#so now i have less money left for the other basic underwear i need to buy from the other place

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Okay. I did my shopping at the place that has the one sale like once a year and also because I pinch pennies about this signed up to the rewards/loyalty system. I have gotten 10 emails or something now because I get a fucking email every time I 'earn points' by doing something like clicking on a thing. I mean, good to know, but also, g-d-fucking-damn it's so fucking annoying ARGH

Plus clicking on all those things didn't let me use my money off reward in conjunction with the discount sale code so what was even the point. Ugh.

[ac3id]

Hawk’s eye| 18+

pairings: hawks [keigo tamaki] x female! reader

summary: hawks is in his rut, desperate for some relief. his annoying secretary won’t stop irritating him so he decides to take his pent up frustrations on her.       ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

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anonymous said:

hi!! so while the requests are still open, could you write some headcannons for Hawks x reader when he's in rut? maybe the reader is a bit clueless and doesn't even know he goes through stuff like that? dirty details are welcome 👀❤️

this was high-key inspired by @tainted-wine​‘s this fic. (i hope u like my take on it !! 💓) 

a/n: aaaa this took so much longer than i thought it would take 😭, also thanks @the-grimm-writer  for proof reading this! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) also this is porn w plot so if u just was to skip to da porn. skip to this ‘◌’ bhai 

ALSO THANKYOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS LMAO WTF FOR REAL 😭

tagging: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa​, @koiibito​, @reinawritesbnha​, @shorkbrian​

warnings: noncon, hate fucking, one slap, she bites his dick at some point, scumbag hawks.

word count:  5862

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The sound of your phone buzzing on the side table with a loud, irritating noise jolts you awake. You roll around on the bed, your fingers reaching to turn the vibrating device off. Groaning, you sit up straight. The warm mattress under you threatens to lull you back to sleep but you shove the thought away instead choosing to stretch your arms over your head and yawn endlessly. You were tired, so goddamn tired. Rubbing your temples lazily you start thinking about the dreadful day you have ahead of yourself. You think about your boss: Hawks, the man who makes you hate your life and job. He has trapped you into a never-ending nightmare which starts the second you open your eyes till the moment you fall asleep and even then he still manages to haunt you in your dreams. 

Cleaning up after his messes, obeying his ever so pliantly. He has turned you into his little pet slave. He says that it’s your job as you are his assistant, his little helper there to make his job a little less hectic. You must listen to his needs and wants and to some degree, you do agree with him: it is your job, it’s what you signed up for after all but you can also sense him misusing his title when he is with you. He never listens to your suggestions which results in him calling you late after work hours to help with his problems knowing damn well you had already warned him beforehand. And, oh his flirty, suggestive comments which borderline sexual harassment. Hawks is a difficult man to work with and you often find yourself wondering how much calmer your life would be if you never worked for him but you do not have that luxury of leaving the job. It pays ridiculously well and you have bills to pay, your family to support. No, you cannot afford to lose this job. So you sit through his torment and hope for the best.

Seconds later after you have gathered your will to live you start scrolling through your phone, skimming through the morning news lazily. Your eyebrows furrow and eyes turn into angry slits as you glance upon a displeasing, astonishing article.

 ‘No. 2 Hero Hawks spotted partying with strippers–’

Your heart stops for a moment.

What the fuck was this? 

You hesitantly read through the article, your heartbeat increasing every second that your eyes focus on the led screen, reading the details of the damned article. Eyes widening as panic settles in your nerves, you realize the gravity of the situation you had found yourself under as Hawks’ manager. Hawks had been spotted partying with strippers in a nightclub with a bunch of celebrities. The crazy stalker who had managed to follow him succeeded in capturing exclusive pictures of Hawks dressed in an expensive suit, his hair styled to perfection dancing under the dim lights of the club with women in basically their underwear shamelessly grinding upon him. You honestly couldn’t have given a single fuck about what Hawks did in his free time but since he had managed to get a paparazzi to tail him and now that his career was at risk; it became your problem. Your first and foremost instinct was to call Hawks and ask him what the hell he was thinking. Not being careful enough, he had managed to taint his entire reputation. The people of Japan now probably viewed him as a reckless party animal rather than the No. 2 Hero! 

Before you could call him, your phone’s screen lights up illuminating a contact you dread. ‘Hero Commission’ it’s written in bold letters, your face drops. Your fingers shake, filled with anxiety as you accept the call. Inhaling and exhaling, you try to calm your nerves. If it is a call from the Commission, you know it’s bad. Bad. 

You pick up the phone and instantly regret it, “What were you doing?” an angry, masculine voice snarls through the screen. You open your mouth to answer but are not given a chance too. “How did you let him go to a strip club during patrol hours?” you bite your lip thinking of an acceptable excuse, “He had to go there for work! It’s a misunderstanding. He went down to the strip club undercover to meet up with a crook to get some intel– that’s what he told me. This is a misunderstanding, I–” your explanation was cut short as the person on the other end of the call deemed it enough. “Whatever it is, fix it and never let this happen again.” he sneers a warning before cutting the call. It wasn’t a complete lie, Hawks did tell you that he was investigating a case on his own and that he would be gaining information from shady people but you did not expect him to go to a strip club out of all places. The worst part: he never even told you in detail anything about this case neither did he notice the paparazzi tailing his back. You sigh in frustration, rubbing your forehead, you quickly ring up his number only for it be sent right to voicemail. You almost scream. Where the fuck was this bastard?

Managing Hawks was not a walk in the park. The hero commission had sent you down especially to be Hawks’ secretary. You had a reputation: you were known to be responsible, diligent, and punctual. You were one of their best, entrusted with the responsibility to manage Hawks and you did a good job but it was Hawks who just made the job so hard. 

Creating problems he could never solve by himself; on lucky days you would get a call from him at three in the morning, him begging you to come to help him. You want to say no, deny him any help. Let him suffer by himself but you cannot do that. If he screws up and you are not there to fix it. You lose your job, you can’t afford that. You give your 100%, you do but it’s Hawks. He has a problem with you, well, he has a problem with everyone in the commission but projects it mainly at you. He does not respect you. 

He chooses to ignore your decisions and suggestions, diminishing them with a cruel chuckle, “Look, I need you but just not now.” He would say with an apologetic smile, “just let me work at my own pace, I will call when I will need you. After all, I love seeing your cute face.” You would always have to force yourself from not slapping his smug face before he took off into the bright, blue sky.

The truth untold, it wasn’t his fault completely either. He was just so fast. It was hard for anyone to keep up with him and since he did his job right; bringing peace to the nation you could not deem him worthless. But it still was a bother at times like this when you were left completely in the dark while Hawks ruined his hard-earned reputation. 

You got into the building earlier that morning to wait for Hawks in his office, you needed to talk to him. This was not his first mishap. Not long ago, another article about him shamelessly flirting with a fan had been published. It had said the fan was visibly uncomfortable with him but Hawks didn’t seem to care, he kept presting. You had managed to cover it up as the two being close friends who were publicly joking around, there was no real harm done. It was a lie though, you had to pay the fan a large check to keep her mouth shut. She accepted the money and the story was lost and forgotten but you had no idea how you were going to cover this hell up.

The clock struck nine as the day began, people rushing into the building all tensed but there was no sign of Hawks. You tried calling him on his number but the call directed to voicemail yet again. You were growing impatient, did something happen to him? Sure Hawks fucked things over sometimes but he never disappeared like this. It got you genuinely worried. Something horrible could have happened to him. After all, he was on a case. 

You waited for another thirty minutes and there was yet no sign of him. His sidekicks came knocking on his office door only to be surprised to see you there instead of their boss. You told them to continue with their day and not worry about Hawks, he was just awfully late. Not a big deal, he will be here soon. Soon. 

Another hour passed by, no sign of Hawks and about now your phone was blowing up with angry calls from his sponsors and business partners, screaming at the top of their lungs frowning upon the scandal. Heck, even Endeavor called you after he couldn’t reach Hawks himself. The call made you nervous as anxiety crept in yet again. Hawks wasn’t answering to Endeavour something bad must have happened. Getting tired of the wait, you make up your mind to drop by his penthouse and to go see him for yourself. His silence was driving you crazy and worried at the same time, you just hoped he would be there well and safe. You could not imagine the ruckus that would create if something were to happen to him. 

You walked out of his office after waiting for an hour. Rushing down to the basement you got into your car and before driving away to his house. Just before leaving, you decided to test your luck by calling him. Hoping, praying he would answer this time and luckily he did .

“Hawks!” you cried, a wave of relief washing over you, “Where are you? What are you doing?” you began pestering him with questions, not letting him answer even once. Hawks, tired of waiting,  interrupted your monologue of questions with a chuckle. “Aw, you’re worried about me, baby?” his tone was low and mischievous, the sentence slurring almost into a moan at the last word. You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists in irritation, you weren’t new to his teasing. Hawks thought it was appropriate for him to casually flirt with his secretary. Send unasked comments about your figure, perverted implications about what he would do to a ‘cute little thing like you’ which made you very uncomfortable being around him at times. But it wasn’t that what made him get on your last nerves. It was the fact that he could even think about joking at a time like this which made you furious. 

You screamed into the phone, giving him a piece of your mind. Degrading him for not taking care of himself, complaining about how he had managed to put you in such a tight spot. 

“Once again I am asking, where the fuck are you. Hawks?” you ended your speech with spite in your words. Hawks sighed, “I am in the office,” he says your name with an edge in his voice, instantly shutting you down, “Where the hell are you?” The smugness in his tone remains and you can tell he is smirking on the other side of the screen as if he’s won. You hang up abruptly before walking out of your car and into the building, hurriedly making your way towards Hawk’s office. 

You slam the door open glaring upon hawks as he sits behind his table. Dirty boots resting pliantly on the shiny, polished wood. His wings out, stretched to their fullest, filling up the room standing on high alert. They have a deeper hue to them, they look darker– a darker red. How did that happen? You find yourself wondering. Is he on drugs? His face is tilted upwards, facing the ceiling. Eyes screwed shut. They open as he hears you enter and walk towards him, his wings falling back behind him calm and collected. 

“You’re late,” he says with a smirk, you bang your fist on the table beside where his feet rest, making him flinch and bring them down instinctively. His eyes widened in shock, he was not expecting you to be this furious. Sure, he knew he knew he had gotten you mad but he was not expecting you to be this angry. Without any hesitation, you start scolding him again. He watches you ramble in ominous glee. A poker face masking his expression, he watches you trot about how much trouble he is in. His job is to protect meek and weak citizens who cannot fight for themselves, what he was doing in a strip in the name of business is something you cannot grasp your head around. You repeat your lecture which you had already tortured him over the phone while the entire time Hawks drums his fingers underneath the table, waiting for you to get over with your dumb speech. His eyes trail on your lips, watching it move. Plump, pillow-like features tinted dark red ramble on about how much of an irresponsible person he was. Complaining about how much trouble he puts you through daily. Honestly, he doesn’t quite catch what you were saying. His mind busy imaging you shutting the fuck and letting him get through the day– or better yet how pathetic you would look underneath him while he shoves his dick down your throat. The thought makes his cock throb. His eyes change from an unbothered, bored look to something sinister as they start trailing all over your body. His eyebrows slightly furrow as he catches up on the few degrading terms you throw at him. 

You talked too much. Way too much, do you realize how much better you would look if you keep your pretty, little mouth shut? The entire time, it’s always: Hawks don’t do this, Hawks don’t do that. Don’t you ever get tired? He wonders whether your dumb little brain had any thoughts other than the ones which tell you to irritate him all the time. You should shut up, really stop talking. He might do something bad, he’s already stressed enough as it is being in his rut and having no way to relieve himself, he is going through a rough time here. The other night he escaped to a strip club in hopes of relieving some stress and it had worked but it had also brought along a mind splitting scandal.

The entire morning, Hawks was busy avoiding people. Whether it be his fans, reporters, or even someone he knew; he paid no mind to them trying to get to the office as soon as possible to deal with the mess he had created.

It wasn’t his fault entirely, he was in his rut and needed sexual relief which he was finding very hard to receive. With his work piling up and you breathing down his neck, he couldn’t even take represents as they slowed him down. He couldn’t risk falling asleep on duty. A stupid, little headline about what he does in his free time was much more favorable than a failed mission in which he would let countless innocent lives slip by his fingers. 

He watches you ramble, his eyes trailing over your body locking on your tits. He stares at them intensely, watching them bounce slowly every time you huff out of irritation and frustration. Your work shirt works him favors, the white almost translucent material shows off the slightest shadow of your black, lacy bra. It’s enough to get him going- imaging how your soft mounds would feel in his hands. How you would whimper under his touch as he tugs and pulls on your perky nipples, you probably wouldn’t sound as monstrous as you do right now. Your moans would be girlish, small whimpers would leave your lips as you would try your best to cover them up. You would try to hide your face under his assault but he wouldn’t let you, pinning you down instead and forcing himself on you while you cried for him to stop. Beg for his mercy. 

He can feel his jeans tighten. 

“So please, Hawks. Just be a little more responsible.” you finish, your voice turning into a plea. He hums and apologizes for his impulsive thinking, like always, he is not sorry. “Let's fix this mess, what do you say?” he asks with an apologetic grin, trying to be polite. You on the other hand don’t even spare him a glance, walking right out the door instead. It leaves him very offended. 

◌

“Ah! What a troublesome day it was,” Hawks chimes in walking into his office with you closely following behind, “It was all your fault.” you spit making hawks chuckle, “Whatever happens, happens for the good.” he says, a scoff leaves your lips, “What was good about that?” you ask annoyed. “I get to have you alone with me now~” Hawks winks at you making you roll your eyes dramatically. Both of you stand together in Hawks’ office after hours. The day is done, everyone in the agency building has taken their leave excluding the two of you. It had been a long day fixing up after Hawks. You were tired and all you wanted was a warm bath and some sleep. 

“Do you want to know why it happened?” Hawks asks out of the blue, “What happened?” you question, “Why was I at the strip club?” you sigh, “I don’t give two shits about your personal life, Hawks.” replying sternly. A look of disappointment arises on his face, “It’s actually more than that, really, I u-uh have this condition- it gets very hard to work during these times-”

 “What are you even talking about?” You interject confused and clueless. You turn to him, a glare evident on your face you stare at him sheepishly. What was he on about now?

“I am serious, I went into my rut, and that's why I went to the strip club-” “Into a what?” Hawks’ eyes widened, were you really that clueless? “A rut, [y/n],” he says like it is a matter of fact, something everybody is aware of. “A rut. You know like how some animals go into heat and they-” your face scrunches as he explains his rut to you, you visibly grow more and more repulsed. Hawks studies you face, his heart genuinely breaking at your expressions. “Why are you telling me this?” you screech, “jeez Hawks, I did not need to know any of that!” you continue. 

Hawks is hurt, he accepted a reaction which showed more concern. Maybe he went a bit too far imagining that you would offer him help but seeing you so disgusted by him shattered his heart and made him lose all his respect for you. You were a terrible human being, no different from those villains he put behind the bars every day. “I am telling you all of this because- this actually happens!  Many- fuck- millions of people like me actually suffer from this shit! You should be a little more emphatic.” he reasons. He accepts you to understand at least now but you gloriously manage to disappoint him yet again. A rude snarl leaves your lips followed by a scoff, “What are you really trying to tell me Hawks? That you don’t want to do your job and to justify your laziness; you are making lame excuses now?” you shove a finger to his chest, it pushes him off the edge. 

Something in his snaps, he looks down where your fingertip touches his chest. You are smaller than him, he’s at least a foot bigger than you. Where does your bratty, puny self get all this confidence from? His eyes darken as something sinister floats within him. He stares down at your finger, wanting to rip it off. He wants to see you cry. He wants to see you in pain and misery, suffering a great deal while nobody comes to help you. 

“Hawks, you know what? I am so done with your bullshit. I am leaving.” You turn away from him, heading to the door but before you could move a step. Hawks grabs you by writs, caging your delicate hand into a bone-crushing death grip, “What the fuck?” you question, “Hawks?” you continue. You wait for his response, turning to him. He is facing the floor, his hair scanning over his eyes making it impossible for you to read his expression, not that you could read what was going on with him normally but now; it’s even harder. “Are you going to let go?” you ask again only to be met by him squeezing your wrists even tighter. You bring your other hand over him to pry yourself free from his clutches but he doesn’t want to let go. 

“Hawks wha-” you don’t get to complete your statement as Hawks pushes you down on the floor making you fall on your butt. You let out a loud hiss. You frown, yelling out “What is wrong with you!?” You try to stand back up but his hands settle on your shoulder pushing you back down. You try fighting but it’s to no use. Did you forget he is the no. 2 Pro- Hero? He is much stronger than you, he brings down villains twice his size daily. What makes you think your weak kicks and punches will be enough to beat him? 

You keep struggling under him, screaming how you were going to report him and ruin his career, how he is going to be sorry for messing with you.

 “Shut. Up.” he finally speaks, he brings his gloved hand to your perfectly styled hair. Pulling tightly on your roots he stretches your face upwards, making it easier for him to look down on you while you cry in agony, “Stop crying.'' His voice is deep and raspy, much different from how he usually talks. You look up at him, fear swimming in your eyes as tears prick at the corners of your sockets, lips trembling. If you already weren’t terrified enough, your horror becomes tenth fold when you see his boner raging in his pants, “Come, on. Hawks..” your voice is small and weak, it's a broken cry. You know what he is going to make you do. He was going to violate you, break you beyond repair. 

This was so wrong. As much you hated Hawks, you never would have thought he would do something like this. Hawks was a hero. He is meant to fight for justice, punish evil. Why is he doing this? “Hawks no. Please. Was it something I said? I take it back I didn’t mean it-” 

“You know, y/n, you are not so different from those villains yourself,” if looks could kill, you would be dead. The pure, anger, and hatred he looks at you with bothers you. It makes you hate yourself, there is something sinister in his eyes which makes you sure about the fact that he is not afraid of hurting you. He has given up on you, after all, his polite gestures, generosity you always ignored- he’s fed up with your sheer ignorance and your ego. He hates you. He does and heck if he wasn’t in his rut; he would never bring his dick anywhere near you. He does not respect you as a human and in no way does he have any romantical attachment to you. All he ever saw was a walking alarm clock, bugging him every second, and now all he is going to see you as is his cocksleeve whom he can stuff his fat cock into whenever and however he seems fine. To him you are just a walking hole he can ruin whenever he wants to, you have managed to get on his bad side and he is going to show you his bad side.

He undoes his belt, his pants falling to his thighs displaying his expensive boxers and his growing hardness. His cock is throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His free hand pulls his boxers down and his cock springs free, hitting his abdomen. It stands long and hard, the tip blushed red and angry, tiniest bit of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit. He pumps his cock in his hand before forcing it against your mouth, pressing it to your lips smearing his pre all over your lips. You whimper in protest, moving your head the littlest you can under his tight grip. “Bitch open up. You had this coming for a long time,” his dick slaps your cheek while his fingers try to pry open your mouth. Pushing his gloved digits forcefully into your mouth, the rough fabric feels disgusting on your tongue. His fingers capture the lower part of your jaw, tearing your mouth apart with deranged strength. A loud cry escapes from you as he stuffs your empty mouth full of his cock, “Yeah, that’s more like it. Fuck.” he bottoms out into your throat, his shaft hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “get on with it. A slut like you would have the experience, right?” he taunts you. You do as he says, puckering your lips firmly around his length, your hands resting on his exposed thighs while you stroke him with your tongue. You feel his chiseled thigh muscles flex under your fingers as he melts in pleasure, tiny moans leaving his lips shamelessly. 

As Hawks drowns in overwhelming pleasure, a criminal idea crosses your mind. Your eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are screwed close, he bites his lower lip softly. Carefully and slowly, you graze your teeth over his cock. Clamping down on it lightly, you hold your position. Your heart beats faster when Hawks stiffens and in a quick flash, he pushes you off his cock throwing you into the ground before backing up, squealing in pain.

 “YOU LITTLE BITCH!” he screams, you sprint to the door. Trembling fingers try to unlock the doorknob while Hawks cries in agony behind you. You can feel him loom behind you, ready to come for your neck. A part of you tells you that you will not make it but the adrenaline rushing in your veins calls to be hopeful. Just open the door and just run. 

Your cold, quivering fingers almost unlock the heavy wooden door but before you can push it open. Hawks appears right behind you, pushing his body onto your back. You feel his cock poking at your ass, his hand grabs your head pulling you, prying you off the door. You scream and cry trying to break free, grabbing his hand clawing on it to let you free. Hawks chooses to show no mercy as he drags you by your hair to his desk, your scalp hurts from his grip. You can feel tiny strands breakaway. He turns you around and slams your back to his wooden desk, you whimper at the contact. He stands in front of you, pressing his knee between your thighs. His hand reaches out to pull at your collar, forcing you to look at him. 

He is livid, eyebrows furrowed with a death glare his jaw clenched, and his eyes darker than you have ever seen before. He looks at you with murderous intent, you think he might as well kill you with his wings flared open. The feathers turning into knives, you beg for your life. 

Hawks observes your face. Broken, scared for your life your eyes are glassy, ridden in fear your makeup smeared all over your face. He thinks it's beautiful, he has finally got you begging for mercy, finally thinking of him as the man he is. He appreciates your submission but it does not erase the fact that you just bite oh his dick. You beg for mercy, your voice is small and broken. It comes barely above a whisper, “I am so sorry hawks, please don’t do this.” He doesn’t listen, staring at you head-on with his jaw clenched. He brings his free hand to the air, keeping it steady for a second before bringing it down with a horrendous force. You feel it before it happens; white, hot flashing pain erupts through your cheek stinging you hard. You cry out in agony as your face drops to the other side. The strike was powerful, it left you sore, you can still feel it sting your face. It leaves you swollen, you try to bring your hand up to your face lightly to carcasses you paining cheek but Hawks pushes your face on the wooden desk before you could, trapping your arms behind your back holding it with one hand. “You don’t realize your position, do you? You know what? I was going- planning to be gentle with you. I thought I would at least make you cum but now,” he pulls a feather out his wings preceding to tear open your pencil skirt with the sharp end. The ripped fabric falls to the ground leaving you in your panties and the pantyhose you always wear under your skirts, “There we go. I hope you are a pain slut, otherwise you would really not enjoy this.” he says with a small chuckle before ripping you out of your bottoms, leaving you in your panties completely vulnerable to him. He abandons his gloves, rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt roughly trying to gather slickness from your dry hole. Pleasure shoots down your body as his digits find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the little pearl, “Does this feel good? You are getting wet.” a smirk scars his face, “Who gets off to being raped?” he says sharply. Your face scrunches up in disgust and embarrassment. A heavy lump forms in your throat and the waterworks that you had been holding off burst open. Big, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you cry for mercy. You didn't know why this was happening to you, for your entire life you had been a nice person: always helpful, sensitive, and kind. At least, that was what you thought yourself to be. Never in a million years could you- or anyone, in fact, could have ever thought that you would be crying pathetically while your boss: a person known to all as a Hero, the truest, most honest person to exist ever would be the one defiling you, tearing you down to nothing just for his pleasure. 

“Shut up, you like this.” He snarls at you, so sick of your loud wails he even shoves two fingers inside your mouth plunging them to the back of her throat, “Don’t you dare bite now, slut.” he warns. His fingers stop prodding at your clit when he notices the wet spot forming on your panties, he wastes no time shimming them down to your ankles, whistling when he sees your glistening pussy. You only wail louder pleading him not proceed any further. Hawks turns a blind eye to all your begging, “I should just shove it in, right?” he asks petting his finger over your hole, “but that won’t be fun,” he snickers. You feel his move away from your cunt and move higher. Panic settles, he couldn't be serious, “Hawks. Please no. Please don’t. I don-” finger rims along your asshole, inching to dip in, “What? Don’t want me to fuck your ass?” he spanks your ass hard making you flinch, “Please I’ve never-” you cry out hoping he would understand, “No one’s ever fucked you in the ass before?” you whine at the lewd words which shamelessly fall from his lips, “Guess there’s a first for everything.” he says with a scoff. 

His digits bury into your hole, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The stretch burns, filling a fresh set of tears rolling down your eyes, smudging your mascara and eyeliner You looked like a whore. He keeps hammering his fingers inside you without mercy, a loud whine leaves your lips as you feel a tingle of pleasure from him hitting the right spot. “Do you like that? Too bad, this isn’t for you.” he moves his fingers from you before lining his fat cock to your almost too tiny hole, “How will this fit?” he laughs to himself, pressing his engorged tip in slowly, “Will be a tight fit,” he continues to shove his cock into your hole, his face turns off one to ecstasy as your walls take him inch by inch. You scream in pain, his cock was much bigger than his fingers. It was stretching you out, numbing your mind and soul, you did not know how much more you could take. Salty tears fell from your eyes as Hawks bottomed himself in you, he waited for a moment before starting to thrust into you unforgivingly. Dragging his fat cock out and your walls pulling him right back in. As he kept ramming into you. Slowly, you start to pleasure tingle up your spine as his tip smashed against the right spots. Your cries of pain turn to pleasurable moans. Hawks wastes no time in teasing you, “Look at you moaning like a slut,” he spanks your ass with swift force sending your rear to sting. You feel unbearable pleasure starting to build up in your abdomen, a straining coil wanting to burst which each of Hawks’ strong thrusts yet it is left unfilled as the simulation is not enough to make you cum from all alone. Hawks notices this, the pitiful crying for him to touch your swollen little clit which was begging to be played with. He almost thought he would give it to you, after all, he was a good person. Almost. 

Hawks just snicker, his cruel, sadistic laugh echoing in the room, “No, no, no.” he teases, “no matter how much you cry, baby. I am not letting you cum. This is your punishment, you deserve this. You’ve been a bad girl.” Hawks couldn’t formulate how he was able to form complete sentences. The moment he had caught you, he had let himself go feral. Dragging you down like a predator, he finally had you under him. He kept grunting and breathing profanity down your ear along with shameful praises about how well your slutty ass takes him. He is glad he is finally getting his much-deserved relief but he is not done yet. He won’t be done until he is filling your vulnerable womb with his seed, he won’t be done until he hears you asking him to give you his children. He is not going to leave you be until he has destroyed you, balls deep in your tiny pussy. He is going to keep you here all night fucking you, he is going to stay there all night fucking you with hate which he has buried within himself for you over the years. He is going to melt you in his hand, break you until only he can build you up, and maybe he will not let you go even after that. Maybe he will keep you after all hawks mate for life. 

Just hope he lets you cum the next time. 

[kkusuka]

Last one I promise 🥺🥺💖💖 sorry if I have sent so many

Oikawa and Y/n get stuck in a winter storm on the way to Mattsun’s family cottage for Christmas break with the other seijoh 4. Basically it gets really cold so y/n suggest they take their clothes off while cuddling to persevere heat and oikawa accuses her of just wanting to see him naked and being a perv but oikawa ends up being pervy and comes up with another way to keep them warm 😏😏 and yeah foggy windows, steamy hand prints and a very unimpressed Iwa when him and the other 2 find them tangled up naked and sleeping soundly in a car buried in snow -✨Puppy🤩

it’s never too many, you’ve found my weakness puppy! the seijoh four have my heart!

oikawa x reader crack-ish

cw: implied smut, iwa curses like once

---

You knew something was bound to happen.

It always does when Toru, you, and two feet of snow. Actually, two feet of snow and an 11 pm snack run. Plus you were in a whole nother town in a log cabin that neither of you owned. (Hanamaki told you h would give you a tour of the town, but he was downing beers with Mattsun by now)

Just for the records, you knew it was a stupid idea.

But Tooru flashed you those eyes and you fell apart. Plus you had gotten there that night, only a few hours before, and there was not a single box of lucky charms in the entire house.

Now there were two problems with this plan.

Firstly, you told no one where you went. No texts, not even a note, so if anyone, Iwaizumi, needed either of you they would have to call you. And lord knows when the two of you were together, neither of you even glanced at your phones. (Hanamaki always gags when you two talk because, in his words, you always make ‘lovey-dovey eyes’ at each other)

In your defense, the town that the cabin’s located is extremely small. A few restaurants, a small strip of shops, and finally a huge supermarket, loaded with food.

You found your cereal, he got every single snack that was colorful and looked ingestible, Tooru said that money wasn't an issue considering he stole Iwa’s card. (he did not, Iwazumi would kill him and you would never let it happen, the card was his and he didn't want you to feel bad)

Once you scoured the isles, you both got online, almost got kicked out for being too loud but there were ten minutes till they closed and none of them had the energy to put all of your stuff back.

When you walked out of the store one thing you weren't expecting was almost a foot of snow on the ground.

Here’s where the second problem came in.

The car you and Oikawa took, to say the least, sucked. It was older than both of you and barely made it here in the three inches on the ground. How was it supposed to drive up now?

The normal roads should be plowed but the driveway to the cabin was sure to be knee-deep in snow.

Yet the both of you still tried to get all the way up, the closer to the door the less walk. And that's when the gods decided to punish the both of you for who knows what. (it was not telling them where you went it was so not telling them-)

The car shut down halfway up and the snow was packed to the doors, making you unable to open any of them.

Still, you regret nothing.

But when the heat turned off and the temperature in the car was the same as outside, Oikawa's arms were not helpful. It was stupid and probably just a movie trope, but in your freezing mind, all you could think of was naked cuddling.

“Hey, Tooru? Do you think that if we take our clothes off we'll be warmer?” your teeth clattered as you ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought you could make a better excuse to see me naked, but I guess we could give it a try!” he climbed into the backseat of the car, settling down before helping you to the other side.

Pulling off your shorts and t-shirt, whatever made you wear summer clothes during the winter made you want to scream. You had kept your underwear on, he, his boxers, all for your respect of course.

He didn't even wait a second before he pushed you over and fell right onto you, effectively trapping you under his body. Wrapping your arms over his back the both of you snuggled into the other.

“This isn’t working Tooru” Your chest and thighs were warm courtesy of his body heat, you could feel his back forming goosebumps so it wasn't helping him either.

Feeling his lips curl into the crook of your neck, he rested his chin on your collarbone rubbing circles up and down your sides.

“Y’know what? I know a few more ways to keep warm!”

--

“Where the fuck are they? It's midnight and neither of them is answering their phones!”

Iwaizumi felt like he was going crazy, he left to shower for fifteen minutes then all of a sudden you and Shittykawa were nowhere to be found. Makki and Matsun were supposed to watch you.

“The car is in the driveway and I’m sure we know what's happening there, so if you want to go out that’s on you”

“Thanks for being absolutely no help, Mattsun”

Pulling his boots and a coat on he opened the door, fear of what he was about to see gone.

As much as he pretends not to, he really did care about you and Tooru and he knew that the both of you would knock out after sex, and sleeping in a feezing car would not be good.

Pushing the snow out of the way of the door,  a hard task considering that the car was rocking back and forth the whole time.

Slamming the door open, getting an eyeful of the scratches on Oikawa's back and your leg thrown over his shoulder.

“Get your asses inside, Now Shittykawa!”

“Iwa-chan! So rude!”

One thing was for sure, Iwaizumi was not letting you out of his sight for the rest of the week. And no one but the two of you would be sitting in the backseat of the car until you could prove it was cleaned.  

Regrets? None.

Were the snacks worth being teased for the rest of the weekend? Yes very much so!

[thequeenxofhearts]

“Oh my, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful smile?”

Jason Todd x Reader | One-Shot

Summary: Jason is worried when Y/N doesn’t come home from work. Follow up to “Close your eyes...you’re safe now.”

“Just keep an eye out for her…thanks Damian.”

Jason hung up the phone and began pacing the living room again. Y/N was supposed to have been home a few hours ago but when she did not return home, Jason called her phone.

There was no answer.

He rang a few more times, and there was still no answer.

He called Bruce but no criminal activity came up on the Bat computer, and Bruce admitted that he had not gotten around to putting a tracker in Y/N so he couldn’t find her.

“I suggest you stay home in case she turns up. Tim’s on patrol tonight, I’ll send Damian out with him to look for her.” Bruce said, “Don’t worry Jason, she’ll turn up.”

But worrying was all Jason did.

The last few days he had noticed that Y/N had not been herself. He wondered if maybe she was having a hard time at work…she had not been the same since the Joker attacked her workplace a while ago.

But he knew she wanted to get back to work, she had had a lot of time off but he wondered if eventually she got sick of being at home and being bored and wanted to go to work.

But he knew she would not have gone if she really didn’t want to.

 Then he began to remember specific things that had been happening recently, she was not that interested in watching the TV as she used to be, she was struggling to get into the books that were stacked on the shelves.

She was eating less than usual, and she spent more time in the shower than she normally did.

 His phone lit up. He grabbed it, hoping it would be a message from Y/N, or about her. But it was just a stupid app update notification.

He saw his battery was running low, so he went into the bedroom to get the charger.

As he opened the door, he noticed the curtains were still open. Giving him the view of the city outside. And how it was getting darker outside. He looked at his watch; 6:41PM

He felt his stomach drop.

She had never been this late home without telling him where she was, and what time she thought she would be back.

He was getting more and more worried.

 His phone vibrated in his hand, it was Tim’s number, “Tim?”

“I’m sorry Jay, I can’t find her. I searched the park and most other placed where I know she’s been, but a lot of stores are closing for the night. I doubt she’d be in one of them.”

Jason ran his hand through his hair, “Where is she?” He muttered.

“Jason, it’s starting to rain.” Tim’s voice was filled with sorrow.

Jason went to the window. Tim was right, rain began spitting onto the window, and it started getting heavier.

“I’ll keep looking for her Jay, I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks Timmy.”

He hung up, and just as he did, Damian called, but he basically told Jason what Tim had just told him.

So, Jason called Bruce, “I need to be out there looking for her, Bruce.”

“Jason you need to be home in case sh-”

“In case she turns up, I know! But I’m no good to her worrying at home, am I?” Jason exclaimed.

“I’ll keep an eye on the computer, if anything comes up I’ll send the boys to check it out. I’ll keep you updated Jason.” And with that, he hung up.

Jason leant against the wall and slid to the ground.

He brought his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his hands.

Maybe Bruce was right, maybe he should stay home in case Y/N comes back. But he didn’t know where else to look for her, both Damian and Tim couldn’t find her. He didn’t know what to do.

He thought about everything he had done when he realised Y/N had come home; he’d called her several times and tried to remember the conversation they’d had before she left for work this morning, but he couldn’t remember her saying she was going anywhere.

But he knew that sometimes after work, she would go across to the bookstore opposite her workplace, but she would not be there for hours, maybe half an hour at the most.

At four o’clock, he called her workplace, but they said she left one-thirty. Normally it would have been two o’clock, but it was quiet, and she seemed tired, so they let her go early. It was then that he called Bruce and told him what had happened.

He was angry at himself for not going to look for her.

He wasn’t angry with her for not coming home, he thought maybe she needed sometime to herself and didn’t think to tell him, but now that neither Bruce, Damian or, Tim could find her, he was more and more worried.

He looked at the photograph of the two of them on the bedside cabinet. He remembered where and when it was taken; the apartment he was in right now, two years ago when they moved in.

Previously they had been living in Y/N’s old apartment, but it was too small for all of them. It was ok when they first started dating as Jason was living in the old Ace Chemicals factory, and he was just spending nights with her. But nights turned into weekends, and he eventually moved it.

But the small apartment just wasn’t big enough for the both of them, so they moved into this current apartment together two years ago.

Jason eventually told Y/N about his alias, and about his family, but it didn’t bother her as much as he thought it would; much to his relief.

She worried about him, he knew that, and she tried to stay awake when he was on patrol at night, but most of the time she fell asleep. Jason once joked, telling her it was her job to keep the bed warm for him.

He smiled at the memory, and then tears stung his eyes, “God I hope you’re ok.” He muttered.

 A few seconds later, he heard the front door opening. He quickly got to his feet and ran to the kitchen. Y/N had just closed the front door behind her.

She had gotten caught in the rain, her coat was wet, and her hair. Her face was wet, but he knew she had been crying.

“Y/N!” Jason exclaimed, he ran to her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and he heard her quietly sobbing on his chest. “Where have you been?” He asked, peeling her coat off, and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs next to the heater.

He held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, “Y/N?”

“I’m sorry.” She muttered, but Jason held her again.

He took her over to the sofa and wrapped a blanket around her before pulling her down with him on the sofa.

All she had said was, “I had a bad day.”

Jason brushed her wet hair out of her face, kissing her forehead again. “It’s ok now.” He whispered.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

She shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You’ll feel better.”

“I dunno Jay. I feel like everything in my head is all jumbled, and I don’t know what to do.”

Jason sighed, “Go take a shower, I don’t want you getting a cold. When you’re finished we’ll talk, alright?” He smiled sweetly; Y/N nodded.

“You’re not mad?” She asked.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” He replied.

 Y/N went to the en suite bathroom, she closed the door behind her and a few seconds later Jason heard the shower coming on.

He was so relieved that she was home safely, but he had another problem to sort out.

He called Bruce and told him she was home safe.

“I’m glad she’s ok Jason, I told you she would come home. Where was she?”

“I don’t know, she’s taking a shower but when she’s finished, I’ll find out.”

“I’ll call the boys and let them know she’s home.” And Bruce hung up.

 Jason opened one of the kitchen cupboards, and he pulled out the bottle of whisky he and Y/N had been saving ‘in case of emergencies’

He grabbed two whisky glasses and poured a little drop into each glass.

He went back to the couch and picked up his phone. Whilst he still a little bit of power in it, he called Domino’s Pizza and ordered pizza for them both, he knew she liked the garlic dough balls so he ordered them as well.

He went to the bedroom to charge his phone up, and while he was in there, he thought he would grab Y/N’s pyjamas, some underwear, and some thick socks for her. He put them on the radiator, so they were warm for her when she put them on.

 He heard the shower turning off and about five minutes after that, she came out of the bedroom, wearing the pyjamas that he had put on the radiator for her.

Jason opened his arms and she fell onto the sofa next to him, and snuggled against his warm body. He wrapped the blanket around her and reached for her glass of whisky on the coffee table.

She took it gratefully.

“Are we gonna talk now?” He asked gently. After taking a sip of the whisky, she nodded.

“What’s the matter then?” He asked, stroking her hair.

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t been yourself since you went back to work.” Jason commented, and she nodded, “I think that’s it.”

“You think you went back too soon?”

She shook her head, “I don’t think I wanted to go back at all.”

Jason kissed the top of her head, “Why did you go back?”

She sighed, “I didn’t want to be at home all the time…and I didn’t want you to think that I couldn’t handle it.”

“If you weren’t ready to go back, you didn’t have to. Doesn’t matter what I think, my love.”  He held her tighter, and firmly pressed his lips to her head again.

“Go in tomorrow with your resignation. Take some time off and when you’re ready, look for another job.”

“That’s easier said than done, it’s gonna take ages to find another job.” Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“I dunno I heard a certain billionaire is hiring at Wayne Enterprises.” Jason smirked, Y/N smiled.

Jason smiled, “Oh my, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful smile?” He squeezed her tightly, kissing her forehead again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She replied.

There was a knock at the door.

“Dinners here!” Jason exclaimed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, as Jason opened the door, she saw the Domino’s Pizza delivery guy standing at the door with 3 boxes. Jason gave him the money and returned to the couch with the boxes.

“I ordered your favourite; something cheesy and spicey, with stuffed crust and dough balls.” He winked; Y/N smiled again. “Thanks Jay.”

“My pleasure, babe.”

[torikengel]

Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 10)

When you opened your eyes, the sun was already rising. You felt a pleasant warmth exuding from beside you. You rubbed your eyes to get a clear vision of what, or well who was in bed with you. You saw Thomas peacefully snoring by your side. Then the memories from the last night flooded your mind as you realized you were still both naked. Your first reaction was to panic, but then you noticed something you ignored before. Something on Thomas’s body. You had a clear view of his arm in daylight, and as you inspected his skin, you saw scars... not a few of them, but a whole bunch. These scars covered his whole arm, some were deep, and some looked quite new.

“Oh my god...” you gasped at your discovery. Your heart ached for Thomas. Right now, you had a strong urge to protect him, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. You were still a victim, but you felt less like one after every moment spent with Thomas. Maybe you felt a sense of responsibility? You believed that you could help Thomas and ease his pain... If you ran away, it would mean you betray him. You would be like all the others who stabbed him in the back. You tenderly ran your fingers through his hair.

“Tommy...” you whispered, clenching your teeth. You were split between your past and future... you missed your life, freedom, family, and friends. But then there was this man, this murderous cannibal who made your heart inexplicably flutter. You checked his arm one more time and gave him a soft kiss on the deepest scar.

“Maybe if we met sooner.” you pondered about his past. Right, if you two met under different circumstances. You placed your head back onto the pillow and turned to your side as you decided to sleep a bit more.

“Ahh...” you yelped as Thomas unexpectedly turned around to hug you from behind. But then you just smiled and closed your eyes, enjoying his presence.

*

When you woke up again, Thomas was gone, and so was every other evidence that would suggest he was ever next to you. Maybe it really didn’t happen, and it was just a dream? You stretched your arms and looked out of the window. The sun was already remarkably high up in the sky. You yearned for the freedom outside the walls of this house.

“You had a choice...” you sighed for yourself when you remembered how close you were to escape last night. But you didn’t turn the doorknob. You didn’t open the door. Were you really out of your mind? You didn’t understand yourself anymore. Everything you did was against natural human instincts. You stepped out of bed only to realize that your ankle is cuffed again.

“All right...” you teared up uncontrollably as you slipped down from the bed, landing on your knees. You saw your suitcase on the floor next to you, so you decided to rummage through your past.  After putting on a dress and underwear, you found a diary that captured your attention, so you opened it and read.

“This road trip sucks so far; I am fairly sure they invited me only for my money. Nobody really talks with me. I swear this is the last time I am going somewhere with Emma...” was the last written paragraph. You wrote it before you threw the diary into the suitcase as you were dizzy from writing in the van, but you were frustrated, so you had to. Now you didn’t have any of your good friends or family with you so that you couldn’t share your feelings with anyone... it wouldn’t hurt if you wrote something again, right? You needed to cleanse yourself somehow.

“I was kidnapped by a local sheriff in this weird town in Texas after we had an accident on the road. Even though I am quite sure it’s not a real sheriff. This family killed Emma and the others and ate them... There are four of them... and I...” you couldn’t bring yourself to write that you purposefully missed an opportunity to escape because you had feelings for the guy who kills and butchers humans. You scrapped the idea of writing any further and stabbed the page with your pen... and again and few more times until the rest of the diary was destroyed. You threw it away and climbed back to bed. You were hungry, and you really wanted to use the bathroom, but you didn’t dare to call someone as you didn’t want Hoyt to be the one to answer you. You thought about yesterday, when you felt like more than a victim, today the reality dawned on you and mentally destroyed you. You wished Thomas would be here. You wanted to tell him how you felt about your needs. Why wasn’t he there with you?

*

Thomas wasn’t pleased about the situation either. Hoyt was searching for him in the morning, and when he couldn’t find him in the basement, he went looking for him in your room. He found you both in the same bed, and you weren’t even cuffed. He gestured for Thomas to immediately come out and then scolded him to no end.

“What do ya think yer doin’ Thomas? Sleepin’ in the same bed as yer bitch? Didn’t ya learn anythin’?” Hoyt rumbled. He was furious. To him, you were an outsider, a piece of meat. If Thomas really wanted to fuck you, it was for the sake of satisfaction and not some lovemaking shit. You would become dinner eventually anyway. Then Hoyt sent Thomas to the basement and told him to stay there as he wasn’t in the mood for his face, which obviously hurt Thomas, but he complied. Hoyt decided to take away some comfort from you, so Thomas couldn’t see you or let you out of the room. Plus, you didn’t receive any food.

*

But Hoyt left on patrol, and someone in the house didn’t like the idea of you starving to death. You heard a light knock on the door.

“C-come in.” You stuttered nervously.

“Good mornin’ darlin’.” You saw Luda Mae standing in the door frame with a plate and cup in her hands.

“Charlie isn’t in a good mood today.” she sighed. “But I can’t let ya starve now, can I?” she smiled at you while coming closer. You were so relieved. It wasn’t Hoyt, and Luda brought food.

“Is Thomas okay?” you said as you took the meal from her.

“Oh, m’dear y/n.” she smiled when you mentioned her son.

“He’s in the basement. I think they argued with Charlie. He ordered him to stay out of his sight today,” she explained with a pained expression.

“Why doesn’t he come out when Hoyt’s gone?” you asked curiously. Luda sighed again. “Hoyt locked him in there and took the key. Ya know darlin’, Hoyt doesn’t take no disrespect and ma boy Tommy was acting up. As much as I disapprove of this, my hands are tied. Charlie has the last word in this family. I couldn’t stop what they did to Monty, either.” She complained.

“What happened to Monty?” you asked despite having an idea.

“He got shot by a biker, and Charlie forced Thomas to treat him...” she made it sound so innocent, even though Monty was missing both of his legs. She really didn’t want to portray her son as evil. And you didn’t think of him that way either. You nodded while you ate the bread she gave you to let her know that you were paying attention.

*

After you finished the breakfast, well brunch, Luda Mae returned to take the empty plate and cup.

“Darlin’, I can tell that my boy Thomas likes your company. I only want the best for Tommy. He gave me this.” she took a small key out of her pocket. It was key to your freedom.

“But ya know I am just a weak old woman now, and I know Charlie would be furious if you escaped.” she was very unsure of her actions. You didn’t understand a thing. Luda uncuffed you, so you could use the bathroom and take a shower. You didn’t want to cause her trouble. If Hoyt could do what he did to Monty, you didn’t even want to imagine what fate awaited Luda if you ran away because of her.

*

“I know it must be borin’ to stay in that room all day alone, darlin’.” Luda Mae said as she washed the dishes in the kitchen. You were standing next to her, leaning on the wall.

“Would you mind helpin’ me around the house today?” Luda Mae looked at you and raised her eyebrow.

“Of course, anything.” You replied and smiled at her. How could you say no to her? And so you spent the day cleaning the house with Luda. Honestly, it was for your own good as well, because from the first time you arrived you’ve thought that the house is really filthy. However, you understood that Luda was already an older woman, and the house was huge, so it must’ve been hard for her to be the only one taking care of the household.

*

You were proud of yourself when you finished. Even Monty seemed to approve of your hard work.

“Good work, m’dear!” Luda cheerfully announced when she looked around the now clean living room. The feelings creeping on you this morning were gone, and you felt more like an actual human being rather than a piece of meat again. You weren’t cuffed, and you basically spent some family time with Luda and Monty. Your moment of happiness was abruptly interrupted by the sound of an arriving car. It was Hoyt, and when you looked closely out of the window, it seemed that he wasn’t alone. There were two guys and a girl with him in the car. Luda quickly pushed you up the stairs to make sure Hoyt doesn’t see you. You rushed to your room and looked out of the window. Apparently, Hoyt locked them in the car because he came to the porch alone. Luda opened the door and let him in. He didn’t even realize how clean the house was. He just went straight to the basement door to summon Thomas.

“Come on, Tommy, move yer ass and help me out here!” he shouted and then walked back to the car. You were still looking out of the window but concentrated on the noises coming from downstairs as well. Hoyt opened the door for the girl sitting in a passenger seat and let the guys out of the car too. They seemed okay, and Hoyt was actually polite? You didn’t understand the scene unfolding before your eyes. And then he saw you. One of the boys looked up, and he saw you staring at them from the window. But before he could do anything, Hoyt grabbed the girl and pointed a gun to her head. Both guys were visibly shocked. They genuinely believed he was a sheriff helping them until this point. Then you heard loud footsteps, and Thomas stormed out of the house with a chainsaw in his hand. The guys tried to run away, but Hoyt shot one of them to his calf. The other turned around to help his friend, but only a bullet to his shoulder awaited him. Thomas grabbed one of the wounded guys and threw him on his shoulder, and then he disappeared into the house. You figured he took him to the basement. Hoyt took the redhaired girl into the house too, and the guy who has been shot to his leg was crawling in pain away from the house. He was desperately slow. You heard screams of the girl and Hoyt’s footsteps as he struggled to bring her up the stairs to his room. You quietly went to the door and peeked out as you opened them. Hoyt didn’t notice as he was too busy with the girl who was screaming and kicking everywhere around herself. But she saw you.

“Help me! Please, you, help me!” she stared at you with despair in her eyes as she tried to get out of Hoyt’s grip. Your eyes widened, and you instinctively closed the door. You covered your ears in a futile attempt to prevent the girl’s voice from reaching you. You knew well what awaited her with Hoyt. Meanwhile, Thomas got the other guy who tried crawling again. And that was it, you couldn’t see anything else, and you could only think about what was happening in the house. The girl’s screams didn’t fade at all, and the revving of the chainsaw was piercing your ears as well.  You wanted it to end finally, but then you heard a loud thump as the basement door burst open, and Luda’s voice echoed in the living room as she was screaming Thomas’s name.

“Tommy! Hoyt! Hoyt, come down!”

You opened the door again and stepped out of the room. The girl was still screaming, and Hoyt was nowhere to be seen. He probably didn’t hear Luda. You couldn’t hear Luda as well now. You braced yourself for the worst outcome as you ran down the stairs only to find Luda tied up to a chair with a rug in her mouth.

You gasped… what was happening? Then you saw him, the guy who has been shot in his shoulder standing in the kitchen with a bloodied knife, Thomas nowhere to be found.

a/n:  Now what, you and another victim together in a kitchen... I am sorry for the cliff hanger, but the chapter would be too long, but I am in the mood for writing, so will post the next chapter tomorrow.

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 6/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: Another evening, another dinner, but this time Belle surprises Gold and herself.

Notes: IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS. I am so sorry. Basically March and April were catastrophes, mostly of a work variety. A lot of things happened, I got super burned out, and I thought a lot about quitting my job. BUT... things are looking up significantly, and the muse is back. This is what Belle is wearing. ;)

[AO3]

Thursday evening, Belle arrived at ten minutes to six.

Gold seemed surprised when he opened the door, and she wondered if the events of the previous day, including their little tiff in his shop, had made him think she wasn’t coming for dinner. He was wearing a deep purple shirt, striped with a darker shade, and a plain tie in yet another purple tone. The look was topped off with a set of gold sleeve garters just above his elbows.

He’d held the door, taken her coat with little more than the usual Miss French, and guided her into the dining room, where he presented her with a plate of lamb chops and sizzled garlic, dressed with a mint and rosemary, chimichurri style sauce. To the side was a mix of roasted carrots and parsnips, sliced and blistered under the broiler, and tossed in the drippings from the lamb. It smelled amazing, and though she had initially thought the mint sauce would be too bold and overpowering, it melded perfectly with the earthy flavor of the lamb and vegetables. It was as if Gold was overtly trying to impress her with his prowess in the kitchen.

“Do you - like lamb?”

Belle looked up from her plate and blinked at him. “Um, yeah, yeah it’s good. The sauce especially.”

He nodded and stabbed his fork into the center of a carrot. “Good.”

She picked up her wine and took a long swallow as he focused back on his food. Perhaps she had made a mistake in coming over early and assuming that what had happened yesterday wasn’t going to affect anything. The silence lingered, broken awkwardly by the occasional scrape of silverware, and despite the food being delicious, she had barely eaten anything. Her stomach felt even more hollow than the first time she’d come over, and all she wanted was for the whole thing to be over so she could go home and ruminate on the mess her father was in.

She hadn’t quite sorted out what the hell to do about that situation, and though she didn’t know for sure where the money had gone, she worried that Moe had slipped back into the old, bad habits he had developed in the years after her mother died. They had been part of the reason for their move from California all the way to Maine. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t be pulled into that again, that she wouldn’t let his vices upend her life.

The abrupt sound of a fork clattering against a plate shook her from her rumination. She looked up to find Gold staring across the table at her, his silverware resting against the china, and his hands folded and held up in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Belle’s head tilted slightly, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t let you know about the - situation - with your father.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I put the blame on you instead of where it should be, which is squarely on my father. The terms of his loan are between you and him, and probably confidential anyway.”

Gold lowered his hands and shifted in his seat. “Yes, but I still could have said something, perhaps hinted, or suggested that you speak to him about the loan for the flowers. Instead -”

It was her turn to sigh. “No, it’s fine, really I -” He held up a hand, and she stopped, her fingers twisting her napkin against her thigh.

“Let me finish,” he said softly. “My business with Moe, and my arrangement with you, are completely separate things as far as I’m concerned. One does not have any bearing on the other. I understand that isn’t the case for you, and that your father’s financial situation has possibly made yours worse.”

“Yeah...” She looked away, turning her gaze towards the living room doorway which had a view through to the front window. The porch lights illuminated the light snow that had started falling shortly after she arrived.

“As for your father not being truthful with you...” He trailed off and exhaled heavily.

She let out a humorless, scoffing laugh and glanced at Gold’s face before turning her gaze to her barely eaten meal. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, sadly.”

He gave her a look that was as much a smile as it was a grimace. “It’s deplorable, and I’m sorry for that as well.”

Belle shook her head again. “It’s not your fault, but thank you. I should probably apologize as well.”

“What for?” He frowned and reached for his wine glass.

“For marching into your shop and yelling at you.”

He waved a hand and gave her a half smile before he sipped at his drink. “Consider it forgotten.”

She relaxed at his words, and the awkward tension that had been present since he had first opened the door faded as they went back to their meal and companionable small talk. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. He was known to do so rarely even when there might be blame to lay at his door, but in this case there was none at all, and yet he had seemed compelled to clear the air. To her surprise, he appeared genuinely contrite, and his concern for her situation with her father felt quite sincere.

Gold frowned over his glass as he watched Belle make a little grouping of carrots at one side of her plate. He was glad that they had resolved things between them, but not knowing what Moe French was doing with the money he’d borrowed was concerning. He presumed Belle still didn’t know either, or if she did that it was bad enough she would never say so. At this point, Gold would consider it a miracle if Moe managed to pay him back by the deadline he’d set. Given her current financial situation, helping to pay her father’s debt as well would only make things worse for the both of them.

He was mulling over how to handle that particular situation, when he noticed Belle was watching him. “Finished?”

She smiled and glanced down at her empty plate. “Yes, and it was amazing and delicious, as usual.”

He chuckled, secretly pleased by not only her praise, but also by her choice of words. As usual. There was something shared and familiar in that which he liked far more than he should.

Abruptly, Gold pushed back from the table, and Belle watched as he stood and began to clear the dishes. When he reached across for hers as well, she tried to catch his gaze, but he seemed to be focused on his task.

She stood as well, and eased her way towards the doorway to the living room, intending to take the long way around to the foyer and the small half bath where embarrassment inevitably awaited her. “I’ll um, just go and - and change.”

At that he paused, plates stacked, silverware crossed over the top. His shoulders moved slightly as he let out a breath, and then gave her a brief nod. It was the first time she’d actually said it out loud. Before it had always been the unspoken next step; he cleaned up from dinner, and she went to put on something scandalous. It was the thing they both knew was coming, yet seemed content to leave in a state of plausible deniability.

The closed door of the powder room loomed, and the flutters in her stomach increased with every step, until she almost stumbled through it. A faint gasp slipped out when she flipped the lights on and saw what Gold had left out for her to wear. She pushed the door closed with her weight as she leaned back against it, her eyes trailing over the sheer lace.

This piece happened to be one of her favorites; a lacy, flirty babydoll nightie in a deep purple with a matching panty. Belle took a breath and licked her lips, steeling her nerves as she shrugged off her cardigan and unbuttoned her blouse. A few minutes later, she was tugging the flimsiest pair of purple underwear up her legs, adjusting the thin elastic over her hips before regarding herself in the mirror.

The front of the garment was low, covering the majority of her breasts with a soft lace pattern, but leaving ample cleavage exposed all the way down to the ribbon where the seams met. There was no underwire, but the elastic that went around her chest combined with the cut of the fabric had a slight lifting effect, which in another circumstance might have pleased her, but in this felt like she was offering herself for something. The fabric was even more see-through now that she had it on, and she was thankful that the lighting in the study was soft and dark.

The lower half of the nightie overlapped in the front, and fell in soft pleats above a wide strip of lace near the bottom. The overall effect made it slightly less sheer, but still transparent enough to reveal where the panties did and didn’t cover her. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to see that the hem ended just passed her backside, and swallowed hard.

Facing the mirror again, she braced on the wall and wiggled her feet back into her strappy black heels. She had decided when she was changing clothes after work that she was tired of walking around in bare feet in Gold’s house, and black heels went with nearly everything.

As she was about to exit the powder room, a thought occurred to her. It seemed almost certain now that Gold was working his way towards more and more revealing items, pushing her limits one week at a time. Perhaps she could push back.

Belle smiled to herself as her eyes perused the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Towards the top she could see wide, hefty tomes that reminded her of the encyclopedias she’d grown up with in school, before the days of Wikipedia and Google. Down at a more reachable level, there was a row of well worn volumes, and she touched the spines as her gaze took them in. He had several limited and first editions the likes of which she’d only had access to because she’d worked in libraries, yet here they were one shelf above more contemporary titles. He seemed to have everything from murder mysteries to classic poetry, and her smile grew as her fingers brushed over every published Bronte sister.

Shifting to her right, she came to stand next to the case with the kintsugi tea set, and a strange, warm feeling washed over her as she gave it a fond glance. Above the case however, was something quite unexpected. She’d initially thought it was an art piece, but now that she was truly looking and taking it in, it appeared to be a page from a manuscript in a gothic style lettering. Her eyes scanned the words, going wide as she realized what she was looking at. The title, the bold capital letter surrounded by scripted decoration, the odd, 17th century English spellings...

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice it.”

Gold’s voice startled her, and she gaped at him for a long moment before her eyes drifted back to the framed page. “Is that from -?”

“From a 1611 King James version of the Bible?” he finished for her, sauntering into the room with a bemused smirk.

Belle blinked. “Yes?”

He flashed his teeth and came to stand beside her, his cane planted in front of him and his hands folded calmly over the handle. “Yes.”

His voice was soft and almost reverent as he looked up, and she gave him a brief glance before skimming the words on the page, her mind automatically adjusting to the strange letters as she read.

“The Apocrypha?” she asked.

Gold smiled crookedly. “Yes, again. I’m surprised you recognized it, considering it’s not the the title page.”

She shrugged, and looked at him, her lips curving. “I have an affinity for the texts that were removed from the Bible. And other religious books too. I always wanted to know what the powers that be didn’t want people to know.”

Her gaze moved back to the page, while his stayed fixed on her, watching the quirk of her lips as she read the words again.

“You were the kid that read all the banned books, weren’t you,” he said, finally.

Belle bit her lip and grinned at him. “I considered it a matter of pride to read all of them as soon as I learned there was such a thing. It’s why I became a librarian. I wanted to make sure that people could always find them if they wanted to.” She looked up, nodded her head towards the Bible page. “There’s always a reason a book ends up on that list, something that makes the man say you shouldn’t read it, and most of the time it’s precisely the reason you should.”

After a pause, she met his eyes and shrugged. “You disagree?”

He shook his head slowly, somehow managing a reply through the dazed fog in his head. “No, no. Quite the opposite.”

He had meant to tease her, and to distract himself from looking too long at what she was wearing, but her response was so earnest, and so well matched to his own thoughts on the matter, that he could do nothing except hold her in even more esteem than he already did. It was another sign that his plan was failing miserably, and yet he refused to be the one to end their deal. He was certain that there would come a point where her sensibilities would get the better of her, pushing her to refuse the silent request hanging in the powder room, and that, combined with whatever disaster was brewing with her father, would be the end of it. He need only be patient.

She looked away and shifted from one foot to the other, temporarily relieving the pressure on her toes. Her shoes were starting to pinch, but the strange, post-dinner conversations she kept having with Gold gave an air of comfortable intimacy to the moment that she didn’t want to dispel. He seemed as surprised by her answers as she was by all the books and objects he’d collected. The pawn shop had always been an eclectic mix of things, which she’d attributed to the nature of the business, but she now suspected it was entirely due to the eclectic inclinations of its owner. Inclinations which only made her want to know more about each one of his possessions, and Gold too, if she was honest.

Abruptly, Belle turned, blowing out a quiet breath as she crossed to the bar next to the fireplace. Behind her, she heard the thump of Gold’s cane, and looked back at him with as much of a smile as she could manage through her nerves.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she said, “and I’ll get your drink.”

Gold blinked at her, his head tilting slightly, before he nodded, and by the time she was done filling the glass with scotch, he was seated in his usual place. She took her time replacing the bottle on the shelf, and then pivoted slowly on her heel, smirking inwardly as she walked towards him.

He was noticeably off kilter, if his wide eyes and white knuckle grip on the arm of the chair was anything to go by, and she decided at the last second to push the envelope. She came close to the right arm of the chair, a hair’s breadth from his hand, and leaned forward ever so slightly to set the glass down on the side table. It was an unnecessary motion that served only to give him a full look at her breasts, but the way his lips parted, and the faint intake of air, sent a tingle down her spine. She returned to her usual spot by the end of the ottoman, and turned around all the way, once, before facing him again and letting him look.

Gold had no idea what was happening. His head felt almost dizzy, and he was vaguely aware that he’d lost control of the evening. She had been so close only a moment ago, her bare thigh a whisper from his fingers, her chest filling his vision for too brief a time. The glow of the fire had illuminated her as she turned and moved to stand by the ottoman, her silhouette leaving nothing to the imagination through the sheer fabric.

She stood still as he openly looked her up and down, and then, without a word or gesture from him, she turned slowly for a second time. He could feel his body react as the hem danced against her backside, and he reached for the glass of scotch, taking a quick sip to calm himself.

Belle found herself oddly amused as she watched Gold take a second gulp of his drink. She’d wrested back a little bit of control, and it had clearly surprised him even more than she’d intended. After a few seconds, he sent the glass aside, and she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her once more. It wasn't lecherous or discomfiting, as she thought it might feel were it anyone else. Instead it made her feel - warm.

“Thank you, Miss French.”

She gave him a small smile, and left to change, but something was different, she was different. She had put Mr. Gold on his back foot, something which few, if any, in Storybrooke could claim. The bathroom door closed, and she kicked off her heels, giving her feet some much needed relief on her way to leaning over the sink. She let out a slow breath and looked up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror and shaking her head.

The way he had looked at her, both when she was going on about banned books, and when she was modeling for him, gave her an unexpected rush. It was - intoxicating - and she was surprised to discover that she liked it. There was something powerful about what she’d done, owning the moment, and leaving no room for the usual embarrassment or awkwardness. A smile crept over her face as she remembered leaning towards him and the sensation that had come over her.

She shivered and rubbed her arms as she straightened, then set about changing back into her clothes. The babydoll was left on the same hanger on which she’d found it, panties included, which felt just a little bit dirty and wrong. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she looked back at it, wondering if she should take it with her or not. So far she’d chosen to leave each item behind, not wanting to take home something that had made her feel so uncomfortable to wear. She didn’t dwell on what he might do with them afterwards, but this piece, and this night were so different that she was almost sad to be leaving it.

Gold was waiting for her by the front door, holding a plastic container. She frowned and then realized it was leftovers from dinner.

“You didn’t need to,” she said, but he only shrugged in response as he handed it over.

The prospect of a second helping of a delicious meal made her smile, but it faded quickly when the yellow envelope came into view. He held that out for her as well, a simple, nondescript thing, but bulging a bit to one side where the money was tucked. It had dulled her good mood with the reminder of what their deal was all about. Still, she managed to thank him, awkwardly, and he bid her good night.

He waited by the door until she was out of sight, swallowed up by the late winter shadows, and then made his way to the powder room. Sighing, he reached for the hanger, and the lingerie that she had once again discarded. It wasn’t part of the deal in any way, but his assumption that she would want the items back, was obviously wrong. She probably saw them as even more tainted than when the fiancé she'd bought them for left her flat broke.

Upstairs, Gold made his way down the long hall to his bedroom, feeling the telltale ache in his bad leg from too many hours on his feet. Moving around the kitchen to make a rather complex dinner had been the last thing he’d needed to do after standing most of the day at the shop, rearranging a couple of the display cases, but it was worth it. Belle had enjoyed the meal, and they had cleared the air between them, at least somewhat.

He stepped into the walk-in closet, passing the neat row of suit jackets and trousers, and the angled shelves of polished dress shoes, to a short hanging area at the back wall. The hook of the hanger made a light clank as it went over the bar, and he sighed. The purple nightie swayed for a few seconds before the fabric stilled, hanging next to the two other items abandoned by Miss French.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the black chemise from her first visit, drawing the silk between his fingertips. Swallowing hard, his hand brushed the softness of the pink nightie, up and down with the back of his hand from hem to the edge of the lacy cups and back again. There was another pause before he slipped his hand under the sheer purple fabric from this evening, seeing for himself how transparent it truly was, and recalling once more the shape of her in the firelight. It was still slightly warm, and he sucked in a breath, catching a hint of her lingering scent.

His eyes closed as he inhaled again, and though there was no need for a cold shower tonight, he had begun to consider the fact that he may have made a deal he didn’t understand.

[indianamoonshine]

solo’s copilot ♡︎ chapter two / “all women should”

summary: “Then you realize...it's because he's starved. Starved of affection himself. Of adoration. Of touch. He'd been Kylo Ren for years, dwelling in solitude with no one to hold him, no one to make love to, no one to cry for. You realize then that he craved closeness and he wanted it with you."

rating: M for suggestive content

AN: hi friends! it's me - mikaela - your local ben simp. i should be working on my screenplay, but i can't get this story out of my head. i actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter! the thing that tasha did to reader - you know the one. the vagina thing? yeah. i actually had a friend do this to me irl.

Tasha's nails clink impatiently against her glass of mither. She's been itching to say it for the past hour - you know she has.

"So..." she begins ominously. You prepare for her greatest performance. What were best friends for? "Big night for Ben, huh?"

The two of you stand at the bar of The Water Hole, a local cantina, and watch as Ben (along with some other Resistance fighters) aggressively chug their ales. He looks wild and, truthfully, on his way to being fried. You can't help but laugh when he spills on himself, brow arching in confusion, and then grumbling when he sees the mess he's made. He pretends like no one saw, but you did; you always see him. The way that particular strand of his hair dangles over his forehead had you biting your lip as he laughed, completely unaware of how fucking hot he was. Sometimes you hated him for that.

You turn to Tasha, pretending not to catch onto what she's implying, but she's grinning wickedly at you.

"Yep," you say half-heartedly, continuing to observe the room.

It's dim, but bright enough so that you're able to distinguish faces from one another. Lance, a blonde man with an unfortunate amount of sweat stains, converses animatedly with Ben. Then there's Bella, a witty and stunningly beautiful woman with emerald hair who cozies up with her boyfriend. You didn't recognize all the faces here. Some of them were bounty hunters or smugglers passing through, but the ones you did know where notorious party animals. You had a feeling you'd be nursing a hangover in the morning.

Tasha swirls her drink with a slender finger. "Could be a big night for you, too."

Bingo. Took her long enough.

Still, you pretend it takes you off guard, and pretend to choke on your drink. "What?"

Your friend rolls her eyes. She means well, just as she always has, ever since the two of you were toddlers. Growing up with her should've made more of a rebellious impact on you but it didn't. Not to say you didn't enjoy drinking and being with friends - you did, just not every night like Tasha. And that was fine; she was good at it. Sometimes you wished you were as talented as socializing as she was; you might be predisposed to make the kind of money she did. Tasha, in addition to being a Resistance fighter, was also the center of many wealthy men and women's lives.

"Ah, don't play coy." She slaps you in jest, but her strength causes a sting.

You stick out your tongue like a child eating something sour. "Boys have cooties," you joke. You know very well Ben did not have cooties.

Tasha rolls her eyes and smirks, holding the straw to her mouth before continuing. "Even a blushing virgin knows what success does to a man." She takes a long sip while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "It builds their ego..."

She takes a look at Ben from across the room. You do too. And despite how much Tasha adores you - how willing she would be to step in front of a blaster for you - she can't help but drink in the sight of the scoundrel who so handsomely laughs with friends. He's warm. He's kind.

He is absolutely perfect in every way. You don't blame her for the lust.

"Though, I don't think he needs much help with that." Her eyes fall lower and she does obviously enough so that you see where she's looking.

Tasha tears her eyes from Ben's - unquestionably - well endowed bulge. "You sure you can handle that?" she asks you with a wink.

You weren't the jealous type. Really. But everyone made their desire for him so loud; it was hard not to be jealous in some way or another. All the women (and men) on base who were gorgeous, intelligent, and very single were surely competent enough to take him from you.

But he hadn't left. Not in the five months you've been seeing one another; it's what you kept you from clawing peoples' eyes out.

"You're insatiable," you tell her. "Now you want him too?"

Tasha gives you an incredulous and pointed look. "You know I love you...but you also know that everyone on base wants him." She scoffs. "Don't pretend like you don't know that. You're so goddamned lucky."

You take a quiet slurp of your drink, eyes locked onto the way he concentrates to what Lance is saying. His eyebrows furrow and he nods, sucking the inside of his cheek and it makes his jawline more prominent. You feel a heat bloom in your body and know how lucky you are. For fuck's sake, you still can't believe it.

"He could be bad at it," you say then, though you know the idea is ridiculous.

Tasha shakes her head and light bounces off her pretty, blonde pin curls. "I wouldn't count on it. He has a reputation...just like his dad..." she says dreamily, as though she knew Han Solo personally.

There's a silence between the two of you before she says, "Are you prepared?" like she already knows the answer.

You shrug. "Can you ever be prepared for something like this?"

Tasha looks at you like you're not serious. Maybe she was expecting another answer.

"For sex?" Yes," she says simply. "God, you're the mature one, too."

"I have an implant if that's what you're wondering." You lift up your forearm to the light and see the outline of a very small, very faint chip embedded beneath your skin. It wasn't required in the Resistance - not anymore. But once you and Ben started dating, the idea of an accident seemed more plausible than what you'd like to imagine.

She looks thoughtfully at a space above your head. "Okay, yes, that's very important. But have you shaved?"

There's a pang of fear that lights up your abdomen. Shit. 

"I didn't exactly plan on this happening tonight!" you argue under your breath.

She doesn't take a breath. "What are you wearing?" Damn woman, cut me some slack, you think.

You blink a few times, trying to process her question, and crinkle your nose when you come up short. "Is that a trick question?"

Your dear friend looks exasperated and maybe even a little disappointed. After all these years of confiding in you about her various sexual endeavors, you surely could've picked up on the basics. Weren't you listening when she told you about the crotch-less underwear she wore for Mike in transmissions? Did you forget about the time she showered before a hook-up, swiped a finger in her vagina, and held it to your nose before asking, "Be honest...do I smell?" (No. You hadn't forgotten that - as much as you wanted to - but for the record: she didn't.)

"You don't have any lingerie?" she asks, dumbfounded.

"Why would I have lingerie?" you whisper heatedly and a little too quickly.

A man with a false eye turns his neck to glance at you, perplexed by the dialogue, but intrigued nonetheless. You glare at him and scoot farther away.

"Maybe because you're in a relationship with possibly the sexiest man in the galaxy, that's why!" she responds, throwing her free hand in the air for dramatics - she was always very good at that.

Tasha rubs her right temple as you cross your arms in defense, waiting for her to say something else. And then she does. An idea pops into her head, a lightbulb practically manifesting to gleam over her.

"T-shirt," she decides.

"Huh?"

"Holy fuck, are you this naive?" she asks, but she's hiding laughter. "Men go nuts when we do that. They like knowing we're smaller than them..." she cocks an eyebrow in amusement. "Though, that's never really been the case for me."

Tasha is tall. Six feet and two inches tall. You try to imagine her drowning in a man's shirt but couldn't possibly conjure up someone big enough to give her something to disappear in. Chewbacca, maybe.

You try to shake the thought away, to imagine one of Ben's plain tees hanging just below your shaking knees. How you could possibly work with that solely because you knew how much bigger he was than you. Throw on a little lip gloss, maybe. Mascara? Blush? No. No blush; he'll be getting you red enough.

Oh. The thought makes you clench.

But what if he preferred a woman who was natural? You wore makeup in front of him when he took you on your first date, honestly just for an excuse to dress in something other than your uniform. But because of the way his pupils expanded when he saw you, you decided to dress up more often. Did it matter? If he was worth it, he'd like you any way. And you knew Ben was worth it. Still, all these questions and all these rules for sex were overwhelming for someone who hadn't even given a blow-job. You take another drink of your liquid courage as your head spins with possibilities. They were endless.

Tasha watches with an enigmatic smile as you fix your hair to frame it the way Ben likes. "Okay," you say, but you're really only talking to yourself. "I'm going in."

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

A wide smile forms on Ben's face when you arrive at the table.

You're shaking, but doing your best to hide it, hoping that the façade of alcohol might camouflage your trembling fingers. Ben reaches his arms out to you and you accept his invitation to sit snuggly on his lap. You fit in it perfectly, especially when your head leans back against the curvature of his shoulder. He caresses your arm and you notice how his fingers trace over the indentation of your birth control. For some reason, that triggers a primal instinct, and you press your face into his neck.

"Did you get anything to drink?" Ben asks, lifting your chin with his index finger.

You nod, eyes sparkling when they meet his. You can feel the nervousness slowly dissolve in your body, but it could be because of the alcohol inoculating through your veins. "I did, thank you."

"Why didn't you let me pay for it? I would've." He kisses your cheek softly and then the other. "How many have you had?"

You shrug. "Just one." You lean into his touch, relishing in the electricity that burns your insides. It feels so good. "Nothing I can't handle."

He smirks, but behind it there's something you can't quite put your finger on. It's wicked, but tempting. Licentious, but adoring. It makes you blush, especially by the way he so openly touches your face with such softness. You never expected Ben to be so unstirred by potential reactions from others. Who knew Ben was so into public displays of affection?

Then you realize...it's because he's starved. Starved of affection himself. Of adoration. Of touch. He'd been Kylo Ren for years, dwelling in solitude with no one to hold him, no one to make love to, no one to cry for. You realize then that he craved closeness and he wanted it with you.

For fuck's sake, it's bringing tears to your eyes. You try to stop them by burying your face in his collarbone again but it doesn't work. His beating heart, his breathing, his warmth makes you even more emotional. You want to wrap yourself around him until the two of you become one - until you can pass on whatever it was that he needed from your own spirit. Whatever he needed, he'd get from you.

Gods...did you...did you love him?

No. No, it's too early, you tell yourself. You can't love him. It could end just as easily as it began, even if he did love you back. Something would eventually happen - he could die, you could die, the spark could burn out after the honeymoon phase ended. This is what you've convinced yourself, not only with Ben, but with other men too. And they always did end up leaving, even if you begged them to stay.

"You okay, baby?" he mumbles in your hair.

His voice brings you back to life. He'd never called you baby before. You're surprised to find how much you like it.

You lift your head and watch as his irises seem to turn another shade of mahogany. "Yep," you smile, running your fingers through his hair. You begin to slowly run your fingers across his scalp as though to mend a wound that wasn't there. Not in the bone, anyway. His conscious; you'd try to mend his psyche, and maybe it was an unintentional move from your own subconscious. But you allowed it.

Ben hums from your gentle touch, forgetting about the drink in his hand. He sets it down and leans back against the booth, eyes shut, and smiling as you play with his locks, twirling them around your fingers. You admire the way it shines in the dim lighting - he took care of himself well. That means he could take care of you, too. The idea makes you shiver in his arms.

The group of friends talk with one another in loud, jubilant conversation. When Ben doesn't say anything after some time, Lance pipes up.

"How you doin' over there, Solo?" He's chuckling by the way Ben's loosened his limps while savoring your embrace.

It must be a sight to see. Ben's almost slumped over in his seat with only a couple of drinks in his system as a girl half his size twiddles with his hair. Solo didn't relax much - he was always on the move, so to see him in this state was probably more reliving than humorous.

Ben just lifts a hand, eyes still closed, enjoying your fingers as they dance around his face. You count the small moles on his skin his under your breath and trace the slope of his nose. Eck. What had you become? PDA hadn't ever tickled your fancy before, so why are you all of a sudden so fuckin' cringeworthy?

Then you realize you didn't care. Ben Solo was practically purring against you as you squirmed in his lap. And you knew by the way he snaps open his eyes, some kind of fire raging behind them, and grabs ahold of your hips:

That he.

Was going.

To fuckin'.

Wreck you.

You'd let him. And he knows that too by the way you squeal when he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. He gives you a light swat on your butt as he stands and you burst into laughter, not giving a single shit about who thinks what anymore.

"Alright, Petals. I think it's time to go now," he announces and bobs you back into place against him.

Lance lets out a whistle that implies what everyone was thinking. "Have fun, you two!" he shouts from across the cantina.

And as you hoot with laughter - the kind of laughter you know is genuine - you spot Tasha at the bar. She holds up her drink and nods her head as though to say:

"As all women should."

[comicdiego]

Nothing at All

WARNINGS: uh light sex mentions, alcoholism mention, racism mention

PAIRINGS: comic diego hargreeves x tua oc mello walker

UNIVERSE: the umbrella academy comic verse, early 1972

CHARACTERS: diego hargreeves, tua oc mello walker

There's always been something about her. He's known her for three years now, seen that sparkle in those emerald green eyes, watched her cackle on her- their- eighteenth birthday as she crammed red velvet cake into her mouth, smearing the frosting across her cheeks with a bright smile and he swore everything seemed warmer around her. Remembered how she'd offered him a slice and he'd merely shaken his head, but when she winked and slid the plate before him and commented that it was her so-called birthday wish, he'd slowly taken a bite, with her grinning like a madwoman, her teeth a pearly white, lips painted a deep shade of red. "Just for your birthday," she'd claimed, crossing one bare thigh over the other, the smooth skin glistening under the light, turning the native Indian skin tone a shade of golden brown. The desi woman was something else, one in a trillion, and he wouldn't ever tell her otherwise. She'd even worn matching red undergarments, a dark shade of maroon, with some sort of silver lining tucked into the lace fabric. It stood out against the black silk robe she wore, the strings tied across her bare abdomen. "Thought I'd mix it up, just for you." Then a few months later, when she'd dragged him into a mall- one predominantly for white people with a decent amount of money to spend, middle class. He let her. Locked his arm with hers, even as he grumbled about how much he hated going to the mall. Walked around a few stores, pointed out blazers she'd love to wear. Ones he'd even gone in and bought himself- a few. One white, one black. She'd paid him back later despite him telling her she didn't have to. The lingerie she'd picked out- deep shades of sapphire blues, and some of snowy whites and midnight blacks. He'd paid. Just because he knew it'd make her happy to wear something she should be allowed to wear, no matter if the people behind the register sneered a her and called her names, or called him names. He didn't care, and nor would he ever. What mattered to him was that he knew she was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen- even if he denied it to himself in his mind. Her trembling fingertips would glide across his upper arm after they'd go shopping, and her soft whisper would always follow. "I wish I could shop there without someone treating me like I'm a criminal." To which he would always reply that they were assholes. Then she'd smile up at him and say, "Thanks for taking me anyway, Blondie." When they were nineteen, and she was dancing on the table at the strip club she worked at, the robe she normally wore off stage long gone and the lace underwear she usually opted for in more public settings being exchanged for a black thong. He'd always drag his eyes away, feeling his cheeks warm. Though it was clear she didn't mind his gaze, slipping into the chair beside him and leaning in close, whispering something about a lap dance in his ear that she knew would set his cheeks aflame. Probably cause the man across from him to scowl, because Mello herself was a beautiful woman, even if most people only liked her for the shape of her body and the thought of getting her into bed, even though it seemed that she didn't do that all too often- or ever. He couldn't say he could name a time where she had taken someone to bed. Until they were both twenty, and she was leading him into the bedroom with soft kisses along his lips, his jaw, his throat. Walking backwards, with his hands grasping her hips. He doesn't know how to describe it other than hungry and eager- that's what he was. For what, he didn't entirely know, though his heart told him it was for her. The night had ended in moonlight dancing across their bare skin and her dark red violet lipstick across his athletic figure and her soft sighs forever in his ears, but all the morning brought was him thinking it was stupid and neither of them spoke of it again. No, he'd slowly moved out from under her body, tugged his pants back on and sat at the edge of the bed for a moment. She hadn't awoken until a few minutes later, wrapping the blankets over her naked body, though he had memorized every curve of her skin, every small scar, every sensitive spot where she would sigh his name if he so much as dragged his fingertips across it. The taste of her lips on his, the forever lingering sensation of her pressed against him. Her emerald green gaze had dropped then, and her only words were, "I'm sorry." He never understood what for. To this day, he still doesn't. But he regrets not saying anything in reply, though he hadn't gotten up to walk away. To leave her abandoned there, alone. No, instead, he'd stayed as she slipped out of bed, let his gaze drift back over her body, to the marks he'd left across it, the stretching of her legs that suggested she had an ache. She would pull what she wore back on, let her hand linger on the doorknob. She doesn't look back at him, or acknowledge the fact that he's watching her, burning her image into his mind. Now, at age twenty one, they'd pretended that their bedroom exploration hadn't happened- at least, towards each other. It had definitely happened, and he was very much hung up on it, watching as her hips swayed when she walked, remembering her soft words brushing against his earlobe, the quiet 'I love you's that he didn't feel like he deserved. She was stunningly amazing, and he was a remnant of what he could have been. His father had always told him that- he was less than. Not good enough. That he needed to try harder. His failures were due to his shortcomings that he would never be able to live up to, and yet his only purpose in life was to be a hero. He couldn't love or have a family or find someone who cherished his existence- not that Mello does. No, he doubted she thought of him as more than a friend nowadays. "Diego?" she says, her voice smooth like silk and dragging him from his thoughts. She had a glass of whiskey in one hand, one he pointedly glares at. When she was nineteen, she had fallen into alcoholism, and he'd been trying to help sober her up ever since. Lately, it seemed to be working- whenever he was around. She releases a sigh and sets the glass down, then takes a seat in front of him upon the coffee table, across from where he leaned up against the wall. "Are you alright?" He nods, twirling the blade in his hand, a method to keep him thinking straight instead of thinking about how the curve of her waist had felt in his calloused palms. He doesn't give a smile of reassurance, because he doesn't smile- no, it was only rarely that he did smile. This wasn't something that made him smile, not a basic question about how he was feeling. Standing, she walks over to him, brushing her thumb across his jaw, her skin soft against the roughness of his stubble. He pulls his head back, worried she would lean in for a kiss and leave him reeling and yearning for something more when he couldn't have that. Mello was too good for him, and he wasn't truly capable of being loved. No one even thought he was capable of giving it, but if that was the case, why was his heart beating so fast and why did he have the urge to lean in and sweep her off her feet and kiss her all over her face like he was in some shitty romance novel? But he was good at pretending that wasn't at all the case, and their shared moonlight was nothing more than a moment of weakness for them both. Not that either of them ever spoke about it to clarify if they both were making love to one another, or if they were simply trying to feel love for themselves, and to prove to themselves that they could love. Diego knew what he had been doing- loving her. Trying to show that he did love her. The issue is that he doesn't know what she was trying to do. Her lips press together in a thin line of cherry red, and she casts a glance at him. "You're sure?" He gives a quick nod once more, the handle of the knife finding it's way back into his palm again. She parts her lips to say something, but she quickly closes her mouth, turning on her heel. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'll be here." She chooses to say instead, finally starting to take a few more steps away from him, across the apartment. He notes that she doesn't even take a second glance at the whiskey, which makes him sigh softly in relief. But she always distracts him- her dark hair falling down her back in waves, the lower half of her robe only reaching her mid thigh and showing off her legs. He quickly glares at the wall opposite of him, frustrated at himself for betraying what he knew would be logical- he knows he shouldn't act upon those emotions. But there is something he wants to say, despite it all. Something he needs to say. Something bundled up in his heart and he knows it'll hurt and keep adding to his usual bitter attitude until he gets it out, which doesn't seem to be something he plans on doing because he's terrified. He's terrified that she'll walk away from him, and lately, she's the only person he can call family. The Umbrella Academy wasn't family- it was some glorified orphanage that turned you into a shitty superhero with insufferable amounts of trauma. The only person he thought of as a sister had left to go to Paris because he'd chosen to help his team when they were in imminent danger and she'd taken it personally. He had nobody, except for Mello, who he sees now, standing at her kitchen counter, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Her skin seemed softer in the light of the sunset, and her lips seemed more of a red-orange. The window lets in the light, wrapping her up in the sun's glow, akin to the image he'd always seen her in, despite her shadowy powers. He himself stood in the shadows now, where he should remain, because she may be the sun, but he was the night, cold and dark and terrible, and he wouldn't be good enough for her. Never. Because the stars never needed the night to be beautiful- no, the night needed the stars to be breathtaking. Alone, it was nothing. And with her, he doubted he would ever amount to being good enough. Still, the words find their way to his lips, even if they escape his lips in a whisper. "I love you." Her head lifts, and those green eyes are trained on him, one of her eyebrows lifting in question. His heart stops for a moment, and his eye widens slightly from behind the domino mask, thinking she had heard him, until she says, "Did you say something?" "No." He replies, betraying himself. Nothing at all.

[joshslater]

Grimsby pt. 1

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Butcher Jones was pacing around in my apartment, poking, prodding and lifting every one of my possessions in the mess. I sat quiet on a chair and made every effort to look at Butcher Jones and not at the mountain of muscle standing at the door, preventing me from running out. Butcher Jones wasn't that old, perhaps mid forties, and looked slim, almost frail. It was hard to know if his nick name butcher was a sarcasm that stuck, or if there was something more sinister behind it.

"I don't see much of value around here. Do you?", Butcher Jones asked, looking down in a kitchen drawer.

"The loan wasn't for home improvements", I replied, immediately regretting the slightly sarcastic retort. Why could I not keep my mouth shut? This was what got me in trouble to begin with.

"That's a shame... Such a shame... Would be awfully convenient for both of us if there was something here I could bring with me, and we would be even. But there isn't is there?" "No, sir." "And there is no way you can scrape together that amount of money within the week.” "I think I can work someth.." "I wasn't asking." "Yes, sir. No, sir."

I glanced towards the door. The mountain of muscle was standing perfectly still just in front of the apartment door, without expression and just waiting to be told what to do. Lift something. Smash something. Break someone.

"And if you can't give me my money, isn't that stealing?" "Yes, sir." "I can't let people steal from me unpunished, can I?" "N-No, sir."

The muscle appeared unarmed, like that would make a difference. Butcher Jones dragged the other chair around the table, placed it in front of me and sat down. He looked exceptionally ordinary. Probably a good thing in his line of work.

"If you sold everything in here, how much could you get from it?" "£10,000 perhaps" "Not even close. And that still wouldn't make us even, would it?" "No, sir. No, it wouldn’t."

I wanted to look away, to look down, anywhere, but he held a steady stare into my eyes, and I wasn't sure what to do. Was it a dare, a game of chicken, some sort of power move?

"I'll buy it. All this shit, your apartment deposit and you work for me for three months, then we're even. Is that fair?"

It was so unexpected and he blurted it out so fast I barely registered what he said. Basically he takes everything I own and own my ass for a quarter. There was an unspoken "or else" in there somewhere too.

"Yes..."

"You're worried about where to sleep. What to eat." He got up on his feet quickly and patted me on my shoulders. "You're working for me now, so everything will be taken care of. You still work for Ross' Repairs?"

"When they have anything for me."

"I’ll tell them you’ve quit. I have a special assignment for you. An undercover kind of deal. I need you to go somewhere, blend in and just be part of the community for a while. Think you can do that?"

That was how I less than two hours later sat on a train to Grimsby, through Doncaster. The only thing I owned was the clothes on my back. The two most valuable items on me was the £54.30 train ticket and a crappy Huawei phone. The ticket was about to become worthless and the phone was lent to me by Butcher Jones. He took my smartphone after I had recorded a vague “I’m away for a long while” voice message, and gave me the shitty phone to receive assignment updates to.

With a three hour ride I had plenty of time to think through what had just happened. He was right that I didn't really own anything of value, so walking away from my stuff wasn't that big of a deal. I might have been able to pay him back if I worked really hard for three months, but to be debt free after three months of "blending in" was pretty sweet deal. Hopefully I wouldn't have to do anything too illegal.

I only had 10 minutes to switch train in Doncaster, and didn't have time to grab a lunch bite. It didn't even dawn on me until on the second train that I couldn’t even if I had time. I don't have a penny on me. If only I could have had breakfast before I left.

Arriving at Grimsby Town station I didn't have any further directions. I would be picked up by Declan, whoever that was, and he would tell me what to do.

Some guy decked out exclusively in Nike gear shouted obnoxiously close to me. "Oi! Chayse!" It wasn't until the third or fourth time I realized that was the name of my cover identity.

"Sorry, mate. Chayse Brown." "Fucks sake youse head filled with cotton innit. This way."

Before I had time to work out if it was a ribbing or genuine insult, he was walking towards the ticket hall. He looked to be about my age, perhaps even younger. Unkempt hair, tired look and an unlit cigarette in the corer of his mouth. He was dressed in hideous trainers, grey Nike air joggers, a Nike air sweater in a few different shades of grey, and a black back pack.

"Ere we are. Get changed. All of it."

He pulled out a filled plastic Tesco bag from his backpack and handed over to me. I looked at him quizzically, and he impatiently motioned towards the handicap restroom.

While desperately trying to avoid having me or any piece of clothing touch the floor, I replaced my shirt, T-shirt, jeans, socks, underwear and shoes with the items from the bag. It wasn't like a massive downgrade. My underwear were all supermarket packs, my Levis and shirt second hand, and the rest was mainly a difference in style. But once I had the new sneakers, white socks, Lacoste polo, and Nike joggers on, I certainly looked like I had been downgraded. But I couldn't deny that Declan and I looked like mates. I was here to blend in.

"Hey, you got anything to eat." "Take this" He handed over the cigarette from his mouth. "No, thanks. I don't smoke." "You do now. Jones' orders." Begrudgingly I put the damp end in my mouth. "Light?" "In the car"

The car, a beaten up, green Vauxhall Corsa, was parked illegally just outside the station. Once inside he tossed his backpack with my clothes in the back and tossed me a lighter.

"I should light it in here?" "Why not?"

It was probably a good thing to start smoking on an empty stomach, as my coughing turned into nausea while Declan almost couldn't handle the car as he was pissing himself. Once he had recovered from laughter he promised to teach me properly after the appointment.

“What appointment?” “A do-over at the barbs’. Mr. Jones want you to look proper mint ASAP.” Declan took back the cigarette, put it in his mouth, and then fumbled in the pile of trash in his door compartment. He found what he was looking for and tossed me a small pack of something. “Nicotine patches?” “I reckon ya needed help until ya lit fags proper” “Thanks, I guess.” “And put yous trackies in ya socks like a proper lad” “Like this?” “Mint fucker and a” Apparently that was a yes, because he looked approvingly at what I’ve done to my socks. It felt wrong.

We stopped in a residential area, and at first I didn’t even see the hair dresser. It was located in the basement of an apartment building. As we entered a middle eastern man greeted us with a big smile and offered us tea. Declan declined for both of us and proceeded to give short instructions for my haircut. Skin sides and four mills top. I didn’t really know what that meant, but only a few minutes later I could see the result. An oval island with short hair on top of my head, and essentially no hair elsewhere. It was almost a shock what huge difference it made. I looked brutal in an unpleasant way. Seeing the actual shape of the skull, specially in the back, weirded me out. My ears looked bigger too.

“You gonna havta like do yous every 2 weeks hear me? 4 mills.” “I hear you” “Let’s do ears then.”

Declan laghued way to much about his own joke before instructing Muhammad to pierce both earlobes and insert a cheap looking glass healing stud. Mohammad told me to keep them in at all times for the next two months. Definitively not remove them at all for the first few weeks, or it could start to bleed.

“You have time to mint brows?” Declan asked Muhammad. “I have time.” he answered.

I had no idea what they talked about, but Muhammad swapped to a different trimmer attachment and did a few well practiced strokes over my eye brows. He then picked up a spool of black thread, pulled out an arms length and twisted it in some weird way. Finally he put it against my skin and using a process I’d never seen before pulled out hairs, shaping the eyebrow. It hurt like hell. I grabbed my trackies and clenched my fists white.

“You want any slit?” He asked me. “Aye, two on left” Declan answered for me.

Muhammad used a different trimmer and carefully shaved two slits in my left eyebrow. As he stepped aside I didn’t see myself in the mirror. In less than 30 minutes I had been totally transformed. Between the brutish haircut, punk eyebrows and douchy ear studs there was little of me left. I had an uneasy feeling that this was moving way too fast, like I was being erased. But then that was the point with undercover, wasn’t it? I could understand why Butcher Jones wanted this done before I met anyone local.

“Oi, pose here. I’ll send a snap to Butcher”, Declan directed.

“Trackies out of yous socks again.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Follow Me Home (Part 2)

Summary: Dean and the reader travel to Seattle to learn more about her father and what led her to ending up in Kansas...

Pairing: Cop!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,900ish

Warnings: language, kidnapping

A/N: Enjoy!…

______

“Thank you,” said Dean when he got off the phone a few hours later. He sat down in his chair with a sigh, running his hands over his face. You crossed your arms in the chair across from his desk, Dean groaning for a moment before moving his hands away. “Apparently you called your boss first thing Monday morning and said you weren’t feeling well and were taking the next few days off. Seattle PD will be interviewing people you know but your boss was adamant that he spoke to you directly and that you sounded normal.”

“So either I didn’t feel good, was playing hookie for fun, or I was getting out of Seattle for some reason,” you said.

“Seattle PD did mention one thing. They said you’ve mentioned family before at work. A father,” he said.

“My father died before I was born,” you said. “I thought that’s what my old file said.”

“Possibly. Or possibly we have a prime kidnapping suspect. It would make sense why a smart little girl wouldn’t put up a fight if she thought that was her long lost dad,” said Dean.

“My own father stole me?” you asked.

“A majority of the time when a kid goes missing, they’re with a family member. I’m not saying that’s what happened. It’s a possibility though,” he said. “Right now we just have to wait and see.”

“Yeah?” said Dean into his phone, halfway through dinner at his place that night. You slurped up some spaghetti across from him at the table, Dean pursing his lips. “Are you...I don’t...hey. I’m not some dumb hick cop...yeah well why don’t you...I ain’t sending some memory-less girl halfway across the country...yeah...tough shit...oh don’t you...on the condition I am with her at all times, got it?...fine...yeah, we’ll let you know when we land,” said Dean as he hung up. “Asshole.”

“We going to Seattle?” you asked, twirling another forkful.

“Apparently. The police chief, dickhead named Broch, his uncle works in congress so they got assloads of money and are sending a private jet to get us up there. He thinks this will be some big case that makes his career,” said Dean, stabbing his food. 

“Should we go?” you asked.

“...Yes. I’m still not comfortable with the idea. You’re on me like glue up there, understand? The police found some stuff in your apartment they’re hoping you can explain,” he said.

“What kind of stuff?” you asked.

“They think you were figuring out that this ‘father’ figure in your life wasn’t your dad. I don’t know how but that’s all they were telling me over the phone,” he said.

“So do I have a boyfriend?” you asked.

“Nope. As single and hopeless as the rest of us apparently,” he said, giving you half a smile. “Y/N. You don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to.”

“I want to remember...and to find out what happened,” you said. “Just, watch my back?”

“That I can do,” said Dean.

The rest of dinner was quiet, Dean washing up the pots and pans, thanking you as you helped dry them off. He left you alone for a little while as he packed up a quick bag for the trip, eventually poking his head in your room.

“Hey. I uh, made up a bag for you to bring up tomorrow. Toothbrush, some more of those hanes shirts and underwear we bought for you before,” said Dean.

“Thanks,” you said, giving him a half smile as you sat back against the headboard. Dean set the backpack down by the door, smiling as he took a seat on the end of the bed. “I’m okay, really.”

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“I could go for cuddling a puppy,” you said with a laugh. Dean held up a finger and left the room, returning two minutes later with his hands behind his back. “You have a dog?”

“No but I got this,” he said, pulling a stuffed animal dog out, waving it in front of you. “It’s deputy Doug.”

“Deputy Doug?” you said, Dean sitting down again and handing him to you.

“We all keep a stuffed animal in our cars or cruisers for if there’s an incident with a kid. It helps with the shock,” said Dean.

“I’m not in shock though,” you said. Dean stared at you and nodded.

“You’re in limbo. I think that might be worse,” said Dean. You looked at the dog, playing with it’s ear for a moment. “Y/N.”

“I don’t know what I need,” you said, setting the dog aside. Dean nodded, your gaze going to your lap.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Something funny?” asked Dean.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because we both look like we could use a laugh,” he said. You smiled and followed him downstairs, Dean making sure you had a blanket before he stuck on a comedy. You knew you’d seen it before, even if you couldn’t quite remember where. About halfway through you found yourself sitting closer to Dean, eventually resting your head on his shoulder.

You let out a deep breath, Dean putting his arm around your back. 

“You’re okay,” he said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down your back as he let his head rest against yours. 

“Why’s that feel good?” you mumbled.

“Comfort after trauma always helps. Even if you can’t remember the trauma,” said Dean. “I’m actually kind of shocked you haven’t cried yet.”

“I don’t want to cry. I just want to remember,” you said.

“You’re tougher than I am then,” he said.

“I like you, Dean. You’re sweet,” you said. 

“I like you too, Y/N,” he said, flipping off the movie. “We got an early flight I’m not looking forward to. We should head up to bed.”

“Dean?” you asked as you stood up, getting a soft smile from him in return. “Thank you, for making me feel normal for a little while.”

“It’s no problem, Y/N. We’ll get to the bottom of what happened. I promise.”

“Dean?” you asked when you landed in Seattle the next day around lunchtime. You poked his arm and he jumped straight out of his seat. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said, pulling down his noise cancelling headphones and opening his eyes again. “We there?”

“Yeah. You know, we can totally rent a car and road trip it back to Kansas so you don’t have to fly again,” you said.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Yeah. You look right as rain,” you said.

“At least I remember my birthday,” he said.

“I know my birthday,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just teasing,” he said. 

“I know, Dean. I’m messing with you,” you said. “Relax. I’m basically hopeless on my own so it’s just a little nice to see super cop be a little human.”

“I’m super cop?” he smirked.

“Shut up,” you said. “You’re a dork. I’ve seen your house Winchester. No one owns that many batman movies and isn’t a fanboy.”

“I am not a dork, dork,” he said.

“Nice comeback,” you said. “Well after you un-traumatize yourself at the hotel, can we get some lunch?”

“Mhm. We’ll meet up with the police chief after.”

“Dean?” you asked, knocking on the door between your rooms an hour later. 

“Come in,” he said. He was tugging on his raincoat, glancing at you. He gave a sad smile, peeling off his coat and holding it out to you. “It’s pouring out there.”

“It’s okay. I”m sure they sell umbrellas down in the hotel gift shop,” you said.

“Well after lunch we’ll get with the police so we can get in your apartment, get you in something better than that hanes t shirt and a pair of jeans that don’t fit,” he said. You glanced down, Dean stepping in front of you, putting a finger under your chin. You looked up wearily, Dean smiling back at you. “You want my pullover? It’s cool outside.”

You nodded, Dean pulling his jacket back on before he went to his backpack, pulling out a quarter zip up. It was a bit big on you but it was fleece and warm.

“What kind of life do I have that no one reported me missing,” you said as Dean pulled up the zipper. “What kind of person am I?”

“Well the Y/N I’ve gotten to know is pretty smart and she’s pretty great at being brave,” he said. You rolled your eyes but he caught your arm. “I’m serious. I can’t even imagine how scary it must be not being able to remember anything and yet you’re still insisting on helping. You’re tough. I know you probably feel pretty alone right now but I got your back, remember?”

“You have to hang out with me,” you said. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I have to do a lot of things as part of my job, Y/N. Traveling halfway across the country on the off chance you remember something in your apartment? I could have sent anybody to do that,” he said.

“You’re scared of flying, aren’t you,” you said.

“Yeah, well, I like you. Sue me,” he said with a smile. “Plus you think I’m cute.”

“I never said that,” you said.

“Yes you did,” he teased. “I’m hot according to you.”

“Can we go get something to eat before it gets even more awkward in here?”

“Alright. I got a feeling my wallet’s about to take a dent in this town.”

“Nice apartment building,” said Dean when you walked inside. You spotted some police officers in the lobby area, Dean nodding for you to approach them. “Chief Broch?”

“Chief Winchester,” said one of the men, stepping over with a hard smile, shaking hands with Dean before turning to you. “You must be Jane.”

“My name’s Y/N,” you said quietly. He stared at you, nodding for Dean to follow. You went with him and the two other officers, the five of you piling into the elevator.

“You get any memory back?” asked Broch.

You shook your head, Dean rubbing a hand up and down your back.

“Well let’s see if we can jog it,” said Dean. You quietly rode up to the sixth floor, following the officers around the corner and down the hall, stopping outside a door with police tape hanging from it. The officers let you go inside first. 

It was cute and clean. It was a little plain and the furniture looked like the apartment probably came with it but the place smelled new so maybe you hadn’t lived there too long.

“Anything?” asked Broch.

“Let her look,” said Dean, the officers quietly following you further inside until you got to your kitchen and living room.

You looked over the counter, spotting some glass next to the sink.

“We found a broken glass in the trash can,” said Broch. You lifted your hand, staring at the little cuts on the palm you thought had been from the woods. The officers waited in the living room as you went back to the bedroom with Dean and Broch.

The room was covered in papers, some torn, some official looking. Your eyes landed on an overturned notebook with DAD written on top.

“What’s it say in there?” you asked.

“You started it a few months ago if your dates are correct. Your father, or the man claiming to be your father, let something slip at a dinner that concerned you. You started to piece things together. The last date was from Sunday where you said you would be confronting him about what you found,” said Broch.

“What did she find?” asked Dean, furrowing his brow.

“She bought one of those DNA test kits and somehow discreetly took her father’s DNA and her own to get them tested. It was a match,” he said.

“Where is my father now?” you asked.

“It took us a bit but we got a name on him,” said Broch.

“Did you arrest him?” asked Dean.

“No.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“He died on Monday morning. County Hospital. He was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer a few months ago,” said Broch.

You crossed your arms, heading back out to the living room.

“The doctor’s said it happened early in the morning. You didn’t find out until you got there around nine,” he said.

“The son of a bitch went and died before…” you said, tilting your head back. You felt a pit in your gut like you’d just gotten bad news, your head aching for a few moments. “I broke the glass. I was pissed and upset when I got home on Monday.”

“What we need to understand is how you wound up in Lawrence, Jane,” said Broch.

“My name is Y/N,” you snapped at him. “I don’t care that he was my real father. He stole me. If he wasn’t already dead I’d kill him myself.”

“Ms. Jones-“

“Back off,” said Dean, holding up a hand. “Give her a minute.”

“Well I don’t remember anything so what do you want? Why I went to Lawrence? I got no clue. I don’t know. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know but until then, leave me alone,” you said. You plopped down on the couch, Broch saying something to Dean before the apartment grew quiet. You heard the door shut softly, the floor creaking once as Dean took a seat beside you.

“Y/N. I won’t even pretend to know what to say. We can stick around and try to jog your memory or we can go back to Kansas. It’s up to you,” he said.

“I don’t like this apartment,” you said, turning your head. “I want to go back to the hotel.”

“Alright. We can go back.”

“Y/N?” asked Dean, knocking on your hotel door after you’d packed up some clothes for you at your place. You hummed and he came in, finding you sat on your hotel bed with your notebook. “It’s getting to be dinner time if you want to grab a bite.”

“I’m not very hungry,” you said, forcing a smile. “Go on ahead. I got my purse now. I can get something on my own.”

“I thought I told you I had your back,” he said. 

“Dean-“

“Y/N,” he said, sitting on the end of your bed. “Let’s get out of here, go do something fun.”

“I loved him for so much of my life...and he is the reason my mom is dead. I hate him,” you said.

“Sweetheart. I’m sorry. I am. It’s okay to hate him,” said Dean.

“I’m glad I can’t remember. I don’t want to remember him. Ever.”

“I want you to try and remember a little when you’re up for it,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you were hurt and scared when I found you a few days ago half-naked on the side of the road. I don’t know what happened and if someone tried to hurt you, I have to figure that out,” he said. “I want you to feel safe.”

“I feel confused and alone,” you said, your stomach deciding to rumble. Dean put a hand on your head, running it over your hair gently. “Maybe not entirely alone.”

“It’s on me,” he said, holding out his hand. “Well technically it’s on the Seattle PD so let’s go have a kickass dinner. Please?”

You sighed but grabbed his hand, Dean immediately pulling you to your feet and headed for the door.

“Dean,” you laughed during your appetizer. “You’re gonna be stuffed before we even get our dinner.”

“Is that a challenge? We are so getting dessert by the way. I saw pie on the menu,” said Dean, smiling as you took a sip of your beer. “How’s the head healing?”

“Okay, I guess. Not really on the list of concerns right now,” you said, smiling when your waiter came over with your meals.

“This steak looks amazing,” said Dean, cutting into his and taking a bite by the time you picked up your fork. “Tastes amazing too.”

“It must be good if you’re gonna moan like that,” you laughed, cutting off your own bite. You chewed and swallowed it down, head going fuzzy for a moment, Dean staring at you when you blinked again.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’ve eaten here before,” you said. “It’s not a memory but...I know I have.”

“Well you got good taste in food at least,” he said. He made small talk throughout dinner and dessert, talking about his job mostly, his family a bit. Apparently after you’d gone missing years ago, the school went through a stranger danger program and they came up with a neighborhood watch.

“Hey, Dean. You could like look up if my dad was a bad guy, right?” you asked. He pursed his lips but nodded. “Do you know if he had a record?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Most of the time, the guys or gals that pull this, they tend to be deadbeats or people who didn’t get custody rights. Your mom was the only one on your birth certificate. Judging by your degree, your job, your apartment...you did well for yourself and obviously had a relationship with your father. This doesn’t sound normal at all,” he said.

“Was my mom bad?”

“Huh?”

“What if...what if she was bad and he took me to keep me safe?” you asked.

“I don’t know, Y/N. It’s possible,” he said, giving you half of a smile before holding out a piece of pie to you. “Want some? I don’t offer just anyone pie either.”

“Only the pathetic brain trauma victims, right,” you said.

“No. Just my friends,” he said, holding it out still. 

“I don’t have friends.”

“What am? Chopped liver?” he scoffed, putting a hand on his heart.

“I have a friend,” you smiled, Dean returning it as you took a bite of the pie. “It’s really good.”

“I know, right?” he said. You tried to forget about the reason you went to Seattle in the first place and instead enjoyed the rest of your meal, Dean insisting on taking a walk around downtown before it got too late out. The city was nice and you enjoyed it more than you thought you would. You’d liked being in Lawrence, liked how Dean lived on a quiet street, neighbors around but everyone had plenty of space to themselves. You were starting to understand though why you kind of liked Seattle. It felt cozy in way. Then again, it was surrounded by nature so maybe that was it.

You and Dean turned down a street, lampposts lighting up the wet sidewalk, a light drizzle in the air that no one seemed to notice as they milled about.

“Dean. What do you think I should do?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Should I stay here, should I go back to Lawrence, do I keep going by Jane since all my documents and everything is in that name…” you said.

“Whatever lawyer crap needs to happen for all your legal stuff, don’t worry about that right now. It’ll all get taken care of,” he said, grabbing your hand when someone bumped into you. “You alright?”

You took a deep breath and shook your head, Dean pulling you around the corner of a building and giving you a hug.

“I don’t even know why I’m upset,” you said, resting your head against his chest, taking a few more shuddering breaths.

“Yeah you do,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Let it out. You’re long overdue.”

“Can we go back to the hotel?” you asked.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Fifteen minutes later you were in your room, still fighting back tears as Dean locked up behind you. 

“Come here,” said Dean, spinning you around as you took a deep breath. He put both of his hands on your cheeks, staring at your wet eyes. “Why don’t you pick out some pajamas and take a hot shower and then come in next door when you’re all set, okay?”

You nodded and did as he said. After crying a bit in the shower and letting the bathroom steam up, you felt quite a bit better. You changed into your pajamas and put on Dean’s pull over, quietly knocking on his door before you walked inside.

“Hey,” said Dean with a smile. “Perfect timing. I just ordered mac and cheese and hot fudge sundaes from room service.”

“We ate like an hour ago,” you laughed.

“There’s always time for comfort food,” he said, patting the other side of his king bed. You crawled on top of it, Dean taking a seat beside you. You shifted closer, Dean smiling as he threw his arm around you. “You look a little better.”

“Long day,” you said. “The shower helped, super cop.”

“All in the line of duty,” he said with a chuckle. You rested your head against him, Dean rubbing your arm. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Odds are high I don’t know the answer but shoot,” you said, looking up at him. 

“Why do you like me?” he asked. “You’re pretty...defensive around other people which I completely understand. You and me don’t seem to have that though.”

“It’s cause you bought me McDonald’s,” you teased, Dean chuckling, his whole body rumbling with it. “I don’t know. You’re...have you ever been on a pool float? Just sitting in the water floating around?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s kind of how I’ve felt since Tuesday morning when I woke up in the woods. It’s like I’m floating. I can’t get a hold of anything and I can’t control where I’m going. But whenever I’m with you, I feel like my feet are on the ground again. It’s easier to grasp at memories, to feel normal. It’s probably some stupid psych crap with a fancy name or something,” you said.

“I think it’s the pancakes,” he chuckled.

“I mean, any man who shares an affinity for breakfast foods will easily win me over,” you said.

“Huh. Is that all it takes?” he teased.

“Being cute helps,” you said.

“I bet you like tall guys,” said Dean.

“Who doesn’t?” you laughed, wrapping an arm over his waist, stilling a moment before you pulled it back.

“S’okay,” said Dean quietly, grabbing your hand and putting it back. 

“Sorry for being…” you said with a shrug.

“Want to know a secret?” he asked. “I know I’m such a tough guy and all but I do like to partake in cuddles too.”

“You’re a regular dreamboat, aren’t you?” you said, Dean laughing to himself. “You said last night that it’s...normal to…”

“There’s a reason we give people shock blankets and stuffed animals when they’ve been through a trauma. It helps with the physical shock obviously which can get dangerous if it’s not taken care of, but it helps emotionally as well. I have seen grown men calm down the second they get wrapped up tight in a big orange blanket,” said Dean with a smile. “It’s human nature to want to feel embraced.”

“Why don’t you shove me in a blanket so I don’t bother you then?” you asked quietly.

“Because you don’t bother me and I think we both like doing this,” he said. “Whatever you feel most comfortable with and makes you feel safe is good with me.”

“I think that’s why I like you,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“Friends have each other’s backs, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you said. “I wasn’t gonna say anything but you’re in the running for my best friend at the moment.”

“I hear it’s a stiff competition,” said Dean.

“I know. There’s you…” you said, Dean ruffling your hair. “I guess you’re the winner by default.”

“Ah, the best kind of victory,” he laughed, moving your hair out of your face. “That may be a clue you know.”

“Or I’m just a lonely person,” you said.

“There’s a lot of lonely people in the world, sweetheart,” he said. He turned his head towards yours, giving you a half-smile. “I’m not the best at having friends either.”

“Who’s your best friend?” you asked.

“My brother. I got a few buddies I grew up with but we don’t hang out as much as we should. But I got another new best friend now, don’t I?” he said.

“You’re a loser, super cop,” you said.

“You’re the loser, loser,” he said. 

“Oh, good comeback,” you said, a knock coming to his door. 

“I think that’s our feast,” he said, hopping out of bed, returning a minute later pushing in a cart with some covered platters. 

“Cheese and chocolate. You’re not doing half bad in this best friend department,” you said, Dean grabbing a plate and handing one over to you, chuckling as you climbed back on the bed.

“So what do you want to do now? Stay up and talk about boys?” he teased.

“Well it is Thursday. I was thinking football if it’s on?” you asked. 

“Have I told you how awesome you are?” he said, joining you on the bed and flipping on the TV.

“Oh, he has a cute butt,” you said, Dean groaning as you giggled. “And he’s a pretty good tight end. Get it? Tight end.”

“You’re such a dork,” he said, taking a bite of his mac and cheese.

You both picked at your food as you watched, the game ending not long after ten that night. Dean set the dishes back on the tray to get picked up, giving you a hug before you headed through the open door back to your room.

“Hey, Dean?” you asked as you paused in the doorway. “Can…”

“You can stay. Bed’s plenty big enough,” he said.

“I was gonna ask if I could just leave the door between our rooms open,” you said. You saw the blush crawl onto his cheeks even if he got rid of it quickly. “I mean, I could...stay…”

“No, no. I gotta catch up with Sam anyways and do a little digging, see if I can’t find anything out for us,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a quick smile as you hovered by the door. “But you can totally leave the door open.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding as you spun around and went back to your room. You turned off the light and crawled in bed, looking across the way where Dean was settling on top of the bed with his laptop. You saw his gaze flicker over the top of the screen and you looked away, settling down into the sheets. You rolled over once, sighing as you turned back and stared at the ceiling.

“You okay in there?” he asked.

“My own father kidnapped me as a child from my mother, raised me under a different name halfway across the country and he’s not even alive anymore for me to tell off,” you said. “Oh, and I can’t remember anything. They should make a lifetime movie after me.”

“You remember more than you realize,” said Dean. He was quiet for a few minutes, watching you turn a few over more times. “Do you feel like you’re floating?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

“Then get your butt in here,” he said. You threw back the covers and walked into his room, Dean pulling back the sheets for you as he turned off the light. “My computer won’t bother you?”

“No. Like you said, it’s a big bed,” you said. You looked back over your shoulder, Dean giving you quick smile. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 15 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul makes Gene an offer on getting rid of the curse.

            He sat there on the mattress for longer than he needed to, staring at his hands, gaze traveling up his wrists to his forearms to his shoulders, sloping down dully from there to his cleavage. Assessing the same damages he’d gotten accustomed to over the last seven days. But it was different now. It wasn’t an effort at calming himself down the way it had been at first, a bizarre sort of compare and contrast. Reassurance that he wasn’t completely unrecognizable, if only to himself. He hadn’t been male model material as a guy; he wasn’t Playboy material as a girl. Same moles, same scars, same bad chin. Top-heavy like he’d always been. Basically devoid of a waistline like he’d always been. All the old hated imperfections had carried over, right down to the microtia. It had been a cold comfort then, but now he was ticking off each flaw as another demerit, another reason he might get turned down at the pass.

            Intellectually, none of that was going to make a difference. It didn’t take much for girls, if they wanted it. Not looks, not money, not anything. It wouldn’t take much for him. He could get laid. It wouldn’t even be the first time he’d fooled around with another guy.

            It wouldn’t even be the first time he’d fooled around with another guy while he was like this.

            The door opened without warning. Paul jerked back on the mattress, scrambling unsteadily to his feet, expecting it to be Carol standing there, come back to throw another couple bitter words his way, or a drunken VIP.

            “Paul?”

            Instead, it was Ace. He was sweaty, with his shirt disheveled, belt and fly undone, hair slightly matted. No underwear, which wasn’t surprising, but the sum total wasn’t a sight he’d seen in awhile. He must have been in one of the other rooms earlier.

            “Hey.”

            Ace did a bit of a double-take at the sight of him, eyes lingering on his chest before he seemed to right himself again, stepping fully into the room.

            “Hey, listen, I saw a chick with freckles coming out of here crying, was that her?”

            That sounded about right. Paul’s stomach curdled.

            “Yeah. I just talked to her.”

            “But you’re not back.” Ace had his hands out, gesturing towards his own imaginary breasts as if he needed to. Maybe he thought Carol had cursed him into thinking he was normal again. “She didn’t turn you back.”

            “No kidding.”

            “What the hell did you tell her, man?” Ace paused. “What the hell did you do to her, anyway?”

            “Nothing.”

            “’M not buying it. She’s got Paul Stanley, Junior in the fucking crib at home, and she’s mad he ain’t got your eyes.”

            “There’s no baby.” No use explaining it to Ace. He wouldn’t understand. Paul didn’t think he got it himself, not really. Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

            Ace tilted his head.

            “Whatever. Her husband leave her after she fooled around with you, then?”

            “There’s no husband, either. I just hurt her, that’s all.”

            “Real specific. Well, if you won’t tell me…” Ace drifted off idly, yanking a hand through his hair. Paul was oddly grateful that Ace hadn’t bothered zipping his pants back up, not because he wanted a look at his dick, but because it was a weird bit of normalcy. A sign Ace actually saw him for who he was. “Do you wanna have me go after her? Fuck, Paulie, if she didn’t think you were gonna pay her enough to fix you, then I’ll—”

            “It’s not like that.” Paul clasped the watch on his forearm. Twenty minutes. He had all of two left. He didn’t want to stay here thinking about it. He didn’t want to tell Ace. “Look, she told me how. I’ll get it taken care of.”

            “But what’s she want you to do?”

            “I said I’ll get it taken care of.” He crossed the room, pushing past Ace to get to the door. “Ace, I’ve got to go.”

            “Jesus, is it that bad? Hang on there. Lemme get Peter and Gene, we’ll help you out, this isn’t all on you, y’know.”

            “It is all on me.”

            He could hear Ace fumbling to follow him, but Ace wasn’t fast at all. Ace was prone to stumble around even without heels or alcohol. He had to be loaded right now, loaded and tired from getting off. No way he’d stayed sober tonight for his sake. No way.

            But he didn’t have a reason for running from him. He wasn’t scared of Ace, just scared of what he represented. Another guy whose current livelihood now depended on Paul fucking someone. Anyone. It didn’t matter who. It shouldn’t matter who.

            Paul ran straight into the dance floor in a bid to get rid of him. A bid that worked. The crowd of writhing bodies swirled around him, enveloping him, a sick sea of warm arms. He had to shove at and past what felt like dozens of people, but Ace wasn’t behind him anymore. He couldn’t even hear Ace calling him over the blaring music.

            But that wouldn’t matter for long. Even if he fell or just got distracted, it wouldn’t take long for Ace to get back up to the VIP floor. He had to hurry. The blond doorman was back at the floor’s entrance, happy enough to let him past. Racing upstairs, he grabbed Gene, who looked pale and worried, tugging him by the sleeve.

            “Paul?”

            He took off the watch, putting it in Gene’s hand.

            “Let’s get out of here. I got what I needed.”

--

            Paul’s hand in his didn’t feel as comfortable as usual as they stepped out of Studio 54. He looked distant, harried. But every time Gene tried to push for an answer, he just shook his head and told him to wait. He rolled up the glass partition almost as soon as they got into the limo.

            “What did she say? She’s lifting it, isn’t she?”

            “She’s not lifting it. She’s having me do it.”

            Oh, no. They’d need those spellbooks and sigils after all. Gene’s heart thudded in his chest.

            “If we have to, then we have to.”

            “I have to, not you.” Weird how Paul was sounding both more and less like himself with every passing day. That old acerbic clip he’d first heard out of him at seventeen (“yeah, I write songs”) was inching back in. “It’s not that bad.”

            “So what do you have to do, then? Summon a demon or something? Pledge your soul to Satan?”

            Paul didn’t crack a smile.

            “No. I just have to sleep with somebody.”

            Gene raised his head.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah.”

            “That’s it?”

            “That’s it.” A dry laugh. “I dunno. I guess you and the guys don’t have to worry about the tour now.”

            Gene let out a breath. That’s great was almost on his tongue. All right was a close second. But a look at Paul stopped him from either. For something so simple, so easy, he didn’t look happy about it. He didn’t even look relieved. He wasn’t wearing his usual distracting pout, either. He just looked… deflated, somehow. He looked like he’d just gotten stood up for senior prom.

            Maybe he just wanted approval. Bolstering-up. Gene’s lips were suddenly dry as he started up again.

            “What do you want to do?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “How do you want to get it taken care of?” Gene hesitated slightly, waiting on a suggestion that Paul wasn’t offering. Stupid to hope. Despite getting him off last night, despite the kissing earlier, Paul didn’t seem to be considering Gene as an option. Probably better for both of them, really. He’d have enough to sort out as it was once Paul got back to normal. “Pick some guy up at a bar tomorrow?”

            “Pick up some guy?” Paul repeated. He almost looked—offended, maybe even hurt.

            “Or… would a girl work?” Gene didn’t know if it would, but maybe that was the real source of Paul’s distress, the thought of having to get penetrated while he was like this. Maybe it made him feel vulnerable. Maybe he wanted to reclaim some of his masculinity before he actually had it back in the literal sense. God knew Gene had robbed him of plenty of autonomy without even meaning to, directing him on where to go every single day, making all the phone calls for him, buying his food, clothes, everything.

            Yeah, that was probably exactly what Paul wanted, to get to sleep with a woman again. It wouldn’t be that hard to orchestrate; there were plenty of lesbian bars around. He’d be safer picking up a girl than a guy. It might even be fun for him, a weird bit of fetishistic wish-fulfillment. Picturing Paul with another chick wasn’t a bad mental image, either. He’d probably be shy about it at first, lying down, tan nipples peaked, breasts heaving, as some pretty little thing pushed apart his thighs, lapping and sucking against his warm, slick folds, it—

            “I’d be a fucking lousy lay for any dyke right now.”

            “You would’ve been a lot lousier last Tuesday.”

            Paul looked away, shoulders slumping. He kept twisting the skirt portion of the dress between his hands, then staring at his hands, something Gene had never known him to do before. He had a myriad of other tics, like sticking his tongue past his teeth when he was nervous or trying to concentrate, but this wasn’t one of them.

            “I’m tired of going to clubs, Gene. And I’m tired of involving other people.”

            “Then…”

            “We could take care of it ourselves at home.”

            Gene’s mouth went dry. His dick, the perpetual traitor, was half-hard just at the thought of fucking him, his leather pants as unyielding as a vice trap. He shifted his legs, but it didn’t help. Not that it really mattered much. Paul still hadn’t glanced his way again.

            “You want to?”

            Paul was silent at first.

            “It-it makes more sense, doesn’t it? You’re right here. And I’m not stupid, I know you wanna—”

            “But do you want to?”

            “I wanna get back to normal.” Evasiveness too obvious to be believed. “I’ll let you. You’ve been wanting to this whole time, anyway, might as well get it out of the way.”

            He couldn’t argue with that. But there was something weird about the way Paul was putting it. Get it out of the way, like it was a chore. It hadn’t felt like a chore when he’d gotten him off prior. It sure as hell hadn’t felt like a chore to kiss Paul during the dance. Or to have Paul kiss back, eager and wanting, pressing up tight against him, trying so hard to leave no space between them. It hadn’t been a chore at all. He’d liked it. He’d liked it a whole lot.

            He’d thought they might sleep together if the curse lasted long enough. Had been within a hair’s breadth of suggesting it just before Paul saw Carol. But he’d figured there was a good chance they’d fall into it some afternoon or evening anyway, if not on the dance floor. Something banal and domestic. Laying around in bed turning into fooling around, turning into fucking, just as natural and uncomplicated as it would’ve gone with any girlfriend. Even more so. Gene hadn’t had a girlfriend in years that he hadn’t slept with long before she’d gotten the title.

Gene hadn’t really thought past that. But now, knowing that sleeping with Paul would end the curse entirely… it felt funny. Uncomfortable. Like it’d just thrown a wrench in the way everything was going. He’d still do it, sure, but combined with the way Paul was acting, it didn’t sit well.

He reached over, tapping Paul’s arm. Paul jerked a bit, turning to face him.

            “It’ll be good. Hey, we can even take a picture if you want.”

            “A picture?” Paul’s brows furrowed.

            “Yeah, for my photo albums.”

            He’d meant it as a joke. But Paul stiffened up in response, lips drawn in a tight line, and he turned his head towards the window.

            “Sorry. I didn’t—”

            “It’s fine.”

--

            The rest of the limo ride was quiet. He didn’t try to touch Paul any, no more reassuring taps or handholds. Not that it mattered. Something seemed to be already ruined.

            By the time the driver had stopped at Paul’s, Gene almost asked Paul if he’d changed his mind, or wanted to wait. He wouldn’t have blamed him any. But Paul’s mind seemed set. As soon as they were back in his house, Paul was stripping off his shoes and pantyhose in the foyer, tossing them on the floor. He was waiting on Gene, watching him with a gaze Gene couldn’t really read, as he tugged off his boots.

            “Give me just a second,” Gene protested. “We’ll get there.”

            “Okay.”

            Gene followed him to his room once he’d gotten rid of his boots and socks. He sat down on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt, feeling weird about it—he didn’t normally strip completely when he slept with someone, and maybe Paul wouldn’t appreciate being treated any differently. Or maybe he would. Paul wasn’t so much as looking in his direction, sitting next to him on the bed’s edge, hair gathered over one shoulder. Gene figured it was so he could unzip his dress, but Paul hadn’t yet reached behind him to tug the zipper down.

            “Are you sure about this, Paul?”

            “Yeah. Course I’m sure.” Stiffly, Paul shifted backwards, until he was fully on the bed, long legs splayed apart but somehow tense. 

            Gene finally got his shirt off. Then Paul seemed to react again, shifting to his knees, one hand clasping Gene’s bare shoulder while the other started to unzip and shove down his pants, leaving them hanging just a bit past his hips. Gene reached behind Paul, fingers headed for the zipper of his dress, but Paul shook his head.

            “Don’t.”

            “Hey, this is a little uneven here,” Gene tried to joke. The consternation on Paul’s face made him stop. Maybe Paul was just nervous and gearing himself up. He’d at least have to take off his panties to fuck.

            “I’ll get to it, okay?”

            “Okay. Take it easy.”

            Gene took a breath as Paul’s fingers reached his boxers. Tension was still practically emanating from Paul, even as Paul began to yank them down. It just made Gene feel all the more wary. He hadn’t gone for a kiss or a grope or anything; the only touching Paul was doing at all was just to try and get Gene’s clothes off.

            He grabbed Paul by the wrist before he’d gotten his boxers more than an inch or two down. His grip wasn’t hard, but Paul froze up anyway, instantly dropping his hold on Gene’s boxers, looking strained, almost caught.

            “Gene—"

            “Hold on,” he said quickly. “We’ve got to talk first. How do you wanna do this?”

            “I don’t care. However you want.”

            “However I want?”

            “It’s not that much leeway, is it?” Paul’s mouth twisted. “I’m up for it. It’s fine.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Would you stop asking if I’m sure?”

            “Okay. Okay.” Last night hadn’t been like this. Forget last night, two hours ago hadn’t been like this. Gene wasn’t sure what to do. He reached out, hesitating before slipping a hand underneath the dress, past the nightie and the bra, cupping one breast. Paul didn’t really react. Just sat there, stiff as ever, and after a second or two, he withdrew his hand.

            “You don’t want foreplay?”

            “It’s not that.”

            “I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want it, but—”

            “Look, it’s fine. Touch me wherever. I told you I don’t care. Can’t you just go for it? What’s holding you up?”

            “You are. You’re acting strange.” Oh. Oh, wait a minute. Gene felt like he was William Tell without the expertise, endlessly trying to shoot a target blind, but he thought he might have hit on it. An explanation for why Paul didn’t want to strip. It still didn’t quite feel right, what with how Paul was picking out low-cut tops and short-shorts of his own accord, and it didn’t account for all of his behavior, but—“Do you want the lights off?”

            “I haven’t fucked around in the dark since I was nineteen.” Paul’s expression changed as soon as the words fell out of his mouth. “Not… not actual fucking.”

            Not last night, he meant. Gene nodded.

            “Then…” God, this was awkward. “I don’t know how to make you comfortable. What do you want here?”

            “Nothing! I told you, it’s fine.”

            “You don’t seem fine.”

            “I am. You’ve got millions on the line here. Go ahead.”

            “It’s not about the money.” Bewildering just to say that, and more bewildering still to mean it. Paul stiffened like he was expecting an injection. “Something’s not right. I’m not going to do this unless you’re really up for it.”

            “I am up for it! Christ, what do you want? A striptease?” Paul yanked his bra straps down past his shoulders, unhooking the clasps in the back, pulling the bra out from under the dress through the sleeves. He tossed it against the wall. Gene looked away, but Paul grabbed his arm. “Go for it. Why won’t you go for it?”

            “You’re scared, that’s why.”

            “I’m not scared! What the hell do I have to be scared of?”

            “I don’t—”

            “You think I’m afraid of being hurt, is that it?” Paul snorted. “I can take that.”

            “That’s not exactly—”

            “Try taking it up the ass sometime, that’s a lot worse than—”

            “I don’t mean that kind of hurt.”

            Paul didn’t respond immediately. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the insistent tick of the clock on the nightstand. Paul had let go of his arm at some point, his hands finding and clasping his own knees instead.

            “Don’t be an idiot, Gene. Don’t turn me down because you don’t think I can handle it after.”

            “Paul, listen,” Gene started, reaching for Paul’s hand. Paul’s fingers curled against his knee, but he didn’t pull away. “It’s not about handling it. You’re stressed out, and that chick made it worse. We can try again tomorrow, if you want.”

            “I want to right now.”

            “No, you don’t.”

            Paul drew his hand back from beneath Gene’s.

            “How the hell would you know what I want? I’m fucking throwing myself at you. Isn’t that good enough? Can’t you do it for me? Y-you’ve done everything else!”

“Not like this.”

            Paul got up from the bed, stalking out the bedroom door. Gene yanked up his pants and followed him, grabbing the back of his arm.

            “Where are you going?”

            “Out.” Paul yanked his arm away, walking faster. He grabbed the jacket Gene had bought him from where he’d left it on the living room couch, snatching up his keys and wallet from the coffee table. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

            “Paul, don’t.”

            “Don’t what? You won’t do it for me.” A rattled gasp for breath as Paul yanked the jacket on. “You’ve got no say in it.”

            “It’s late. I don’t want you going out there—”

            “Without you chaperoning?” Paul started to laugh, the sound strange and throaty. “You don’t think I can do anything. You want to pick someone out for me? Scope them out?”

            “No!”

            “I bet y-you’d rather me stay a girl. I won’t. You can bet your ass I won’t.”

            “I don’t—Paul, that’s not it, something’s bothering you. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

            “There’s nothing to regret. Fifteen fucking minutes and it’ll be over.” Paul was stepping into the heels he’d kicked away in the foyer earlier. Gene reached for his arm one last time, hand lingering in the air. “You don’t understand a damn thing. You think I—y-you think—” he started, then wrenched open the door, slamming it shut in Gene’s face.

            He could have stopped him. Grabbed him at the door, or even yanked him back inside from the driveway. Maybe he should have. But he didn’t want to humiliate Paul any more than he already had. Didn’t want to manhandle him, didn’t know what he would’ve done afterward. Paul didn’t want to talk, that much had been obvious. He might have tried to throw Gene out of the house next. He wouldn’t have gotten anywhere with him.

            Paul had left his stockings on the floor. Gene picked them up, tracing a finger across a run right down the side of one leg. Then he crumpled them in his hand and walked back to Paul’s bedroom, before he had a chance to see the taillights of Paul’s car disappear into the night.

[gleefail]

Glee Memories: 1x6 Vitamin D

A long, long time ago, as Glee was approaching graduation in Season 3, I found myself nostalgic with some rare free time on my hands. So I decided to rewatch the series from the beginning and jot down some memories, discrepancies that have arisen since, fave quotes, tally solos - all that good stuff, strictly for shits and giggles.

8 years later (eek!) and once more I find myself with an unexpected abundance of free time. With so many revisiting or being newly introduced to the show between binge watching during Quarantine and all the tragedy that has surrounded the show since it went off the air, I figured I’d finish what I started. And by finish, I mean go through the end of S3. Cause I truly cannot acknowledge what happened after that. Except for 5B.

Kicking this off by reposting the first 15 episodes I already went through. Enjoy!

1x6 Vitamin D Mr. Schue is worried cause the Glee club is being lazy and complacent. First time and still true until Sue came along to help the club.

Mmmmkay. And now Mercedes starts dressing kinda funky. Oh goody. :/

Ugh. Listen, I have adored Matthew Morrison since I saw him in Hairspray 10 years ago, but it’s still not at all appealing when he tries to lick that mustard off his own chin.

“I will hold my tongue no further.”

”You have to remember something: we’re dealing with children. They need to be terrified. It’s like mother’s milk to them. Without it, their bones won’t grow properly.”

“Ellen, that blouse is just insane.”

”I don’t understand how lightening is in competition with an above ground swimming pool”

BOYS V. GIRLS FOR THE FIRST TIME! <3

“Okay, split up: guys on the right side, girls on the left side…Kurt” *gestures for him to join the boys, not the girls* Kurt looks soooo pissed. And is such a baby-faced nugget!

A Mash-Up was just defined and used for the first time.

”We’re planning on smacking them down like the hand of God” yaaaaay, Sue’s Journal entries! I miss those. Hey, did she ever get that hovercraft she was working towards?

”Let me be frank: your husband is hiding his kielbasa in a Hickory Farms gift basket that doesn’t belong to you.”

”I’ve always thought the desire to procreate showed deep personal weakness. Me? Never wanted kids. Don’t have the time, don’t have the uterus.” #oops

“I think you should both pack up and move out of the district. Unless you wanna lose your man to a mentally ill ginger pygmy with eyes like a bush baby”

the Matthew Morrison mustard licking is even less appealing in slow motion. Ew.

Terri just wiped Emma’s mug off with her own spit. Even if you didn’t have OCD, that is not right.

“But you’re not a nurse. You don’t have any training…” “Oh please, Will – it’s a public school.”

Wait…Mr. Schue seems to be teaching music theory? WTF? Has this happened before? Since?

“She freaks me out in a Swim Fan kinda way”

“But her body’s smokin’…if you’re not into boobs” Finn re: Rachel

I don’t think I ever caught this before – Finn is rubbing BioFreeze on his legs and accidentally scratches near his eye…and you can see the effect set in and then he spazzes out. Ha! #BlessFinnsHeart

“My mom says I’m stretched too thin so I gave up homework but that didn’t help” #BlessFinnsHeart

“Puck, with respect, you’re more helpful when you don’t contribute”

“Where’s Quinn?” “Probably down at the mall looking for elastic waistbands”

“Let’s do the number and then build a house for Habitat for Humanity” oh, Finn on ‘vitamin d’. He has the mind of a child. Especially during this performance. Holy crap!

“No one at Glee is gonna judge you.” Oh, that will change Rachel.

Hahahaha, Quinn drew pornographic pictures of Rachel on the bathroom walls. I miss when Quinn hated Rachel. Just a little bit. Cause she did it so well and right now it would please my soul to see some of that.

Poor Howard Bamboo is so terrified of Terri and just pitiful. I just want to hug him and tell him to stand up to her! :(

“I see em’ together all the time – laughing, talking…all the stuff she never does with me”

Terri’s office looks like it’s the same as Emma’s…

“I am not built to work 5 days a week”

“I’ve been thinkin’ maybe that if you and I started seein’ each other on the side it might kinda cancel their thing out”

“She doesn’t like to be touched…by me.”

“Look at the two of us. You pregnant and me with psoriasus and one testicle that won’t descend.”

“Though I’ve been grouped with the boys, my allegiance still remains with you ladies. They declined my offer to do their hair in cornrows and all my artistic decisions have been derioted as ‘too costly’ because they involve several varieties of exotic bird feathers.”

Rachel’s goal is a Grammy, not a Tony. #oops

smack-talking Finn is a giant douche. Ugh.

“You being here is not good for our marriage.” “Spending time together is not good for our marriage?” She has a point…

“A lot of ants on the sidewalk today.” *long uncomfortable silence* “Pretty late in the season for that.”

oh, Ken proposing. I hated you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.

“Look, Emma, I know our relationship hasn’t been perfect. You won’t ride in my car. I can’t touch you above the wrist. Remember you cried for an hour that one time my elbow accidentally brushed by your breast? But I think about you all day long. I kiss that picture of us at the State Fair every night before I go to sleep. Emma Pillsbury, this is not an engagement ring – no, I mean it is, but it’s more than that. It’s a promise. Look, Emma, I know you have this thing about being clean. Now I can’t promise to pick up my underwear or squeegee the shower door, but I can promise to keep your life clean of sadness and loneliness and any other dark clouds that might float into it. It’s cubic zirconia. I know how effected you were by Blood Diamond.”

“Thankyousomuch,itreallyisapleasure.Whiletheboyschoseaselectionofsongsthatcastaneyeinwardontheirresponsiblelifechoicesandsexualhungeroftoday’smodernteens,wehavechosenaselectionofsongsthatspeakstothenationasawholeduringthesetroublingtimesfilledwitheconomicuncertaintyandunbridledsocialwoebecauseifthere’stwothingsAmericaneedsrightnow,thatissunshineandoptimism.” *awkward pause and Rachel finally breathes* “Also angels.” OMG. Maybe my favorite Rachel Berry moment ever.

Also, this was one of my fave musical moments (songs, singers, choreography) of all of Season One. Heather Morris is gangsta on this, dancing like she’s on crack. OMG. I love it. Every one of these girls is such a great dancer.

“Can you um…can you think of any other options I might have?” “Is that a reason to marry someone?” “That’s not what I’m asking.” See, Glee still does this – these weird conversations that are clearly about something else, but never really get finished and things are left in limbo but as if the akward moment didn’t happen, so I think I’m losing my mind when I look for the continuity….ugh. Headache. What just happened?

“You have no chance with my husband. Do I make myself clear? You might think there’s some kind of competition going on with you and I, but that’s like saying that a nail is competing with a hammer.”

“Do yourself a favor, honey. Marry Ken Tanaka. Oh sure, he’s dumb like sand, and his fondue pot of nationalities is gonna open your kids up to a host of genetic diseases…but he’s kind, and he’s generous. And he’s available.” I don’t like Terri but….truth.com right there.

“I need to talk to you, about the baby” “Is everything ok? You’re not having it right now, are you?” What?! No! Aren’t you supposed to be a nurse?”

“You want money from me?” “It’s gonna be your baby.” “Which means I’m gonna be paying the bills for 18 years – I think you can handle 9 months” Oh Terri.

Aw. My heart still breaks for Emma during this scene where she basically accepts Ken’s proposal and asks for a secret marriage. And says she doesn’t wanna spend the rest of her life alone. Gah – so sad! :(

“I don’t even remember performing.”

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day. For calling you contemptable and deplorable” “Ah, that’s ok. I didn’t even know what those words meant.” #BlessFinnsHeart

“My goals are too selfish.” Rachel. Why did you forget that lesson?

Howard Bamboo got arrested on suspicion of running a meth lab. Ha!

“You are oblivious to consequences” A running theme of this show.

oh Glee. Again with the weird situations…neither Will nor Emma even preTENded to be happy about her marrying Ken when she told him. How does neither of them address it? What just happened?

I remember the first time I saw this episode and I loved that Rachel Berry had changed to being a team player and making her goal about winning sectionals with the team. That didn’t last long. SOLOS: Finn (1), Artie (1), Rachel (1) MERCEDES TAKES THE GLORY NOTE: 2nd time

[whitewallwhispers]

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. And their relationship is growing more complicated by the day.

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine), alcohol use (wine), strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun), smut - oral sex (male receiving), fingering, I don’t want to call it self harm but it’s kind of self harm, rough sex (choking), unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks)

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails).

This is kind of a dumb note but I feel the need to clarify that this smut is completely aimed at Peña - I love Pedro but in a completely different, non-sexual way. It’s a credit to his acting skills that he can make me want to fuck nearly every character he plays when IRL I just want to be his best friend.

Tag List (Open): @fanfiction-trashpile | @sophster1881​ | @theringostarfanclub | @thinemineours

She sat on the stoop of her apartment building smoking her third cigarette of the night, taking a pull from the bottle of wine she held in her other hand. Her parents had finally completely cut her off, demanding that she return to Germany as soon as possible.

No one was hiring foreigners. Why the fuck would they? Sure, her private school education had blessed her with fluency in Spanish, albeit European Spanish, but she could still converse easily with any Colombian. The slang was foreign to her, but she had the basics. But things were hard enough for the locals, who would waste their time employing someone else who surely had other options? She couldn’t blame a single person who had turned down her applications

But that really only left her with one option. Thus far every man she’d fucked here had been interested in her accent. Maybe more men would also be interested in everything else that made her unusual. Maybe they’d relish the chance to fuck some foreign pussy. Maybe she’d found her calling already.

She’d just finished her cigarette when she noticed him walking down the street, strutting the way he always did, infuriatingly effortlessly sexy. She took another swig of her wine and tried to make herself look less like a mess and more like a semi-attractive human being.

“You sharing?” Javier asked as he reached her.

She nodded and handed him the bottle. He took a long drink.

“I prefer whiskey,” he noted, handing it back to her. “But it’s still good.”

“Out of my budget, especially considering…”

“They cut you off all the way?” His face was apologetic, but not patronizing. It made her want to kiss him.

“Bingo,” she answered. She stood then, taking back her wine bottle in one hand and taking his in the other.

“Let me know if anything is too much. I know you’re still recovering.”

They’d polished off the bottle of wine while he gave her as much intel as he could as she scribbled furiously in her notebook. He didn’t even flinch when she took a line of cocaine to keep her alert. What could she do? She couldn’t afford any worthwhile painkillers. She still wore a brace around her ribs, though her black eye had turned more yellow than purple now and her lip was healing quite quickly. The cut was almost gone.

“Pain makes it easier to keep my feelings as simple as money makes yours.”

“I wish it wasn’t like that. I wish just once I could make love to you, not just fuck you.”

“Love?” she scoffed.

“You know what I mean. Something…softer.”

“That’s a nice thought. But no matter what we do tonight, it’s bound to hurt. So just lean into that.”

Javier sighed as he reached into his wallet to pull out her usual fee. Then he placed another twenty on top of it.

“Javi,” she began to protest.

“I’d prefer if you stayed mostly mine. I can only guess how your job search has been going, but knowing what I know about this city…”

“Fruitless,” she laughed, though it was dry and hollow. “So…yeah. That’s the only avenue left to me.”

“But I still want you to be mine.”

“No you don’t.” If she accepted it, it’d hurt her.

“I do. I want you so much, even when I’m elsewhere.”

“Then only come here.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I don’t belong to you.”

“But for right now?”

She closed the gap between them, running a hand over his cheek and down his neck and stopping on his chest. “You took my stubborn ass to a hospital. So, yeah, for now, you have me. All to yourself.”

He kissed her then, so gentle at first. His thumb brushed over the bruises around her eye before his hands dipped down to her side, barely touching her ribs before settling on her hips. As usual. When would he tire of inflicting the same bruises upon her?

“I want to see your face tonight,” he whispered. “I won’t be rough, I promise.”

“I told you hurting me makes it better.”

She brushed past him then, taking off her shirt in one smooth movement and her shorts the next. She sat on the edge of the bed. In nothing more than her bra, her brace, and her underwear. Waiting.

After heaving a heavy sigh, he followed her, already unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not for real.”

“Too bad.”

His shirt was on the floor now. He was unbuttoning his jeans now.

She went to her knees. Instinctually.

“You don’t have to…”

Sure. Sure I don’t.

He could pretend all he wanted, but he stood before her anyway. She unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock all the same. It was only half hard. Disappointing. Anything other than wanting to fuck her senseless was disappointing at this point. She took his length in her hand and stroked it gently, eyes locked with his. His breathing picked up almost instantly, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as she licked his tip. Now he was hard.

So she went straight to work.

She relaxed her throat as best she could. She braced herself so that even if tears welled in her eyes, they wouldn’t fall. She wasn’t perfect, but she was better than last time. Even when he began to thrust into her, moaning in earnest, she didn’t gag. She only cried a little bit, and towards the end she was even able to begin to move her head in time when he pushed to get him even deeper within her.

After that, it wasn’t long until he had to pull out.

“You’re too much,” he huffed. “You’ve gotten too good.”

“That’s your own fault.” Still she waited on her knees.

“Get up. Get on the bed.”

“Yes, daddy.” It was a reflex by now, escaping her every time she could tell he was in the moment.

“No.” His response took her by surprise. “Only my name now.”

“All the time?” She laid herself out on the bed as best she could, trying to look as prone and fuckable as possible with her bruises and cuts and brace still wrapping across her ribs.

“All the time.” He emptied his pockets and thrust his jeans down and stepped out of them as he positioned himself above her. He hooked his thumbs expertly around her panties and pulled them off as if they were nothing. Two fingers were inside her before she could even respond.

“Yes, Javi,” she moaned.

He leaned down to kiss her, but only fleetingly. He sat up, brushing some of her hair off her forehead before picking up his pace.

She was losing her ability to keep control of her expressions and her body. She wanted to play pretend, to compensate for her ugly injuries and try to be as desirable as possible. She couldn’t be a mess. Why, not though? What was she afraid of? That if Javier didn’t find her attractive for even a night he’d lose interest?

It was a juvenile concern, but it was there all the same. After what they’d been through, she should feel more secure than ever that he wouldn’t stop seeking her out.

As he brought his thumb to her clit, she had to close her eyes.

She couldn’t look at him.

Goddamnit.

She’d hope that their new understanding and arrangement would make it easier, make her want him less.

No such luck.

If she kept staring into his face, at his eyes half lidded, biting his lip, focused only on pleasing her (at least for now) her heart would start to hurt.

Pain makes it easier. Not that kind of pain, though.

She wrapped an arm around her ribs and squeezed, the breath going out of her as she cried out a little.

It helped.

She was able to open her eyes again, and as she met Javi’s gaze he added another finger and began curling them inside her, stretching her out even further. It felt so good. So she squeezed her ribs again and bit her lip as the stabbing pain washed over her.

But all too soon he was pulling out of her, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, pulling her legs further apart and centering himself over her.

She flexed her fingers against her ribs and gasped in time with the way he sank into her to the hilt. Unfortunately the way he’d prepared her before meant it only felt good, without the usual initial pressure, and she couldn’t help but feel like he’d done it on purpose.

Stubborn bastard.

He placed his hands on her hips, gentler than ever before as he began to massage small circles into her skin.

She wanted what she’d asked for.

So she grabbed his wrists and led his hands up to her ribs, the pressure of his touch sending the most beautiful ache through her entire body.

“What are you doing?” He paused inside her, moving his hands to hover at her sides without touching her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, playing dumb.

“Your ribs, they’re -”

“It doesn’t hurt. It does when you bruise my hips in the same place every time, though,” she lied, pouting a little bit to try to look more convincing.

He didn’t look like he believed her. Instead he seemed hesitant, but when she didn’t back down his expression became defeated.

“Are you sure you want this?” The tone of his voice told her he knew what she was doing, and she wrapped her legs around him to pull him further into her as thanks.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. With a sigh Javier returned his hands to her ribs, albeit gently, and began thrusting into her again, groaning as she flexed around him for good measure.

The pain coursing through her as he gripped her sides allowed her to run her fingers through his hair, to lean up to kiss him, to relish once more in the way he felt inside her. As he began to pick up his pace his fingers tightened around her. She gasped, half in pain and half in pleasure, mixing together in a high that made her eyes flutter shut. Finally, her head was clear. Finally, she could enjoy herself without her feelings getting in the way.

“Harder, Javi,” she breathed, her fingers curling into fists as she held onto the hair at the nape of his neck. He obliged in both ways, leaning forward to rest his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at her shoulder and throat between heavy breaths. She rewarded him by adjusting her legs to let him slip even further into her than before and contracting the muscles to make herself even tighter around him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he moaned, biting her earlobe hard as his thrusts became fiercer.

“It’s what you deserve,” she whispered, raking her fingernails down his back hard enough that she might leave scratches. His grip on her ribs became firmer and she cried out, a sound of ecstasy mixed with agony.

Javier seemed to have gotten over his reservations, because the sound only made him go faster, his teeth sinking deeper into her skin. He was sure to leave marks, red and purple and prominent.

“I’d prefer if you stayed mostly mine.”

His words slipped through her mind at that moment and she couldn’t help but laugh.

He was claiming his territory.

I can do the same.

She pushed his chest hard, prying his mouth from her neck and sitting him up straight. She hooked her legs behind his knees and launched herself up, forcing him to turn and lay down. It was only a few moments before she was guiding him into her again, setting the pace as she moved up and down, forwards and backwards, grinding against him hard and fast.

He was out of breath for a moment, not knowing what to do with his hands or his face. But as she let her fingers dig into his chest he regained a sense of himself and latched a hand onto her throat, squeezing so hard she lost her breath all at once.

“This is how it should be,” she whispered, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she tried to breathe.

“If it’s what you want,” he groaned, his other hand roaming up her thigh and massaging her hot flesh, “then it’s what you’ll get.”

She unlatched her bra and tossed it somewhere to her left, needing to be more exposed, more vulnerable.

Javier responded by sitting up to swirl his tongue around her nipples, gripping her throat harder, his other hand squeezing her ribs,   thrusting up into her, sending her straight over the edge.

Her orgasm came over her suddenly and unexpectedly, eliciting a cry as she clung to his shoulders for support, unable to handle the pleasure and the pain. It was exactly what she wanted - the closeness of feeling him inside her, the distance of hurting while he was.

“On your knees,” he demanded, thrusting her down beneath him by her throat, slamming her into the mattress so hard she had to grit her teeth to stomach the pain that rippled through her.

She obliged, of course, turning and resting her head against the bed as she made her sex as high and accesible as possible. He sunk into her without hesitation, his hands naturally digging into her hips before shifting them up to her ribs, for her sake, and gripping them with varying intensity.

It was clear he was still hesitant, but willing to submit to some degree for her pleasure.

If anything, he drove her crazy.

“Javi, you’re so good to me,” she moaned, biting her lip to withstand the ache in her chest. The good kind of ache. The kind that came from her fragile ribs, not her fragile heart.

“Don’t you forget it,” he answered, picking up his pace, wrapping one of his hands around her waist to swirl around her clit. “No one can fuck you like I do.”

It wasn’t long before she was climaxing again, a beautiful fireworks show of tightening muscles and trembling limbs and excruciating pressure on the broken parts of her. Javier was soon to follow, burying himself in her as he did, both his hands slipping up to squeeze her breasts.

He stayed inside her, guiding her down to lay flat on the bed as he peppered kisses across her shoulders, running his fingers down her spine so softly it made her shiver. Only then did he pull out.

“Stay there,” he murmured. She turned her head to watch him light a cigarette and slip into his jeans before he made his way to the bathroom to grab her a towel. He made quick work of cleaning her up before tossing the towel onto the floor and sitting beside her, letting his head loll against the wall as he took a deep draw from his cigarette.

“Want one?” he asked, turning to look down at her with one eyebrow naturally raising itself higher than the other.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, sitting up to join him. He lit it for her and then put his hand on her thigh, his thumb tracing small circles into her skin.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he said after a few moments of comfortable, hazy silence.

“What?”

She was intrigued.

“This,” he replied, picking up his gun.

Now she was wary. “I - uh - why?”

“For protection. If that cartel member thinks you know too much, he might come looking for you.”

“He doesn’t know where I live,” she began, but he cut her off by shaking his head.

“It won’t take much asking around about a foreign prostitute for him to find you. Carry it in your waistband whenever you go out. If he’s trailing you, it might put him off. But keep it hidden in here so your clients can’t find it.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

“You know how to shoot?”

She nodded again. Her father was paranoid about nearly everything, which in addition to stockpiling food and medical supplies meant she’d spent several summers taking trips to the nearest forest to learn how to shoot. Pistols, revolvers, shotguns, rifles. She didn’t ask how he’d gotten them, didn’t try to protest that learning wasn’t necessary.

Now it seemed a bit like fate.

“You have a phone?”

She pointed to the far wall of the kitchen where the clunky, outdated phone hung, loose and crooked.

“This is my number,” he said, pulling a small folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Office and cell phone. If something happens, you call me, not the police. I’ll send officers who aren’t on the cartel payroll.”

“Javi, you don’t have to do this,” she protested. “You have enough to worry about.”

There he went, being too nice to her again. It felt bittersweet, twisting her heart and stomach at the same time.

“Exactly. If I didn’t try to protect you, I’d be worried about you.”

That took her by surprise. She couldn’t think of anything to say. He said it so simply, as if she’d been stupid to think otherwise. He caught her by surprise again as he leaned forward to place a light kiss on her forehead.

“I’ve gotta go,” he sighed. “But I’ll be back next week.”

Without thinking about it she reached up to cup his face in her hands and kiss him on the lips. Slowly, and heavy with the weight of how much she owed him. He’d become the only thing keeping her in Colombia, keeping her dream of finishing her book alive.

“Thank you, Javi,” she whispered, pulling away and resting her forehead against his, eyes closed.

She’d do whatever she could to make it worth his while.

“Yeah.” He pulled away, not unkindly, and finished getting dressed, tossing her her bra and panties before stuffing his belongings back into his pockets.

All of them except for the gun.

It stayed on the bedside table, equal parts comforting and foreboding.

She couldn’t look away, not even when Javier said goodbye and closed the door behind him. She stayed like that, frozen and naked and staring at the cold, gleaming metal until her neck began to ache and she started to shiver.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: f--k you and the horse you rode in on; adam page [m]

Notes:

originally sent to me by @vonschweetz​ on snarkandsarcasmwrites which I’m turning into my main now, i chose to post this here on it’s own little post. This is my Ivy and Adam universe, but it’s the What If’s version, not to be confused with the Wild Side version. Yes, they are different. whew- that was a mouthful.

Summary:

Ivy and Adam run into each other again after years of being apart. There’s hurt there. Will they work through their pain or make things messier by having a one night stand and going their separate ways all over again? Alternate chapter / universe /ending to What If’s.

Warning:

FEELTH. unprotected sex, strip club vip room mention, body fluids, exotic dancer OFC. Alcohol tw.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ivy Barlow.

“Hey, how much you think it’ll cost to hire one of the girls to come n’ dance for me for the night?” Adam’s tone was smooth as the whiskey he was pouring into his glass as he asked the club manager.

He felt so sleazy doing it because he never did it, but tonight was a really, really bad night. When he was lonely and just… Craving intimacy. Craving her, the one that got away all those years ago. The need to feel less alone outweighed the sleazy thing he was doing. He tried to justify his trip to this seedy  little club on the Strip as him paying someone who might actually need the money versus just settling for some buckle bunny and having to deal with the fallout later. Either way, he found himself thinking as he solemnly slammed back the fifth of whiskey, it’s still sleazy and it ain’t you.

But bein alone tonight is somethin I don’t wanna do. I can’t do it. I know where my mind’s gonna go. It’s gonna go to Ivy n’ the way things played out. I’m gonna wind up exhausting all the what could’ve beens and what if’s and maybe’s until it drives me insane…

As he weighed his decision against the way it made him feel sleazy, blue eyes lazily roamed the dimly lit strip club and when he saw her -the exact reason he’d been driven to seek out the comfort of a stranger tonight, his entire body tensed and he coughed. His eyes locked on her, watching the way she grinded and wrapped herself around that silver pole. A shiver passed through him that went straight to his cock and settled, making it stand at attention and push firmly against the zip of his jeans. The manager noticed his intent stare and chuckled. “Oh, she’s gonna cost ya, cowboy. She’s gonna cost ya real good. That’s one of the best girls I got, man. And she just recently started workin as one of my girls upstairs in VIP too… So yer in luck. If you got the cash and she agrees to a few hours with ya, of course.”

“Is she… Is she available? You think she’d agree, I mean?” Adam was in disbelief at the fact that he’d even asked that. And in disbelief that the girl he loved years ago was working in a place like this as a dancer.

His eyes shifted from the manager to the way she peeled off a pair of painted on leather chaps, tossing them to the side. It left her in a pair of skimpy high cut black leather Brazillian cut panties. He shifted in his seat as he felt his hardened member twitch and strain even harder against the heavy dark denim covering it. He wished he’d gone for wearing underwear, but wearing them all night during the rodeo earlier left him chafed enough.

The club owner eyed the pile of winnings in his hand and chuckled, giving a half-assed shrug. “Dunno, Hangman. Why don’t you walk over n’ ask her, hmm?” was asked as the man nodded in her direction.

Her dance had just ended, she was leaving the center stage, slinking towards where Adam sat talking to the club owner. At first, she didn’t bother looking at him, instead she addressed the club owner.

“Got anything for me tonight, Slade?”

“Got ya a cowboy, Ivy.” Slade chuckled and gave a nod to Adam who stood nearby, lingering with his eyes darting all over the place. Slade could tell the guy wasn’t used to doing this, it almost made him want to laugh. But sooner or later, all of the cowboys and wannabe rockstars that came out to Vegas wound up at one of these establishments.

Ivy gave a soft laugh. “They all think they’re cowboys or rockstars out here, Slade. Cash up front, right? And the usual, a few private dances, the VIP treatment.”

Adam couldn’t stop staring at her. As a result, he wound up overpouring the whiskey and it wound up soaking through his jeans. He coughed to sort of get her attention and the second her eyes locked on him she blinked.

Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard, raising a hand to drag it through her hair. She hadn’t said anything. As soon as Adam said her name, she eyed him and all those emotions in her eyes just seconds before vanished. She’d always been good at shutting down. Apparently, she’d just gotten better at it.

“Well if it ain’t West Virginia’s favorite cowboy… what brings you out to Vegas, hmm?” Ivy kept her best neutral tone as she said it, keeping her distance from Adam. She hadn’t back then and she’d wound up falling too hard. She still hadn’t gotten over him, even now, years later.

Adam swallowed hard and he took a deep breath. “Rodeo’s in town. I thought you were out in Florida. Heard you married yourself some soap opera guy.”

“Annulled, actually.” Ivy shifted her feet and nudged the club owner, getting him off to the side. “I can’t do this, Slade. Not with him. You’re the one who makes the rules here, Slade, not me.. No personal ties. Hands off and all that, remember?”

“He’s the only taker you got tonight, Ivy. And poor idiot literally just gave me his entire nights winnings. This could be good for the club and you, lil bit. It’s your call this time. You’re one of my best girls, I trust ya.” Slade gave her a wink and Ivy blew at her bangs, thinking it over. Slade did have a point.

“Yeah, well..” Ivy trailed off as she remembered the debt on her grandparent’s ranch and the cost of hiring hands to pitch in when needed. She found herself thinking about her own potential business venture she was saving up for, re-opening her grandmother’s diner in town, and she found herself thinking about her savings. She sighed and swore to herself under her breath, dragging long and delicate fingers through light caramel colored locks. “Fine. I’ll do it. But he better have money because I’m charging double. If he’s such hot shit on the pro circuit right now, why the hell wouldn’t he just pick up a fuckin bunny at the show?”

Adam overheard most of the conversation and spoke up. “Didn’t wanna.” he barely met Ivy’s gaze and when he did manage to meet it, Ivy found herself cringing at the icy look in his eyes. Adam’s jaw tightened and he started to protest, but when he tried, no words would come.

“But you’re here… at a club paying enough cash for an all night private session upstairs…” Ivy’s brow quirked and she eyed him while smirking. “Either way, stud. you’re on the clock. Let’s just get this over with.” no matter how hard she tried to keep up that all business facade, she was starting to feel it crack. She was starting to feel fidgety under his intent -and cold, stare and she found herself jittery. She knew he was standing there, most likely judging her. He was the one who hadn’t tried to respond to her whenever she did try to reach out. He was the one who never came for her, despite his promise that he’d never let anything happen to tear them apart. He was the one who went off and got all famous from the looks of it.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Ivy Jane.” Adam snapped as calmly as possible as he tore his eyes off of her and stared down at his mud covered Ariats.

“I never said it was nice to see you the first time, Mr. Page.” Ivy responded in a chilled tone as she turned on her heels and started to slink towards the back of the club, to the stairs that lead up to a second floor of the place. A place where few ever got access to.

Adam stopped her halfway up the stairs. “You got no right t’ be angry at me, Ivy Jane. You’re the one who left.” he practically growled the words as he gripped her wrist, staring up at her. Right now he was hurt and confused and so fucking bitter. Everything conspired against them, it always had from the beginning. Their families hadn’t gotten along and constantly butted in and kept them apart mostly, but what was really making him angry was that standing here in the stairwell now, with her right in front of him, was that he was clearly seeing that they’d both had chances. And neither of them had tried or fought, they’d both been too scared to just cut off their families and rely on each other. … we were kids then, though… Adam tried to remind himself, neither of us felt like we had a choice…  And not only that, he could just look at her and tell that somehow, she was hurting and angry and bitter too. And probably full of blame. He had to admit, he was full of it himself because she’d basically disappeared and not once did she try to reach out, not once did she try to contact him and at least give him closure.

“I didn’t have a fucking choice, Adam.” Ivy didn’t mean to say it like she did, she hadn’t meant that little bit of hurt and longing to creep into her voice. She sighed and shook her head. Adam’s shoulders slumped and he muttered an apology. But then the mild anger he felt at finding her again, here of all places, that kicked in and he grabbed hold of her waist, turning her to face him when she faced away and started to walk up the remainder of the stairs.

“The hell are you doin’, anyway? This ain’t you, Ivy Jane. This… This ain’t th’ girl I love.”

“Yeah, well… Shit happens, Adam. I think you meant loved, by the way, because you certainly seem to be acting as if I’m dirt beneath your feet now.” Ivy shrugged it off, trying to make herself forget the way his hands felt all over her or the way it felt to hear his voice again after all this time. Trying to convince herself that he had every chance to come out to Florida and find her after high school and when he didn’t and he chose to go on the rodeo circuit instead, that was her answer as to what he really felt.

“I’m not actin like that, Ivy Jane…But this? This is.. What do you get from it, huh? Because I’m failin to understand it.” Adam ground out through a clenched jaw as he glared down at Ivy.

Ivy glared right back  up at him, shaking her head and giving a bitter laugh. “I tried writing you, Adam. I tried calling, I tried everything. I tried to let you know what happened that night. You ignored it. My choices now aren’t really your problem. Not that there’s anything wrong with anything I’m doing. And you’re the one who came in here and paid for an entire night private session upstairs, so what exactly does that say about you, huh?” Ivy snapped right back, her tone growing increasingly bitter.

“I didn’t know what t’ do! You were supposed t’ come meet me n’ leave that night and y’ never showed! What was I suppose t’ do? Just forget ya didn’t show and skipped town and try to pick up where we left off? If I’d ever gotten anything ya sent to begin with! I never heard another word out of you!” Adam exploded before he could stop himself and before he’d fully processed what she said seconds prior. As soon as what she’d just snapped at him really sank in, Adam went quiet.

Ivy’s lip quivered for the smallest of seconds and she tensed all over at the anger in his voice. “I was tryin t’ get ya away from there, darlin. All ya had to do was come to our spot that night, leave with me… I promised to take care of ya. I never woulda broken that promise.” as he felt himself getting angry because until right now, he’d never even stopped to consider that Ivy might have tried reaching out. He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew exactly why he’d never known and he made a firm mental note to talk to his meddling family the next time he got the chance.

Before finally cutting ties, because this was… If what she said was true, and he had no doubt it was because he’d never known Ivy to lie and she looked entirely too… Hurt… Bitter… right now to be lying, either way… this was the straw. This was it, this was too much interference on the part of his family. And probably her own, Adam found himself thinking, because god knows her old man hated me for whatever reason.

It was a lot to take in at once and combined with the raw pain he felt right now at finally seeing Ivy again, which was all he ever really wanted to begin with, he now had to deal with what they’d both become thanks to their families grudge and the way life was shitty and it stacked the deck against them and their love for each other practically from the word go.

“Look. It’s water under the bridge. Obviously, it wasn’t meant to be. Let’s just… Do this and go our separate ways.” Ivy’s voice trembled slightly as she said it, turning the knob to one of the private rooms above the club, opening the door and stepping inside.

But Adam suddenly couldn’t let it go. And thanks to the abundance of alcohol coursing his veins right now, he wasn’t thinking totally clear either. All he did know was that he had one last chance and he was taking it.

Ivy saw that flash in his eyes and before she could even fully process, Adam was pinning her against the wall beside the door and reaching out past her, turning the lock on the door. His mouth crushed against her mouth hungrily, almost greedily and his hands were all over her. Ivy started out with her hand firmly against his chest, hell bent on shoving him away and keeping a safe distance, but Adam wasn’t having it. And by the time Ivy had to catch her breath from the deep and needy and angry biting kiss Adam was pulling her deeper into, the hand against his shirt wound up tangling in it instead. Her other hand seemed to grow a mind of it’s own, reaching up, tugging at the messy ponytail he wore his hair in currently, even though she knew the rules like the back of her hand and she knew that this was a taboo, them kissing in the stairwell like this… As soon as she’d pulled his hair free from the hair tie, the scent of his shampoo mixed with whiskey and sweat filled her nose and a flood of old memories never truly forgotten came flooding back to her in a rush all over again.

Adam’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip, tugging and his fingertips dug into the soft curve of her hips hard enough to leave marks behind, rubbing her against him roughly. “You were supposed to be mine. Not workin here, like this. Not dancin…I was supposed to take care of ya.”

“Adam, don’t… Please… If we start thinking about this…” Ivy pleaded, her hands shaking as she lowered the one tangled in his hair to the belt buckle at his waist, trailing the tip of her finger over the intricate design on the metal and resting her hand over the buckle, tugging him closer. Despite everything inside her telling her that not resisting was a bad idea and doing this was an even worse one, not really talking and getting closure first was probably the WORST decision of the current ones she’d been making tonight, Ivy suddenly didn’t care. Ivy didn’t want to stop or think about what might happen next, she didn’t want to fight against the pull to Adam that came rushing right back all over again when she’d locked eyes with him downstairs. “I don’t wanna think. Or fight.”

Seconds trickled by slowly as she stared up at him, biting her lower lip. Literally every single thing that kept them apart for so long was racing through her brain and she could tell it was eating away at him too. That it probably had been for a long time now. Maybe even as long as it had with her.

“We’re… Not supposed to… Touch. Or you’re not supposed to touch me.” Ivy managed to tear her mouth away from Adam’s again to let him know what was expected. Adam gave a solemn nod and Ivy rose to tiptoe slightly, muttering dangerously close against his lips all over again, “But Slade did say that this was my call… And I…” she trailed off, sighing and shaking her head, gently shoving him back into the chair that stood just behind Adam, slightly off center of the room. Adam’s eyes met hers and he tucked his fingers beneath her chin to hold her eyes on his. “You what, Ivy?”

“I just need you…” as the words left her mouth, Adam just barely ghosted his hands down her sides, sliding her a little closer to him. Ivy whimpered as she felt him straining at the stiff dark blue denim and before she could stop herself, she was rocking herself over the bulge twitching and straining at it. Adam’s head lowered after he met her gaze for a second or two, a questioning look in his eyes as if to ask if what he was about to do was alright. Ivy nodded and rose up slightly, putting her chest eye level with his mouth. All Adam could do was drop his head down, bury his lips in the exposed cleavage peeking out and in his face and let out this frustrated groan against her skin.

None of this was supposed to go this way and it frustrated him that it had. Ivy’s hips moved in a figure 8 and with each brush of soaked black pleather against the crotch of his jeans,Adam’s fingertips dug into her ass just a little more, he was cautious to at least try honoring the no touch rule Ivy warned him about after the kiss broke a few minutes before. Ivy pressed down a little harder, taking shaky breaths, leaning in and ghosting her lips against his own as she muttered softly, “Missed you. I was so afraid I fucked it all up when you didn’t… Come for me.”

Adam broke at her words, a sharp breath as his hands raised, caressing her cheeks, pulling her mouth against his as she continued to ride his lap, grind against his thigh and rub herself against him as much as she could. His tongue slipped past her lips as he muttered quietly into the deepening and dizzying kiss, “Darlin, I didn’t know.. Nobody told me you were tryin to get in touch. I tried to write you too. Tried callin, tried everythin. I never woulda just let ya go if I hadn’t thought.. That was what you wanted. Never.” he stared her down, emphasizing his words with carefully placed kisses against every bit of exposed skin within his reach. And as if it weren’t enough, he tilted her chin, making her look down at him, hands ghosting down her sides, careful to move immediately back to the arm of the chair just to be safe, pouting as he did so. “I really did. I.. I thought not hearin from ya meant you finally couldn’t fight everything against us anymore.”

“Adam, no. No.” Ivy’s mouth nuzzled against his neck as she started to sink down in his lap, making his head fall back and his eyes flutter open and shut. When she started to crawl out of his lap and she settled on her knees between his thighs, he grunted, his hips bucking upward as a helpless and needy whine fell from his mouth. “Ivy, darlin, what…” he felt her hands working his legs open wider, trailing up and down his thighs, gripping as she made her way back up his body and into his lap and turned to face away from him, rocking her ass back and forth over the throbbing bulge strained against rough denim. He hissed and leaned forward, his chest pressing into her back, his hands leaving the arm rest of the chair and lingering on the insides of her thighs as his mouth pressed against the side of her ear, “Missed you so fuckin much, darlin. So much. I never stopped thinkin about you.. Hell, I dream about you every night.” he admitted in a low and husky growl, sending a shiver racing through her that he felt as soon as it did. Ivy’s hands twined with his, ghosting over her body, lingering on her chest, squeezing as she whimpered.

“Oh Adam.” her words caught in her throat and her head fell back, eyes fluttering open and closed.

“Yeah?” Adam whispered back, his lips dancing down the side of her neck and seconds away from snapping. He’d been kept from her too damn long. And he was tired of it. It had to end tonight.

“Take me home… Somewhere. Anywhere.” Ivy muttered quietly, rubbing herself against his lap a little harder and a lot more urgently.

“Can go back t’ my Airstream over at the fairground.” Adam managed to mutter the words as Ivy turned around in his lap. Adam stood, not bothering to put her on her own feet and as he stopped to open the door he mumbled against her neck “There a back way outta here?”

“Yeah.. Go down the hall and take the stairs. It’ll take ya out into the alley.” Ivy breathed into the kiss that she pulled him into feverishly. The door shut behind them and Adam walked down the hall hastily, stopping at the top of the stairs to press her against the wall. Ivy’s legs wrapped around him and she rubbed against him, whimpering and clinging to him, the tips of her fingers digging into his scalp and tugging at his hair, her other hand lightly digging into his shoulder as she attacked his mouth hungrily.

“Fuck.” Adam managed to gasp just as he descended the stairs and fumbled with the handle on the door at the bottom, hurrying to step out into the alley. From there it was a short walk around the building, and after stopping a time or two between the building and the parking lot where his truck sat waiting, they were finally standing beside it. Adam scooped her up, opening the passenger door and sitting her inside, the restrictions of the club and the VIP room gone by now and all he wanted to do was touch her. Feel her body, her mouth against his own, know that he wasn’t imagining it, this was real and they were together again at last.

Logically, he knew they had a lot to talk about, but for tonight, talking was the last thing on his mind. Their lips came apart swollen and bruised and Adam took a long and deep breath just to try calming himself down a little and Ivy’s legs wrapped around him, pulling him back in all over again, taking his face in her hands, pulling his mouth back against hers all over again. “Adam, I..”

The kiss broke and Adam pressed the side of his finger against her lips to stop the flow of her words, pressing his forehead against hers. “Don’t wanna talk, okay? Just.. Don’t wanna think about all the shit that went wrong. Not tonight.”

“I need to say this.” Ivy insisted. Adam bit his lip, his stomach churning nervously as he peered into big brown eyes, waiting, wondering what she had to say so bad that it couldn’t wait. Ivy’s teeth clenched his lower lip and she muttered into heated little kisses against his mouth, “I never stopped loving you, ever. God did I try. I just.. I couldn’t.”

“I know, darlin. I know. I feel the same way.” Adam reassured her, a hand slipping to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her mouth into his completely as his other hand worked up the insides of her thighs, squeezing as he pulled her close again, letting her cling to him. “I gotta drive.”

Ivy gave a soft laugh and nodded, trying to ply herself from his arms. Adam hurried around his truck and climbed inside, starting the engine and taking a side road out of the parking lot because it was shorter than going through town to get back to the fairgrounds. His hand wandered over the console, grabbing for her thigh, squeezing after he’d raised her hand to his lips. Ivy bit her lip, legs falling open ever so slightly. Before Adam could stop himself from doing so, he was growling quietly and shifting in the driver seat, leaning over to whisper boldly against her ear, “We might make it inside. If you’re lucky. Keep it up, Ivy Jane.”

Apparently, she was trying to get herself fucked against the side of his Airstream because her next move was to lean across and ghost her lips up the side of his neck while lowering her hand and slowly moving it up the inside of his thigh, lingering over a now throbbing bulge. His breath caught in his throat and Ivy gently nipped at his earlobe as she giggled almost whisper quiet against it. His hand skimmed along the inside of her thigh, fingertips disappearing beneath the hem of those black pleather hot pants she was wearing. As soon as his fingertip grazed against soaked fabric, he groaned, biting his lip and tried to make himself focus on the road.

As his finger slipped beneath the fabric barrier and slowly slid over her slickened folds, Ivy shivered and a quiet moan escaped her lips. Her hand found it’s way back down to his lap and Ivy stared at him a few seconds, tongue rolling over vibrant red lips.

“What, darlin?”

“Oh, nothin…” Ivy hummed innocently as her fingers tugged at the zip of his jeans, lowering it slowly. Too slow. Adam gripped the wheel and almost as soon as he felt her hand curl around his thick length, pulling it free from his jeans, he took a few long and shaky breaths, sinking into the seat just a little bit. Her tongue trailed slowly over the tip of his member, circling it, then trailing lower, moving down the side of his shaft, trailing it’s veiny length.

“Darlin, fuck.” Adam groaned, thighs tensing at the delicious and slow torment that was her tongue, gliding over his cock. Her lips wrapped around it and his hand tangled in her hair, tugging. The parking lot of the fairground came into sight and Adam let out a long and ragged breath as he felt her mouth latching on greedily, the hum that passed those lips as she bobbed her head up and down sending vibration racing down his length. By the time he got the truck parked and the engine killed, he was white knuckling the steering wheel with one hand and breathing so heavy it almost sounded like he’d ran a marathon. He leaned his head back against the head rest of his seat and bucked his hips against her mouth carefully, praising in a husky whisper, “Fuck, darlin.. So good with that little mouth of yours. C’mon, baby. Deeper.”

When she trailed her tongue right down the underside of his length, he growled and groaned aloud more than a few times, eyes fluttering open and closed as he bucked in his seat all over again and tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging a little. “Ivy, fuck yeah. Feels so good.” he groaned over and over.

Ivy hit her gag reflex and Adam thrust against her mouth all over again, lowering his hand to tilt her chin and make her stop, look up at him, leaning down to crash his mouth against her mouth sloppily and muttering into the kiss, “Best we move this inside, darlin.”

“Adam.” Ivy whined and pouted, but Adam shook his head and got out of the truck, hurrying around to her side, reaching in to unfasten her seatbelt and scooping her out into his arms, jogging in a hurry towards the silver Airstream parked haphazardly nearby. Her back met the door of his camper and his hand disappeared right back up the hem of her hot pants, fingers hastily brushing her soaked panties aside as he growled against her neck and buried his fingers knuckle deep into her heat, working her open, bucking himself into her, teeth snagging on skin and leaving marks behind. When he finally got the damn door unlocked, he stepped inside, locking it behind him, tossing his key onto a butcher block countertop. He stepped into the back of the camper, gently tossing Ivy against the mattress and sinking down, his hands gripping the waist of her hot pants, tugging both hot pants and soaked panties to the ground in less time than it took Ivy to bat a lash. As his hands parted her thighs, she rose to prop on her elbows, staring down at him. Adam hooked his arms beneath her thighs to hold her legs open and his eyes met hers as he licked his lips and lowered his head, dancing his lips right up the inside of her thighs.

Ivy’s hand lowered, gripping at his hair, trying to tug his mouth up higher and Adam chuckled quietly against her skin, leaving little kisses and bites behind. The second she felt his tongue rolling over her folds and heard the greedy loud slurping she whimpered almost helplessly when she tried to rock her hips upward and realized that Adam had such a tight grip on her thighs that she really couldn’t move. “Adam.” she panted, biting her lip, whimpering even louder as his mouth closed over her clit, tongue circling the small bundle of nerves, teeth snagging on her skin to mark her up. “Fuck, darlin. Still taste so sweet. And you’re so wet for me already.” his nose bumped against her pelvic mound as he mumbled against her cunt and his tongue started to descend, trailing right over her folds, sending a shiver racing through her body. Ivy’s toes curled in the bed sheet beneath her, and Adam’s grip loosened slightly. The second it did, Ivy was writhing and rocking her hips upward against his mouth as much as she could and Adam slipped two fingers deep into her heat to join his tongue.

“C’mon, darlin. Let go. Let me taste.” Adam coaxed, not that Ivy needed much of a reason and as her orgasm washed over her, leaving her shaking and whimpering and moaning on the bed below him, Adam raised up, unbuckling and then unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, tugging off his boots and then kicking the denim free from his body, lowering himself and settling over her, his hand disappearing down between them to guide his cock over her folds, making her shiver all over again and whimper, pleading with him.

“C’mon, Adam, now.. Need you now.”

“I know, darlin, I know.” Adam mumbled quietly against her mouth, his tongue parting her lips as he sank his length deep into her dripping heat, laying still and kissing her all over the face and the neck as he touched her everywhere, hands unable to be still. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Ivy could only nod and seconds later, moan his name loud enough to be heard outside the trailer as he started to fuck into her slow and deep, the mattress creaking steadily beneath the two of them as Adam’s hands captured her hands at either side of her head and his mouth conquered her mouth and then drifted down, lingering on her throat, leaving even more marks behind.

Ivy’s legs wrapped around his hips to pull him even closer, drive his cock in even deeper and when he bottomed out, he growled hungrily into her mouth. Her hand raised, tangling in his hair and tugging at it as Adam started to fuck into her harder, faster, their moans and panting labored breaths joining in the sound of the bed creaking beneath them both. Ivy’s head fell back as she felt another orgasm building and Adam’s hips started to snap erratically, crashing into hers, almost bruising as his pace quickened. “Ah… Fuck. Adam, fuck… Don’t… Don’t stop, baby, c’mon. I’m so.. Close.” Ivy’s eyes fluttered open and shut and her arms wrapped around his neck as Adam’s mouth crashed against her own and he muttered quietly, “Fuck, darlin… Feels so good, holdin you again. So good. Never gonna let…” his breathing hitched as he deepened the kiss and finished, “Let you go again. Ever.”

“Promise me.”

“I mean it, baby girl.” Adam growled as his teeth tugged at her lower lip and his cock bottomed out, sending her right over the edge, her orgasm shattering through all over again. Adam felt her clench around him and he gripped onto her tighter, trying to slow down and brace himself, anything to keep from getting off right away, but nothing worked, especially with Ivy whimpering beneath him, pleading and begging him not to stop, begging him to fill her up.

Ivy’s nails raked down Adam’s back as she felt the throbbing warmth of his release as it filled her and she clung to him, kissing his neck and shoulders, Adam kissing her on the forehead and cheeks, both of them trying to come down from the high of their orgasm.

Adam flopped down onto the mattress and reached out, pulling Ivy on top of him, locking his arms around her as he muttered softly, “I really do mean it. We’re gonna be okay. And I won’t lose you again.”

Ivy leaned her head down, brushing her mouth against his as she mumbled in a quiet yawn, “I know you mean it. And I don’t wanna lose you again. I… If you asked me, I’d pack up and leave with you right now. I just.. I wish I’d been able back then.”

Adam’s hand trailed lazily over her spine and he shushed her, nodding. “I know, darlin. I should’ve known it all along. Feel like an asshole because I didn’t.”

“We’re really gonna be okay..” Ivy’s voice was softer, he could look up and tell she was starting to drift off and he chuckled, pressing his lips against hers as he reassured her again that they were going to be okay.

This time was DIFFERENT. Adam was going to make sure of that.

[she-is-tim]

To be, or no to be (in love) | Elu Home Tutor AU

Eliott has more than enough problem with university, but when his best friend’s sister asks him if he can tutor her friend for good money, he can’t say no. He has shit to pay and he’s good at literature anyways. What he doesn’t expect is to meet with the most beautiful human being who has eyes as blue as the deepest parts of the ocean. He tries not to fall in love, he really does...

Thank you for the beautiful cover @starcassstic 💖

The headache kicked in just as Eliott opened his eyes, making him feel like a whole school band is playing an anthem inside his skull. His eyes were pulsating and all he wished for was a shower. He felt dirty, smelling like beer and smoke. He could hear his friend snorring loudly from the other side of the room and if he wouldn’t be so damn hungover, then he would have kicked him in the shins to make him shut the fuck up. Instead he reached for his phone that was laying on the ground next to his bed, feeling grateful for his long arms making that movement possible without actually getting up. 

It was only 7:13 which made him even more grumpier. How can he be awake so fucking early when he was up until almost three in the morning. He let out an unpleasant groan to which a louder snort came from his roommate. He considered to find a book and throw at him, just so they can suffer together, but it would take too much of an effort. Plus Adrian was the worst in the morning after parties.

He checked his messages, there was one from Sofiane, probably asking if he got back to the dorm safe, some from Idriss, probably some drunk messages like always and one from an unknown number. He squinted his eyes, not understanding why he would recieve a text from someone he doesn’t know, when he could fairly remember giving his number to the girl that was hitting on him all night. Yeah, getting wasted wasn’t such a good idea afterall. He deleted the message without reading it, knowing that it’s a dick move, but he never was good at getting rid of chicks. They somehow thought that he is just playing hard to get, while actually he was just not interested at all. 

He got startled out of his thoughts when someone knocked on the door. He was a bit confused, checking the time again. Who would come visit so early on a monday morning, especially after that hell of a party last night? Since Adrian seemed to be in dreamland still, probably drooling like a baby, Eliott collected all of his strength to get up from the bed. He started to walk towards the door when he realized that he probably shouldn’t open it only wearing his underwear, so on his way he grabbed a hoodie from his desk chair, pulling it over his head, hoping that whoever stands in front of their room won’t be complaining about his outfit. Not like anyone would have the right to judge him, since it was still fucking seven and monday. 

When he finally opened the door, his first thought was ‘I am in deep shit’. He tried to think if there was any reason that would bring Imane Bakhellal to his dorm room on a monday right before school, but he couldn’t remember any. She didn’t seemed mad, so that was good. And like always she looked gorgeous, wearing a colorful scarf carefully wrapped around her head, a long, beige sweater and tight black leggings with dark grey sneakers. 

“You look like shit.” she stated without even saying good morning. Eliott let out a sigh and opened the door wider.

“Thanks for letting me know. Wanna come in?” he asked, having his manners even if he would likely just scream until his headache stops. Imane walked past him, her eyes scanning the room, which made the tall boy feel a bit embarrassed. Dirty clothes, empty pizza boxes, books and crumpled notes scattered around the floor, making the scene look like pure chaos. Neither he or Adrian were known for being good at keeping things in order, so they just let things escalate until their room became a dumpster. 

“This place is disgusting.” Imane said finally after long minutes of looking around, fixing her eyes on Eliott now, who was standing in the middle of the room, a few feet apart from her, still only wearing a hoodie and his boxer. “I came here to ask you a favor.” she explained now, not hitting around the bush.

“A favor?” Eliott raised his eyebrow. It never meant anything good if Imane wanted something, especially because no matter what she would get what she wants even if the tall boy tries to resist. 

“It’s going to be beneficial for the both of us.” she said, smug smile playing on her lips. “I need you to tutor one of my friends.” 

“What?” Eliott asked, eyes basically popping out of his skull in shock. He had to repeat the girl’s words inside his head multiple times to make sure he heard it right. “No!” he gasped after realizing that she is not joking. “No, Imane, my career as a tutor started and ended with teaching english to Manon.” he said seriously a bit louder than he wanted, making his sleeping friend groan at them, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. 

“Come on, Eliott. You are the only one I can ask. It’s literature, not english and his parents would pay you good money.” she explained, making the boy actually consider the offer, but then he quickly shook his head. 

“No, I am not playing that again. Remember that last time when I tutored one of your friends I got punched in the face by Charles fucking Munier?! Just because I dared to hug his girlfriend when we said goodbye.” his headache got worse just by thinking back to that moment. He swore then that he will never ever tutor anyone and stay away from Manon Demissy and her psycho boyfriend. 

“That was just one time.” she sighed and rolled her eyes. Actually rolled her eyes like she had any fucking rights to be annoyed when she was the one forcing Eliott out of the comfort of his own bed after a rough party night. “I swear he doesn’t have a boyfriend, he’s just a stupid idiot who needs help to stumble through his exams.” she explained and the tall boy wouldn’t admit it that he actually got intrigued when he heard the words he and boyfriend in the same sentence. 

“Who is this friend of yours? Do I know him?” he asked now, trying to sound as nonchalant as he just could, because he didn’t wanted Imane to know that he was already 90% sure he’s going to accept the ‘job’. 

“No, we just became friends a few months ago.” she replied with a soft smile on her face. Eliott knew it that even if they weren’t friends for long, she still cared a lot about that person, because otherwise she wouldn’t be smiling like this. “He is a nice guy, just really stupid sometimes. We got paired up for biology and I gotta say that I never had a better partner, but when it comes to literature, even a monkey is smarter than him.” she explained letting out a giggle which just lit up her whole face, making her look even more pretty. Eliott was stunned by how much love she talked about that boy, like she used to talk about Manon or Alexia. It was kind of endearing to see that she was getting new friends. 

“Okay, so you say he just need to learn some basics of literature?” he asked, raising his eyebrows now.

“Yeah, just put some sense in his head and he’ll be fine. His parents are kinda rich, so they’ll pay good for a couple of hours even.” she said and by the sparkles in her eyes, Eliott could tell that she knew she had won. He let out a defeated sigh and sat down to his bed, grabbing a painkiller from his nightstand and downing it with some water. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.” 

“Great.” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll talk to him and send you the details later. You are not going to regret this.” she said smirking and with a small wave, she left the room. Eliott decided to go back to sleep for a while, since he had no classes to attend to before noon. 

~°~

As Eliott entered the coffee shop next to the campus, he got hit by the noise of dozens of students filling the little space, talking, yelling and mumbling to each other. All of them had books, notes or laptops with them, mugs filled with strong black coffee resting in front of them on the tables. The beauty of the exam period. Mostly everyone looked like walking zombies, except one, the guy Eliott was looking for in the crowd. It wasn’t too hard to spot his arabic friend, who was flashing his bright, toothy smile at him, waving like crazy. He was sitting at their usual table, two drinks placed in front of him. The tall boy tried to cut through the students as smoothly as possible, flopping down in the chair across his friend. Before even greeting him, he grabbed the mug that was belonging to him, taking a large gulp of his coffee. It was perfect, just a tiny bit of sugar without milk, pleasantly burning the back of his throat. 

“How are we on this fine monday morning, Mr. Demaury?” Sofiane asked and if Eliott wouldn’t be so fond of this dude, he would flip him off for being so annoying. 

“I’ll manage.” he groaned, rubbing his palm over his face a couple times, trying to get rid of the sleepiness. Thankfully the painkillers took care of his headache, so at least he had one less thing to worry about today. “Imane visited me this morning.” he explained and if he would be in a better mood, he would laugh at how his friend perked up by the mention of his crush. 

“Really?” he asked excitedly. 

“Yep.” he nodded and took another sip from his coffee, already feeling the pleasing effect of pure caffeine rushing through his veins. “She asked me to tutor one of her friends.” he sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I swear if I wouldn’t need that damn money...” 

“Oh, which one?” Sofiane asked curiously and Eliott almost forgot that since he works part time in the dance studio where Imane and her friend, Alexia goes, he basically knows every single friend of the girl. 

“I don’t know his name, but she said he’s her biology partner.” he explained remembering only tiny chunks of the early talk with the girl. 

“Oh, that’s Lucas.” he said happily. “He’s a bit grumpy, but very nice guy. Idriss likes him a lot too.” he explained to which he shot his friend a confused look. 

“Okay, now everyone knows this kid, but not me?” he asked raising his eyebrows. 

“It’s not our fault that you and Adrian never come to the parties Imane’s friends are hosting, saying that you are done with high school parties for a lifetime.” he reminded him kindly, sipping into his chocolate macchiato. 

“Fine, okay. So you say this one isn’t problematic? Because after the Manon-Charles incident I had enough of jealous boyfriends.” he explained which made his friend let out a soft laugh.

“No, I mean his friends are kind of dumbasses, but they are funny.” 

“Cool.” 

~°~

It was late in the afternoon when Eliott got a message from Imane that included a name (Lucas Lallemant), an address, a date (Wednesday, 16:30) and his payment. His eyes got wide as he saw the numbers, texting back to the girl if she typed it wrong, but when she confirmed that it was in fact the actual total, he needed to sit down for a moment. This was the first time he was tutoring anyone for money, since for Manon he did it because he was owing to Imane for saving his ass from a really annoying and clingy girl at a party. This kid’s parents must be really rich if they are willng to pay 30€ per hour for a simple university student to knock some sense into their son. He promised himself that he will invite Imane for a coffee next week to thank her this opportunity. 

~°~

Eliott looked at the huge house that was towering over the street, checking the address in Imane’s message multiple times, but he was in the right place. He let out a deep breath, walking up on the stairs to the gigantic door, pressing the doorbell once, waiting patiently for a maid or a butler to open it. To his big surprise it wasn’t any of those, but a tall, slim kid. He had short, black curly hair, thick lips, his skin having the tone of melted chocolate. He was wearing a wite sweater with a blue and red stripe on his chest and dark jeans. 

“Hey, I’m Eliott.” he introduced himself, but the boy didn’t gave him the chance to continue it. 

“Oh, nice! Come in! Come in!” he said, opening the door wide enough for the tall boy to walk into the building. It looked exactly like he imagined it. A long hallway ending in stairs leading to the first floor, to the right a space in the wall was leading to probably a huge living room and on the left he could see bits of a well equipped kitchen. 

“Your house looks amazing.” he said to the boy that closed the door, walking around to face him, laughing a little. 

“Oh, this isn’t my house. I’m Yann.” he said, holding out his hand which Eliott grabbed, shaking it for a few seconds before letting it go. “I’m Lucas’ best friend.” he explained, placing his large hand on Eliott’s back leading him into the living room, which was large, just like the boy thought before. There was two other teenagers here, sitting on a big, black couch, playing some video game on the giant tv that was built into the wall. They didn’t even look up when the two boys entered the room, too busy to scream at each other, pressing buttons on their controllers like crazy. 

One of them had blonde hair that was curling up on the ends, wearing glasses that were slowly sliding down on his nose as he was nodding his head to the sides while playing. The other looked like a large bee in his black and yellow striped shirt, having curly, brown hair and a frog-like face. Eliott really hoped that he isn’t the one he has to study, because he was the one yelling obscene stuff at the screen. 

“Guys!” Yann screamed from beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. The two paused the game, turning their heads towards them with confusion. 

“Hey, dude!” the blonde one managed to collect his remaining braincells to greet the newcomer with a soft smile, while the other one looked like he had lost all of those a long, long time ago. 

“This is Eliott.” Yann introduced him with a bright smile, which earned him a good spot in the older boy’s heart. He seemed like a genuinely nice person. 

“Oh, nice to meet you.” the blonde spoke again, putting down his controller to get up and shake Eliott’s hand.

“Are you Lucas?” he asked, feeling intrigued to get to know his student.

“Oh, no.” the blonde boy chuckled. “I’m Arthur.” he introduced himself and the brunette could feel his stomach sinking to the thought that the annoying kid will be the one he has to deal with.

“So that means...” he started, but a sweet voice interrupted him, coming from behind his back. He spinned around on his heels, almost falling over in the process when he saw the boy. Eliott had seen a lot of things in his life and hooked up with really beutiful people, but none of them could compare to this guy. He was short, wearing grey sweatpants and a grey hoodie with Romance written on it, just casual clothes and still, he managed to look like someone from the pages of a magazine. His eyes were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen, blue like the deepest parts of the ocean. Eliott wanted to jump into those pools, swimming through them like there’s no tomorrow. 

“I am Lucas.” the boy said, probably repeating himself after not getting an answer from the older boy. Eliott mentally slapped himself on the face for becoming a puddle of emotions just from seeing a beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful, handsome... here comes another mental slap. 

“Hey, I’m Eliott.” he said now, reaching out his hands and he felt tiny sparkles running through his nerves as the short boy grabbed it, looking into his eyes with a soft smile resting on that beautiful face.

“I think this is our cue to leave boys!” Yann shouted and walked to the couch to collect their bee friend, who was whining that he wanted to finish the game. The two grabbed his arms, making sure that he’s coming with them and they said a quick goodbye before storming out through the front door. Lucas let out a deep sigh, scratching the back of his head. Eliott just noticed how fluffy and messy his hair looked like, being too preoccupied with those blue eyes before. 

“Sorry for that, they can be a bit too much.” he apologized with a shy smile. 

“Don’t worry, I live in a university dorm, I’ve seen more extreme people.” he said softly. “So, where should we start?” he asked, looking around in the living room. The boy in front of him was confused just for a second, before he realized that Eliott was here to tutor him. 

“Oh yeah. Literature.” he groaned, face turning into an unpleasant grimace, which made the tall one laugh. 

“It’s not that bad.” he said, still giggling a little. 

“No, it’s not bad, it’s horrible.” the boy mumbled ran his fingers through his hair, making even a bigger mess out of it than it was before. “Make yourself at home, I’ll get my books and notes.” he said, walking towards the stairs and Eliott let himself just a tiny glance at his butt before walking to the couch and sitting down. He was prepared, made some question cards and highlighted notes for every possible books they could talk about. 

~°~

Hours later they were sitting on the couch, leaning over an open book, analyzing every paragraph together, writing down notes. They were almost done with a chapter when Lucas decided to throw his temper tantrum. He got up from the couch, grabbing his hair and growling like a... well, like an angry hedgehog actually. Eliott had to laugh at him, because it was hilarious. 

“Stop laughing, this isn’t funny!” he was basically screaming at him, pulling on his hair. “My head is going to explode and I don’t understand shit.” he continued to complain, starting to walk around in the living room, grumbling under his nose. 

“That’s not true, you were making progress.” he said softly, but still enjoying the sight of the completely freaked out boy pacing around. 

“You are just being kind.” he mumbled, stopping by the sofa and sitting down on the armrest. “I am fucking stupid.” 

“Hey, if you were really that stupid I wouldn’t be here to teach you.” Eliott said honestly, he wasn’t that patient to just stick around if someone was actually helpless. 

“Shut up.” that was all he mumbled, but the tall boy could see the ghost of a smile appearing on his handsome face. He noted that as a victory and continued to read the book out loud, adding his own thoughts about the symbolism and multiple meanings of the words written down. Lucas was listening closely, playing with a yellow highlighter between his fingers. 

~°~

from Sofiane There will be a party on friday, you wanna come? 

to Sofiane I haven’t heard of a uni party

from Sofiane It’s not a uni party, Imane’s friend Emma is throwing one at her place

to Sofiane I’ll pass it

from Sofiane Lucas will be there

to Sofiane Nevermind, I’m coming 

from Sofiane I’ll let the girls know then ;)

to Sofiane I hate you

They were sitting in the living room yet again, this was the fourth time Eliott came here to teach literature and with each day he was more and more gone for the blue eyed boy. He loved to watch him focus on the notes while reading them, frowning at the papers in frustration, licking his lips every 30 seconds unconsciously, driving the older boy insane with it. He was fond of that unruly hair that kept looking like a tornado went through it multiple times, since the boy didn’t seemed to be able to keep his hands away from it, messing it up at least five times in an hour. Not like Eliott was counting it, he totally didn’t. He just guessed. 

“You know... the girls told me you’re coming to the party on friday.” Lucas mumbled after long minutes of silence. Eliott raised his head, glancing at the boy sitting next to him, but he was keeping his eyes on the note he was holding in his hand. 

“Yeah, why?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing, I am just surprised.” he answered, shrugging a little. “I just never saw you on any of the parties before, while Sofiane and Idriss were always coming.” he explained, letting himself to look at his tutor. If Eliott wouldn’t know him better, he would have thought that he’s nervous. 

“Yeah, well I have my reasons to go this time.” he explained, flashing a mysterious smile at the younger one, who just furrowed his brows at him and turned his head back to the paper between his fingers.

“I see.” he mumbled under his nose. 

~°~

The party looked neat, already going hard, which was logical, since Eliott arrived way too late. He would have come sooner, but he had to finish an essay that was due next morning. He hated that some professors had no respect for saturdays, they were university students, they needed to relax on friday nights, not writing a 12 page long essay about the impacts of the renaissance period on painting. 

He walked inside, smell of sweat, alcohol and smoke hitting him right in the face alongside with the thumping rythm of the loud music. Most of the people were already drunk, dancing like crazy in the living room that functioned as dancefloor, or making out at any part of the house. These horny teenagers had no self-control for sure. He pushed himself through a group of giggly girls that were yelling obscene stuff after him, complimenting on his “fine ass”. Eliott just rolled his eyes and made his way towards the kitchen, hoping to get himself some beer and get a bit tipsy to get into party mood.

Thankfully the kitchen seemed to be some kind of safe place, because there were only a handful of people there, sipping on their drinks and talking. He felt relieved that he could finally take a breath, but then that was immediately punched out of his lungs as he spotted a kissing couple next to the sink. Not like it was such a shocking thing to see, especially not on a party, but what was making this the worst thing he’s ever seen was that one of the pair was not else, but Lucas. He was kissing a brown haired girl, she seemed pretty, slim body, pretty clotes, small and soft hands that were gripping into the blue button up shirt the short boy was wearing. Eliott felt like throwing up, he needed to get out of there, as quick as possible. He wasn’t that lucky, because just when he decided to leave, Yann spotted him, yelling his name. 

“Eliott, hey!” he greeted him with a bright grin and the tall boy tried to force a smile on his face. from the corner of his eyes he could see the pair breaking apart, both of their lips swollen from the kissing. He felt like someone stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife when Lucas deep blue eyes looked at him, filled with a mix of emotions. Shock, guilt, confusion, maybe? He couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he had to leave.

“Come here, buddy!” it was Arthur this time who was speaking, holding a joint between his fingers, holding it out, offering it to the older boy. Eliott shook his head and coughed, forcing himself to not let his emotions showing. 

“I am actually going now...” he explained, trying to cut his sentences short, so his voice can have no chance to break. 

“What? No! You are the coolest person around.” Basile whined, they only met two times, but he was always hanging on every word of Eliott. He would usually find it kind of endearing, but not right now. 

“Eliott, can we.... talk?” a quiet voice came from behind him and he didn’t wanted to turn around, seeing Lucas and the girl wrapped around him, but he had to keep up the facade. He was a bit surprised when he saw the defeated look on the young one’s face, The girl, whatever was her name was hanging on him, trying to kiss his neck, but he gently pushed her away. 

“What the fuck, Lucas?” she almost screamed at him, acting like the boy just cancelled their wedding.  

Eliott knew that if he starts talking to him now, he would just spill out what’s in his heart, tell Lucas how much he likes him and that he wants to date him so badly, but he couldn’t. Lucas was most likely straight, therefore he had no chances, so instead of answering, he spinned around on his heals and stormed out of the house, basically running to the bus stop. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing was fast paced, almost like he was having a panic attack, but he didn’t stop until he reached the shelter, leaning his back to the plastic wall. He grabbed his shirt at his chest, trying to calm himself down somehow. He hated how much this one teenage boy was affecting him. 

~°~

The next time they had a meeting, both of them were quiet, only talking if it was about literature. The tension was almost suffocating Eliott, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask anything from the boy. He couldn’t just tell him that he had feelings for him, that every time he went to bed he was the last thing on his mind and then when he woke up he was also the first thing that came into his mind. So he just suffered in silence, pushing his feelings deep down into a dark pit. 

Their studying hours went like that for a whole month, until one day Lucas suddenly offered to make dinner for the both of them, since his parents won’t be coming home till next day. Eliott was struggling deep inside, but he couldn’t say no those those giant puppy eyes. So they ended up in the kitchen, trying to make some sort of pasta, but it looked like neither Lucas or Eliott was a master of cooking. They ended up making sandwiches, throwing cheese slices at each other and laughing happily. At some point the short boy decided that they can’t sit around in silence so he started to play some music on their bluetooth speaker that was placed in the living room. 

“The Clash? Really?” Eliott looked at him, raising an eyebrow to which he got an angry look from the younger one. 

“You don’t like it?” he asked, puffing up his cheeks which made him look like a cute little squirrel. 

“I have a much better taste in music.” he said proudly, pressing out his chest to which Lucas just rolled his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? I don’t think so.” he said, crossing his arms. Eliott took that as a challenge, pulling his phone out of his pocket, pairing it with the speaker and he started to play his favorite piece from Skrillex. He closed his eyes, moving his body to the rythm and when the beat drop came in he started jumping up and down, swinging his arms around. When the song was over, he stopped, wheezing a little from the dancing and looked at the boy next to him. There was shock on his face first, but then he cracked into waves of laughter, sometimes ever snorring like a pig. Eliott couldn’t help it, but laughed with him. They were both a giggly mess when the night came and the older boy accepted to sleep on the couch. It was friday anyways, so he had no classes to attend to the next day, neither had Lucas. They decided to continue studying tomorrow, since the younger one’s exams were dangerously close now, he had to be well prepared for them. 

~°~

The room was hot and Eliott needed all his self-consciousness to not stare at the boy sitting across him, flapping his t-shirt up and down, trying to cool himself down, while also revealing a large piece of his stomach. They were in the living room, the tall one taking his place on the couch, while Lucas was on the ground, he preferred to sit there. Between them a small coffee table covered with books and notes, highlighters and pens. Eliott had to take a sip of the unpleasantly warm lemonade that was placed on the table for him, just so he won’t be drooling at the sight in front of him. 

“I can’t take this anymore.” she short boy was whining, stretching out his legs under the table, his naked toes brushing over Eliott’s feet, sending a weirdly giddy feeling through his body. He pulled up his legs now, crossing them in a lotus pose way to avoid any kind of physical contact with the boy. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked raising his eyebrows and he almost let out a relieved sigh when Lucas stopped flapping his shirt, making him feel a tiny bit more comfortable. 

“The heat, of course.” he said like it was completely obvious, and he wasn’t wrong. Eliott was just too preoccupied with his naughty thoughts. 

“Not like we can do much about it.” he shrugged and laid his head back to rest it on the cushion. 

“We could go out and eat ice cream.” he suggested and damn if Eliott wouldn’t have practiced saying no to this kid so many times, he would have agree to it right away. But he couldn’t do that. 

“No, your exams are on our neck, we have to study.” he said seriously, looking into those ocean blue eyes which were now filled with sadness. He knew that it was just fake to make him feel guilty and reconsider his answer, but it still affected him in ways it shouldn’t have. This boy might be a bit stupid, but he knew how to use his own charm to get what he wants. 

“Fuck exams.” he groaned. “And fuck literature especially. I am melting in my own skin.” he kept whining and laid back on the ground, stretching out his body and Eliott wanted to curse under his breath as the soft stomach was reavealed yet once again. He looked at the ceiling, trying to distract himself by counting the small cracks on the paint, but his betraying eyes were keep wandering back to the young boy. 

“You know that I’m being paid to kick your ass through that exam, right?” he asked, tilting his head to the side a bit. Lucas slowly pushed himself up, balancing his weight on his arms behind him, glancing at the older boy with a playful grin on his face. Eliott could think of multiple ways to wipe that off, making him blush and moan instead. 

“Oh come on, I got good points on my last two tests, I think I can get through the exam now.” he whined, pouting those beautiful cherry lips, his eyes going wide, almost like he was trying to imitate Puss in boots. Eliott sighed, rubbing his palms over his face knowing that he got defeated. It was too hot and he was too tired to keep resisting his own feelings. 

“Okay, fine.” he agreed and the squeaky noise Lucas let out made his heart skip a beat. The boy jumped up from the floor within seconds and before Eliott could react, he got a warm body pressed against his, thin arms wrapped around him. He needed to take a sharp breath, which ended up being a bad idea considering that all he could smell was Lucas. His soft hair was tickling his neck and his face. This only laster for like 10 or 15 seconds, but it felt ike hours, days even for Eliott, he wanted it to never be over, to stay there in the boy’s arms, inhaling his soft, soothing smell and feeling his hair on his face. When he pulled back, he flashed that toothy, sunshine smile he loved so much. It made him look like a happy child, but also made him look even more beautiful than usually, which should have been impossible, but since he got to know this kid, his view on life changed drastically. 

“Let’s go get ice cream then.” he chimed excitedly, grabbing Eliott’s hand and pulling him up from the couch. He groaned just a little to make it seem like he’s annoyed with the boy, but he was actually completely endeared. He would give everything to see him smile like this always. 

“Are we just going to leave your stuff there on the table?” he asked when they were almost at the front door, Lucas already putting on his shoes.

“Yeah, we can put then away when we get back.” he said smirking and now waited for the older boy to get ready. Eliott let himself flash a soft smile at him before slipping into his shoes, making sure he has his phone and his wallet in his pockets. When they were outside, Lucas closed the door, pocketing his keys and they started to walk down the streets. 

They were quiet through most of the way, Lucas humming some kind of melody Eliott couldn’t identify. The city around them was busy, people rushing through the streets, cars passing by them, making a soft breeze in the hot air. It was almost 30°C and still May. Everyone was wearing as less clothing as they just could, some girls almost flashing out their asses and boobs even. Normally the tall boy would have enjoyed those views, checking them out shamelessly, sending them a wink even, but right now all his attention was on the boy walking next to him. Examining every little detail on him, the moles scattered around on the soft skin, the sharp line of his jaw, his long eyelashes that were casting shadows on his cheeks which were slightly pink from the heat. He both loved and hated to see how many times the boy could lick his lips just out of habbit. Suddenly he felt like a deer caught in headlights when Lucas turned his head towards him, smiling softly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice as soft as a light summer breeze, sending shivers down Eliott’s spine. Even with all the people around them, all the noises filling the streets, he kind of felt like they were all alone on the world. Just him and this beautiful human being. 

“Yeah, more than okay.” he let out without even thinking, but he regret nothing as the boy’s smile got even wider and his hand grabbed Eliott’s, squeezing it softly. 

“Good then.” he said happily and kept walking, swinging their joined hands between them like kids used to. Eliott couldn’t suppress his giggle, enjoying the warmth of the other one’s palm on his. 

They were walking like this until they reached a small coffee shop. The younger boy pulled Eliott inside, excitedly and he felt like forgot to breathe for a moment when he saw the interior of the place. The walls and the decoration was all in pastell colors, the tables dull purple, lavenders hanging in the corners, filling the air with their soothing smell. The sunlight coming through the giants windows lit up the place perfectly, no need for using the lamps. At the register there was standing a kind looking girl, wearing a pastell green apron. 

Before he could say anything, Lucas pulled him towards the ice cream display next to the register, looking at all the different flavors. Eliott smiled fondly and shot an apologetic smile to the girl who now walked to them, ready to scoop out the ice cream into cones for them. As the tall boy looked around, there weren’t many people inside, most of them were students, sipping on coffee while typing away on their laptops. He could understand it, since it was a busy season for students, so most of them had no time on weekdays to come out and stay at a coffee shop. 

“Welcome, what can I get you?” the girl, Hanna judging by the nametag on her apron smiled at them softly. Lucas blue eyes shot up from the sweets towards her, flashing a happy grin. 

“Hello, I would like a chocolate, a mint and a coffee flavored one.” he said excitedly, his hands still not letting go of Eliott. The girl nodded, scooping the chosen flavors into a big enough cone, putting some sprinkles on it even, which made the short boy let out a happy squeak. He took his ice cream from Hanna, starting to eat it immediately. The girl now looked at Eliott.

“What can I get you?” she asked softly, leaning forward just a little. 

“I just want an iced coffee, thank you very much.” he explained, not being big fan of ice cream anyways. Lucas glanced at him, pouting his lips between two licks of his dessert. 

“You should be eating ice cream too.” 

“I am fine with coffee.” he said softly and not even trying to resist the urge, he raised his hand, swiping his thumb over the boys lips softly. “You had some cream there.” he smirked, enjoying the deep red blush that was creeping up on those soft cheeks. Lucas stayed quiet now, letting go of the tall one’s hand and walking to a table not too far from the giant windows. 

Eliott stepped to the register where the girl handed him his coffee and as he took the glass he could feel her hands brushing over the back of his palms. He got shivers, but it wasn’t a good feeling. He pulled away, looking for his wallet to pay for their stuff. 

“Your brother is adorable.” she said as she was pressing the buttons of the cash register. Eliott raised his eyebrows, glancing at Lucas over his shoulder who was pretty much occupied with his ice cream.

“He is not my brother.” he stated, hoping that the girl will take the hint and stop trying to flirt. 

“Well, your total is 6,50€.” she said now, voice cracking just a little, realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Eliott handed her a 10 Euro bill and waved her off when she was looking for change in the register. He smiled softly before walking to the younger boy with the coffee in his hand. When he sat down, Lucas’ ice cream was almost gone, his face and even his nose stained with the sweet liquid. It was both disgusting and endearing.

“Should I get you a napkin?” he asked mockingly, sipping on his coffee after he sat down. Lucas shot him one of his disapproving looks, but it wasn’t much effective since half of his face was still buried in ice cream. 

“Fuck you.” he mumbled, biting off a big chunk of the cone, chewing on it. Eliott laughed at his childish behavior. 

“You know, the girl at the register thought you are my brother.” he said smirking after some minutes of silence and he had to suppress his laugh when the short boy chocked on his ice cream, coughing like crazy. 

“What?” he asked between two coughs, wiping off tears from his cheeks that spilled out as he was suffering. 

“You heard me.” he shrugged like he didn’t care, but he was actually watching every small reaction.

“That’s scandalous!” he said, with his messy hair and sparkly eyes he looked like an anime character. “I’m only two years younger!” 

“Are you aware of that you’re the same age as Imane and I’m the same age as Imane’s older brother, right?” he asked smirking.

“Yeah, but that’s different...” he mumbled, puffing up his cheeks after finishing off his ice cream. 

“Why is that?” he couldn’t get rid of the amused smile on his face, Lucas was just too adorable. 

“Because they don’t like like each other.” he mumbled and looked away, out of the window. Eliott suddenly felt like the air was punched out of his lungs, staring at the boy in front of him shocked. Through all these long weeks he thought he was hiding his feelings perfectly, keeping himself away from the boy as much as he just could, because he was sure Lucas was liking someone else. But here they were, in a nice little coffee, the boy not even looking at him after he just admitted that he likes Eliott. He like likes him. 

“Can you say...” 

“Oh no!” Lucas interrupted him, hopping up from his seat and walking to the window, basically pressing his face against the glass. Eliott was confused and shook for a moment, then he noticed what catched the attention of the short boy. It was raining like crazy outside, people running on the streets, trying to find shelter or wave off a taxi, cars splashing into puddles, wetting the innocent people on the sidewalks even more. He finished his coffee and walked to the boy, gently placing his hands on his shoulder, feeling his body shivering slightly from his touch. He leant forward, his mouth dangerously close to Lucas’ pink little ears. 

“Let’s go.” he whispered softly to which the boy snapped his head to the side and if Eliott didn’t have the reflexes, he would knock into his forehead for sure. He enjoyed the shocked look on his face though, and the feeling of finally be able to express these feelings instead of burying them. 

“Right now?” he asked confused, switching his glance from the tall boy back to the window. 

“Yeah, right now.” he smirked and pulled back, holding out his hand for the boy to take. “Or are you afraid a little rain?” he asked playfully, to which Lucas rolled his eyes, placing his hand into Eliott’s.

The older boy smirked happily, pulling him towards the door, rushing out into the pouring rain with him. They were running like crazy, screaming and laughing at the same time. Thankfully everyone around them was too busy trying to get away from the rain, so they could be happy idiots just running to basically nowhere. When they got tired finally, they found shelter at a bus stop. Both of them were wheezing heavily, leaning on their knees for support, soft laughter leaving their throats still. 

“You are crazy.” Lucas wheezed, trying to normalize his breathing. “I’m soaking wet.” he complained looking at himself. He looked beautiful with his wet hair sticking to his forehead, water dripping down from his face and his blue eyes sparkling from joy. 

“Maybe, but you are smiling.” he said smirking to which the short boy said nothing, still too busy with trying to catch his breath, “You look beautiful today.” it slipped out without even thinking of it and to be honest, he didn’t regret it at all. The shocked face Lucas made and the slowly appearing redness on his cheeks was worth it completely. He took a step towards him, to which the other reacted with stepping back, tilting his head up slightly to look into the tall boy’s eyes. They wew doing this game until Lucas backed into the wall of the shelter they were standing in, Eliott caging him by placing his hands on the wall by his sides.

“Eliott...” the name left his mouth like a soft whisper, almost getting lost in the noise that the pouring rain caused. 

“You can’t run away now.” he mumbled softly, leaning forward until their noses touched. “Can I?” it came out as a whisper, but he hoped that the boy could still hear him. 

“Yes, please.” 

Eliott needed nothing more, he took the last move, crashing their lips together, hands grabbing into wet clothes. He could feel the boy shivering in his arms, his fingers gripping onto Eliott’s shirt, pulling him as close as possible. Their bodies were basically becoming one as they kept tasting one another. The tall boy ran his tongue over Lucas’ bottom lip, asking for entrance and he didn’t had to wait long, the soft lips were parting, letting him deepend the kiss more.  He pressed the short boy to the wall even more, placing his knee between his legs both to help him standing and to rub his thigh on his crotch. The little moans that escaped the other’s throat between two kisses were making him go wild, wanting even more. He was waiting for this moment since he first saw him in that living room wearing a blue sweatpants that had tiny chilli peppers on it.  As he broke their kiss for a moment to let themselves catch a breath, he opened his eyes to examine the face of the boy. And fuck if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he had seen. Lucas was glancing at him from under his long eyelashes, his eyes darkened from desire and that blissed out expression he had plastered to his face made his heart flutter in his chest. He couldn’t and honestly didn’t even tried to stop the wide smile spreading on his face when the boy opened his eyes more, looking at him and softly shaking his head, saying that he doesn’t want him to stop. So Eliott continued, pressing their lips together, They kept exchanging sloppy, toothy kisses, giggling into each others mouth for long minutes. 

This was probably the most chaotic kiss he ever had with anyone, but it still made him extremely happy. He enjoyed every moment he could spend with exploring the younger one’s mouth, inviting his tongue into a wild dance, their noses rubbing on each other’s cheeks. And when they finally pulled back again, letting out a breathy laugh, Eliott pulled the boy into his arms, who now happily wrapped his arms around the tall one’s body.

~°~

They were in Lucas’ bedroom, laying on the bed, legs entagled, kissing each other with slow passion. Lucas was grabbing into the tall boy, pulling him closer and closer while also trying to mimic his movements. Eliott wanted to show him how much he was enjoying this situation, placing his hand on his cheek, caressing it while they kept kissing, then sliding it under the neck of Lucas’ shirt, touching the warm skin. It was soft, just as he imagined through those hellish weeks when he thought that he will never be able to do anything like this with the boy. 

As the older one pulled back from the kiss, rubbing their noses together, Lucas opened his eyes slowly. He looked so beautiful in the dim light of the street lights coming through the windows. It was late and his parents could come home at anytime, but neither of them could care less about it. This moment was so soft, gentle and pure, it would be a waste to break it. 

“Am I your first?” Eliott decided to whisper into the space between their lips. Lucas’ gaze traveled up from his mouth now, locking their eyes. 

“First what?” he muttered, gently running his fingers up and down on the tall boy’s sides. 

“Your first boy.” he explained with a soft smile, caressing his cheeks gently. The other didn’t answer, just pursed his lips together, looking at him with an unsure expression. Eliott’s smile grew wider. “I take that as a yes.” 

“What about you?” he asked, surprising the older one with his bravery. He decided to follow the short boy’s example of not answering, just looked into his eyes with a playful smile and wiggles his eyebrows. Lucas looked beautiful as he bursted out in a soft, breathy laugh. “Okay, I see.” 

“I think I have to tell your parents that I can’t be your tutor anymore.” he whispered, slightly moving his head up and down to brush his nose on Lucas’. The boy looked at him confused, grabbing onto his shirt tighter. 

“Why are you saying that?” he asked, his voice filled with sadness and confusion, which made Eliott’s heart beat faster. His lips curled up into a happy smile, planting a little peck on the boy’s swollen lips. 

“I can’t ask money to teach literature to my boyfriend.” he explained. After that everything happened so fast, he suddenly found himself pinned to the bed, a searching mouth pressing against his while nimble fingers crawled under his shirt. He let out a soft moan as he felt the warm touch on his bare skin. His arms moving on their own wrapped around Lucas’ neck, letting him take over the control. And he wasn’t playing around, still kissing Eliott wildly, forcing his mouth to open so he could slide his tongue inside, exploring it even more, lit it was the first time they are doing this. Soon enough the tall boy’s shirt landed on the floor alongside with Lucas’ and they kept kissing, touching and exploring each other almost naked. 

Their happy bubble got bursted when they heard the front door opening and Lucas’ parents calling for their son. The young boy pushed himself up from Eliott, letting out an unpleasant groan that made the older one chuckle. 

“We should dress up.” he said softly to which Lucas just rolled his eyes. 

“They have the worst timing.” he groaned, slowly, really slowly getting up from the bed, looking for some clean clothes to put on. Eliott did the same, trying to fix his hair a little so it wouldn’t be too obvious that they were making out for hours now. Seemed like Lucas thought about the same as he ran his fingers through his disheveled locks, trying to push it back down a little. The tall boy stepped behind him, placing his hands on his waist and pressing a kiss on the back of his neck. 

“You are so beautiful.” he whispered into his skin, feeling the small body shivering under his hands.

“And you are such a sap.” he sighed, but didn’t pull away from the tall boy. 

“Let’s go down before your parents getting suspicious.” he chuckled and let go of the boy, keep standing behind him. Lucas glanced back at him over his shoulder, having a smug smirk on his face as he grabbed Eliott’s hand. 

“You are right, I gotta introduce them to my boyfriend.” he said proudly and both of them laughed as they walked down the stairs. 

SURPRISE *finger guns* I hope you guys liked this little Elu oneshot from me, I had to get it out before continuing P.S. I miss you, but I promise, I’ll be writing the next chapter soon. It was just nice to write something else for a short time. Make sure to leave feedbacks on it, I would love to read your comments about this little story. Bisous

[missmentelle]

i want to write a character who just left a toxic relationship, but the character depends on the toxic partner, because they are having trouble finding a job. when character leaves the toxic relationship, they are left with basically nothing and are kicked out of the only home they had. however i have never experienced something like this(fortunately) and im not sure what would and could happen. could you help me? (fyi later on the character does actually get help, in the end everything is ok)

Unfortunately, I do have a lot of experience with this kind of situation. I have never personally had to go through something like this, but in working with the homeless and in intimate partner violence crisis centers, I have met many, many people who’ve been in this exact situation. These stories are very individual and complex, but typically, if you have left a toxic relationship and lost your home because of it, there are a couple of places you end up from there:

If you have family and friends nearby, that’s probably the first place you’re going to land. You might end up sleeping on a couch, in a guestroom, or back in your old childhood bedroom after leaving an abusive relationship. That’s not an easy or comfortable situation to be in, however - it can be very, very difficult to admit to your loved ones that you’re in this situation and need their help, even if they have never been anything but loving and supportive towards you. Most people have some degree of pride in being able to take care of themselves, and having to admit to your friend that you were abused for years and you need to crash on their couch can be absolutely humiliating. Abusers also tend to isolate their victims and actively try to sabotage their social connections, so turning to friends and family after escaping often involves that you break months or years of silence to reach out to someone that you are no longer certain you can count on, and then immediately confessing some of your darkest secrets and asking for help. If your abuser has moved you far away from family and friends, and cut you off financially (another common tactic), you’ll also probably need to ask someone to send you some money for a bus/train/plane ticket home. The shame of having to reach out to family and friends can be so overpowering that many survivors will allow themselves to become homeless rather than reaching out - the greater the perceived obstacles in place (distance from family, closeness of relationship, time since last contact, whether or not the family already suspect abuse, how much of a burden they think they will be on their family), in my experience, the less likely they are to actually reach out. 

If you don’t have friends or family to turn to (or if you are not emotionally able to reach out, or if your friends/family are not in a position to help you), you can also end up in a domestic violence shelter. These vary wildly from shelter to shelter, but typically you will go in, speak to an intake worker, and be assigned to a shared room with several other women (these shelters are almost exclusively female-only, or female-and-child-only). The shelter will also typically provide the bare-bones basics that you need if you had to flee with nothing - they’ll give you basic toiletries, clean underwear, socks, etc. Your time at a domestic violence shelter is typically limited; they are somewhere to land while you get back on your feet, but they are not intended to be a long-term solution. Many shelters here in NYC do not have maximum stay limits, simply because this is such a difficult place to get housing, but I have worked with shelters in other cities that had 60-120 day limits, with some ability to get an extension if you needed in. In that time, though, you’ll generally be working with counsellors at the shelter to try to get your life together - they’ll try to help you with your resume, look into going back to school if you need to, help you look for work, help you look for employment, assist you with any court case you may be dealing with, etc. Again, though, this can take an enormous emotional toll. You’ve just been through a horrific experience, and instead of taking time to recover, you are now being rushed into achieving a level of independence that you might never have experienced before, with the knowledge that there is a ticking clock over your head and you don’t know what will happen when it runs out. You’re also trying to deal with the loss of privacy that comes from sharing your living space, and from having to tell your story to shelter staff before you’re totally ready to do so. Domestic violence shelters do amazing work, but being there is not easy. 

Many domestic violence survivors end up homeless. Many people who leave abusive relationships do not immediately have the life, job or emotional skills necessary to immediately transition to independent living. Abusers like to make their victims dependent on them, to discourage them from leaving - many people living in abusive relationships are prevented from completing their educations, furthering their careers, managing money, properly treating mental health or medical conditions, or fostering a strong social support network. As a result, many people struggle immensely after leaving a relationship, and may experience short-term or long-term homelessness as a result. This kind of thing doesn’t discriminate - in my career, I’ve met women with multiple graduate degrees who ended up in long-term homeless shelters after leaving abusive relationships. It’s hard. There is a strong, documented link between domestic violence and homelessness, and we don’t yet have the kinds of resources we need to break this connection. 

You’re almost definitely going to end up in an ugly legal battle. In many jurisdictions, it’s not really legal to kick your spouse out of the house and make them homeless and destitute - but the battle to get alimony or marital assets from your ex-spouse can be long and ugly. Abusers typically lash out when their victim escapes them, and one of the ways that they can try to do that is by attempting to make the divorce as messy, vicious and drawn-out as they possibly can. A woman who has left an abuser she is legally married to will face a long battle to divorce her spouse and get any kind of financial recourse. Abusers can generally afford much nicer lawyers than their victims can, and can afford to let the case drag on and rack up legal fees. There are pro-bono or low-cost legal resources out there for survivors, but the court case can take an enormous emotional toll all the same. 

Returning to the job market is incredibly difficult for most survivors. Again, abusers like their victims to be dependent on them - they will go out of their way to discourage you from fostering your independence. That often means that they will discourage or prevent you from finishing school, having a serious career, hanging on to your own money, or developing professional contacts. That can take many forms - they might move you away from a city where you have a career, tell you that you can’t afford school, ensure that you are constantly pregnant/parenting, constantly accuse you of cheating with coworkers, whine about you “neglecting” them until you agree to quit your job, etc. And all of this can be very hard to overcome. Having a large gap in your work history because your partner made you stay home for several years can make it hard to find work, and disclosing that this gap is due to domestic violence can hurt your chances of landing the job. Plus, many survivors come out of these relationships with their confidence absolutely shattered, which makes it difficult to think that you’re even worthy of applying on jobs that you are qualified for. 

Domestic violence (and life after domestic violence) is definitely a topic that could stand to get more coverage in fiction and the arts. When you are basing a story around domestic violence, though, I think there are three things that you really need to keep in mind:

What is my purpose in telling this story? What message am I trying to convey? Writing about domestic violence should not be done simply because it’s a shocking topic, or because it’s an instant tear-jerker - there should be some purpose for basing a story around it. What are you trying to say about the topic? What are readers supposed to take away from the story?

Talk to real survivors about their experiences, or at least do some research by looking at narratives from people who have personally experienced this. There is no end to the memoirs/stories/films/shows written about this topic by people who have actually been there. See what they have to say about it. What do different people’s stories have in common? What things set them apart? Ideally, you should try to have someone with personal experience read over your story when it’s finished, to see if anything comes across as hollow or unrealistic. And if you are basing your research heavily on a survivor creator’s work, try to buy their book/kick in a few dollars to their ko-fi or Patreon if you can. 

Consider what a “happy ending” looks like in this situation. The hard reality of the situation is that very few people get to have that victorious ending where they become more powerful and successful than their ex and get to destroy their abuser and laugh in their face. For many people, a “happy ending” is a quiet, humble life where they are no longer actively haunted by the abuse, and where they are at peace with the fact that their abuser faced no real consequences for their actions - and even this happy ending can take years to achieve. Having someone bounce back from this kind of situation quickly in a story can come across as flippant, and as glossing over the hard realities of the situation. 

Best of luck to you!Miss Mentelle