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lokidjarin-7567 · 11 months ago

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Florida!!!

Aaron Hotchner x Reader After a tough case in Tallahassee, a storm blows in and the jet is grounded, so you find comfort in the arms of someone unexpected. fem!reader, 18+ MDNI 4.2k words TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

It had been a horrible case. Children had been going missing across Tallahassee for a few weeks, but the incompetent police department had only just called you in. You found the unsub after a few long days and even longer nights. He was a police officer, someone that kids were taught to trust. At least that explained the shocking lack of investigation so far. Thankfully, the children he had taken - all 9 of them - were alive, but you couldn’t say too much more than that. The state they were in when you found them… it wasn’t something you were going to forget any time soon.

And now, a storm was coming in and the jet couldn’t take off until tomorrow at the earliest.

The motel you were all staying in wasn’t the worst by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t exactly great. The rooms were small and dingy, the smell of sweat and cigarettes clinging to the soft furnishings, and questionable stains bloomed across most of the carpet. You weren’t complaining too much, though. There was a dive bar next door, and the bed was clean. That was all you cared about.

It hadn’t taken you long to wind up at the bar. Most of the team were there already, seeming a hell of a lot happier than you. They had drinks and a handful of appetisers spread out on the table, laughing at a story Rossi was telling enthusiastically. You were about to turn and leave, to find somewhere else to wallow for the evening, but Emily spotted you, waving you over with a wide smile. Fuck. At least you knew how to fake it. You plastered on a grin and said your hellos while everyone congratulated you on finding the kids today. It made you feel sick. Maybe that’s why they saw this whole case as a win. They hadn’t fucking seen it.

You excused yourself to get a drink before you had even sat down, ordering two shots alongside the beer you would be drinking at the table, wanting to feel something quickly. You took them as soon as the bartender gave them to you, thanking him and paying what you owed.

“Bad day?” He mused, eyebrow raised as he put your cash into the register.

“You have no idea.” You muttered, and you noticed his eyes raking over your body. He was cute. A little older than you, but that was what you usually went for anyway. Maybe he was something else that you could drown your sorrows in later.

You smiled at him as you left, just in case, and headed back to the table. It was then that you noticed Hotchner wasn’t there. He was the other member of the team who had been with you when you found them, and he had been even more shaken up than you afterwards. It made sense; he had a kid. You were sure he was calling Haley now so he could talk to Jack like he usually did after any cases where children were involved. You just hoped he made his way over at some point. It would be nice to have someone else here who understood a little more.

And you did your best to hide it, but you did have a bit of a crush on him. It was wrong, and you would never act on it; he was your superior, your boss, and he was married. But he was so authoritative and intelligent and handsome that you couldn’t help but think about it sometimes. A lot, actually. Hopefully, by the end of the night you’d be drunk enough to imagine the bartender was him.

You finished your drink quickly, having completely ignored the conversations going around the table. It didn’t take long for Rossi to offer to get you another, a soft, concerned expression on his face. You thanked him with a wide smile, promising yourself to try harder as him and Morgan headed to the bar to get another round, and Emily and JJ headed to the bathroom. Spencer moved next to you in the booth when everyone had left, filling the space where Emily had been sitting and nudging you softly.

“Are you ok?” He asked. You opened your mouth to say that you were fine, but you knew you didn’t have the energy to lie well. He would just notice straight away.

“Just… um… finding the kids today…” he nodded as you ran your hand through your hair, as though trying to dispel the images that had accumulated again at the mere mention of it. “I know it was a good thing, that they were alive and they would recover physically, but it just really didn’t feel like a win.” He didn’t say anything, just squeezed your arm and pulled you in for a hug, which you gratefully accepted. He was your best friend on the team, and he always knew exactly what you needed. You were glad he was here.

Spence had only just released you when everyone came back, their energy still high. You chatted for a bit, forcing yourself to engage now that the conversation had shifted from this week’s case. It was nice, and you felt your mood start to pick up as the drinks kicked in, finishing your second and third beer before excusing yourself for a smoke. You knew it was a bad habit, but with a job as stressful as yours, it was hard to kick.

You had only just lit your cigarette when you saw Hotch heading across the carpark of the motel. It was hot outside, the Florida humidity lasting into the night, but he was still wearing his suit, but he had ditched the jacket, and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck. He looked about as grim as you felt. You smiled softly as he got close, the usual butterflies gathering in your stomach, expecting him to go past you and inside, but he stopped, leaning on the wall next to you. You offered him the pack, just in case, but he shook his head.

“Are you ok?” You asked gently. He sighed.

“Not really. You?”

“Not really.” You took a drag as he stood there, and you felt the need to fill the void with something. “Everyone else is inside celebrating.”

“I’m not sure I feel like there’s a lot to celebrate.”

“Me neither, but Rossi seems to be buying a lot of drinks, so I’m sticking around for that.” He almost laughed at that, a harsh expulsion of air that was as close as you’d ever come to seeing a break in his stony exterior.

“That is a good incentive.” You smiled at him, taking the opportunity to just look at him. He was so fucking attractive, the dark brown of his eyes, the strong nose and jaw that gave him a permanently serious expression, his lips…

“Did you talk to Jack and Haley?” You asked quickly, as though reminding yourself that he has a wife.

“No, Jack was asleep, and Haley and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now…” You had to stop yourself from asking anything too quickly.

“Oh?” You were impressed by how casual you managed to keep your voice.

“Yeah, we separated a few months ago.” Oh. “I haven’t exactly told the team yet, I…” he sighed heavily, running his hands over his face in frustration, “I’m not really sure why I’m telling you to be honest. I just…” He seemed to stop himself, sighing again, and looking at you in a way you couldn’t even begin to interpret. Regret maybe?

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t even worry about it.” You said trying to quell his doubts, and he just smiled softly, shaking his head.

“I know.” A third sigh. “I’ll see you inside, ok?” You couldn’t do much but nod, your heart still lurching from his revelation.

You got another beer as soon as you were back inside, ordering another shot as well to calm your frazzled nerves. You knew you were reading too much into it, that he had just had a bad day and let something slip, but it had made your stupid brain think you had a chance. You sat down again next to Spencer, who smiled at you, and you noticed Hotch’s whole demeanour had changed. He was smiling, and actively participating in the team’s chatter and you felt like you couldn’t stop staring at him. How did he do it so easily?

After about an hour or so some of the team started to head to their rooms, midnight looming, and it was at this point you noticed the glances from Hotch. That was a lie, you had noticed them earlier, and you had just chalked them up to your own imagination running away from you. But now, there was no denying it. He was a couple of drinks in, and his looks had started to linger, even when you weren’t the one talking. There was an element to them that made you squirm a little in your seat, especially the way he had stopped hiding the fact he was looking. His eyes were openly gazing at your lips, your chest, and when your eyes met his, he didn’t back down. He didn’t smirk, or smile, or anything other than maintain infuriating and intense eye contact until a blush forced itself across your cheeks. It was fucking intoxicating.

Emily excused herself. Then Morgan. Then JJ. Reid finished his story with a smile, finishing his drink too as you tried your best to comment as though you were listening. It seemed to work.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want another?” Hotch stood up, talking to both of you, but his eyes stayed firmly on yours.

“Just a diet coke please.” You had had enough for the night, your mind finally quiet enough to stop replaying the days events. “Reid?”

“No, actually I’m going to head to bed too.” Hotch just nodded, wishing him a good sleep and headed to the bar. Reid squeezed your arm softly as he stood up, his expression serious. “You going to be ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good, honey. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ok, you know where I am.” And with that, it was just you and Hotch.

He put the drinks down wordlessly, sitting opposite you with an unreadable expression on his face, one even a profiler like yourself couldn’t read.

“What?” You asked playfully, your brows furrowing as he took a sip of his scotch.

“Nothing, just the bartender.” You glanced towards the bar to see him standing there, looking at you with a soft smirk on his face. “He was asking after you.” Oh God.

“Was he?” You asked coyly, smiling at the thought. Hotch’s face was steel as his eyes continued to rake over your face and body. Was he… jealous?

“Interested?” He muttered coldly. You grinned.

“Maybe…” You watched as he clenched his teeth and repositioned himself in the seat, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table, never once breaking eye contact.

“Really? Him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” He laughed dryly, taking another drink.

“He’s not exactly…”

“What?”

“He’s not what I’d imagine you going for.” So he’s thought about it. About you. The idea made arousal pool in your stomach.

“Who do you think I’d go for, then?”

“Not him.” He dodged the question easily, not taking the bait. “He’s too cocky, but he also has no real respect for himself. He pours drinks like a performer, just showboating for attention. A bravado begging for approval, but still believing he deserves it. He must be delusional to think he deserves even a glance from you…” He paused, and for the first time you saw a slight waver in his confidence, watching his face change as he realised he said something a little too close to home. You just smiled as he carried on, trying to retrace his steps. “I just think you would only go for him if your first choice wasn’t available.” He knows. Surely he knows. “I know Reid went to bed, but if you…” You cut him off with an uncontrollable laugh of genuine disbelief as he just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“You think I’m after Reid? And you call yourself a profiler.”

“Are you not?” You finished your drink with a sigh.

“Jesus, no Hotch, I’m not. And with that, I’m going to bed.” You left him sitting there, same confused look on his face, sending an apologetic smile to the bartender as you left.

You found yourself pacing when you got back to your room, unable to make sense of what the fuck just happened. You must be going crazy. You thought he knew, that it was so painfully obvious, that he maybe even saw you in the same way… but no. Nothing. Your stupid mind playing tricks on you.

You don’t know why you even wanted this. You couldn’t date him, you couldn’t do anything about it, married or not he was your boss. He was on your team. You saw him everyday at work. It would never end well. It was just a bad fucking idea, regardless of how much your dirty mind protested. How much it reminded you of all the times you’d thought about him while you were touching yourself, or sleeping with other people, or when you were bored on the jet. He had been the only thing that got you off for months and he didn’t even fucking know. But now you knew it was a possibility? That he wasn’t married, that your dirty little fantasy could actually happen? You were spiralling. You needed a smoke, some fresh air, something to remind you nothing had actually changed.

You opened the door, pack in hand to see… him. He looked dishevelled, his tie long gone and his hair messy, as though he been running his hands through it. He was as shocked as you were, just muttering your name quietly as you stood there just looking at him, waiting for him to explain why he was here. What he wanted. He didn’t. There was just this intensity that seemed to emanate from him, this nervous desperation that made you want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and show him what you could do, how you could make him feel better after horrible cases like this one, give him something to use for his own pleasure. Show him that you would do anything he fucking wanted. But you didn’t.

“Did you…” you trailed off, vaguely gesturing to the open door in a way you hoped conveyed what your lips couldn’t bring themselves to say. He was silent as he stepped into your room, closing the door behind him.

“Was it me? Am I…?” He muttered, and you knew what he meant. Am I the one you were after? You stayed quiet, not trusting yourself anymore now he was here in front of you, looking at you like that. He knew anyway. You had no doubt in your mind now. He stepped closer.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“I know.” You let yourself whisper as he moved to just an inch away from you, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he looked down at yours. You couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t make eye contact as he continued to scan your face and you could feel yourself getting wet before he had even touched you. Everything you’d wanted for months was a breath away and you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to close the gap.

“This isn’t…” he started to repeat himself, tapering off as his fingers touched your chin, tipping your face further up to look at him, a light touch that was fucking electricity through your body.

“I know.” You breathed the words, not meaning them anymore and as you met his gorgeous, hazel eyes, you knew you were fucking done for. He pressed his lips into yours. Just once, light as a feather. But that was all the permission you needed. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, smashing your lips into his with a desperation you had never felt before. It was a kiss of teeth and tongue, and as you licked up into his hot mouth you heard a groan from him that sent your hands flying to his shirt buttons. He grabbed the bottom of your top and pulled it over your head before you had even had a chance to undo a single one. His lips were back to yours as quickly as they had left, and you only registered that you had moved backwards when your legs hit something. He grabbed your hips and easily lifted you onto the desk, and you thanked the lord you had decided to wear a skirt today as he pushed it up your thighs and settled comfortably between them. Your entire body was practically shaking in anticipation already, and as his hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, you whimpered into his mouth. He pulled you forward until you were pressed tightly against his thick erection, and you couldn’t help but grind into him as you undid his buttons, desperate for some friction against your aching cunt. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had turned you on, wound you up to the point where every tiny touch made you feel like you were going fall over the edge into that white hot pleasure you knew he was capable of giving you.

The hottest part of it all was the pure need you felt from every grab and kiss. Even the moments where he pulled back for air, he used them to bite your neck, or press sloppy open mouthed kisses to your chest that made you whine every fucking time. The way he wanted you so badly he couldn’t even move to the bed, just to wherever was closest, and even when he was trying to catch his breath it was as though he physically couldn’t keep his lips off you.\

You finally got his shirt undone and pressed as much of yourself to him as possible, wrapping your legs around his waist. His kisses were getting more and more sloppy, his hands wandering further and the moan you let out when he grabbed your breast seemed to flip a switch in him. He pulled you off the desktop by your ass, flipping you in a way that was pure filth, and pressing your hips hard into the desk.

“Can I…” You didn’t need him to finish his question as you heard him unzip his fly.

“Fuck, please.” You couldn’t help but beg. His hands ran up the back of your legs, pushing your skirt to your waist and pulling your panties down so quickly you barely noticed until his hard dick hit your throbbing pussy. You could feel the weight of him, the thickness. You wanted to turn around and look at him, truly take him in like this, but you were pinned to the table still, the sharp edges biting into your hips in the most deliciously painful way that you knew would leave bruises. You heard him mutter something, but you couldn’t make it out, anticipation causing blood to rush in your ears and your heart was beating so loud it blocked any other noise. Before you even knew it was happening, he was pressing against your entrance, slowly at first, but then he snapped his hips into yours, splitting you open and all the air was pushed out of your lungs. The groan that escaped his lips was intoxicating, and he stayed there for a moment, gathering your hair in his hands and twisting your head so your lips met his. You felt like a ragdoll, your body and movements his now, but you didn’t care. This is how you wanted it. You just want to make him feel good, and you needed to think about nothing but him. It was working. There was no space for any other thoughts with his cock filling you and his hand gripping your hair.

“Are you…?”

“On the pill.” You confirmed, and he bit down on your shoulder in approval, earning a gasp. One hand stayed on your hair, but he moved backwards, his other hand pressing the small of your back into the table. You were utterly powerless, and you clenched around him at the thought. He groaned as he pulled out of you slowly, and you could feel every single inch of him as he did. And then he started just pounding into you. It stole all the air from your lungs, and you were left gasping as he continued his merciless pace, filthy sounds of his hips meeting your ass and your shuddering breaths and whimpers filling the room. You had to brace your hands against the wall, nothing else to hold on to, and as you lifted your chest slightly to breathe, he took his cue, grabbing your neck and pulling you up so his lips could reach you, the slight force he applied to your throat making you clench around him and earning a loud moan from him. The angle he hitting into you now was incredible, this sweet spot that made your legs turn to jelly and your breaths shorten.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He panted into your ear, earning a loud moan.

“Fuck, I’m close Hotch..” Even now, with him inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him by his first name, but the soft growl he let out told you he might like it more this way anyway. You just needed something to push you over, and you grabbed his hand on your neck, tightening it to indicate what you wanted. He followed suit, gripping you in a way that limited your air just enough to go a little lightheaded and you whimpered.

“Filthy.” He whispered, and that was all you needed. You started cumming, clenching around him with a strangled sob and he let go of your neck at just that second, letting the blood rush to your head and searing hot pleasure course through your body. You heard him groan and curse behind you, his hips stuttering too as he came, filling you and staying pressed deep inside of you as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders.

You stayed like that for a little while, catching your breath. He moved first, pulling out of you slowly with a sigh.

“You can… um…” the energy was awkward suddenly, both unsure of what to do now that passion wasn’t driving you. Unsure how to be around each other. You still knew what he meant though.

“Thanks.” You headed to the bathroom, cleaning up quickly, taking a second to fix your messy hair and makeup, and pulling your skirt down. He went in straight after you, and you took that time to find your panties and put them back on. You had no idea what would happen now. If it was up to you, he would just stay here, but he might not feel comfortable enough to do that. You just wanted to know what he was thinking.

He came out of the bathroom looking perfect, but pensive, his brow furrowed in his signature scowl. You were sitting on the side of the bed, just waiting for him to speak.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that.” He muttered. Disappointment flooded your system. You knew he was right, and you agreed, it was messy and stupid but so fucking good it couldn’t be ignored.

“Probably not.” He nodded.

“Well, I should…” He moved towards the door.

“I don’t want a relationship you know.” You blurted out, and internally scolded yourself, but it had stopped him, so you stood up, carrying on. “This is all I want. A distraction.” You watched relief bloom across his face, and he strode back across the room, planting a light kiss to you your lips.

“Ok.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stayed, not leaving until the early morning. You knew he just wanted some comfort after the past few days. Something solid to hold on to. You also knew your feelings had already gone past a crush, welling up inside you as he slept peacefully, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath against yours. But you didn’t care. You would rather have some of him than nothing at all. Even if you were going to get hurt. Even if it got messy. He was worth it.

#fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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eternalgirlscout · 10 months ago

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renowned goats aficionado and good opinion enthusiast sarah eternalgirlscout i come seeking your wisdom. what are some boppy or danceable tmg tunes

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED. your mileage may vary on danceability, but i do think all of these are certified bops. there are many more goats songs that could be classified as such, but i tried to make this quick + short so i limited this list to ones i had something to say about off the top of my head.

spotify link, if you're so inclined

Dance Music

this one was my first thought and it's not exactly a happy song to start with, but the upbeat tempo in contrast to the subject matter is intentional and one of my favorite things about the song

Southwood Plantation Road

allow me to share one of my favorite tmg banters from 2003:

"This, my friends, is a dance number. Somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty audiences so far this year have declined my kind offer that they get they freak on to this song. But you may freak away. I won’t tell nobody. [Audience member: Southwood Plantation Road!] That’s the fucking song, my friend!"

Alpha Rats Nest

another anti-love song in the vein of "No Children." a lot of songs off of Tallahassee could be categorized as bops, but this is the other one i think of when i think of tunes that make me want to get up and move

Corsican Mastiff Stride

when the album Getting Into Knives came out and i heard this song for the first time, i literally dropped what i was holding when the drums started

Parisian Enclave

the sheer rhythm of this one is irresistible. it really gives the sense of collective, swift movement, like the rats this song is about

Pigs That Ran Straightaway Into The Water, Triumph Of

another song about movement, about freedom

Choked Out

when I was in undergrad, there was more than one incident of me headbanging so hard to this song while driving that i didn't realize i was going like 15 over the speed limit

Foreign Object

an old friend and i used to joke about getting tax benefits married if we were both single in our mid-30s, and a vital part of the scenario we imagined was that this song would be our first dance at our wedding

January 31, 438

a song about dancing! like "Dance Music," the subject matter is enhanced by the irony of being paired with this tune

Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome

another song i should not be allowed to listen to while driving

First Blood

like a lot of high-tempo mountain goats songs, the boppiness and danceability is at odds with the topic in order to make a point. it's a fast-paced, entertaining jam tearing down the mythology of the action movie, an often fast-paced genre that puts entertainment above the implications of its philosophy. and you can shake your ASS to this song

This Year

what else is there to say about this song? the first time i saw the mountain goats live, in a tiny theater on a college campus in northern wisconsin, almost the entire crowd stood up from their seats and danced in the aisles. i spun under my now-husband's arm and i swear i got a smile from john darnielle. there WILL be feasting, and dancing. this year, next year, every year

any other Goats Enjoyers are welcome to add to this post! i admit this skews fairly recent. let's get some crunch on it

#the mountain goats #ardentumbra #and I'll tell you no lies

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novamariestark · 11 months ago

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Just Add Steam

Summary: No matter what you did, Tallahassee didn't get the hint. So maybe you need to do something a bit more... risky

Warnings: age gap, smut, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), shower sex, oral (f+m receiving), proofread (but i always find a mistake that a ghost wrote after I post 🤣)

Word count: 2066

Fandom: Zombieland

Pairing: Tallahassee x reader

Frustrated didn’t seem strong enough a word to describe what you were feeling. No matter what, Tallahassee wasn’t taking the bait. No matter how sexy you tried to be, how long you spent making yourself completely badass, he just didn’t get it.

Little Rock and Wichita had both told you about how Tallahassee stares at you when you’re not looking, mostly at a certain part of your anatomy. Ever since, you’ve been trying to get him to act on it. Nothing you did was enticing enough. Even the shortest shorts you’d ever seen that you wore on a run with him didn’t seemingly have an effect on him. The only thing it got you was an uncomfortable fight against the dead fuckers because they gave you a wedgie. The shorts, not the zombies.

You were close to giving up. You also started to question whether what the girls said was true or whether they were teasing you about your own feelings for the man. After dinner came and idea. And if this didn’t work then you really would give up and probably leave because you’d be too embarrassed to stay.

Tallahassee announced that he was going to shower and whilst your mind raced with the dirtiest fantasies, you got the idea to join him. You told the others you were tired and going to bed hoping that they didn’t suspect anything and left the room. They probably did though.

But you didn’t know what else to do. Before the apocalypse happened, you hadn’t had any action for almost 2 years and then suddenly, the world chucks an incredibly handsome cowboy at you and you want nothing more than to ride him, all day every day.

You had to do something. And you had to do this before you talked yourself out of it

You headed to your room quickly to shed your clothes and wrapped yourself in your bath robe.

You could hear the shower from outside the door and your bare feet could feel the heat that was escaping from underneath. You reached for the handle, gently twisting it and sliding in to stop too much of a draft following you in.

To say that your imagination didn’t do justice would be the understatement of the century. Your eyes immediately found him, a magnetic tug towing you towards his figure, despite the steam fogging up the air around you, you could see him clearly, as your gaze travelled down his body, soaking in the details of his naked glory.

You felt a twinge of jealousy flare up within you—the green-eyed monster lurking in the corners of your mind. It was odd, really, to feel such envy for something as harmless as water droplets. Yet, there they were, glistening like tiny jewels as they clung lovingly to his skin, tracing the chiselled lines of his skin, accentuating every curve and plane. Each droplet seemed to linger a moment before cascading down, and you couldn't help but wish to be one of them, to feel the warmth of his body beneath you.

He must have sensed your gaze, as he suddenly turned around to face you, a flicker of irritation flashing across his features. For a split second, a flicker of something else crossed his features, but it was fleeting. Amusement?

“Do you mind?”

You shook your head, “Not at all,” you said as you let your robe pool at your feet. You bit your lip as you stepped towards the shower, “I thought I would join you,”

You stepped into the shower with him, standing so close that your nipples grazed against his chest. You look up at him as you let your index finger trace a wet line down his chest.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked even though you knew the answer, if his impressive length pressing against your stomach was anything to go by.

He eyes darkened and he shook his head, “No,”

Your hands move up his chest and you cup the back of his neck bringing him into a kiss you’ve been wanting. No. Needing for months.

The water was hot and steamy, a premonition perhaps for what was about to happen between you and Tallahassee. His hands moved to your waist, then up to your breasts, which he squeezed gently, drawing a low moan from deep within you. The kiss grew more urgent, tongues colliding as if they had never tasted anything so sweet before. Your heart was racing, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you felt him growing harder against you.

You reached down, your hand wrapping around his cock, stroking him slowly, feeling him throb against the sensitive skin of your fingers. He groaned into your mouth, his grip on you tightening. You broke the kiss to take a breath, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. You sank to your knees, the warm water pouring over your shoulders as you took him into your mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a sharp hiss.

The sound of his need spurred you on, and you took him deeper, swirling your tongue around the tip, feeling him pulse with every movement your mouth made. His hands tangled in your hair, directing you, his hips bucking slightly as you took him in and out of your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you felt your own arousal growing, a sweet ache forming between your legs.

The look of pleasure on his face was like nothing you’d ever seen before, and it was all for you. You felt powerful, in control, and it was a exciting feeling that made you want to push him even further. You slid a hand between your own legs, slipping your fingers into your wetness, mimicking the rhythm of your mouth on him.

He watched your fingers, eyes darkening more, as they moved against your slick folds. He let out a guttural growl, his entire body tensing, and you knew he was close. You wanted him to come apart in your mouth, to feel the full force of his release. You picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, your mouth working him harder, and he grunted, his body shuddering as he climaxed, filling your mouth with his warmth. You swallowed, savouring the taste of him.

With a growl, he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the tiles. His mouth found yours again, tasting himself on your lips. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing, exploring, leaving no inch untouched. His lips left yours and began to trail down your neck, leaving a line of kisses and nibbles that made you shiver with pleasure. Before you knew it, he sank to his knees to return the favour. His mouth found your core, and he began to lick and suck with an eagerness that had your knees wobbling like fragile branches in the wind.

You grabbed the shower rail for support, your eyes rolling back in your head as he devoured you. His tongue was skilled, finding every sensitive spot with ease, making you cry out. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tightening around his fingers. He sucked harder, his tongue circling your clit, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a strangled shout, you came, your legs shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. He continued to suck, determined to get every last drop, until you had to gently push him away, overwhelmed by the intensity.

He rose to his feet, licking his lips, "So much fuckin better than a twinkie," he murmured, making you laugh despite the haze of pleasure, "So delicious," he added, before his mouth claimed yours again. The kiss was deep, a blend of passion and hunger that had been building for months. His hands moved to the back of your neck, holding you firmly as he explored your mouth, tasting you thoroughly.

You broke the kiss and turned around, your palms pressing against the tiles as you arch your back, sticking your ass out for him to take. You didn’t need to say anything; the way you presented yourself was an open invitation. He took it, his hands on your hips, his erection nudging at your entrance. He positioned himself and pushed in, slow and steady, filling you up. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, your eyes squeezing shut as your body stretched to accommodate him.

"Fuck"

You felt the word rumble from his chest into your back as he buried himself to the hilt, his hips connecting with yours in a way that sent sparks shooting through every nerve ending. You pushed back against him, eager for more, and he began to move, setting a rhythm that was slow and steady, yet filled with the intensity of months of pent-up desire. The water sluiced down your bodies, mixing with the sweat and making you both slick as he moved inside you.

You could tell he was holding back, perhaps because it was your first time together, he didn't want to overstep, but you were past that point, "Tal, baby, fuck me," you panted, "Let go, baby,"

The words were like a switch flipped inside him. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you, and the force of his thrust sent you forward, your breasts smacking against the cool tiles. You moaned, the sting of the cold against your hot flesh adding another layer of sensation to the mix. His pace grew more frenzied, his hips slapping against your ass with every drive. You could feel yourself climbing again, so close to the edge it was a wonder you hadn't fallen over it already.

You reached down, circling your clit with your fingers, matching the tempo of his thrusts. The combination of his thickness filling you and your own touch on your clit had you spiraling towards oblivion. He was grunting now, his breath hot against your neck, his grip on your hips tight enough to leave bruises. You didn't care. You wanted more. You needed more.

"Harder," you moaned, your voice muffled by the water and the sound of skin slapping against skin. He complied, his strokes becoming more forceful, more demanding. The tension in your body grew, your muscles tightening around him, and you knew you were close.

You could feel his own release building, his breath coming in harsh pants, his body tensing. He reached around, his hand finding yours, and together you worked yourself over the edge. The orgasm crashed into you, stealing your breath and making your legs tremble. You felt him follow, his body jerking as he spilled inside you, his warmth mixing with the water that surrounded you.

For a moment, you just stood there, his cock still buried in you, his breaths slowing. The only sound was the steady patter of water on the tiles.

"Why the fuck did I wait so long?" you asked aloud to yourself, your voice echoing slightly in the shower, "This was..." but your words were lost.

"How long?" Tallahassee's voice was gruff, his breathing still heavy as he leaned into you, his cock still deep inside your pussy.

"A few months... nine" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he let out a low groan.

"You mean to tell me that I could have had this sweet little pussy nine months ago?" he groaned, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "Fuck,"

"I guess we'll just have to catch up then," you said, moving to step out the shower. You reached down to pick up your robe, purposely putting your ass in the air, so he could see your glistening wetness. You could hear him groan as you turned to face him, a smug smile playing on your lips.

He followed you out of the shower, his eyes never leaving your body. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and you both stepped into his room, the cool air making you shiver. He approached you, his eyes dark with hunger. He grabbed you, pushing you onto the bed, his towel falling to the floor. You didn’t resist, instead, you spread your legs, inviting him in…

#female reader #reader insert #tallahassee x reader #zombieland x reader #zombieland fanfiction

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haveyoulistenedtothispodcast · 1 month ago

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Summary:

Less is Morgue is an award-winning comedy fiction podcast about Riley, a paranoid ghoul, and Evelyn, a cheerful ghost who died at a Nickelback concert in 2004. Together, they host a basement talk show where paranormal chaos is par for the course.

Set in an alternate Tallahassee, Florida, where monsters are mundane and the supernatural is typical, you can expect a whirlwind of absurdist horror-comedy, more eccentric characters than you can possibly imagine, and a strangely touching story about friendship, found family, and personal growth.

#less is morgue #fiction podcast #polls

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mother-cain-archive · 4 days ago

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cut covers

No Country for Ethel Cain

Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You may be the last we hear from Ethel Cain. But Hayden Anhedönia isn’t going anywhere.

When Hayden Anhedönia gets restless, which she often does, she drives around Tallahassee in her banged-up Chevy Silverado — past antebellum-era mansions and lush canopy roads, luxury dorms and Baptist churches. On a sunny June afternoon, she’s parked outside Bradley’s Country Store, a family-owned general store 30 minutes northeast of downtown. It’s her favorite place to think. The surrounding oak trees appear dust-coated with gray Spanish moss tangled in their branches. A pond shimmers in the distance. The 27-year-old singer-songwriter is drinking a peach soda at a picnic table, wearing a tube top, sweatshorts that read “hardcore,” and cowboy boots. Her skin is a maze of tattoos. Etched on the middle of her throat, just below a cross, is the word please.

Until last year, Anhedönia had been living in remote towns across America, which she found while scrolling for “old grandma houses” on Zillow. She returned to Tallahassee in the summer to commune with an old friend named Ethel Cain. “I have to just be quiet and let her tell me,” she says. “It’s like Ethel is a ghost forgotten by time who said, ‘Will you tell my story?’”

Ethel’s name might not register to locals — neither the conspiracy-addicted yogi nor the retired nurse still clucking over Benghazi I met that morning said they’d heard of her — but she’s somewhat legendary to young alternative-pop-music fans. She’s Anhedönia’s doomed alter ego, a God-fearing daughter of the rural American South. (Her devotees call themselves the Daughters of Cain.) Anhedönia had begun imagining Ethel around 2018 while working 70-hour weeks as a nail tech in Tallahassee and developing her sound as a DIY musician. “I’ve always been obsessed with the southern gothic, and I loved the idea of a scary matronly figure living in an old farmhouse on the hill,” she says. One day, she put on an old Gunne Sax prairie dress from Etsy, and the character came to life. Having fled her own Evangelical upbringing, Anhedönia mapped out a punishing narrative universe centered on three generations of women raised within the Baptist church. “Ethel is a way to express the things that have happened to me and things I’ve been afraid of happening to me — a fear of being a woman in this world,” she explains.

Anhedönia introduces Ethel’s backstory on her 2022 debut album, Preacher’s Daughter, a sprawling 75-minute odyssey through arena rock, ambient pop, country, and doom metal that starts with sexual trauma and ends in murder. It’s set in 1991, ten years after Joseph Cain, the town preacher, died in a fire. His daughter, Ethel, is living in his shadow with her mother (Vera) and grandmother (also Ethel). She’s also weeping over her high-school love, Willoughby Tucker, whom she would meet at an abandoned house on the edge of their Alabama town. Yearning for freedom, Ethel sets out on the road only to be kidnapped, sold into prostitution, and cannibalized by a lover.

“Ethel is a way to express the things that have happened to me and things I’ve been afraid of happening to me — a fear of being a woman in this world.”

Preacher’s Daughter, a sort of folklore for David Lynch and true-crime aficionados, isn’t the album you’d expect to break through to the mainstream, but it did. Former president Barack Obama named “American Teenager,” a heartland-rock anthem exposing the vacancy of the American Dream, one of his favorite songs of 2022. (“Did not have a former president including my anti-war, anti-patriotism fake pop song on his year end list on my 2022 bingo,” Anhedönia responded on X.) Countless Reddit threads and TikTok trends followed, including memes of Kim Kardashian dressed like a Pilgrim set to the druggy piano track “A House in Nebraska.” Soon Anhedönia was touring the globe, playing Coachella, and fronting campaigns for fashion houses like Miu Miu and Givenchy, though she says she still primarily buys clothes from Walmart.

A central theme of Anhedönia’s music as Ethel Cain is how the supposedly greatest country in the world is so hostile to its own people. As a public figure, she’s a fierce critic of the American Establishment, a kind of leftist antithesis of the Morgan Wallens of the music industry. “As an artist, I think you have a responsibility to instill a sense of selflessness and justice in people,” she says. “I never want people to think, Oh, I just listened to her for the music.” She excoriated the Biden administration on Instagram for approving $1 billion in arms sales to Israel (“We need to bring back assassinations”), released a song in tribute to Palestine, and called America a “loveless, disrespectful nation” on Tumblr after Donald Trump’s 2024 election.

Fans have looked to her for the moral clarity lacking in their elected representatives. At the beginning of this year, she drew the ire of Fox News for posting #KillMoreCEOs on Instagram Stories in response to the murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. She refused to back down: “The healthcare system has fucked each and every member of my family in a different way at one point or another, as is the case with pretty much every family in this scorched earth nation,” she wrote in a subsequent Tumblr essay. Weeks later, she became the first openly trans artist with an album on Billboard’s top ten.

On August 8, Anhedönia will release Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You, the second installment in the Ethel Cain trilogy and Preacher’s Daughter’s prequel. Ahead of that, she has been roaming around town, grappling with her complicated history in this place. Tallahassee is where she left home at 18, tried out music and reactionary edgelordism, started medically transitioning, and changed her name to Anhedönia (the inability to experience pleasure). It is where she has returned, more famous than ever, to a loving community of family and friends and where, she says, the hospital she was born in has been denying her hormone medication. “I’ve always described North Florida as feeling like there’s a Hellmouth nearby,” she says as it starts to drizzle and we walk over to a nearby cabin for cover. “It’s so beautiful, but sometimes it feels really dark.”

Anhedönia grew up the eldest of four about an hour away from here in the roughly 7,000-person town of Perry, Florida. It was a “lawless place … where, out of desperation, when you get bored of shooting up, you go shoot up your high school,” she once told Pitchfork, explaining a line from her song “Head in the Wall.” Her father was a truck driver and deacon; her mother was a part-time clerk who sang with her in the church. Homeschooled from a young age, Anhedönia was isolated and limited to Christian media. “I had really no indication of the outside world except for maybe the TV at my grandparents’,” she says.

When she was 12, she admitted she liked boys to her mom, who sent her to religious therapy. Parents from church prohibited her from playing with their kids. “It was lonely and scary, like, Am I going to live here as the villain forever? I kind of accepted that I wouldn’t be a person until I moved out,” she says.

The internet was her escape. “Suddenly there was a whole new world of people who were queer, people who weren’t die-hard Republicans,” she says. Her parents blocked Twitter and YouTube, but her virtual-homeschool teacher had the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” embedded at the end of her email signature. “I found out how to search YouTube through that player, and I would watch horror-movie trailers all day,” Anhedönia says. To pass the time, she fantasized about being a glamorous pop star like her idol, Florence Welch of Florence and the Machine, or falling in love, something she never thought possible for a pariah like her. As graduation approached, she thought she might go to film school at Florida State University, but that never panned out: “I said, I’ll just get famous instead.”

Basking in her newfound freedom in Tallahassee, she dabbled in hard drugs, hooked up with strangers, and experimented with wailing over looped backing tracks she made with GarageBand. She had difficulty getting booked at shows. “I was quite literally making Gregorian chants,” she says. “And nobody wanted to put that on at their house.” She and her friends made do with whatever unorthodox venues they could find: “I think one of my friends just went into a sewer tunnel and did a DJ set down there.” All the while, she struggled to make sense of herself and her orientation to the world. After shaving her head in an ill-fated attempt to try to commit to life as a man, she came out as trans on Facebook on her 20th birthday. The only other trans person she knew at the time passed over his doctor’s number, and she showed up the day after Halloween, wasted, to start her medical transition.

That year, she found a dusty piano loop that would become the basis of her song “A House in Nebraska,” setting off the Ethel Cain project and creation of Preacher’s Daughter. Writing an intergenerational narrative about poverty, crises of faith, and inherited trauma opened up a more complex view of her mom, a born-again Christian. She began to wonder what it’d be like to forgive. “I didn’t want to envision a world where I didn’t have my family,” she says. The summer before she left Tallahassee, in 2020, she reached a breakthrough: “I kind of realized there is no clarity; there is no closure; none of these gruesome displays of remorse are going to do anything for me. All I can really do is say, ‘I love you, and I’m going to let go.’” She packed her bags for eastern Indiana, where she lived in a converted 19th-century church with her younger sister, Delilah, and a few friends.

“I remember seeing somebody say, ‘Ethel Cain, give us a dance-pop album and we’ll listen to whatever drunk ambient bullshit you want to put out next.’”

Also in 2020, through the rapper-singer Lil Aaron, she met with representatives for the Los Angeles–based label Prescription Songs. She signed with the publishing company though it is owned by the disgraced producer Dr. Luke. “I was broke,” she later told Rolling Stone. “I was literally going to the hospital because I was malnourished.” Under this contract, she released a few singles and Inbred, a 2021 EP of reverb-drenched power ballads that previewed her macabre perspective on America. “Bare naked under my nightgown / Pissing on the stove to put it out / … Sucking on the back of his leg to stay warm,” she begins the title track. Preacher’s Daughter arrived a year later along with an explosion in her audience.

Over the past few years, she has progressively vacated the internet, once her place of refuge. In 2023, she deactivated her X account, then, in sweeping Tumblr posts a year later, diagnosed how the attention economy had suffocated audiences’ capacity for serious engagement with art. Fans would parrot TikTok bons mots to her on the street and at shows; she felt like a meme, not a musician. “I remember seeing somebody say, ‘Ethel Cain, give us a dance-pop album and we’ll listen to whatever drunk ambient bullshit you want to put out next,’” she tells me. Feeling smothered by Ethel Cain’s story, she released the willfully disorienting and challenging drone project, Perverts, in January. “It was, at its core, a passion project, but I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t also conscious of the fact that it was going to shake up my following,” she says.

Right now, Anhedönia makes enough money as Ethel Cain to financially support herself and friends helping the project. She lives modestly — she has never paid more than $1,000 in rent, she says — and claims not to care about industry metrics. “With all due respect, anybody else’s wishes do not register outside the maelstrom of my own expectations,” she says.

Inside the home Anhedönia shares with two roommates, dried Spanish moss dangles from the living-room ceiling; old scythes hang from a quilt-covered wall. The home had belonged to a hoarder and was crawling with roaches when she found it, she tells me with a glimmer of pride. She forced her landlord to hire cleaners and then found crime-scene specialists to sanitize the place one more time: “They’re like, ‘We clean up dead bodies,’ and I’m like, ‘Perfect.’” A would-be-decorative deer carcass she found on the road remains in her Silverado parked out front. She’d planned on throwing it to the ants to clean, she says, but it broke rattling in the trunk.

She wants to stay in Florida, near her loved ones, particularly as they endure Governor Ron DeSantis’s administration. None of her trans friends can get official access to hormone medication; her aging family members are facing mounting health-care costs. “One of the biggest gripes I’ve always had with my own fans is romanticizing the southern-gothic aspect of my work while disrespecting the legacy of the people swallowed by the politics of the South,” Anhedönia says. But her trolls are worse: Over the years, they have doxed her family, hacked her accounts, and deadnamed her in attempts at public humiliation. Her visibility as an anti-Trump dissenter and unapologetic supporter of Palestine has attracted more negative attention.

In person, she doesn’t betray any bitterness about this, speaking with calm conviction about her moral duties as an individual and an artist. But she’s suspicious of fans who put her on a pedestal for her advocacy, acting as though social justice is just a matter of backing the right celebrity: “You know, there’s a lot of comments of ‘Oh, I knew she was on the right side of history. That’s why I stan her, yadda yadda yadda.’ I’m like, That’s good, but everyone can do their small bit of activism. Please don’t just think that this is something you can use to justify being a fan of mine.”

She has said indefensible things before. Some of them come to light a month after we meet. When she was 19, Anhedönia made Tumblr and Curious Cat posts that used the N-word and joked that the U.S. should “build that wall!” Fans and trolls dug up the posts and circulated them on the r/Ethelcain sub-Reddit. Within days, she released a more than 2,000-word Google-doc statement explaining that as a teen, she had habituated herself to provocation, first becoming a “social justice warrior” to rebel against her hostile conservative upbringing, then disavowing this “‘cringe SJW’ behavior” and seeking new sources of reaction. “I would have said (and usually did say) anything, about anyone, to gain attention and ultimately just make my friends laugh,” she wrote.

But so-called fans had also dredged up a sketch of a chained-up boy she drew at 19, accusing her of child pornography, and a photo of her topless on the Fourth of July with a friend’s dog, among other things — which she identified in her statement as part of a targeted smear campaign, the result of intensive digging by individuals who “do not care who else is hurt by witnessing this media as long as I am ultimately hurt the worst in the end.” Tabloids like People picked up the controversy. Later, Anhedönia talks to me further about it over the phone. “There were so many layers coming from many different places, and I just thought I needed to be as intentional with my words as possible and then shut the hell up,” she says. She doesn’t make excuses for her racist posts: “It was shameful to assume my actions didn’t have any weight, as if the world was just some fictional stage — but I like to think it has no bearing on where I am at in the world today.”

Last December, Anhedönia was picking up snacks at a nearby truck stop when a trucker named Austin approached her. A preacher’s son who lives in Mississippi, he’d been serendipitously passing through Florida. He had listened to Preacher’s Daughter and had a vague sense the woman standing in front of him might be Ethel Cain. Prior to Austin, Anhedönia had been too anxious and preoccupied with work to commit to relationships. But they bonded over loving the experimental ambient musician Grouper. “Sometimes I am not convinced the CIA didn’t send him,” she says. “He’s too perfect.”

Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You is a slow, magisterial album about the uncertainties of a blossoming relationship and the challenges of loving when the weight of the world comes to bear. Ethel beholds all that she’s losing: the drive-in theater where Willoughby would feel her up, his brown eyes and ratty sneakers, the stale air of the bedroom where they endure so many sleepless nights. Half of it is composed of sonorous instrumental passages, as if the grief is so profound words could never suffice. Willoughby is sick, reeling from an abusive father, a near-fatal accident at the factory, and other traumas that make his disappearance from her all but inevitable. “How much of a cruel year can you call my fault?” she sings on the closing track, “Waco, Texas.” “I’ve been picking names for our children / You’ve been wondering how you’re gonna feed them / Love is not enough in this world.”

“A lot of these country boys are more open-minded than you think.”

Anhedönia finished Willoughby almost immediately after making her relationship official with Austin. “It’s about, Is it possible to find love in this place with a kind of person that you want to fall in love with?” she says. “But a lot of these country boys are more open-minded than you think.”

After Willoughby, Anhedönia will say good-bye to Ethel Cain. She has completed her record deal and will go independent for her next album, following a new character — Ethel’s mother, Vera — in a new setting and time period. “It’s been seven long years of my life, which is a bittersweet closing, but now I can move forward to a new chapter,” she says. But she’ll stick around Tallahassee, looking for undiscovered creeks and dirt roads. “What’s comforting to me is I’ll always just be here with my friends,” she says. “And if ever people get tired of hearing about Ethel Cain, you know what? I will renew that nail license, and I will clean toenails until the day that I die.”

Production Credits

Photography by Camille Vivier

Styling by Jessica Willis

Digital Tech: Yoshi Park

Photo Assistants: Michael Vick and Anthony Conklin

Styling Assistants Ore Zacceah and John Novotny

Hair: Lucas Wilson

Makeup: Kuma

Manicure Nori

Set Design: Lane Vineyard

Set Design Assistants: Gabrielle Arriaga, Katie Quinslik, and Chancey Bridges

Tailor: Lindsay Wright

Production: Kindly Productions

The Cut, Editor-in-Chief: Lindsay Peoples

The Cut, Photo Director: Noelle Lacombe

The Cut, Deputy Culture Editor: Brooke Marine

The Cut, Photo Editor: Mara Rothman

The Cut, Fashion Market Editor: Emma Oleck

#2025 #ethel cain #mother cain #hayden anhedonia #press #other

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wrestlersownmyheart · 1 month ago

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"Tweet Of Fate" Chapter 12 (Damian Priest X OC)

Title: Tweet Of Fate Pairing: Damian Priest X OC: Sharlotte Taylor Summary: Little did Sharlotte Taylor know that her first little tweet to WWE wrestler, Damian Priest, would change her life forever. Hearing about his nasty breakup with his girlfriend, and seeing so many hateful tweets to him regarding his failed relationship, she wants to send him something encouraging, so she sends him an inspirational quote. It sparks Damian's interest and leads to a flirty, but close online friendship between the two. A friendship that turns into a little something more than either of them had counted on.

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination. Content/Trigger Warnings: None

Note: Vero Rodriguez has a daughter in this story, therefore Finn has a step-daughter.

Chapter 12

Damian went through his contacts list on his cell phone, and highlighted Stephanie McMahon's number, tapping the "Call" icon. It rang only twice before his boss' wife answered.

"Stephanie McMahon," came her authoritative voice.

"Steph, hey, it's Damian...Are you free to talk for a few minutes?"

"Sure, Damian. Is something wrong?"

"Well, yes, but not with me. I have a friend whose nephew is being bullied—horribly bullied, actually. And since we're aligned with the Creative Coalition, I'm hoping we can do something to help make the situation better."

"We certainly can try," Stephanie said, her full attention now on the conversation.

Much of her time as of late was dedicated to publicizing the Be A Star Alliance. She had three daughters of her own, and she could only imagine how she would feel if one or all of them were being bullied. So, she tried to do her part in helping to eliminate bullying all together. "Tell me more about what's going on. Who and where's this friend? Would they mind some media coverage—maybe some interviews?"

"My friend's name is Sharlotte Taylor, and she's in Tallahassee," Damian said. "Her nephew's name is Noah Taylor. No, she wouldn't mind media coverage or interviews. I'd already asked her and she said it would be okay. She just wants her nephew to be left alone."

Stephanie sighed, "Yes, I can only imagine. This bullying crap is so frustrating. How's the boy?"

"He seems to be in pretty good spirits despite everything going on. But I saw him on camera today and I could actually see he had a black eye, and some other bruises and cuts on his face too."

"Oh, my God," Stephanie said. "That sounds really bad. Please tell your friend when you speak to her next, that we'll help her get a good attorney should she need to take legal action. She'd need great representation."

Damian nodded as he answered, "I will definitely tell her. However, I've told her to keep quiet about publicity or getting authorities involved—for now. She threatened the school principal with it, and she is already receiving anonymous threats. I think it's best to keep quiet about all that till this gets on TV."

"Yes, you're probably right. Okay, so how about we set up an interview between Sharlotte and our reporters...and we could see if the school would allow some of the roster to visit the school and have a rally to help encourage the kids to not bully, as well as letting those who are being bullied know there are people they can turn to for help?"

"Sounds great," Damian said, running his hand over the back of his neck. "Do you think we could get some reporters out there in the next few days?"

"Of course," Stephanie said, "As soon as possible, actually. Can you find out if Monday would be okay with her?"

"Yeah, I'm going to call her a little later and I'll make sure. I'll get right back to you as soon as I check with her."

"Also, find out what school the boy goes to," Stephanie added. "Then I can contact the superintendent and principal about setting up a visit to the school."

"Will do," Damian replied. "Thanks a lot, Steph. I owe ya."

"Not a problem," she told him. "I'm glad to help."

They said goodbye and Damian disconnected the call, but as soon as he hung up, his phone was ringing. Wishing it was Sharlotte calling him, he looked at the phone's screen.

Disappointment set in when he discovered Finn was calling him instead.

It wasn't that he was bummed to hear from his friend. It was just that he got to see Finn frequently—with the exception of the past few days—but he was yet to see Sharlotte in person. He shook his head in amazement when he realized he thought of her more and more each day—a woman whom he'd never met.

Finally, realizing he was leaving Finn hanging, he answered the call.

"Hey, Finn...what's up?"

"Not too much," came Finn's answer. "I'm just about to take Vero and her daughter, Alli, out for a day at the zoo. I just wanted to check in with you and see how you're doing, first. What with our crazy schedules, we've not really got to hang out or anything. How are things with Jasmine?"

"Eh, about as good as I expected it to," Damian answered, rolling his eyes. "She of course threw some tantrums, and is now trying to drive me crazy because of a friend I made on Twitter."

"Ah...A female friend, I assume?"

Damian chuckled, "Yeah, you assume correctly."

"Damian, be careful," Finn cautioned. "I know I used to be pretty reckless when it came to women, but looking back, I know how many potential disasters I sat myself up for."

"Don't worry, Finn," Damian said. "She's just a friend." I think, he added to himself. "And besides, I thought you needed to be cautious of Vero at one time. But she really surprised me."

Finn sounded almost smug when he said, "I knew she would. She's who I'm meant to be with."

"Right," Damian agreed. "And like I said, Sharlotte's...a friend. But...if something happens and our friendship turns into something more, you can relax. Because Sharlotte's different. I can tell. And you can rest assured I'll be very careful regardless. I'm not going to let myself go through 'Jasmine 2.0'."

"Okay," Finn said. "Fair enough. So, is Jasmine making this Sharlotte's life a living hell," he asked knowingly.

"She made an attempt," Damian admitted, "But I put a stop to it. I had a recording of her in bed with a guy, and told her if she bothered Sharlotte at all, I'd use it to destroy her."

"Nice," Finn said, clearly impressed. "How did she take your recording her?"

Damian laughed, "How do you think she took it? She was livid. You should have seen her when I broke up with her and served her with an eviction notice. Oh, and the winner is when I told her Sharlotte and I were having phone sex!"

"You obviously love to live dangerously," Finn laughed.

"Oh, yeah," Damian jokingly agreed. "Danger's where I thrive." He heard little Alli giggling and yelling in the background then. "Sounds like your little one's ready to see some animals," he commented.

"Yeah, I'd better get off here and get her in the car," Finn agreed. "She's laughing now, but if I don't get in a hurry, she can have a temper tantrum in the blink of an eye."

"She's already got you wrapped around her pinky, bro," Damian laughed. "You're so in for it when she gets older."

"Ugh, I shudder to think," Finn laughed. "Well, I gotta go. Talk to ya later."

"Later," Damian said, and then disconnected as he heard Alli let loose with a high-pitched squeal. Shaking his head and chuckling, he didn't envy Finn at that particular moment.

He couldn't imagine being a father. Not that he wouldn't love having a kid or two, but he had no idea how he'd manage to be there for them while he was so dedicated to his job. He was just thankful Jasmine hadn't wound up pregnant. The breakup would've really gotten ugly then. And she would've used the baby as leverage just to keep her hooks in him.

For just a brief moment, despite all he'd been through, Damian felt a surge of wistfulness— for what could have been. But he wouldn't let himself think about it for too long. Despite how he acted, it truly did hurt to have loved someone who'd apparently thought nothing of him.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

A while later, Damian had finished some weight-lifting, and grabbed a quick shower.

Swiping a towel over his head and across his muscular chest, he headed out of the bathroom and went into his bedroom, quickly pulling some jeans on over his boxers. Then he flopped across his bed and grabbed his cell phone from his night table. Highlighting Sharlotte's name in his contacts, he tapped the "Call" Icon. Within seconds, he heard her soft voice greeting him mingled with the sounds of wrestling in the background.

"Hi, Luis."

He grinned at hearing the smile in her voice, and started to greet her in return, when she spoke again.

"Hang on just a second," she chuckled. "Noah, turn the TV down a little, okay? I can't hear."

The roar of the wrestling's audience lowered considerably, and then Sharlotte was speaking to him again, "Sorry about that. Noah and I were watching AEW. How are you," she asked him.

"Doing great," Damian answered. "Should I call back when AEW goes off," he asked. "I

don't want to make you miss it."

"Oh, no it's not a problem," Sharlotte replied. "I can multi-task. I was actually reading a book and listening to the matches."

"Oh, so you're a reader, huh? What book are ya reading?"

"Yep, I'm a total book worm," she joked. "And the book is The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo."

"Ah, is that the one that's been made into a movie? The one with Daniel Craig?"

"Yes," Sharlotte answered. "But I prefer the Swedish versions of the movies. The movies were really good, so I decided to read the books. There are actually six–going on seven books. And they are seriously long," she exclaimed. "They're not my typical kind of reading, but so far this first book's been pretty interesting."

"What do you normally choose to read?"

"Well...all kinds of things, really. I love some classics like Jane Austen's Sense and

Sensibility, and Charles Dicken's Great Expectations. I enjoy spiritual and inspirational novels. I absolutely love romances, and even some young adult novels. My guilty pleasure was the Twilight Saga and the Hunger Games Trilogy."

Damian laughed, "You really are a book worm, huh?"

"I told ya," she warned teasingly. "So do you do any reading? Or do you not have much time for that?"

"Generally, I don't have much time for it. But when I can, I love anything fantasy, horror or Sci-Fi and some history."

"I like reading about certain events in history, but try as I might, I could not enjoy history in school. I never could get better than a B in any of my history classes."

"Well, it's not for everybody," Damian said. "Everyone is different. We don't all like the same things. For instance, I hated math."

"And I loved math," Sharlotte laughed. "I always kept a ninety-five average or above in Algebra."

"Show-off," John jokingly scolded.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I only got a B in geometry," she teased. "And it was a 'pity' B at that. My teacher knew I was really trying to understand, but I just wasn't fully getting it. Geometry's one side of math I loathe."

"You and me both," Damian chuckled.

"So...do you have time to maybe Skype? I like that my computer screen is bigger than my phone screen."

"For you? Of course," Damian answered, getting ready to reaching over and booting up his computer. He heard Sharlotte giggle. There was the sound of footsteps, and John figured she was heading for her bedroom to boot up her computer as well.

"Okay, be warned," Sharlotte joked. "It's been a long day. I'm a mess by now."

Damian scoffed. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he said, logging into Skype with his free hand.

"No seriously," she laughed. "My hair is up in a messy bun, no makeup, tank top and shorts. Honest. I am a far cry from how I looked earlier."

"Still...the mental image is sexy to me," Damian disagreed as he initiated a contact request to Sharlotte through Skype. He smiled at the silence from her end. "I can actually hear you blushing."

"I am not!"

"Liar," Damian teased.

"Okay, I got your contact request. Got it approved." A second later Damian could hear her computer ringing. "Ah, you're call's coming through," Sharlotte said. "Hang on a sec."

In the next instant, she was on his computer screen smiling at him.

Damian took in her slightly disheveled appearance and smiled, flashing a smile at her.

"And you look as sexy as I imagined. I'm glad you brought up Skyping! It was a really great idea," Damian flirted.

"Stop it," Sharlotte giggled. A fresh blush crept up her porcelain skin. "I look a fright, and you know it."

Damian shook his head as he gazed at her small frame. Her pink tank top was spaghetti-strapped and emphasized the slender curve of her neck. His eyes fell lower, gazing at her subtle cleavage, and he couldn't help wondering what sort of sounds she would make if he cupped her breasts in his hands. The mere thought had him growing aroused.

"Luis?"

He was yanked from his thoughts when Sharlotte said his name. He shifted his gaze back up to her face and caught the look of concern in her gray eyes.

"Are you okay," she asked. "You seemed a little..."

Damian felt his face burning, and saw her grin then.

"Well, Luis Martinez...Now I believe it's you who's blushing."

"And you'd be blushing again, if you knew what was going through my mind," Damian shot back with a slight raise of an eyebrow as he gave her body a slow and exaggerated perusal. At her gasp, he could not stop the laugh that erupted in his throat.

"Oh, honestly," Sharlotte cried indignantly, though Damian could see she wasn't truly angry. Her hand rose self-consciously to her neck in a nervous gesture and she avoided his gaze then.

Damian jokingly groaned, "You're killing me here! Don't get shy. Come on, I'm only human."

Sharlotte shyly glanced downward as she lowered her hand, "I'm just not...used to that kind of attention."

"Why not," Damian asked, genuinely baffled. "Aren't there men in Tallahassee?"

"Of course," she chuckled. "I just haven't had time for a social life, what with work, taking care of Noah, and helping my sister keep up with house cleaning and any repairs that are needed. And church, when I'm occasionally able to go to services."

"Ah, I see," Damian said, his mental gears turning. "Well...do you ever get to do anything socially?"

She nodded chuckling, "Yep. Again, church and church functions when I can. And I'm socializing right now. Even if I do have a little time to do something social, I never really get invited to do anything because I'm not out much to begin with. It's a vicious circle," she explained. "Well, I'll take that back. I do stuff once in a while with my best friend, but it's usually just going to a movie or something like that."

"So...you don't date at all," Damian couldn't keep the note of hopefulness out of his voice. Nor could he figure out why it was there in the first place. The subject of dating should have been the last thing on his mind.

Sharlotte shook her head in answer, "No. I don't. I...don't really...get the chance to go out on dates." She didn't want to admit to the fact that she'd never dated anyone. At forty years old, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Damian could see the shame on her face, and he felt horrible that he was the reason for her embarrassment.

"Sharlotte, don't feel bad because of my question. I was just curious. You're a beautiful woman—inside and out. And...well, any man would be lucky to have you."

She smiled and flushed slightly, "Thank you, Luis."

"Just speaking the truth, hermosa. So, do you mind telling me how long it's been since your last serious relationship?"

Her blush deepened and she avoided his eyes. "I've, uh..." she stalled. "I've not really had what you'd call a serious relationship."

Damian nearly swallowed his tongue.

"Seriously? I find that very hard to believe," he said genuinely.

Sharlotte laughed, "Well, it's true. I...didn't have a normal childhood. And I guess I just didn't recover from it. I'm not shy around friends, but—as I'm sure you can see—I am a little timid around the opposite sex. When you...make flirty comments to me, I clam up. I mean, I like it," she prattled on, afraid he would stop his flirting altogether. "But I get all giggly like some dumb school girl, and-"

"Whoa, Sharlotte," Damian interrupted. "You're fine, don't worry about it," he told her. "I find your giggly nature cute. I can see you also have intelligence, so it definitely doesn't bother me. Don't sweat it."

She nodded and chuckled nervously, "Okay."

"Why didn't you have a normal childhood," he asked. "Was it due to abuse or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Sharlotte answered immediately. "I was...an athlete—a figure skater, to be exact," she explained. "That was the 'hobby' I've mentioned vaguely." She continued at seeing John's nod of recognition. "Anyway, I loved skating. It was...my life. But, my parents pushed me so hard, that it took up all my time. I had to fight to keep good grades in school. I wasn't getting much sleep or anything. And I'd mentioned yesterday on the phone that I was bullied due to my hobby, A.K.A. figure skating...so not having many friends made it difficult to develop social skills."

"Yeah, I can definitely see where all of that would prevent someone from having a normal childhood," Damian said. "So, you must have been pretty good at skating for your parents to push you so hard though, right?"

Sharlotte nodded, "Yes, I was...very good at it." She blushed then, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to toot my own horn or anything. It's just...skating...I thought it was my calling."

"So what happened," Damian asked. "You keep referring to it in the past tense."

He saw her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her figure skating career was obviously a painful subject. He could've sworn he saw her eyes welling up with tears.

"I was an...an Olympian," she confessed. "But my Olympic career was short-lived," she added quickly, seeing the awe enter Damian's dark eyes. She didn't want to make herself sound like a bigger deal than she was. "In 1998, I came in second at the United States Figure Skating Championships, right behind Tara Lipinski. I did really well on my short program—I was in the lead actually. And then my long program...well, I never got to perform it. I had a freak accident during one of my practices. My shoelace snapped free in the middle of a big jump. I fell to the ice and was knocked unconscious. When I came to in the hospital, I was told I'd broken my ankle so severely that I'd never be able to skate competitively again. I wouldn't be capable of the jumps required."

"I'm...I'm so sorry," Damian said softly. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if he had a career- ending injury. "How did the lace...I mean... was the lace old? Maybe damaged or worn out?"

Sharlotte shook her head, "No. It was brand new. I'd put it in only the night before. I think it was just defective."

"Was the accident investigated," Damian asked. "Could someone have tampered with it?"

He hated the thought of any person being cheated out of their career, but the thought of Sharlotte being hurt on purpose...It angered him.

"Oh, yes," Sharlotte nodded, "After Nancy Kerrigan's attack in 1994, and the skate issues with Tonya Harding in the same Olympics, it was definitely investigated. But officials couldn't find any evidence of foul play. It just...happened."

Damian nodded, "I remember all that stuff in '94. That was a crazy year for the winter games. I'm really sorry about your accident." He could see how much it still hurt her. "I didn't really keep up with the '98 games, but I think I vaguely remember hearing about you on the news."

"Yeah, it was covered on several news stations," Sharlotte said. "It seems just like it happened yesterday instead of twenty-seven years ago. I don't think the memory will ever fade."

"I know you can't do the jumps and stuff," Damian said, "but do you ever just skate for the fun of it?"

Sharlotte shook her head. "No, I can't bring myself to. I've not been on the ice since my injury. On one hand I want to try, but on the other...I'm scared, I guess."

"What if I was with you?"

He watched her face light up. He wasn't sure if it was the idea of getting to hang out with him, or the idea of being on the ice again.

"I couldn't expect you to risk breaking a leg on the ice just to help me overcome a fear," she said softly. "But thank you."

"Hey, I'm no fragile flower," Damian said. "Not many people know this, but I used to play ice- hockey when I was younger. I was a good skater too."

"Really?" Sharlotte's face broke into a big smile. "You can skate?"

"Yep. So, what do ya say? If I get to come up your way sometime, how about I take you skating?"

A hint of apprehension touched her eyes as she answered, "I'll think about it. It's stupid I know...but it's just something I've not faced I guess, and it's difficult-"

"I don't think it's stupid at all. You went through a really traumatic experience, let alone recovering from the injury itself."

Sharlotte nodded and managed a small smile, "You really are good at making me feel better, Luis Martinez."

"Likewise," he returned softly. "I'm really glad I met you. Even though I've not gotten to see you in person. Yet."

"Yet," Sharlotte repeated, "So are you saying it's probable that we'll meet some day?"

Damian grinned, "Not 'probable'. Definite. And probably sooner than you think."

She returned his grin, "I can't wait."

"Neither can I." He paused then and exhaled, hating to bring up a sore subject. "I wanted to let you know that I talked to Stephanie McMahon earlier and she's eager to try and help you and Noah."

"Great," Sharlotte exclaimed. "What do I need to do?"

"Just be ready for some interviews on Monday," he answered. "And I need the name of Noah's school, and your home address."

"Okay, Noah's school is Kate Sullivan Middle School. And our address is 2307 Hudson Road." She watched as Damian wrote the information down. "So, how many people can I be expecting? I need to know how much food to prepare, and-"

"That won't be necessary Sharlotte," Damian said. "Don't go to any trouble. They'll only be there probably about an hour. Just long enough for you and Noah to talk about what's happened with the bullying. And that will be the time you'll want to talk about the threats made against you."

"Okay," Sharlotte nodded. "One way or the other, the bullying and threats will stop."

Damian smiled appreciatively at her, "You are one tough young lady."

"Only where my loved ones are concerned," Sharlotte partially admitted. "I can put up with a lot, but mess with my sister, nephew or friends and Mama Bear comes out."

Damian chuckled, "I believe it."

"So...who will be coming to interview us? Reporters from WWE?"

Damian nodded, "Yeah to be exact. Most likely Michael Cole since he runs the website. And Steph will probably be there too."

Sharlotte's jaw dropped.

"Steph? As in Stephanie McMahon?"

Damian nodded again, "Don't be nervous. She's nothing like her gimmick. She's a really sweet person in reality."

"Oh, I'm not scared of her," Sharlotte laughed. "I just...am nervous. She's the Vince McMahon's daughter for crying out loud!"

"Don't worry. You'll like her. She wants to meet you guys and to go to Noah's school along with a couple of superstars to hold a rally against bullying."

"Oh wow, that's so awesome," Sharlotte said. "Thank you so much, for helping us out, Luis. I really-"

"NOAH TAYLOR! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Oh, no! I screwed up again," Sharlotte groaned, at hearing her sister's angry voice. "I have to go, Luis," she said hurriedly, "Can we talk maybe tomorrow?"

"Sure," Damian said, concern on his face. He noted how much paler she'd become. "Everything okay?"

She nodded, "It will be. So sorry. I'll explain it another time. Goodnight."

With that, she got up and ran from the room to do some damage control.

Damian watched her leave and reluctantly closed out of Skype.

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#Damian Priest #Damian Priest Fan Fiction #Damian Priest Fan Fic #Damian Priest X OC #Damian Priest Imagine

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veinsandknuckles · 1 year ago

Text

It's a bad life if you don't weaken, pt 10 (Tallahassee/f!Reader)

pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7 (explicit) pt 8, pt 9

When you stepped out into the sunlight Tallahassee took your wrist in a firm grip, as if worried you’d slip away. Columbus watched the two of you walk past him, saw you heading for the barn and slunk back into the house without a comment. You hoped he had the sense to keep Little Rock distracted long enough for the two of you to get through... whatever this was.

Tallahassee unlocked a shiny new padlock on the barn door and shoved the door aside wide enough for you to squeeze through. “I checked the barn yesterday. This is the only way in or out...”

Oh yeah. Zombies. For a moment there, you’d forgotten all about them... how typical that the threat of an emotional mess could seem so much more urgent than the threat of actual, literal death.

“I trust your judgement,” you replied, laughing nervously at the fact that you really did almost trust him, and slipped in after him.

It took some time for your eyes to adjust to the gloom in there. While you looked around to get the lay of the land, Tallahassee walked over to a dilapidated truck half hidden beneath tarpaulin and kicked the tires without much enthusiasm. Then he turned to you with a look so serious your heart sank.

“I just... had to get you alone,” he said. If he’d reached for you as he said it, it would’ve been a lot more comforting, but instead he leaned back against the truck, lifted his hat a little to scratch at his head and seemed to have done and said all he meant to for the moment.

You took a step closer. “You’ve got me,” you replied, almost too quietly to be heard.

Tallahassee smiled without humour and gave you a look that seemed to ask, “do I?”

“Listen,” you added quickly and forced yourself to keep moving, as if standing right in front of him and right within his reach neither frightened nor excited you.

You gently touched his arm and surprised yourself by keeping your touch and your voice steady. He felt so warm...

Press on. You had to press on and make everything feel as safe and as normal as possible, as quickly as you could. This tension and uncertainty was unbearable.“I know last night was... sudden... and I don’t know how you feel about it, but...”

His eyes searched yours so intensely you almost lost your nerve. His jaw was clenched and he breathed deeply, steadily, as if willing himself to stay calm. It seemed almost like he was about to speak, but he decided against it and waited for you to say your piece.

“It doesn’t have to get weird.” You let your gaze drop, then followed his example with a sigh and leaned against the truck. You needed the support, especially since he didn’t seem in a hurry to reassure you. “We’re all stuck together, something like this was kind of inevitable one way or another, right? It’s human nature.”

“Right. Human nature.” He sighed. He sounded... frustrated? Tired? Relieved? Even though you didn’t dare look at him right now, you knew he wasn’t looking in your direction either. “Still, I reckon we should... talk this out or whatever, since we are stuck together. Not like you can quietly slip away and pretend you’ve lost my number.”

“No, I guess not...”

“So. What now?”

You swallowed and tasted metal. You weren’t sure what you’d imagined, but it wasn’t this. He seemed so calm, so withdrawn, as if you’d met up to decide how to contain a problem, not start something together, even something casual... “What do you want to happen?”

“I... I don’t know. I guess the smartest thing would be to pretend like nothing’s changed, but...”

“...What?” You turned to look up at him. The sunlight found its way into the shed through the gaps between the planks, and a ray fell across his face so you could clearly see the shifting tension beneath his skin. He was right here with you, a sort of handsome, definitely attractive man; beneath all his bullshit you knew he was kind enough when he needed to be. He’d proven over and over that he was on your side. Did it have to be so much more complicated than that?

When he turned to look at you again you felt as helpless under his gaze as you always did. Could he still not tell the effect he had on you?

“Well...” he finished, voice gruff. “I don’t regret it. That’s all.”

“Neither do I.”

You got a smile for that, if a small one. “Could’ve fooled me, the way you took off...”

“Oh.. I was just trying to avoid a scene.” You edged a little closer, and when he didn’t move away you leaned your head against his shoulder.

With a deep breath in, he put his arm around you. You knew you hadn’t actually established anything, but the closer he pulled you to him the less it seemed to matter. It’d always been a struggle to think clearly when he was near... Now that you knew what he could do to you, what he would do to you again if you let him, that confusion was stronger than ever, and if it should scare you, you were still beyond caring.

It felt as if he was affected, too. A few moments floated by, and he tried and failed to sound casual as he asked “you think you’re ever gonna want to... do it again?”

“Any time you like.” And you could feel him shiver.

“...You might regret saying that.” Tallahassee kissed the top of your head. “So we’re gonna keep this thing casual, then, I take it?”

You couldn’t quite read his tone of voice, but what did it matter? The relief that he wasn’t looking for a way out made you feel warm and bubbly. You only wanted it to last.

“Sure. Casual and discreet, I guess.”

He snorted. “Alright. I’ll just have to keep my hand across your mouth next time, then.”

Oh God. Now it was your turn to shiver. “That works for me.”

#tallahassee #tallahassee x reader #zombieland: double tap #zombieland #zombieland 2 #my fics #woody

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