeling her stomach clench when she found no one there. Her smile disappeared and she looked back at the screen with less interest in what was happening. She closed her eyes and listened for her laugh, a sound she knew she would never hear again.

“I just don’t get why you like these movies so much,” Dinah chuckled.

“Oh, like your romantic comedies are any better,” Laurel argued, rolling her eyes at the thought of the last rom-com they watched together.

“At least they’re more realistic.”

“Yeah right,” Laurel scoffed, “because soulmates are actually a thing.”

“You don’t believe in soulmates?” Dinah’s bright green eyes shone in the dim light coming from the tv as she waited for Laurel’s answer.

Laurel didn’t know what to say, so she simply muttered, “Do you?”

Dinah thought for a second. “I don’t know,” she shrugged, “but I think that if they do exist, you’re definitely mine.”

Laurel opened her eyes and stared at the spot on the couch where Dinah should be. And then suddenly the floodgates opened and she couldn’t close them again. Tears fell freely down her face and onto her shirt. She leaned forward, pressing her face into her hands and sobbed loudly, not caring if her neighbors heard.

She couldn’t think straight, she couldn’t breathe, she felt like the walls were slowly closing in around her. She never knew she could love someone so much, never imagined that losing someone would hurt this much. She’d lost her dad, Quentin, her planet, and sure those all hurt like hell, but none of those could compare to the pure agony that she felt when she lost Dinah.

That morning when Felicity came to her door and told her that Dinah had passed away was truly the worst moment of her life. That was the moment when she lost her world. No pain could ever compare to the one she felt when she saw them place her casket in the ground. No loss could ever hurt as much as it hurt to say goodbye to her one last time. Knowing that she would never see her smile again, that she would never hear her laugh again, that she would never hear her complain about her leaving her dirty clothes everywhere or about how she would move too much when she slept, it all killed her inside and no matter how hard she tried to hide it, to keep it together, everyone could see that she was falling apart.

She wiped at her eyes and got off the couch. She reached into her purse and took out the key to her motorcycle, grabbed the keys to the apartment and left without a second thought. She drove for miles, keeping her attention focused solely on the road ahead. It was raining and it was hard to see, but she managed to get to her destination without any problems.

She walked past a dozen headstones before she saw the one she was looking for; even though it was only her second time here, she found it with ease. When she read her name, she collapsed on the ground in front of it. She didn’t care that it was muddy, she didn’t care that her shoes would probably get ruined, she just didn’t care. She kneeled in front of Dinah’s headstone and sobbed until she was left gasping for air.

“I’m so sorry D,” she whimpered, “I tried. I tried to go on, to live my life, to pretend that nothing had happened, but I couldn’t. I can’t do this without you.” Her voice cracked. “You were the one that kept me going, the one who believed in me when no one else did, the one who pushed me to be better. How am I supposed to just go on without you? I just - I can’t… I can’t do it, D.”

She could almost feel Dinah’s hands wrap around her shoulders, could almost feel her lips brush against her ear as she whispered, “Yes you can, Laurel, and you know why? Because I’m still here with you. I’ll always be with you.”

Read on AO3

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 4

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

If you have been reading this series....things are going to start happening....

Title: Dreams, Chapter 4

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3773

Summary: For Sam and the reader, a winter night working together leads to an uncomfortable confrontation and a confusing dream.

Warnings: angst, fluff?, alcohol, swearing, slow burn, I think that’s it!

           The tree was still up a few days later when you were throwing together sandwiches. It was a gloomy afternoon, stealing from the already meager offering of sunlight you got each day, but at least you could see the Christmas lights as you worked in the little kitchen and listened to Me Talk Pretty One Day. Brushing crumbs off your hands, you ducked your head into the bedroom to tell Sam lunch was ready.

           He was sitting on the bed with his legs crossed under him, looking surprisingly young with his long limbs folded. He glanced over at you briefly with a noncommittal nod before turning his gaze back to the wall. You walked into the room when you understood; following his eyes to the photos where you’d taped them up. Toeing off each of your boots, you climbed onto the mattress with him and gently put your arm around his broad shoulders. “He would’ve loved this,” Sam murmured, and it was almost too low for you to hear.

           “Which part?” you asked, trying to match his tone.

           “This cabin, the bar, Christmas.”

           “I think you’re right.”

           You looked over at the pictures, a tight row intentionally placed a little too low so you could see them as you fell asleep. Sam tilted his head to rest on yours.

           “We had a lot of fun though, didn’t we?”

           You considered the memories and the heat coming off of him under your cold fingers. “Yeah, we did.” After a beat you opened your mouth again. “Getting that tree was fun.”

           Sam pulled back and you looked up at him. A sad smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

           You curved your head back into him. “Dean would’ve liked that too.” He was silent for a moment.

           “There’s no way he would’ve worked at the bar and not made every night a party.”

           He was right. Even just passing through, bars like the one you worked at were Dean’s favorite—no frills, honest people, décor not so nice it couldn’t tolerate some spills in the name of a good time. In the right mood Dean would’ve been everyone’s best friend in an hour, taking shots with the owners and playing pool with anyone who had a spare minute.

           You sat upright and tucked your hair behind your ears. “Okay, then tonight’ll be a party.”

           Sam looked at you in surprise. “Uh, what?”

           “You heard me. Tonight, we’re doing tequila shots and dancing on tables and talking to people longer than to take their orders.”

           “It’s a Monday.”

           “Wouldn’t have stopped Dean. Now come eat this sandwich I slaved over, you’re a lightweight on an empty stomach.”

           Sam’s smile was tired, but he obediently untangled his legs and got off the bed to head to the kitchen. You padded after him, letting a deep breath out through your nose. Dean would be so pissed if he saw you weren’t being strong for Sammy, just a little tougher, come on. By the time Sam sat down at the tiny breakfast bar to eat, you’d screwed your face back together.

           In some ways, it was better that you’d had this sudden change of heart on a Monday, when there weren’t so many customers to watch you crumble if it came to that. You had a propensity for being a sad drunk even in the best circumstances, and this first time truly drinking around people since losing Dean was about the worst circumstance as you could imagine.

           A few shots in Sam’s cheeks were flushed and you could feel the heat in yours as you sucked hard on a lime wedge. He was pretending to know about some football controversy with the over-shoulder towel that was ever present when he worked, his legs crossed and accentuating the long, relaxed line of his body. It was an especially cold night and condensation clouded the windows of the bar where hot air met the freezing glass. You watched as a woman about your age—you were pretty sure her name was Megan but had only served her a handful of times—traced lazy shapes in it before replacing the moisture with a hot breath and starting over. It was almost hypnotic and you didn’t know how long it was until you snapped back to reality when Sam’s warm hands wrapped over your shoulders.

           “You okay?” he asked, low and private, straight into your ear.

           “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just tired,” you lied.

           Sam gently and half-consciously kneaded the muscles in your shoulders. Before you realized what you were doing, muscle memory bobbed your head to the side, kissed his rough knuckles, and pressed your cheek to his hand. You both froze.

           “Aw, so cute,” Steve sang out from across the bar top.

           You took your chance to step forward out of Sam’s grip. “Yeah, yeah. Refill?” Steve nodded, and you snatched another Miller High Life out of a mini fridge under the bar and popped the cap with a fluid practiced motion. About a week ago you’d realized that the twist-bottle callus you had just below the first joint of your index finger had come back, a recurrent souvenir that had lasted years after you’d quit bartending last time. You were thankful for it as much as the distraction from your bizarre reflexive step over the unspoken boundary between you and Sam. It wasn’t that the contact was unprecedented, obviously, you could only catch even chunks of sleep tightly wound around Sam and kept your fingers wrapped around his forearm as he drove, but Dean was the last person whose skin your lips had touched. Until now, you corrected yourself. It was a very specific kind of closeness in a relationship already stretching the limits of what appropriate intimacy could possibly be.

           You jammed a cold metal scoop into the ice machine to break up chunks and buy some time. The same grief-hungry part of your brain that searched Sam for facial tics and habits that Dean had couldn’t stop repeating how much those hands felt the same, dry and warm and firm under your lips, under your cheek, and you wanted to clutch at them, a phantom of Dean’s that first stitched you up in Bobby’s kitchen all those years ago when life was easy and bloody, so nervous to touch you his hands shook and the scar still remained to this day. You crashed through those thoughts with a solid thump of This Is Sam Not Dean Sam Your Friend Sam The Only Thing You Have In This World, and how cruel it was to triple distill him down to only the parts that were reminiscent of someone else. Sam, who chopped wood to keep you warm, who restocked beer in the little life you’d created here. Sam, who in his own unfathomable sadness let you latch onto him as a steady point in a storm and kept you afloat just as you had him.

           “Hello?” Joe repeated, a touch of concern peeking through his annoyance.

           “Yeah, sorry! What’s up?” you asked, hearing the shrillness of your voice as you tried to overcompensate.

           “I’m trying to buy you a drink, hon. 5 shots, dealer’s choice.”

           “You, me, Jake, Steve and who?” you asked, racking up 5 sturdy shot glasses.

           “Your Paul Bunyan over there, unless you’re trying to take his too. I’ve never seen you guys really drink before, gotta jump on my chance,” he winked.

           “Oh, okay. Uh, Sam—” you called out across the bar. He was wiping up a spill you knew didn’t exist from the way he focused too hard on the bar top, trying to look busy. He looked up at his name and walked over with his hands jammed in his pockets. His unease was palpable, and your heart sank as you let go of any possibility that he wouldn’t have registered the fleeting kiss and the shift was only in your head. “—Joe’s trying to get you drunk.”

           “Careful, Joe, you think you can carry me home?” Sam joked, and you thought you would be the only one who’d be able to detect the tightness in his throat underneath it. He rubbed a lime wedge on the web of his thumb and poured salt over it before handing you the shaker. You almost dropped it when your fingertips grazed his.

           “To the only people dumb enough to move up here in the winter,” Steve proclaimed, touching his glass to the counter before shooting it. You all followed suit, politely chuckling at the teasing. When you took the lime wedge out of your mouth, Sam had his palm open in front of you. You dropped the rind in his hand and let him take the stack of glasses to the sink.

           It didn’t get as crazy as Dean likely would’ve gotten which was probably good for the bar’s bottom line and your drive back to the cabin, but Sam did end up somewhat accidentally hustling Jake for $100 over a game of pool and singing along to Shania Twain when you put it on. You were careful not to touch him or stare too long the rest of the evening, and by the time you were flipping chairs up for the night you had almost convinced yourself that nothing was different save for a little softness around the edges of the ever-present bolus of sadness in your stomach.

           Sam had two cases of Miller Lite from the basement in his grip, the veins on his forearms popping out as he set them on the ground in front of the beer cooler and crouched to replace the ones that had been drunk that night. You double checked that the cash drawer of the register was even and hopped up to sit on a spare spot of counter.

           “That’s the last one?”

           “Yeah, I already did the Coors and Bud.”

           “Are you good to drive or do you want me to?” You wiggled your toes in your shoes, feeling the ache of standing for hours in the balls of your feet.

           “No, I’m good to drive,” Sam said, shaking hair out of his face. He looked up at you, hazel eyes hard to read with fatigue or fear or pity or some murky combination thereof. You drew tight spirals over orders you’d taken that night, feeling the pen press impressions into the small notepad. The absence of words spread out to close the distance between you, feeling cloying and claustrophobic even as the Nate Bargatze standup you’d cued up piped out through the bar’s speakers.

           “Hey, I—”

           “Are you—” Sam started at the same time. You held out a palm to signal for him to continue, not truly wanting to speak yourself. “Uh, sorry. I just…I—I’m not Dean. I can’t be Dean.”

           The words and deflation in his shoulders made you wish you’d been set ablaze. Stunned, you felt your mouth open and close around words that weren’t materializing, just collecting in your throat and hardening there, the backup starting to choke you.

           “I, uh—I know,” you finally managed to squeak past the lump.

           And part of you wondered if he was right in thinking you were using him as a stand-in. As atypical as the whole situation was, you couldn’t imagine that it was normal to sleep in the same bed and spend virtually every minute together. You began to feel sick at the thought that Sam would be out living up to his potential somewhere if it weren’t for you, back to law school or righting the wrongs of the world rather than in a Northwoods dive bar restocking domestic beers at 2:30 on a Tuesday morning. The selflessness of it seemed unfathomable and yet so entirely something Sam would do. Suddenly it felt like the walls were collapsing around you.

           The moment stretched out and Sam stood up, leaning on the counter across the bar from you. His jaw was set hard and he tilted his head the way he did when he was trying to stop himself from teetering over the edge of tears. “Sam, I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

           He cleared his throat but looked down at the nonstick mats on the floor. “No, ah, you don’t need to apologize. I just need you to know I can’t be him for you.”

           You didn’t dare look up in case you met Sam’s eyes as you nodded, so eviscerated and humiliated you were having a hard time taking a deep breath. After a long minute you heard the clink of bottles as Sam finished restocking, grabbed your coat to mumble something about warming up the car, and went to the small parking lot. You managed to make it into the Impala before your vision started swimming and the potential enormity of the situation crashed against you; was this the end of your carved out hideaway, full of grief and memories and comfort and little moments of affection and joy you had just barely started to accept? All for some stupid thought that Dean would be happier if you were out getting wasted, an idea that reduced him to a drifter barfly instead of the complex man who’d been more loyal and loved more deeply than anyone you’d ever met. The tears dried up quickly as self-disgust rolled over you and started ringing in your ears. You didn’t hear Sam coming and jolted when he opened the door, recoiling against the passenger side to give him as much space as possible. He glanced over at you with eyes so pitying that you couldn’t bear to look at them, staring out the window at the abject darkness the rest of the drive home.

           Sam didn’t turn on the stereo.

           Back in the cabin, you quickly shucked off your coat and snatched what you needed out of the bedroom before barricading yourself in for a shower. You didn’t bother taking your makeup off first, allowing the sting of mascara to get washed away in the water. It was too hot and you didn’t care; you only came out when you realized you were going to leave Sam in a cold shower in the last week in December.

           You brushed your teeth in the mirror and took a few deep breaths before sliding out, heading past the open bedroom door straight to the kitchen in order to gulp down a panicked glass of water. Mercifully, you heard the bathroom door lock when Sam entered it quietly. You took the opportunity to grab your pillow out of the bedroom, tossing it on the couch and pulling the throw off the sofa’s back to cover yourself. Your eyes were closed tight and ramming up against your racing mind when Sam came out.

           “You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” he said softly from behind you.

           You opened your eyes but didn’t move your head to seek him out. “It’s okay.”

           Sam appeared in front of you, legs bending severely to perch on the short coffee table. His bare chest still glistened a little from the shower and you knew the green flannel pants he was wearing were soft and thick to the touch. Earnest hazel eyes meeting yours, Sam braced his elbows on his knees.

           “Sam, I’m really sorry. It was a weird reflex and it was unfair for me to—”

           “No, I, it—it wasn’t that. It’s just like, sometimes when you look at me, you look like you’re seeing a ghost. I’m just—I need to know you’re not staying here because I’m the closest you can get.”

           If your heart hadn’t been shattered and re-shattered over the last almost- two-years and today, the fear and resignation in his eyes would’ve sent you to pieces. You pushed up to sitting in order to give Sam the respect he deserved.

           “I can’t—I won’t lie and say you don’t remind me of him, but you’re my best friend—been my best friend since I first met you guys—and I am so, so, sorry I made you feel…I could never try to replace him, Sam.” You were barely making sense, having a hard time stringing together how you felt. “The only place I want to be is with you. You’re all I’ve got.”

           It felt desperate and needy but it was true and Sam deserved the truth. You didn’t shy away from him, stayed there holding his gaze until he seemed content having searched your eyes for anything hiding from the light. After a moment he nodded tightly against lips pressed in a firm line. “Okay.”

           Sam stood up, the broad planes of him catching the glitter of the Christmas tree lights. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and tentative. “Can you, uh, can you come back?”

           It took a moment to process before you nodded, standing up and snagging your pillow before following Sam into the bedroom. You climbed into your side of the mattress, close to the wall and your tiny precious gallery, and Sam folded around you, his warm skin seeping through your t-shirt onto your back. You felt tense and comfortable all at once, safe and uneasy. The two of you sat there for a long time, the relatively light weight of Sam’s arm over you betraying that he wasn’t asleep either. When drowsiness finally began to tug your eyelids closed, he pressed his lips to a spot on your shoulder exposed from the looseness of its sleeve. The last thing you remembered was his arm going heavy like an anchor across yours.

           The sun is hot and delicious on your cheeks, baking the cotton of your jeans and t-shirt into you and turning the roof tiles under you into a frying pan. Wispy clouds move with no urgency across the sky above you and you can’t think of anything better than this, glancing down to worn laces on Dean’s boots undone to give his feet some air as his t-shirt clings half-humid to him. You know his freckles are going to be darker by dinner and it makes you smile to think about it but you’ll never tell him—it makes him shy to be reminded of the spray of pigment that makes him feel alternatively feminine or juvenile but never stunning the way you think it should. You press up to your elbows, barely registering the sting of heat and grit of the roof underneath you and kiss the spot on Dean’s arm where his shoulder slopes into his bicep. He smiles down at you, a lazy half-open smirk perfectly framed by the blue sky behind him like a painting.

           “You’re so weird,” he chuckles. “Who kisses someone’s arm?”

           “Then come down here,” you toss back, exaggerated pout ready for him. He ducks down to you, the warmth of his lips on yours like a cookie fresh out of the oven, like sliding down the hallway on new fuzzy socks, like the summer’s first plunge into water.

           Sam’s head peeks out from under the gutter. “Bobby’s putting brats on the grill, do you want any?”

           “Hell yeah, extra onions,” Dean yells down, grinning smugly when you make a face.

           “Me too!” you call out, watching Sam squint up at the roof. 

           “No onions though, right?”

           “You’re the best, Sam.”

           Sam beams up at you, dimples almost high enough to reach the squint-crinkled skin around his eyes. He nods and ducks back out of sight.

           “Come on, I’m thirsty,” Dean says, standing up. He reaches a hand down to you and takes a half step back to brace himself, stepping on the lace of his other boot. He stumbles and it’s a quick shuffle and you realize he’s too close to the edge his next step is into thin air like Wil E. Coyote and you’re grabbing at that same thin air and you can see his face change when he realizes and some part of your subconscious that’s even deeper than this can feel it’s happening again and the sound is so final, such a wet crack but you scrabble to the edge anyway because you have to see and Dean’s lying there.

           He’s clutching his left leg bent against his chest like a stretch. “Son of a bitch, what the fuck!” he mutter-yells, and you hear the thump of Sam and Bobby running through the old house and skittering to a stop in front of him as you carefully shimmy down the porch post with your hands tearing on the gutter’s rusty edge, jumping down when you feel the railing beneath you.

           “Dean! Are you okay?” Sam yells over Bobby who’s cursing out the goddamn idjit told you not to climb up there it’s like having a bunch of teenagers in this goddamned house and Dean winces and nods angrily.

           You’re lifting up the hem of his jeans and gingerly taking off his boot and Dean hisses when you peel off his sock, but nothing is poking through the skin and that’s better than you expected. “Can you stand up?”

           He nods again and you can practically taste him biting back the string of expletives when you and Sam each take an arm and lift him to standing. You snake a hand into his pocket and grab the keys to the Impala, leaning behind Dean to say to his brother, “I’ll take him to the ER.”

           Dean doesn’t argue and it’s yet more evidence that it’s pretty bad, but you feel fine, elated almost, that he’s still warm under your palm and against your side, that he still smells like fresh laundry and domestic beer and a little bit of salt and engine grease. Sam’s long arm opens the door when you get there and slides Dean in and you promise to text when you know how bad it is as you round the car and get to the driver’s side. You turn the key in the ignition and throw your arm around Dean’s seat to reverse out of the driveway. Dean’s looking at you as you throw the car back into drive, staring almost, and his face is soft even around the broken ankle.

           “I’m always going to love you,” he says, smooth and sure of himself. You tug your eyes away from the road with half a question on your face but Dean doesn’t explain why he’s saying this now. “I’ll be okay and I’m always going to love you, no matter what.”

           It doesn’t make any sense and you open your mouth to tease this unexpected sappiness, remind him the ankle is just one more in a long string of injuries he’ll owe you for, and then Dean’s gone, the car’s gone, and the heat is coming from Sam’s chest in front of you. 

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 5

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[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (9)

Warnings: parent death, daddy issues, abandonment and ~le angst~

Wc: 4.1k

You sat at Dea's desk, your eyes drooping heavily as you explained a sum to her. The girl opposite you was wide awake though, energetic as she solved the problem in her worksheet.

You were glad she had warmed up to you after the first session, but her endless enthusiasm towards mathematics at the moment was diametrically opposed to how you were feeling. The numbers on the pages swam as you decided to let your cheek rest on the table, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

"Y/n?"

You darted awake, turning your head to her. "Y-yeah?"

"I solved it. Also, are you okay? You look tired."

That's because I am. "I'm fine." You assured, flipping through her workbook to find another page for her to do.

Could anyone blame you for being tired? You'd stayed awake all night in anticipation, your heart thrumming as you thought about what was going to happen today.

After this session, you were going to go straight to the park. If Chan showed up...you would know he felt the same. What if he didn't?

You shook your head, dispelling the negative thought. Fuck no. You'd gone without pessissism for so many years, despite having many reasons to be the same. This wasn't going to be the day you surrender to it.

You felt your phone chirp, signalling the end of the session as you looked over at Dea, who had finished her worksheet. You smiled and took it from her, putting it in your bag to correct later.

"Our next session is going to be day after tomorrow, okay? Your mom said you have a sleepover to attend tomorrow." You said as you packed your bag, getting up. "Remember to do your homework though."

She nodded. "It's the sums on page 38, right?" She asked, pulling out a pink book from her drawer and writing in it.

"Yeah-" you narrowed your eyes as your eyes fell on her book, confusion filling you.

The book was covered with brocade, a very familiar pattern on top. It was the same design as yours, except pink. The color was the only difference. The print, the shape, the size....everything was the exact same, down to the signature on the bottom of the cover.

The signature of your father's.

You opened your mouth, words failing to leave you as you watched her write in it, your mind hurtling back as the memories drove into you, full-force.

You were extremely young when your dad had gifted you the little blue book you'd come to love and cherish. It was the last good memory you had of him. The tiny books were handmade by him, a result of a hobby he'd picked up one summer. Your dad had always been somewhat of an artsy man, and this was his latest project.

He'd made a dark red diary for himself, one for work purposes. You remembered marveling over how pretty it looked, begging him to make a similar one for you. And he did.

And now here was an exact copy of the book you'd kept for years, in the hands of this young girl you'd never met before. Was it a coincidence?

"Earth to Y/n!"

You snapped back into attention, looking at the girl who had her eyebrow raised. You opened your mouth, wondering if you should ask.

But you couldn't. Shaking your head, you decided to bring it up to your mom when you got home. For now, you simply bid adieu to Dea, leaving the house as your mind swam.

***

Minho looked to the side, thanking the heavens that Jisung and Felix were still asleep, despite it being morning already. Thankfully, the heavy curtains in Changbin's guest room ensured that the sunlight didn't manage to wake up the two.

Last night after the match, he'd decided to spend the night at Changbin's house along with Felix and Jisung. And now he was just waiting for the right opportunity.

As the snores increased in intensity, Minho carefully took out your book from his pocket, using the light of his phone to illuminate the pages as he flipped through each one to find what he was looking for.

Drawings. Drawings. A few poems. Even more drawings- huh. Drawings of Chan. They were well done, yet clearly drawn by someone who was in love with him. Minho rolled his eyes as he checked the back pocket and the front one, searching the book thoroughly and letting out an angry sigh when he found nothing inside.

Anger surged through him as he threw the book roughly next to him on the bed, rubbing at his tired eyes in disappointment as he tried not to let the frustration bubble up. Why did the universe hate him so much? Was it all for nothing?

A minute later, he felt Jisung stirring, snapping him out of his thoughts. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed your book and moved to hide it again- frowning when his eyes fell on the long note written across the page.

He'd obviously missed this the first time he flipped through. Narrowing his eyes, Minho started to read the poem, slowly realizing it was a love letter, meant for Chan. His eyes moved to the last sentence. Ah...

So, you were planning to confess to Chan at the park. Minho grinned, knowing Chan wouldn't show up. After all, he never saw this letter. His smirk grew as he reread the sentence.

Not to worry. Even if Chan didn't show up, he would.

***

It was way too early. Chan hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, his heart twisting with anxiety.

He'd lost the book.

Last night, after he'd gotten out of the shower, he checked his pants for your book, deciding he was feeling calm enough to read what you'd written for him. As he'd searched his pockets, finding them empty, his stomach had filled with dread as he realized it was gone.

Trust. You'd trusted him enough to give him your closest possession, and he'd been careless enough to lose it. He cursed himself, turning over and burying his face in his pillow, wondering how he was going to face you. Usually, he called you every morning to make plans to hang out, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to.

He didn't want to see you sad and disappointed, knowing he was the reason behind your ever-present smile disappearing.

***

Minho walked home, sipping on the can of beer he'd stolen from Changbin's fridge. It was definitely too early for this, but he honestly couldn't care less. As he neared his house, he tossed the can in the trash, running a hand through his hair as he walked closer.

The front door opened suddenly, and he frowned. His mom usually went to work much earlier than this, so who was leaving his house right now?

Minho's eyes widened as the person finally came into view, shutting the door and walking down the street.

Quickly darting behind a tree, he watched as you walked away, your feet moving quickly.

What were you doing in his house?

***

As Chan made his way into the locker room, he searched everywhere for the little book. He couldn't comprehend how it could have just disappeared like that. He was so sure he'd kept it in his pocket...

He let out a frustrated groan as he left the stadium, pulling his hood over his head as he noticed how there were a few dark clouds accumulating in the sky.

He'd done everything he could. He'd already called Felix and told him about the situation, but he didn't have a clue either.

Now, there was nothing left to do but face you. He wanted to curse, wanted to kick something or punch someone. You were never going to trust him again after this, and the thought broke his heart more than it should have.

****

You sat on the park bench, nervously, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for Chan to arrive. You stared at the lake, your heart pounding impossibly fast as you expected him to come at any moment now.

The sunlight shone on the water, and you observed the pair of ducks swimming together, a soft smile on your face, desperately wishing you could draw them in your book. It felt weird being away from it. It was usually always in your bag, the proximity of it always giving you comfort.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret giving it to Chan, though- The book had been replaced. Chan made you comfortable in a way no inanimate object ever could.

The view in front of you was extremely peaceful. Love really was everywhere. You'd never really understood it before, but now you could...And it was a beautiful feeling, yet scary at the same time. You felt like confessing had taken a huge weight off of your heart, but you were deeply terrified of Chan's reaction. Sure, he'd been the one to approach you, take you on dates...he'd been the one to initiate the hand-holding and the kiss. Yet you couldn't help but be self-conscious. Your father leaving you had given you trust issues, and your mind started coming up with worst case scenarios even as you desperately tried to bat the negativity away.

But all of it melted away as you felt someone tap your shoulder.

This was it.

Your heart fluttered as you turned around slowly, your mind filling with happiness at the prospect of seeing him again after last night-

Wait.

The smirk facing you definitely did not belong to Chan.

You stared at Minho in shock, standing up from the bench and backing away slightly as he raised an eyebrow. Why the fuck was he here? The dread in your stomach was back, and this time it was heavier.

"Surprised to see me?" He snarled, moving forward. You continued to move away as he moved closer, fear filling you as you stared at his slightly deranged expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He chuckled, and you swore as you realize you were cornered, having unintentionally backed up against a tree.

"At least, not yet." He said nonchalantly, trapping you against the bark as he hovered over you, making you gulp.

"W-why are you here? I'm...I'm expecting Chan soon, so p-please leave." You mumbled, summoning all your confidence as you avoided his heavy gaze. He narrowed his eyes, smirk reappearing as he shook his head at your naïvety.

"Oh, I hate to break it to you...Channie's not coming, dear." He said in a matter of fact tone, relishing the way your expression dropped further.

"What? B-but, the book-" you mumbled under your breath, almost to yourself. Minho scoffed, slipping your book out from his pocket roughly and holding it up in front of you.

"You mean this book?"

Your eyes widened. No. No way. How did this happen? How did it end up in his hands?

"You must be wondering how I got this, hm?" He let out a small snort. "Well, your precious Channie gave it to me last night. In fact, we all looked through it. Had a nice little laugh. The guys will definitely thank you for the fun night." He smirked, the devastation on your face pleasing him incredibly. He put on a mock face of surprise at your expression.

"Wow, is this some sort of surprise for you? Did you really think he had feelings for you? I'm sorry, but he was just using you, darling. He's always been in love with Miyoung, and he was just using you to get her."

The nonchalance with which he uttered those words was throwing you off as you tried to understand.

No...

This couldn't be happening...was what he said true? You felt your heart breaking slowly, completely as the image of Chan laughing at the contents of your book with his friends came to mind, tears springing to your eyes as it sunk in. He'd been using you, all this time? But...his smile, the kiss...it had all felt so fucking genuine.

Minho's expression turned incredulous as he noticed your tears. "Wait, are you crying? Bitch, you don't deserve to cry." He spat, holding the book up to you and shaking it slightly.

"Now that those little truths are out of the way." He cleared his throat. "Tell me where the fuck it is."

Wait, what? Confusion filled your face as Minho glared at you, his tone growing angrier.

"I don't know...what you're talking about." You said slowly, cowering as he raised his eyebrows, scoffing again.

"The money." He said sharply. "Tell me where the money is. Cause I know your father most definitely hid it in this pathetic book."

Your dad? The confusion quickly became more potent as you stared up at Minho, his expression twisted with such pure wrath that it caught you off-guard.

"How do you...I- w-what?"

"Don't play dumb." He gritted his teeth. "Don't act all innocent and pretend to not know what your fucking father did to my family."

"I-" you narrowed your eyes, lip trembling as you spoke. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

The sky was darkening.

"Looks like I need to spell it out for you." Minho inhaled deeply, looking up before looking down at you again.

"Your father stole all my mother's money before leaving us." His voice shook a little as your eyebrows knitted together. "He left her destitute and pregnant, with a little boy to support. And then he had the balls to go and fucking die. Sound familiar?"

The words sunk into your head, like teeth. Your brain couldn't comprehend what he was saying properly and you opened your mouth, your voice stuck in your throat.

You couldn't believe it. He was your dad's stepson? The child you'd seen in the faded photos your dad had sent you of his shining, amazing new family?

It was starting to rain. The drops of water came down on the two of you, not entirely soaking you thanks to the tree above. The air was icy, and your teeth chattered- out of nervousness or the cold, you didn't know.

"So now, all I want to know is where the money he took is. I've searched this stupid book inside and out, but it's nowhere. So you tell me where it is."

"W-why would it be in my book?" You asked quietly, the implications of what Minho was saying overwhelming you beyond compare. You'd never really put much thought into your father's new family, having just seen a few old photos of them. Somehow it all made sense, and at the same time didn't.

"I know he made this book. It's the only heirloom he left for you. I know because he made the same one for my little sister, before he up and left. When I saw you with it at the cafeteria, I knew you were his daughter. And I just- I assumed it would be in here-" his voice was starting to break as he scrunched his eyes shut, realizing how far-fetched this was.

"I...M-minho...I haven't seen my dad since I was 9. I don't know where the money is. I'm..." You swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry he screwed up your family like he did mine. There's nothing I can do about it." You mumbled, looking down and avoiding his gaze.

His eyes softened a little as he let go of you, stepping back slightly and letting out a shaky sigh. He tossed the book to you and you caught it, looking up at him and his distressed expression. He'd known it was a bit of a reach- this whole thing was. Always had been. But he'd been desperate. He'd chased after this long shot of a theory ever since he laid eyes on you for the first time, writing in that book. The sudden self-loathing he felt was blinding as he realized what he’d done.

Minho turned to you. "I...I saw you leaving my house today. So you were the tutor Mom was talking about?"

"Yeah." Everything was slowly sinking in as your heart was still thudding. You understood why Dea's mom had looked so familiar. You'd seen her in the photos. Of course she'd been heavily pregnant then, a glow in her eyes that just wasn't there now.

"So you...you really hadn't seen him again since he left you? When he left us, he wrote a note. Said he was going back to his old family." He tilted his head at you, running a hand through his hair and baring his vulnerability. It was tiring having had to hide it for so long.

"No. He must have...must have died before he could. Or he was just lying. He wasn't always the most honest man in the world."

"You could say that." He shook his head, sighing as he went back over to the bench, flopping down on it and burying his head in his hands, not wanting to look at you. The guilt wrecking him was overwhelming, and he felt his heart shake.

You hesitated a little before going over and sitting next to him. He looked up at you, and you noticed small tears mixing with the raindrops running down his face.

"I'm...really sorry." He said in a small voice. "I was angry at him and I took it out on you." He looked back down at his lap, his eyebrows furrowing. "My childhood was spent trying to support my mom and my little sister. I guess I didn't stop to think about the fact that he did the same to you. Left you alone." He mumbled, his tone genuine.

You nodded, sighing and staring at your hands. "I...can forgive you, Minho. I understand the pain."

"I was just so...so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't even know why I thought that the money would be with you. I...fuck, I was an absolute asshole, wasn't I?" He said, tone filling with anger directed towards himself as he sat up.

You shrugged. "Well, I won't deny you were. But I guess you had a good reason." You said softly, thoughtfully humming. Maybe you were forgiving him too soon, but to be honest, your heart wasn't build to hold grudges. The boy next to you looked devastated enough.

"So...isn't Dea my sister, too?" Your mind swam as you realized you'd already met your half sister and hadn't even known it.

"Yeah. She would be excited to know she has a sister. She's always wanted one. Says I'm too serious for her." He laughed, smiling at you before clearing his throat and looking away.

There was a silence for a few minutes as the two of you let everything wash away with the rain. Both your hearts were still pounding from the heavy truths you'd learnt...but there was an odd sense of peacefulness filling you, now.

The same man had messed with the both of you, ruined your families. You'd come to terms with what he'd done, but Minho clearly hadn't. You were still surprised how easy forgiving him had been, especially after everything that he'd done.

The regret filling him was immense. Minho looked over at you, and slowly he decided to shift closer until your thighs were touching. Your clothes were wet, but neither of you could bring yourself to care. He slowly put his arm on the bench behind you.

There was a sense of comfort from knowing the two of you shared a reason to be fucked up. Sighing, you let your head rest on his shoulder.

Calm, finally.

***

Chan walked through the rain, not wanting to stop his search for you despite the heavy downpour. His clothes were soaked through as he made his way to the park, knowing it was probably where you were if you weren't at your own house.

As he made his way to your bench, he mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. Hi, I lost the book you value more than life itself at a football game- fuck, he'd really messed up this time.

As Chan walked on the path to the lake, he frowned as he noticed two figures on the bench the two of you always sat on. Shit, maybe you weren't here after all.

However as he came closer, his heart thudding impossibly loud, he realized he recognized the heads.

It was you and Minho, looking awfully close as your head rested on his shoulder, the two of you looking at the lake even as the rain poured down on you.

Chan felt his throat dry up completely as he stood there, feeling the betrayal hit him squarely in the chest and almost forgetting how to breathe.

Turning around, his expression stiff, he walked away as quickly as he could, thankful for the rain in that moment. He wouldn't cry, not over you.

He couldn't believe he'd been foolish enough to let you in. At the end of the day, he was destined to be miserable. Nothing could save him, and he winced as his heart leaked, slowly emptying itself of you, and all the memories he had of you.

Happiness was a fucking scam, and he was glad he realized it sooner than never.

***

You adjusted Minho's jacket around you as you waited for your mom to open the door. It was still raining heavily, and you were entirely soaked.

You still wanted to talk to Minho, and ask him a few more questions. Even more than that, you were excited to see Dea again. A sister. You finally had a sister, and an amazing one too at that. The girl was a sweetheart, and she really was a mini-you, now that you thought about it...

The rain had forced you to separate ways though. You scrolled through your phone out of boredom, shivering.

You checked your texts, frowning as you noticed the absurd amount of messages your mom had sent you. Wow, she’d been really intent on contacting you...was something wrong?

Worry growing, you knocked on the door extra hard, letting out a relieved sigh as the door was finally opened.

You'd had your fair share of shocks since the morning. However, nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

Your mother opened the door quickly, peeking outside before ushering you in. As you entered the house, you swallowed as you noticed the amount of boxes and cartons that were lying around.

"I..mom? What is going on?" You asked, frowning as you watched her dart around in a hurry, dumping things into random boxes.

"Y/n, change and get ready, quick. Come on, we don't have much time-"

"What? Why? What's...what's happening?" You asked, clutching your saddlebag tighter as she went from one room to the other, tossing nearly all of your belongings into the assorted brown boxes littered around.

"What's happening is we're moving. And we have to do it right now." She glanced around. "I may have gotten into some... trouble. Thankfully my new boyfriend has a place up north, so we'll be fine-" she continued rambling, causing you to tune her out as you swore.

You felt tears prick your eyes. You wanted to burst out, the anger and sadness clawing at your throat insufferably. There was no way this was actually happening. Just when things were coming together a little bit...and now she wanted to uproot you again?

In all these years though, you'd come to realize that sometimes, there was just no other option.

Sometimes, you just had to accept the hard truths without complaints.

***

You sat in your mom's car as she drove, knowing better than to ask her what exactly the problem was. You stared at your phone, yearning to call Chan.

Don't, Y/n. You deserve better.

In the midst of all the revelations Minho had brought forth, you'd completely forgotten about the first truth Minho had let you in on.

Chan had been...using you. To get Miyoung. Unfortunately, you couldn't say it had come as a surprise. In the beginning, you'd noticed his lingering gazes on her, the way his demeanor changed every time she was around. After all, who wouldn't like Miyoung? She was lovable and sweet. Nothing like you.

But...but it had all seemed so real. How could he have been faking it the whole time?

You finally threw all caution to the wind, dialling his number and sighing when it went straight to voicemail.

Your heart was still broken, but that didn't mean you were going to be a complete asshole and disappear from his life without notice.

You started off just telling him you were leaving. However, you couldn't just...stop. There was unfinished business between the two of you.

You took a deep breath and decided to recite the love poem you'd written for him in the book, omitting the last sentence and sighing.

"I guess we were just not meant to be, after all. Thanks for everything, though. For just a while, you made me feel like I belonged."

And with that, you dropped your phone next to you, staring out at the raindrops running down the car window. The tears were making a reappearance, but at this point you couldn't bring yourself to give a fuck.

Something told you tears were going to be a regular occurrence from now on.

***

Note: Act 1 is over. Act 2 will commence from the next chapter, and there will be a time-skip of a few years.

[yespolkadotkitty]

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

So at some point, @alwaysbethewest​ (thankyou for the beta read!) mentioned that our mutual friend @keeper0fthestars​  has a thing for wearing Marcus Pike’s shirt/people wearing his shirt. So, then after Mary and I screamed at each other for a bit, this happened. Marcus Pike/f!reader

lovely gif by @beccaplaying

Warnings: None. Well, shameless fluff, a tablespoon of angst.

Word count: 1700  

Your alarm sounded from the kitchen. T-minus two hours until Marcus came home.

Double-checking everything was still in place, you jumped in the shower, hoping that the love of your life wouldn’t be mad at you. Or worse, sad. Or even worse, disappointed.

You started to feel a bit sick.

But you’d started now. And you were reasonably confident of the outcome.

Two weeks ago, you’d come home early from a night out. Marcus and his old army buddy Zach were on the couch, finishing a pizza, ribbing each other. You‘d poked your head in to say hi, then started to brush your teeth in the bathroom, when you heard Zach and Marcus step into the hallway.

“I don’t know, man,” Marcus was saying, pitching his voice low. He didn’t realise you had the door ajar. “Can I do it a third time? I’d all but sworn off dating when I met her, and proposing… could seriously mess it up. I can’t risk it. She’s beyond. The best thing that ever happened to me.”

Zach replied with something unintelligible, then they exchanged pleasantries and you heard the door close, before Zach’s footfalls sounded on the stairs.

Now, you dried yourself off, thinking of that night.

No one should have to propose three times.

When you’d met Marcus, his eyes were so sad. That soulful brown didn’t warm when he smiled. His eyes didn’t quite crinkle at the edges. It wasn’t until you’d been dating a month that you saw him full-on smile when you arrived at his apartment, your arms full of flowers.

“What’s this?” he’d asked, perplexed.

You passed the bouquet of daisies to him, their sunny faces making you happier immediately. “I was thinking, what should I bring to dinner? Then I thought, women don’t buy men flowers. Why not? Everyone should have flowers.”

And he’d smiled. Full-on, gorgeous teeth, crinkly-eyed grin. And you’d already been falling in love with him, but at that moment you tumbled headlong over the cliff, without a single regret.

You hung your towel and moved to your wardrobe, then hesitated. Marcus loved seeing you in his clothes. In fact, he’d once said it was his favourite sight. He’d left a shirt at your apartment a couple months into your relationship and you’d forgotten to return it, wore it sometimes. You always ended up having fantastic sex when you wore it unbuttoned too low, tied at the waist.

You’d kept it because it smelled of him, and when you two finally moved in together, after many discussions, that white shirt with the faint blue-lined check still lived in your wardrobe.

You tugged it out now, slipped it on over your lace bra, buttoning it just enough that the edge of red lace could be seen. You pulled on low-slung jeans, knotted the shirt’s ends.

One hour to go.

You’d prepped dinner earlier - took the afternoon off so Marcus wouldn’t suspect. His favourite - pancakes with lashings of maple syrup and bacon. The pancakes sat in a stack on the stove ready to be warmed-up, the bacon ready to fry when the timer got closer to when he’d be coming through the door.

After fixing your make-up and spraying on your favourite perfume, you set some music playing - Marcus always said it’s impossible to go wrong with Otis Redding, and as usual, he was infuriatingly right - and just as you wondered if you’d forgotten something, his key sounded in the lock.

Shit, the ring!

You dove for the bedroom, snagged the box from the very, very bottom of your underwear drawer and stuffed it into one of your pockets.

“Hey, sweetheart, I-” Marcus stopped in the doorway, his brow furrowed. “I smell pancakes…?”

He looked good. He sometimes took his tie off on the way home, and this was one of those days, his collar popped two buttons, his jacket loose.

The beard he’d grown for undercover work shortly after the Teresa debacle still hugged his face, scruffy-neat. You’d convinced him to keep it. It made him sexier, emphasized his fantastic jawline and bone structure, and besides, you loved the feel of that scruff on your skin, under your hands.

You walked over to greet him, saw his gaze dip down to his shirt, watched his lips curve slowly, those chocolate eyes warming up. “Well. Seems like I might be in for a treat.”

He tugged you close, filling his hands with your ass, pressing into you, and you lifted your face for his kiss, opening when his tongue traced your smile. He made a low hmmm in his throat and you vowed not to get distracted.

“Sit, baby,” you encouraged.

“But… this shirt.” He nibbled at your pulse point, traced a finger down the open neck of his button-down.

“Sit. Let me spoil you.”

Narrowing his eyes, Marcus let you go, then tossed his keys in the pot by the kitchen door. “And Otis Redding? Is there… something I should know? Is it my birthday? ‘Cause I’m willing to change it to today for this.”

You smiled, chucked the bacon in the skillet. “There’re two beers in the fridge.”

He shrugged his jacket off, hung it on the kitchen chair as was his habit, then pulled the door open. “My favourite kind. Sweetheart…”

“Sit,” you dictated.

Marcus winged a brow up. “Mmmmm. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

Otis crooned Try a Little Tenderness as the smell of bacon filled the kitchen, rich and pleasantly greasy.

“How was your day?” Marcus asked, cracking open both beers and placing one at your elbow. He rounded the counter, sat at the table. You were momentarily distracted by the sight of him tipping his head back slightly to drink, exposing the very biteable line of his neck, and the pan spat hot grease on to the curve of your breast, naked above the low lace bra.

“Shit!” You shut the heat off, crumpling to the floor, your hands on your inflamed skin. “Should’ve got an apron,” you groused, more to yourself than to him.

“Whoa!” Marcus rushed over, bending down to assess the damage, his whiskey-gold gaze roaming over you, cataloguing every detail. He stood to grab a cloth from the kitchen cupboard, ran it under cold water, pressed it to the curve of your breast. “Better, sweetheart?”

“Much better.”

His eyes roamed over your face. Always thinking of you, your Marcus. Always caring, never putting himself first. So you had to put him first.

When he stood, saying, “I’ll get a bandaid,” you had a sudden idea. As he turned, you snagged his hand, knelt up.

“Marcus Matthew Pike.”

He froze, then very slowly, turned to face you. The look on his face was deadly sombre, like he was waiting for the axe to fall. You squeezed his hand.

“I think I have loved you since the day we met. I love your smile. Your kindness. Your ability to see the good in everything. Some of that was taken from you, but you’re still the guy who sings in the shower-”

Marcus winced. “Off-key.”

“Don’t interrupt my proposal. You’re the guy who looks forward to a rainbow rather than complaining about the rain, the guy who saves stolen art and learns the story behind the piece, and tells it again and again, so the artists live forever. That’s a man I want in my life forever. Marcus, will you marry me?” You dug the box from your pocket and popped it one-handed, revealing a slim, simple platinum band nestling in soft leather.

“Sweetheart…”

You held your breath,

Marcus knelt to face you, cupping your cheek. “I was working up to it. I swear I was.”

You shook your head. “No one should have to propose three times.”

He bent and touched his forehead to yours, sighing, his eyes warm, soft, crinkled at the corners. “I love you. So much. I love waking up next to you. I love it when you fall asleep on me during old movies. I love that you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I’d be. So yeah. Yes, please, I would very much like to marry you.”

You held his hand, slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly. The way Marcus fit inside your heart, taking up all the available space, his edges lining up with yours.

“I know guys don’t usually have rings, but-”

“I love it. I love you. I love that you did this.” He tugged you in for a warm, soft kiss, then overbalanced, pulling you with him, and you sprawled together on the kitchen floor, laughing together.

Eventually you remembered the bacon, drizzling it with maple syrup in the pan and tearing off bits of pancake to dip in the sticky mixture, feeding each other as Otis Redding serenaded you, and it was perfection.

Much, much later, Marcus showed you how much he loved his shirt on you. But how much more he liked it on the bedroom floor.

Pedro Pals, assemble! @gamingaquarius​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @knittingqueen13​​ @alldatalost​ @dornish-queen​ @lackofhonor​ @songsformonkeys​ @pascalitomarcuspike @cryptkeepersoul​ @pedropascallion​ @seawhisperer​ @thegreenkid​ @pajamasecrets​ @starlight-starwrites​ @agirllovespasta​ @scarlettvonsass​ @mourningbirds1​ @oloreaa​ @mrschiltoncat​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @emmy-dandiliom918​​ @holographic-carmen​​ @heatherbel​ @nelba​ @abuttoncalledsmalls​ @winters-buck​ @buckstaposition​ @opheliaelysia​ @jaime1110​ Please ask to be added to, or dropped from, the tags!

[dirty-urie]

Jam Sesh

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Smut Oneshot

NC-17

3.3k Words

Warnings in order of appearance: real person fic, alcohol, slight insecurity, fingering, some dirty talk, penetrative sex

Author's Notes:

This is... not my best work. I don't really like anything about it, but instead of wasting any more of my time on it, I'm just publishing it and hoping that my dislike for it is just me being self-critical and not because it's a really bad fic. Normally I'm all for hyping yourself up, but meh, I'm just not feeling this one, and that's okay because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want. Hope you like it though lmao

He answers the studio door and pulls you in for a hug, which is a little awkward with the guitar on your back, but you make it work. "Y/N!" He exclaims happily.

You're a little surprised that he answered the door and didn't accidentally get caught up in his work. It's not like Brendon would purposefully stand you up; he's just a little bit of a mess sometimes. But he looks happy to see you, and that's all that matters. He motions you inside, and you follow him, collapsing on the couch next to his desk.

"Beer me, Brendon!" You request, and he does, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge in the corner of the studio and handing you the tall silver can. You wrinkle your nose. "How successful does the band have to get for you to stop buying Coors light?"

"Hey! I like Coors light," he defends, grabbing yours and replacing it with a pretentious-looking IPA. "There you go, a fancy beer because you're my guest."

"Thank you. I'm sure it'll still taste like stale piss, but now it'll taste like fancy stale piss." You joke, taking your guitar out of its case.

He laughs and takes a sip of the beer he stole from you. "Oh shit, is that new?" He gestures to your guitar. "I haven't seen it before."

"New to me. I found it at a thrift shop for 20 bucks, but it barely looks used and look, it's a fender," you say, handing him the guitar.

"Woah, Y/N, this is a find," he says, playing a few chords.

You take your guitar back and start messing around on it yourself. Brendon makes his way over to the drums and starts playing along with you. You try not to ogle or anything, but he looks fucking good giving his all to the instrument. Almost makes you wonder how he'd be in bed... intense, totally in-control. Shit, you need to stop letting your mind wander; you're just as bad as the throngs of thirsty fans. Plus, you came here to play guitar with one of the most talented musicians you know, you shouldn't let your hormones get the better of you.

After a while, you start getting hot in the stuffy studio and stand up to take your jacket and shirt off, leaving you in a white tank top. That helps for a bit, but the heat is still getting to you. "Hey, B, I'm getting hot in here. Do you mind if we go outside?"

Ever since you took your jacket off, he's been laser-focused on the drum-kit, so you're not sure he hears you at first.

"B?" You repeat.

He stops his drumming but doesn't stand up. "Oh yeah, no problem, let me just tidy up the studio a bit. Can you bring the guitars out?"

"Yeah, sure," you step out of the studio with the guitar you brought and one of his acoustic ones, but when you step out of the studio, you notice dark clouds coming towards the house.

"I think it could rain; we probably should leave the instruments inside, just in case," you tell him, walking back into the studio and leaving the guitars on the couch. You notice that he's still sitting behind the drums, his head in his hands. "Hey, Brendon, you feeling okay?"

He waves you off with a laugh, still not really looking at you. "Yeah, yeah, I'm great. Just a little headache; I'm probably dehydrated. I'll bring out some waters with the next round of beers."

"Okay, if you say you're fine, I'll wait for you outside," you say suspiciously, leaving the studio.

You settle into the outdoor sitting area, kicking your feet up on the coffee table. Brendon comes out with two more beers and two water bottles, still looking a bit distressed.

"Sorry, I cut our jam session short," you apologize, as he sits in the chair across from you and crosses his legs.

"What? Are you kidding me? We were at it for hours," you swear he blushes after he says that, but he's probably flushed from drumming, "and even if it was cut off, I just wanna hang out with you, no matter what we're doing."

"Aww, I'm so glad we're friends. Ooo, and now that we have time to talk, you can tell me all about that tour story that you didn't want to write out in an email."

You two exchange stories for another half hour, but Brendon still looks pink even after he hasn't been drumming for a while now.

"Hey, you still look really hot. You wanna jump in the pool? I don't have a swimsuit, but I could just wear my tank top and panties and then change back into my t-shirt and shorts after," You suggest. He looks a little panicked if you interpret correctly, but you're not sure why. And he's getting redder but the second. "Brendon, you look really flushed; you should cool off."

He laughs, but you don't get the joke. "I actually think I should get into the air-conditioning, we could watch a movie? Plus, those dark clouds are getting awfully close. We'll get rained-on as soon as we hit the water." Sure enough, as soon as he says that, the sky opens up, and it starts pouring. You both dash through the rain to the house. He unlocks the door, and you both go inside, laughing.

Your top is positively soaked through, and you're shivering in the cold house. "You mind if I shower real fast? I don't want to catch a chill."

Brendon is looking at something behind your head, not meeting your eyes. "Well, um, you could, um, shower here. But wouldn't you rather be all comfy at home?"

"Would I rather drive through LA traffic in the rain in wet clothes than take a warm shower in your mansion? No. I'm gonna shower." You turn around, walking into his bedroom and then deeper into the en-suite bathroom. His shower is large and fancy, and you almost don't want to get out once you're sufficiently warm. You do though, it is a drought, after all. You wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and then rummage around his bedroom for dry clothes. He clearly needs to do laundry because his drawers are sparse, and his hamper is overflowing. Still, you manage to find a long t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to wear underneath.

Brendon walks in and freezes when he sees you. "Are you," he trails off, takes a deep breath, and then starts again, "are you wearing my underwear?" He eyes the black briefs you stole that are peeking out from under the t-shirt you also stole from him.

"Yeah," you say dismissively, putting your wet clothes in your purse.

"Y/N," he says exasperatedly.

"Mm? Something wrong?"

"Something wrong? Y/N, you're wearing my underwear!"

"So?"

"So my dick has been in them!"

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes. "Your dick has been in your hands, too, but it's not a big deal because, like your underwear, I presume you wash them." He gives you a look that tells you he's not convinced. "Plus, you loaned me sweatpants after I ripped my shorts a couple of weeks ago, and are you honestly telling me your dick has never been in those?"

"That's different!"

"It is not." He gives you another exasperated look. "Okay, if it's that big of a deal, then I'll take them off, geez," you relent, tugging on the bottom of the underwear.

"Ahh!" He exclaims, turning his head, shielding his eyes, and waving his other arm in your general direction as if to ward you off. "Let's all keep our clothes on."

"What is wrong with you? Why are you being so squirrely? Does my gross body really freak you out that much?" You accuse.

His eyes widen. "Shit, no, I love your gross body, fuck, I mean, I love your perfectly normal body," he stutters while you stare in silence.

"You've made your point," you say, not bothering to hide the offense in your voice. You grab your bag and storm out of his bedroom.

"Y/N, wait," he calls.

You stop and whip around to face him, "You've been weird around me all day, Brendon! When I took my jacket off in the studio, your eyes were glued to your drums! When I said we should swim, you offered to watch a fucking movie instead! When my shirt was soaked through, you looked right past me at the wall! When I asked to shower in your house, you nearly kicked me out! And now you're having fucking conniptions over your underwear!" You shout. "Brendon, I know, believe me, I know, that I don't look like your other LA friends. That I'm not model-skinny or anything, but god, you could put some effort into not making me feel like a freak."

Brendon furrows his brows. "Y/N, of course, I don't think you're a freak."

"Oh really? Because Nicole has been buck-naked right in front of you, and you didn't bat an eye, but apparently, the sight of my arms without a jacket is so disgusting that you can't look at me." Tears are streaming down your face now.

His face falls, and he rushes towards you, "Y/N, sweet girl, oh my god, no, no, that's not it at all. I," his voice trembles, "like you," he says quietly.

You scrunch your face in confusion. "Brendon, of course, you like me; we're friends, but that doesn't make any of your behavior today acceptable."

"Are you really going to make me spell it out?" he asks. "I am attracted to you. Very attracted to you. And this whole day, I've just been trying not to get aroused by the sight of you because that's gross and objectifying and disrespectful, so I've been staring at the ground and thinking about Margaret Thatcher naked so I didn't have to go jerk off in the studio bathroom," he confesses.

"Oh."

"And now I've made things awkward," he rubs the back of his neck. "So, um, see you later, you can keep my clothes. I won't need them back. Probably do something creepy with them once you gave them back anyway. Er, that was a joke. I should shut up."

Your offense and then confusion morph into understanding and then shock and delight. "Yeah, you fucking doofus," you laugh. "You absolutely should shut up."

You take two steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you, and grab his chin. You lean in, and your lips meet his without any reservation. He kisses back, unsure. Then, you take more initiative, looping your arm around his back and pulling him against you.

Brendon stays tentative but enthusiastic, letting you take the lead. "Fuck. Margaret Thatcher naked, Margaret Thatcher naked," he chants against your lips.

"How's that distraction working out for you?" You ask knowingly, pressing your hips against his.

His cheeks warm, and must be blushing. "I think you can feel as well I do that it's working out poorly." He's trying to make a joke, but he's right. You can feel him hardening against you as you kiss. You finally remove your lips from his but keep yourself pressed against him. He turns his face away, blushing like you suspected, and grinning from ear-to-ear.

You run your hand down the side of his face. "For what it's worth, I'm very attracted to you too, if you didn't pick up on that already. Probably why I was so upset," you say softly, "I can leave if you want to be responsible and take this slow," you offer. "Or," you trace the hand from his face down his neck to his chest, "you could take me back to your bedroom and apologize for hurting my feelings." You fake a pout.

Brendon's eyes darken, and he grabs your hand to practically drag you into his bedroom. He slams the door behind you, pinning you against it. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," you breathe out, and he kisses you hard. You reciprocate, not caring how sloppy and desperate you feel with your probing tongues and clashing teeth. He parts to breathe and then buries his face in your neck, nipping and kissing. You tremble, grateful for the door behind you, so you don't collapse. One of his hands is above your head, supporting himself against the door, and the other is on your hip. He plays with the waistband of the briefs you're wearing, a silent plea for permission.

"Touch me," you beg, and he doesn't feign any confusion, just slips his hand under the fabric and strokes your swollen clit with his index finger. You moan, trying to ask for more, but your vocal cords aren't working. He seems to understand, though, because he moves his hand back to gently slide his middle and ring finger inside you. Instead of thrusting them like you expect, he curls them and rubs against your g-spot. At the same time, he's still stroking your clit, now with his thumb, and kissing you. His coordination is crazy good, but it makes sense with all the instruments he plays. Your core is starting to feel warm and buzzy, and you're only half-shocked that he's coaxing an orgasm from you so soon. You don't know how you're still standing; your knees are weak, and your brain feels like it's filled with a static of lust and pleasure.

Brendon feels you tightening around his fingers and speeds up ever-so-slightly. The small part of you that's still lucid feels his dick, hard and pressing against you where your bodies meet. He isn't rutting or grinding against you, just keeping you pinned against the wall with his hips, and somehow the self-control is even hotter. He presses harder on your clit, and that does it. Your orgasm explodes through you, soaking the underwear you're wearing. Your legs turn to jelly, and you slump forward onto Brendon, who supports your dead weight easily. "That's it, come for me," he coaxes softly. You bury your face into him, feeling blissed-out and overstimulated all at once, unable to do anything but ride it out.

"Y/N, darling, can you move over to the bed with me?"

You nod, letting him support you as you take small steps to his bed in the middle of the room.

"Good girl. Can't believe this is really happening; I can't believe I get to touch you. Dreamed about you for so long," he marvels.

You crawl into his bed, settling back onto your knees. "Dreamed about you too," you admit. "God, can I take my shirt off, Brendon?"

"Pretty sure that's my shirt, actually."

You giggle. "Well then, can I take your shirt off?" You wink, regaining your composure.

He laughs. "Yes, please. In both senses, take my clothes off."

You pull off the t-shirt you're wearing and throw it on the ground, exposing your stomach and breasts to his hungry eyes. His chest rises and falls quickly as he soaks you in silently, trying to get control of himself. "I like looking at you in my underwear." His voice is gravelly.

"Well, wouldn't you rather look at me without your underwear?" you offer.

He swallows and nods. You strip completely. You know your cunt is shiny with your juices, and you're pretty sure that's what's caught his attention. Brendon takes his shirt off, and now it's your turn to stare. He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans before taking them and his underwear off. His leaking cock settles against his stomach. He approaches the bed and gets in next to you, rolling on his side to face you.

"Fuck me," you moan, grasping his erection and stroking.

Brendon lets out a choked sound and gropes around the nightstand for a condom. He grabs one and hands it to you to roll on him. You spread your legs in expectation, and he takes the cue to enter you. He slides in easily with how wet and ready you are for him. You don't wait for him to start thrusting; you're too impatient. Instead, you rock your hips up to meet him. He hisses, not expecting the motion, and tenses his entire body to stay in control. It feels like it takes him forever, but eventually, he starts moving, slowly dragging his cock up and down. You squeeze your legs together to better feel him, and he hisses before his thrusts quicken, already working desperately towards release.

You can practically feel the veins running across him. "You're so much thicker than I would've guessed. Fill me up so nicely," you tell him. He throbs at your words, and you suspect the praise is turning him on even more, so when his hips snap forward perfectly into your g-spot, you praise him again. "So good, B, keep this angle, please." Your suspicions are mostly confirmed when he moans, and his thrusts falter a bit as a wave of pleasure washes over him. His hand moves to stroke your nipple while he supports himself with his other arm to avoid crushing you. You move your hand between your bodies to touch your clit, but instead, decide to form your fingers in a V and feel him moving between them instead. He hisses at the new sensation, and you love affecting him with your touch.

You finally do move your other hand to rub your clit, fast and hard. There are so many different pleasure points being activated on your body that you don't know what to focus on, so you don't focus on any; just let all the feelings meld into one as you lay back and mostly let Brendon do all the work. And god is he working hard; his muscles are tense and shiny with exertion, his head is thrown back with an expression of sheer bliss on his face, and his thrusts are unrelenting. Not to mention the hand still fondling your breast. He's gorgeous, too caught up in fucking you to muster any speech. You'd feel bad that he's putting so much effort in while you just get to lie back, touch yourself, and meet his thrusts when you can if he didn't seem so deeply gratified himself. Not only is the friction around his cock divine, but he also loves getting to pleasure you. Seeing your mouth fall open, unable to keep moans from escaping. The sex is messy and unrefined, neither of you quite knowing how to drive the other crazy yet, but pulling out every trick you can think of. You feel like a gamer smashing all the buttons to see what will work.

Despite the usual LA climate, the rain outside is pouring harder, and it's adding to the intensity and frenzy you both feel. "Shit, I'm close to coming," he groans.

"Hang on for me a little longer, Brendon, please. Just five more minutes," you plead. Admittedly, you could come too, but you only get one first time with Brendon, and you don't want it to end. He cranes his neck to suck behind your ear, clearly trying to get you to come faster.

"No fair, you already came," he complains, moving your hands out of the way to rub your clit himself. You use your free hands to play with your nipples, now rock hard from the constant stimulation.

"Shit, okay, come," you allow. As you say it, the first clap of thunder booms through the house. He sighs in relief, kissing you deeply as he lets himself go, getting lost in euphoria. You love feeling his hot come gather in the condom, and it triggers your own orgasm. You shriek as your second orgasm of the day is more intense than the first, and you're pretty sure you soak his bedspread just like you soaked his underwear.

He pulls out quickly and tosses the condom before snuggling up against you. "Guess your weird, gross body is good for something after all," he mumbles against your neck, already falling asleep.

"Hm, if only we could find a good use for yours," you retort, wrapping yourself around him.

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 18

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

18.

It was a quiet morning in the Teller-Reyes residence. Nina woke up to Angel’s beard tickling her neck, as he nuzzled up to her; still sleeping like a baby. His arm was locked around her in a vice grip, but Nina desperately needed to pee; so, she kissed his forehead, before scooting downwards in the bed, to get out from under his hold. He muttered something unintelligible, and Nina smiled to herself as she slipped on one of his flannels, and snuck quietly out of the room.

After handling her business, Nina went through the living room – hearing Angel beginning to rouse and get out of bed – and headed into the kitchen. She smiled through the serving hatch at the biker, who returned the gesture, and walked into the bathroom; rubbing his eyes. He’d put on a pair of sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips, and Nina couldn’t help but think a couple of impure thoughts about what was hiding behind them.

As she began searching the cabinets for something edible, Angel got out of the bathroom, and headed towards the bedroom again. Nina found a box of pancake-mix, and turned to the fridge to see if there was any chance Angel had stored anything other than beer and stale pizza in there – preferably, milk. Something small, with long antennae scuttered across the floor; and she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Angel…!”, she squealed, and climbed onto the counter. “What the fuck?”, she heard Angel roar. He came storming through the house, and barged into the kitchen; his gun drawn. “Where are they?”, he growled, his eyes scanning the kitchen. Nina was shaking, and she pointed at the bug, which was calmly wiggling its feelers on the floor. “There…”, she croaked.

Angel let out a deep breath. “Fuck, I thought someone had come to…”, he began; before looking at her, as she sat, hugging her knees, on the counter. “Ma’… It’s just a cockroach”, he smiled. “Get rid of it!”, Nina demanded. Angel sighed, and grabbed a newspaper, getting ready to fold it up. “No, don’t kill it! Take it outside…”. “Are you…? Shit, whatever…”, Angel muttered, and gently picked up the cockroach. While Nina moved backwards on the counter, to get as far away from the bug as possible, Angel carried it out the back door; muttering to himself all the way. He came back a few moments later, and reached out to help Nina down to the floor. “Nuh uh. Nope. Wash your hands first”, she said. Angel rolled his eyes, went over to the sink, and washed his hands. Nina watched him, to make sure he was thorough. “Call an exterminator, or burn down the house. Those are your two options”, she growled. Angel rolled his eyes. “You know, it’s your fault it was in here. They like clean houses”, he said, and pulled Nina off the counter with a firm grip on her waist. His shirt rode up her hips, and he smirked at her. “No panties?”. Nina scowled at him, and pulled the shirt down to cover herself. “I’m gonna take a shower; and don’t tell me roaches like water, ‘cuz I’ll run naked out the front door; and you’ll never see me again”.

She went into the bedroom, and dug out some clothes from the drawer Angel had cleared out for her few belongings. Angel had followed her, and when she went to pass him; when he halted her with a light hand on her hip. “I could go in with you… Squash any little monster that tries anything”, he offered. “No thanks. But you can get me some coffee. Extra strong…”, Nina said. When Angel pouted, she relented, and gave him a small kiss. “I though you got enough last night…”, she smiled against his lips. “I never get enough, querida”, Angel replied, and moved his hand to give her butt a little squeeze. “I’ll go cook up your next high”. “Thank you, papi”, Nina said, and slipped into the bathroom. “That’s not fair. You know what it does to me, when you call me that”, Angel called after her. “I’m locking this”, she replied, and closed the door behind her.

When she’d finished her shower, Nina got dressed, and did her makeup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that she looked well and fucked. Not in the bad way, though; quite the opposite. She was practically glowing, and had a brand new hickey on her neck. She smiled as she ran her fingertips over it.

Angel had left a mug of coffee on the table for her, and after having put on her shoes – she was not going barefoot before she was sure she wasn’t going to step on a stray roach – she grabbed it; before going to stand in the doorway to the bedroom. She nipped at her hot drink, and leaned against the wall, while watching Angel tying his boots. He was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt as usual, and she studied his tattoos, as his skin moved over his muscles. “See something you like?”, Angel asked, and stood up from where he’d been seated on the edge of the bed. “You know you look good. I don’t need to bolster your ego”, Nina grinned. He walked over to her, and nabbed her mug; taking a sip, before handing it back. His cut was hanging over a chair, and he put it on. “And now you look even better”. “You’re objectifying me”, Angel said in mock offence. “I’m just saying… That thing belongs on your back”, Nina chuckled. “I’m glad you still have it”.

Angel walked up to her, and placed a finger under her chin. “You just want me for my cut”. He leaned in to nibble at her neck, and Nina hummed in delight, when his hand travelled under her top, and began stroking her bare skin. “Do the patches turn you on, mami? I could kneecap Riz; get him off his bike for a while. They’d need a new secretario; and I’d get another one for the collection”. “That’s not funny!”, Nina chided. Angel chuckled. “I’m just kidding. Just thought you’d like to see me with a bit more flash”, he said. “I thought I proved to you that rank doesn’t matter”, Nina said, set down the mug, and tugged at his beard playfully. “If it did, it would have been Packer balls deep in me last night”. Angel looked seriously at her. “Now, that’s not funny”. “I could go call him right now… He could be here in about three hours”, Nina teased, and pulled out of Angel’s arms. “Two, if I offer him a blowjob for the extra effort”. Angel let out a sound between a growl and a hiss, and Nina ran to get away from him.

She managed to reach the kitchen before he was on her, attacking her body with tickles; and making her squeal from laughter. She was thrown over his shoulder, carried into the living room; and deposited on the couch. Angel stood over her with a hard look on his face. “Ain’t no one gonna be balls deep in you but me, mami”, he growled, and threw himself at her. Nina was almost crying from laughter, as he once again began tickling her. His hands moved between her thighs, and Nina tried clenching them together, but Angel was stronger, and forced them apart. “I’ll be good. I promise!”, Nina shrieked. “I know you will”, he smirked, and cupped her crotch; rubbing her through her shorts. “Only good girls get to…”.

His phone started buzzing on the coffee table. EZ lit up the screen, and Angel picked up the call with an annoyed grunt. “What? I was about to…”. His face dropped. “Yeah, man… of course… No, I’ll go do it myself. It was my fuck-up… Yeah… See you then”. He hung up, and sat back on the couch; sighing deeply. “What’s wrong?”, Nina asked, getting up to sit next to him. “Pap went by my mom’s grave. He saw what I did…”, Angel said gloomily. “I gotta go fix it”. Nina took his hand, and kissed it. “Do you want help?”, she asked. “Nah, you shouldn’t be out in the open… And I was the one who… I gotta do it alone”. He looked down at the floor. “I get it”, Nina said. Angel got up to stand, and pulled Nina with him. “I’ll take you to the yard, and then go take care of it”. “Ok. Then, maybe… drop by your pap’”, Nina said. “Just say you’re sorry”. Angel shrugged. “I’ve given up apologizing to the old man”, he said. “I’ve done too much shit. I’d be there for a year”.

Nina put her arms around him. “He loves you. And he’s proud of you”, she said. Angel let out a short scoffing laugh. “It’s true! I saw it, when he came by the clubhouse… And I know onething you did, that he’s happy about”. “What’s that?”, Angel asked. “Well, he likes me”, Nina shrugged. Angel’s frown turned into a bright smile. “And I did you…”, he said. “You make everything dirty”, Nina chuckled. “You know it”, Angel said, and patted her bottom. “Let’s go”.

Nina went to grab her helmet, when Angel frowned again. “What?”, she asked. “I know that thing has sentimental value to you; but I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s unsafe”, Angel replied. Nina chewed her lip. She knew Angel was right, but not using Jackson’s helmet felt like a weird betrayal. “I really don’t want to get another…”, she said. Angel sighed. “I’m gonna say something that you might piss you off”, he said. Nina looked at him warily. “If we get in a crash, you’ll end up just like him”. A jolt of pain went through Nina’s heart, and she blinked away a tear. “He wasn’t wearing it when… Maybe if he had…”. “He didn’t wear it, because he chose not to”, Angel said. “By wearing it, instead of one that fits you, your kinda choosing that outcome yourself”. Nina shot him a sad and slightly angry look. “Why are you so fucking smart?”, she asked. “Because my helmet fits, and my head is safe when I go down”, Angel said, and smiled softly at her.

Nina put down the helmet on the workbench, and picked up the one she’d borrowed from the club. “I’ll get you a new one like it”, Angel said. “Uh huh”, she muttered, and went towards the front door. Angel stopped her, and cupped her face in his hands. “Hey… Te amo, ok?”. “I love you too”, Nina whispered, and wiped her eyes.

She gave Jax’s helmet one last look, before they left the house.

---

Once at the yard, Angel kissed her goodbye; and went to take care of his mistake. Nina spent a little while keeping herself busy; both to get back in the groove of the clubhouse, and to keep her mind of Angel’s face as he’d driven away. He’d been glum, and she knew he’d need her once he returned.

Bishop waved her over to join him and Taza at their table. “What’s up?”, she asked, as she sat down. “I talked to Palo”, Taza said. “The handover is set for three days from now”. Nina swallowed thickly, and clenched her fists on the table. “Which means we’re in a rush to find the snitch”, Bishop said. He must have interpreted her expression as fear, because he reached over, and patted her arm. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. I promise”. “I know. I’m still just feeling shitty about letting someone else take my place”, she said. “And what happens after that? Am I supposed to hide for the rest of my life, so Palo doesn’t discover that I’m still alive?”. She sighed, and shook her head. “We’ll keep working on finding something to use against Palo”, Taza said. Nina shot him a look of actual fear; though not for her own safety; but his. “Call around for your old acquaintances down south”, Bishop said. “Some of them have got to still be alive…”. “I’ll look in to it”, Taza said.

“Either way, we still have to plan the handover”, Bishop said. “Palo understands that we can’t do it publicly; because we’re breaking our rules of protecting family”. “So, what?”, Nina asked. “A dark van in an alley?” “Actually, we’re thinking another party”, Taza said. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”, Nina gasped. “Just once, I’d like to enjoy drinks and good times without having to fear for my life”. “You’ll be perfectly…”, Taza began. “Safe. Yeah; so you tell me”, Nina said. “We’ll have a full house of guests; meaning Palo won’t draw on you the minute he sees you”, Bishop said. “Then we do the deed somewhere on the yard, away from the clubhouse”. “Do the deed, as in let Palo kill some woman”, Nina said. “Basically”, Bishop said. “You don’t have to worry; you won’t be there for that part”.

Nina closed her eyes; as if doing so would make the two bikers disappear in front of her. It didn’t work. When she opened them again, Bishop and Taza were still there; looking at her intently. “Ok… In that case, I guess I have a party to plan”, she said, and got to her feet. “Any special requests?”. “No dried apricots this time”, Taza said. “I’ll buy an extra bag, just for you”, Nina smiled sarcastically. “Anything else?”. “Yeah”, Bishop said. “Lockdown is back on for you. Just in case VM tries anything before then”. “Great. I’m grounded again”, Nina said. “I’m not staying in that fucking trailer, though”. “Fine”, Bishop said. “But you don’t leave the clubhouse during the day, and it’s straight to Angel’s, and straight back, every day… And Angel keeps a loaded gun within arms-reach at all times, when you two are alone.”. “What else is new…”, Nina grumbled. Taza chuckled. “You’re lucky. We were considering having someone watching you when you sleep”, he said. “You wanna watch me and Angel in bed?”, Nina smirked. “Go ahead. We’ll give you a show”.

She got on her feet, and went back towards the bar. EZ walked into the clubhouse, lugging a case of beers. “Yo, prospect. Where’s your brother?”, Taza asked. “We got a load this afternoon with his name on it”. EZ put down the case, and shot Nina a short look. “He’s taking care of some family shit”, he said. Nina swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I heard about your mom’s grave. Someone seriously fucked it over”, Bishop said. “Do you need to go?”. The warmth in his voice was surprising. “No. Angel wanted to take care of himself”, EZ muttered. “Well, let me know if you need help finding who did it. Shit like that, we don’t let slide”, Bishop said. “Thanks… but we got it”, the prospect said.

Nina smiled thankfully at him. Angel didn’t need to add to his guilt, by being chastised by his president; EZ knew that as well as her.

---

Angel arrived at the clubhouse a little before noon, and gave EZ a short nod, before going over to put his arms around Nina. He stood upright, and tried to keep a cool demeanor; but Nina could feel the sadness and guilt stream through him. “Come on…”, she muttered, and pulled him by the hand, into the back room; where Angel instantly buried his face in the crook of her neck. Nina held him tight; stroking his back, and kissing his temple. “Do you wanna talk about it?”. Angel pulled back, and looked at her. “The place was trashed”, he said. “It wasn’t that bad. It was just a few bottles”, Nina said. “She would have whooped my ass, if she was there to see it”, Angel said. “No she wouldn’t. If she was anything like you, she’d understand that you were in pain”. She kissed his lips softly. “It’s like I let her down again". He was doing his best not to shed tears. “What do you mean?”.

Angel met her eyes for a second, before sighing. It was as if he had to force himself to tell the story, because it pained him so much. “The night my mam' died, I was supposed to help her lock up the shop". He paused for a second, as if gathering strength to continue. “I decided I wanted to go to a party instead, so EZ went there instead of me… He found her, shot". Nina let out a deep breath; her heart breaking slightly. “I was supposed to be there… I didn’t protect her, and I made my kid brother have to deal with what happened… He went to jail, ‘cuz he shot a cop; chasing after the killer… I did that". It was agony to hear Angel retell the tale, but Nina owed him to help carry the burden of his story; as he had helped her. “You couldn’t have known, Angel…”, she whispered in his ear, as he once again hid his face against her neck. “I was getting drunk and high, while some shithead killed my mam'; and EZ went to jail over it”.

Nina was beginning to understand the reason for Angel’s tendency to self-hatred; though she didn’t agree with it. He had an ego the size of a small country, sure; but when it came to how he thought of himself as a person, Angel had trouble finding any value there. This tragic event changed his life, and the life if his family, and Angel thought that he was the reason for all their woes.

She looked at the fragile man in her arms, and she wished she could make him love himself as much as she did. “Angel… listen", she said. “You didn’t kill your mother. You didn’t send EZ to jail. The fact that you weren’t there, doesn’t make you guilty of anything… Someone else decided to pull that trigger, and you could have just as easily been hurt, or even killed, if you’d been in the shop that night. Your father and brother would have lost both your mother and you”. Nina put her hands to the back of Angel’s head, and forced him to look down and meet her eyes. “You are not to blame for everything bad that happens around you". “I don’t know… It feels like it”, Angel sighed. “That shit with Dani… It put those kids in danger; made you leave… I’m a fuck-up”. Nina cut him off by pressing her lips against his. “Stop… Stop acting like you’re not worth anything. You mean the world to me, and talking like this about yourself… It’s insulting!”, she said. “What do you mean?”. He looked adorably confused. “Well… you’re talking shit about my man…”, Nina smirked. “Where I come from, you would get your ass kicked for that. And it’s such a cute ass; so, I reallydon’t wanna have to do that”. She slid down her hands, and pinched his butt.

Angel finally let a smile form on his face. “Te amo, cuervo”, he said, and kissed her deeply.

---

By lunchtime, Angel was in a much better mood. “I’m telling you, mano; she was sitting on the counter, like all crying and shit”. There was a roar of laughter from around the table at his story. “Over a fucking cockroach?”, Gilly grinned. Nina handed out a round of cokes, putting Angel’s bottle to her own mouth, before he could take it. “Get your own drink, hero…”, she sneered. “Where’s the beer?”, Gilly asked, staring at the bottle of soda in his hand. “You’re at work. Beer later”, Nina said; her voice reminding herself of a schoolmarm. Angel laughed, pressed a kiss to her temple, and went to grab a cold coke from the fridge himself.

Apparently, when he came back to the table, he wasn’t finished making fun of Nina’s encounter with the cockroach that morning. “You were hilarious, ma’. Angel, save me. Oh my god. Please, no. I’m so scared!”, he said, his voice high pitched and exaggerated. “I didn’t sound like that; and the thing was the size of a dog!”, Nina growled. She shuddered at the memory. “Haven’t you ever seen one before, up north?”, Ez asked. “Not this big. And not in people’s houses. They hang out in crack-dens", Nina said. “Then crack-heads keep cleaner houses than SAMCRO", Coco sniggered. “They like it…”. “Clean. Yeah, I got it", Nina grunted. “Which is bullshit, by the way. I googled it, and those little bastards leave shit all over the house; and they can cause asthma attacks…”. “I already called the exterminator; relax, ma'", Angel said. “I’ll relax when our house isn’t trying to kill me anymore!”, Nina snapped, and instantly felt her cheeks burning, at her use of the word our. She cleared her throat. “Don’t you have a load to get to?” Angel smiled brightly, and leaned in for a soft kiss. “Yeah”, he said, and looked at the others. “Let’s go”. The guys all got up, and left the clubhouse to get to work; and Nina got back to her own duties.

Camille came in a little while after. Since she had started helping out behind the bar, a lot more drinks were being spilled; and quite a few beers met their end on the floor, before she could serve them. The red-head was enthusiastic about her work; but she wasn’t truly cut out for it. Whenever she poured shots, she’d get more liquor on the counter, than she got in the glasses. In spite of this, Nina was thankful for the help, as well as the company. Nina hadn’t seen Letty or Gaby since she came back, and was seriously lacking some feminine conversation. Nina liked Camille. She’d been through hell and back, but was still standing, and not letting a bad experience get in her way of trying to be happy, and finding a place of her own to thrive in. Before long, they were laughing and sharing stories about club life; and though Nina could have done without the details about Camille’s sexual escapades with the Mayans she had come to see as brothers, she spent the next couple of hours in a good mood.

“They really like you around here, huh…?”, Camille said, after Riz and Hank had come in, and both of them came over to give Nina the welcome back hug she hadn’t gotten the night before. “I guess… I like them too”, Nina smiled. “It’s just crazy… You haven’t been around that long, but you’re like family to everyone”. Camille looked at her inquisitively. “I pretty much grew up in a club like this”, Nina said. “I guess being here just comes natural to me; and they sense it”. Camille chuckled, and nudged her with her shoulder. “Come on… You have to have a secret”. Nina thought about it for a moment. “I don’t treat them like gods, like some women around here do”, she said; and instantly felt her cheeks burn. “I mean… present company not included”, she lied. Camille shrugged. “I don’t know… They are pretty awesome. It’s like, when they put on their cuts, they become… They’re just so amazing”. Nina laughed at this. “Camille; they’re just men”, she said. “Give them their favorite beer and tell them their bikes are rad, and they’ll think you’re heaven-sent”. “Really?”, Camille said. She began wiping down the counter for the third time since she’d arrived, and Nina left her too it.

Coco peeked in through a half open door, and looked at Nina hesitantly. “Yo, niña? We finished work. Can we get some beers now?”, he asked. “Sure, Coco…”, Nina laughed. “I got it!”, Camille smiled brightly, and quickly grabbed a round of cold ones for the bikers returning from work. “Be my guest”, Nina shrugged, and went to check on the bathroom situation. Gilly had been in there, after gulping down a large serving of chimichangas – extra cheese. To her relief, the damage wasn’t that bad; but she still set up an extra air-freshener. Camille hadn’t returned by the time she came back to the bar, and Nina decided to go check she hadn’t dropped the beers all over the porch.

Once outside, she found no beer on the porch, only Coco and Gilly smirking, and shaking their heads. They were looking in the direction of the row of bikes, where Camille was leaning against Angel’s bike, talking with an enthused expression about something; and he was smiling and nodding casually, his beer in hand. Camille licked her lips, and pushed out her breasts. It was like a flashback to the day after the party, where Daniella had been trying get it on with Angel; and Nina had to stop herself from running over and hiss at the woman to back the fuck off. “He might need some help”, Coco muttered at Nina. “Yeah…”, Nina said.

She walked as calmly as she could towards Camille and Angel. Camille hadn’t noticed her coming, and kept up her flirting. “I noticed that’s your favorite, so I thought I’d bring it for you”, she said. “Thanks. That was nice of you”, Angel said, and locked eyes with Nina; looking relieved. “I’m just gonna…”. Camille walked towards him, and put her hand on his lower arm. “I really like your bike, Angel. Maybe we could go for a ride some time…”. “Camille, can I talk to you?”, Nina called out. Camille turned around, and looked at her with a confused expression. “Is something wrong?”, she asked. “I’m gonna go… over there”, Angel said, and edged away from Camille; moving towards the porch.

Nina walked all the way over to Camille, and blew out a deep breath; trying to remain calm. “I’d really appreciate it if you stop flirting with Angel”, she said. Camille frowned, and shook her head in puzzlement. “But… you said…”. “He’s off limits”, Nina declared. Camille laughed a little. “I know you guys were together, before you went away for a while...”. "You saw us together last night!", Nina exclaimed. "Yeah; but just last week, he was with Daniella...". “Angel is mine”, Nina said. “I’m not gonna repeat myself again. If you want to hang around here, you keep away from him”. “So, you’re like his old lady?”, Camille asked. “Yes… Now, go inside. Bish’ and Taza need refills”. Nina was surprised at her own ability to keep her voice as level as it was. Camille nodded. “Yeah, sure. I didn’t mean to…”, she said. “It’s fine. We’re good. Just don’t do it again”, Nina said. Camille walked back towards the clubhouse, avoiding eye contact with the three bikers who had watched the interaction. Once the door closed behind her, Coco and Gilly made a show of slow clapping at Nina. “Fuck off”, she sneered, and went back towards the porch herself.

Angel came down to meet her, and Coco and Gilly went inside the clubhouse. “You know I didn’t…”, he began. “No, I know”, Nina cut him off. “I was just… marking my claim”. She shot him a sly smirk, and Angel put his arms around her, pulling her close; so that her could whisper in her ear. “That was fucking hot, mami”, he said, and kissed her neck, before leaning back again. “And thanks. She was getting butt prints on my bike”. “Only my butt gets to leave prints there”, Nina grinned. Angel’s eyes lit up. “That gives me an idea…”. “We’re not having sex on your bike”, Nina said. “At least not on the yard. Too many eyes”. “Then let’s take a ride somewhere…”, Angel said with a smirk. “I can’t… I’m on lockdown again”, Nina groaned.

They walked back towards the clubhouse, Angel’s arm around Nina’s shoulders; when he spoke again. “Do you think my bike would fit through the front door of the house?”.

---

Tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

[bloodsuckingbastards]

Up In Smoke | Javier Pena/Steve Murphy

Rating: Explict

Warnings: Shotgunning cigarettes, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs

Word Count: 1618

Summary: Steve and Javi want to relax after a long day of work but there's only one cigarette left.

It had been a long day, a long, tiring, hard day. Normally on days like this Steve usually went to bed with Connie and just held her, that always made him feel better, and Javi was usually fucking deep into some “CI”. But It wasn’t normal anymore. Connie had left and Steve had started drinking himself nearly to death on days like this. Javi was worried, so now on days like this, after work they both go over to Javi’s place and sit on his couch in mostly silence just smoking, drinking, and enjoying eachothers silent company. Steve would never mention it but these times just sitting next to Javi did better to calm him down then laying in bed with Connie ever did.

Today had been rough, too many dead end leads and too many people found dead because of shit Pablo had caused. So here they were sitting much too close together on Javi’s couch,thighs and shoulders touching, drinking some cold beers that Steve had just taken out of Javi’s fridge. These moments were the only time Steve’s head decided to quiet down for a while. He could just sit and enjoy the warmth of Javi pressed against him and the cold feeling of a beer in his hand. Javi went to pull a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.

“Can I get one.” Steve asks as Javi is pulling out the pack.

“There’s only one left, sorry, and it’s mine” Javi says with a smirk on his lips

“Just share it with me then dumbass.” Steve retorts. Javi huffs as he lit the cigarette and took a drag. Steve stared at Javi’s lips as they wrapped around the cigarette. So distracted by the man's lips he almost didn’t notice when Javi passed it to him. Steve took the cigarette from Javi’s hand, fingers brushing against the other man’s and brought it to his lips. His lips touching the same place Javi’s were just seconds ago. Javi stares at Steve and Steve starts to feel like something in the air has shifted. Steve breathes out the smoke slowly, staring back at the other man. Javi takes the cigarette from Steve’s hand and brings it to his lips. He pulls in the smoke and holds it in blowing it out at the other man. Steve leans in towards Javi, he doesn’t exactly know what’s happening but he doesn’t want to stop. Javi takes another drag of the cigarette and closes the gap between them locking his lips against Steve’s. Steve mouth opens slightly letting in the smoke as Javi breathes it out into him. They finish the cigarette like that, Javi breaking away from Steve’s lips to take another drag and then breathing it into Steve’s lungs. Steve’s head is high with the feeling of Javi, Javi’s lips against his, Javi’s breath inside his lungs. It couldn’t be more intimate, Javi filling Steve in ways he never imagined. The cigarette is long gone and Javi is still here, lips pressed against Steve’s, tongue in his mouth. Javi has had enough and he roughly pulls Steve into his lap, both of their cocks hard from the experience they just had. Steve ruts against Javi, their rock hard erections seeking friction.

“Fuck Steve” Javi groans out into steve’s neck.

“Yes, please” Steve whimpers too low for anyone to hear.

“Louder if you want me to hear, Murphy” Javi whispers into his ear.

“I said please. Please- ahhh fuck me Javi” Steve’s sentence broken by a loud moan when Javi ruts up in the perfect way. Javi pushes Steve off his lap and stares down at him. “Bed. Now.” Steve scrambles to get up off the couch and follow Javi into the bedroom.

As they walk into the room, Javi shoves Steve down unto the bed and crawls on top of him, latching his lips onto his neck. He puts his hands under Steve’s shirt feeling his way across the man's stomach. He pulls his lips off Steve’s neck just long enough to push the other man’s shirt over his head so he had full access to the man’s chest. Javi kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise into Steve’s collar bone. Javi didn’t care if he left a mark, in fact he really hoped he did, a reminder to Steve that whatever this was between them Steve was his now. Javi dragged his tongue and lips down Steve’s chest, taking time to stop and bite and take one of his nipples into his mouth, then lowering further down his stomach until he reached the waistband of Steve’s jeans. Javi looked up at Steve asking for permission as his hands went towards Steve’s belt. Steve answered by staring down at Javi and nodding enthusiastically. Javi slowly undid his belt and then started taking the other man’s denim jeans down his legs along with his boxers, leaving Steve’s leaking cock to bob up to his stomach. Steve lets out a sharp gasp as Javi takes his cock in hand and licks up a drop of precum from the tip.

“Fuck Javi, don’t tease me. Please.” Steve groans out dragging out the last syllable as Javi licks a long stripe down his length. Javi moves away from Steve and before the other man can complain Javi pulls open his nightstand drawer and pulls out a bottle of lube.

“I’m gonna need this if you want me to fuck you so bad, Stevie” Steve whimpers out at the silly petname as well as the thought of Javi actually fucking him.

Javi sets himself back down between Steve’s thighs and squirts some lube onto his fingers. As he presses one finger at Steve’s entrance he takes Steve's cock down his throat at once leaving Steve to make a long drawn out moan. While Steve is distracted by the wet heat of his mouth Javi slowly presses his finger into him, fucking in and out of him in a slow pace as he bobs up and down on his dick. Javi starts to add a second finger, not wanting to go too fast, so as not to hurt Steve. When Javi curls his fingers just right Steve cries out and his dick twitches in Javi’s mouth.

“Fuck, Javi! Right there!”

Javi smiles and groans around Steve's cock as he fucks into him making sure to hit his prostate on every stroke. Steve starts fucking himself down onto Javi’s fingers and Javi takes that as a cue to add a third. After fucking Steve on his fingers for a few minutes more, Javi can’t take it anymore he needs to fuck him. Javi pulls his fingers out of Steve and his mouth off his dick and Steve whines at the loss.

“Shh Stevie it’s gonna feel so good in just a second.” Javi crawls up Steve’s body until he takes his face in one hand and kisses him while lining himself up and sinking into Steve as slowly as he can. Steve groans loudly against Javi’s lips and it takes everything in him to not just fuck into Steve in one thrust. Javi fucks into him in slow thrusts adding in an inch at a time till he bottoms out.

“God, feel so good for me Steve, so good” Javi groans out as Steve clenches around him at the praise. Javi pauses his thrusts so Steve can get used to the fullness.

“Javi, if you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna kill you.” Steve sounds wrecked, all breathy moans and grunted out syllables.

Javi pulls out slowly until only the tip of his cock is still in Steve and then thrusts in hard and deep, filling Steve up in one smooth fast stroke. Javi starts a pace that’s slow enough that it’s driving Steve crazy, fucking in and out, dragging his cock along Steve’s walls. Javi changes angle slightly and Steve yells out his name. Javi’s dick twitches inside of him at the sound of his name on Steve’s lips.

Javi presses his lips into Steve’s neck “Fuck yes love all those pretty noises you make for me, love hearing you moan out my name.” Javi punctuates his words with hard thrusts right into Steve’s prostate which leave him a whimpering mess. Javi speeds up his thrusts trying to pull more sweet noises out of the blonde man under him. Javi bites into Steve’s shoulder to stop the loud moans that erupt from his throat.

“Fuck Javi touch me. Please touch me.” Javi wraps his hand around Steve’s cock as he grabs onto Steve’s hip, matching the rhythm of his hand to that of his thrusts. Javi’s close and he knows Steve is too. Javi speeds up his hand and kisses his way Steve’s neck mouthing at his jaw.

“Come on, cum me for me, I know you can, be a good boy and come for me Stevie.” Hearing Javi whisper in his ear and beg him to come is all it takes before Steve is painting his own stomach with his release and clenching down on Javi, sending him over the edge with him. Javi collapses down onto the taller man, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into the crook of his neck. Here pressed against Steve, Javi didn;t think about work and how shitty everything was right now all he could think about was Steve and the way his heartbeat sounds and the way he felt and the way he tasted. Javi falls asleep like that, his head on Steve’s chest. For once Javi and Steve sleep peacefully, and Steve didn’t need to know that there was a new pack of cigarettes sitting in Javi’s nightstand.

[theartofimagining13]

CHAPTER 4: THE CHEATER CHEETAH DRESS.

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

BASED ON: Imagine: After a big discussion with your fiancé Tom…

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: 1 DISENGAGEMENT | 2 THE TALE OF THE OFFENSE | 3 THE WEDDING GUEST

TEASER  |  POSTER    |   CHAPTER POSTER | CHAPTER TEASER

NOTES: First and foremost, I would like to thank @clockgirl94​ because if she hadn’t sent me that Javier gif, this chapter wouldn’t have been born.  ❤︎

I was reluctant to write spanish dialogue translations but then I remembered that spanish is my first language and maybe not everyone else’s lol. 

And also, there’s a subtle POV change.

Enjoy.

Funny how some humans’ defense mechanism works only in retrospect.

You get out of a messy situation, and it is only when you look back that things are crystal clear and you ask yourself why did I not see this before?

I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes. After our honeymoon, Tom bought a bigger house in a quieter area of the city for us to move into. As I unpacked my clothes, I found a little summer dress that I hadn’t seen in months and I might as well have used as a noose because, as soon as I saw it, as soon as I touched it, I was out of breath and felt the biggest knot in my throat. There’s violence in the way some memories come back to us with an object or a smell; that seemingly insignificant piece of fabric unleashed in my mind a wild river of memories.

I chuckled at myself.

If I had truly wanted to forget, I would’ve burned the fucking dress but I had only managed to stash it at the bottom of a forgotten drawer, and now it was here. I got up and neatly placed it on the bed and stared at it. I suddenly felt a kiss on my left temple. Tom walked past me afterwards holding another heavy box and I saw the curious face he made once he left it on the floor and noticed the dress.

“You haven’t worn that in a long time.”  

“I know…”

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You should.” He purred in my ear before planting kisses down my neck. “You drive me crazy in it.”

My heart raced when he held me tighter and spun me around. He caught my lips with his and I felt his hands going down my back. This was triggering for me, I had to stop him without being suspicious so I gently pulled away.

“Take me out on a date when we’re done here and I just might wear it.” I lied.

Tom let out a quiet pleasure groan in advance at the mental image perhaps.

“You got yourself a deal, baby.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips and left to carry on with the move.

I sighed. See, the thing is, Tom wasn’t the only one who that dress drove crazy, and by now, I am pretty sure we’ve established that he and his former best friend, Pedro, liked the same things. As I stared at it again, I let myself go and revisited that particular memory in the forbidden recollections book.

Tom and I were hosting a summer cookout for a few friends and family in our old garden.

It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day in June, and I was wearing the now infamous cheetah print dress with combat boots. Tom had proposed a few days prior, and I hadn’t told Pedro. The thought alone made me nervous because how was I supposed to even form that sentence?

Hello, lover. I just got engaged.

Cringe. Of course not. Which is why I chose not to wear the ring for the occasion.

It didn’t get any easier when I saw Pedro as I walked out into the backyard. He was helping Tom with the grill and the charcoal, with a beer bottle in one hand but looked up at me and stared almost longer than politically correct. And the way he did it, slowly from head to toe and with slightly parted lips which made me feel things I shouldn’t have felt; but that ship had sailed. I kept my distance mingling with others at the party and he stayed there talking to Tom for a while.

I wish I had heard that conversation.

“I asked her to marry me.” Tom said with the biggest grin. “She said yes, mate.”

Pedro tensed up and stared at Tom, he swallowed and washed down a million sour words he could’ve said with the swig of beer he took.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tom chuckled. “I was… terrified.”

“Well, who in their right mind would ever do that?” Pedro half joked.

“You say that now…” Tom said. “But you just wait. I mean, look at her. Can you blame me?”

Pedro tightened his jaw as he glanced at her one more time and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I’ve told you a million times that you’re a lucky motherfucker.” He said causing Tom to laugh. “I gotta take a leak.” Pedro announced dryly. “Hey, you got anything stronger than this?” and immediately added, “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“There’s whiskey inside.”

“I’ll get it.”

He started to walk away but stopped to look back at Tom, realizing that he had forgotten something.

“Congratulations, man.” He forced a smile.

When Pedro walked into the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water and scowled at himself in the mirror.

I put a big pitcher of lemonade in the fridge before I went upstairs but I stopped midway when I heard the hallway bathroom door opening and closing, and instinctively looked over my shoulder only to find Pedro.

I couldn’t read his expression so I kept walking, hoping that he would follow me, and aching for a moment with just the two of us alone. I faced him when I reached mine and Tom’s bedroom door and leaned against it with my hands behind my back. He got closer and placed his right hand right next to my head, towering over me as he stared into my soul.

“You think you can just walk around in that little dress and get away with it?”

“You like it?” I teased.

He slowly looked down and up again, provokingly.

“It’s driving me crazy.” He confessed in almost a whisper.

I allowed my eyes to wander and make sure that we were completely alone before I leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was cold, empty, so unlike Pedro’s trademark passionate ones, and he was rarely in a bad mood which made it twice as scary when he actually was, but I had no idea if that was the case. I pulled away and furrowed my eyebrows with concern. He cleared his throat and sniffed loudly.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He inquired with the most serious face and tone.

“What do you mean?”

But he just cocked his head with condescendence and, it took me a minute, but I figured out what he was talking about.

“He told you.” I sighed. “Pedro, I was going to tell you, I just-”

“When were you going to tell me?” He cut me off.

“I-I don’t know, I couldn’t find the right w-”

I ceased talking and flinched when he struck the door with the hand that had been resting next to my head.

“Fuck’s sake…” He cursed and roamed a little with his hands on his waist.

Back then, silly me thought he was jealous, hell, I even liked it a bit. But no. Pedro was worried.

“Now?” He asked with a much more collected tone. “He had to propose now?”

Looking back, this was the only moment Pedro felt a little remorse. He was worried because my engagement had just made things even more complicated. Ironically enough, our affair had only started when this happened; we had been meeting in secret for a few weeks. We could’ve stopped then while Tom hadn’t a clue, could’ve pretended that it never happened and move on. Pedro and Tom’s friendship would’ve remained intact.

Pedro was a hypocrite, we’ve also established that. Somehow, it was okay to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend but once I became his fiancée, Pedro looked like he had finally encountered a line he could not cross.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” He wondered out loud while looking over my shoulder as if he could see Tom in the backyard, through the door and walls.

Truthfully, I was very happy with my diamond ring, so, I also started pondering on my future with Pedro. The fact that our affair had just started had a pro and a con in common; Pro, We had only just begun which would make it easier to cut ties right then and there. Con, we had only just begun which would make it ten times harder to quit right then and there.

I sighed with frustration when I had that moment of honest clarity.

“I guess we could… stop?” I hesitantly asked and hated it to no end.

Pedro’s face fell and he studied me briefly but carefully.

“I mean,” I added. “People might get hurt.”

Pedro blinked several times and slowly began to nod.

“You’re right. We don’t… we don’t want that. We’ve been lucky.”

But I swallowed hard because I could easily tell that he loathed this as much as I did.

“We should just… be friends.”

Again, his brown eyes traveled up and down my body and he gulped.

“Friends.” He echoed.

My heart was racing in the middle of the staring contest we seemed to be having, and I felt as if he could hear it over the silence we shared. He inched closer.

“Is…is that what you want?” He inquired.

At that point, that was the only right thing left to do, and to sort of mend things or prevent them from getting worse. But Pedro understood my silence when I just glued my eyes to his.

“Open the door.” He ordered.

As soon as I did, he followed me inside, closing it behind him and kissed me on the lips in the most urgent way, and I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. I could feel his hands going down my back as he kissed my neck and chest, and I turned around and faced the bed because I knew what we both wanted and needed. He pressed me against his body and cupped my breasts. I could feel him getting hard and it weakened my knees. His hands went underneath my dress and he pulled down my underwear before pulling the skirt up.

The sound of Pedro unbuckling his belt in a rush reverberated in my core. I desperately needed him inside of me, I wanted and needed him to fuck me till we both came. He licked his fingers and touched me, letting out a silent and proud chuckle because I was more than ready for him. Our foreplay had started from the moment he decided to eye fuck me as soon as I showed up in the garden, and our little conversation was the sugar on the rim. He lowered his pants enough to pull out his cock and caressed my entrance with the tip, using his free hand to gently and slightly bend me over the bed.

And he tortured me like this for a few seconds that felt much longer to me, inserting just the tip, slowly going out and in again until I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore and he finally quickened the pace. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed him, all of him, and I moaned when he finally granted me my wish.

“Fuck…” He breathed out and just stayed inside of me while I adjusted to him.

Pedro grabbed me by the hips with a tight grip and started fucking me like I had been silently begging him to; Hard and fast and just making me his. His low grunts and his ragged breath were turning me on even more. One of his hands slid up my back until his fingers got lost in my hair and he grabbed a fistful as he kept pounding into me, but it moved down to my neck, prompting me to stand up straight as he wrapped his arms around my waist and one greedy hand cupped one of my breasts.

“Te gusta? (You like it?)”

I groaned. I loved it when he whispered things in Spanish in my ear, and adding the fact that we had to be as quiet as possible was driving me over the edge.

“Dime. (Tell me).”

“Yes.” I breathed out. “Pedro…”

He chuckled again, knowing what I was implying and begging for, and he nibbled my neck before whispering once more.

“Te quieres venir? (You want to cum?)” He asked even though he knew I was dying to cum. I could even hear his mischievous grin. “Vente, mi amor. (Cum, my love).”

The rhythm of his thrusts increased again and he held me tighter. My whole body tensed up, I could feel it, the tingling sensation slowly taking over until it possessed me whole, mind and soul. Pedro had to cover my mouth as I came undone in his arms, he held onto me for dear life and buried his face in the crook of my neck as he poured himself into me and let out a suffocated moan against my skin.

With relief washing over us, our heart rates began to settle, and our foreheads were covered with a thin layer of sweat.

As I freshened up and washed my face, I stared at myself in the mirror and wondered if that had been the last time for Pedro and I.

Perhaps we had said goodbye in the only way we knew how.

I entered the kitchen and poured myself a much needed glass of ice cold lemonade before I was joined by my fiancé.

“I think we should tell them.” Tom said while taking out a few more meat packages from the fridge.

“What?” I asked in a blissful yet lethargic daze.

“About our engagement.” He placed them on the counter.

He stood in front of me, waiting as if he was asking for permission and looked at my glass of lemonade which he ended up stealing to take a sip.

But when he looked down at my hand, he frowned.

“Where’s your ring?” He asked.

“Oh, I… I took it off when I washed my hands and must’ve left it in the bathroom.” I lied.

“Put it on.” He said.

It was all the same now, Pedro knew. So, I did as I was told for Tom to make the announcement in the garden. I heard the three C’s of celebration; clamoring, cheering, and clapping, but all I could see was Pedro sitting in the back, and when his brown eyes found mine, he just showed a cynical smile and raised his glass of whiskey, at me, the cheeky bastard who had just fucked the fiancée in the cheetah dress.

Or the cheater in the dress.

I was sure that Pedro was just as addicted to me as I was to him. Engagement or not, we just weren’t ready to stop. If anything, he craved me more fiercely than before, and that ring on my finger just turned him on even more.

We had only just begun.

I blinked several times as the arousing memory dissolved and I became aware of my surroundings.

I bit my lip and wondered if Pedro still thought of these encounters of ours. I asked myself if he missed me, if he thought about me, if he touched himself while doing so, if he envisioned me while fucking someone else. Or the possibility of an ugly truth where he had just moved on and I meant nothing, but then I remembered my wedding day and his drunken honesty.

Of course he fucking thought of me.