#i firmly believe that this is the most color jean has had on his face in five years

[mjshortformcjesus]

The Sunshine Court page 169, colorized

[outercrasis]

Maybe It’s A Sign

Pairing: Modern!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 9.3k+

Warnings: alcohol, implied age difference, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming

Summary:  You and Mando have been driving across America together for months. You're happy to be with him but part of you longs for something more.

A/N: I don’t really know the time period for this, probably like anything pre-2010s. There’s no use of y/n and let me know if I missed a warning :)

Read it on AO3

The breeze from the open truck window is cool against your heated skin. It's your only relief as the sun beats down on you through the windshield, the busted A/C offering no help. You're headed down some freeway in the middle of nowhere America, riding shotgun in an old beat-up truck that's seen better days.

You've been keeping your eyes on the flat landscape surrounding you, watching as field after field passes you by. They really weren't joking when they'd named them the Great Plains. Music filters through the air, some classic rock song you've heard a thousand times before. You still hum along mindlessly, enjoying the small amount of entertainment.

Bored of the vast sameness outside your window, your eyes drift over to your companion, driver, and owner of the truck. Mando. You study him, finding him far more interesting than the fields outside.

His worn baseball cap has been pushed up, presumably from scratching his scalp underneath and not bothering to fix it. Soft brown curls peek out around the edges of the hat. He has his sunglasses on and his eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead, as they should be. The patchy scruff along his jawline has grown out a bit from your recent days on the road and you can see a few gray hairs mixed in with his darker natural color.

He shrugged off his jacket earlier in the day, leaving him in a worn gray t-shirt that hugged his lean muscles all just right. His faded blue jeans are on and you wonder how he can stand to wear them in the oppressive summer heat. You gave into shorts days ago.

All in all, he was a far better sight than anything outside the truck. As you look him over, you muse how everything he owns seems to be worn in. His rusty truck, his old hat, his distressed clothes. They all carry a sense of being lived in, nothing new and shiny on him. Well, except for his jewelry. His silver necklace and rings always shine brightly, a dramatic contrast to the rest of him.

"Stop staring," Mando suddenly says, breaking you from your observation of him. You're a little embarrassed to have been caught, but you aren't going to let him know that.

"Why? Nothin' else to look at around here."

That rewards you with a chuckle. At least he isn't irritated by your staring then.

"Don't you have a book or something?" 

You look over at the book you had thrown on the dashboard. A used copy of Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger that you picked up a couple states back. You aren't sure you like Holden, but it's a good read at least. "Yeah, but I can't read it for long before I start feeling sick. So I guess I'll just have to look at you instead."

"Sure that I won't make you sick?" Mando teases.

You smile. He's in a good mood today. There are days where conversation with him is like pulling teeth, but it makes days like today all the more worth it. 

"Nah, you aren't so hard on the eyes." You say it cool and casual, genuine but not needy. As though you don't often think of his looks when you have the time and privacy to satisfy your needs.

Mando shakes his head slightly but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Sure, sweetheart."

He never seems to believe you when you compliment his appearance. It breaks your heart a little. Sure, he has some years on you, but you aren't blind. You know a good-looking man when you see one and Mando? He was it. If the man wasn't oblivious, he'd notice the looks plenty of women and some men throw him when he strolls into town.

Not sure of what to say next, but not wanting the conversation to end, you take to a habit that's been slowly forming over your months with him. It had begun out of boredom one day, but continued due to a desperate urge to learn anything and everything your mysterious companion will tell you about himself.

"When's your birthday?"

Mando isn't surprised anymore by your random questions. "May eighteenth."

Your eyes go wide at his answer. It was July now, meaning he'd let the day come and go without telling you. You had just assumed his birthday hadn't come around with you yet. "Mando! Why didn't you tell me? I would have at least said something if I had known."

He shrugs. "Birthdays aren't a big deal where I grew up."

"Were you raised Jehovah's Witness or something?" you ask.

"No, nothing like that." His fingers drum slightly on the steering wheel. You noticed a while ago that he did that when you got close to something he didn't want to talk about. His childhood always seems to be a touchy subject.

You want to know more, want to learn all of his secrets, but you don't want to jeopardize his good mood. Mando had shared bits and pieces of those more intimate details with you over your shared months with him, but always on his own time. His own terms. You won't push it now. Instead, you pivot to something more innocuous.

"If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?" 

You're surprised when he barely takes any time to consider the question before answering. "Tacos."

You raise an eyebrow. "Tacos? I took you for more of a burger and fries kind of guy."

"Nothing compares to a good authentic taco from down by the border." He says it with such confidence that you can do nothing other than believe him.

"I wouldn't know," you say.

Mando cocks an eyebrow at you now. "We'll have to fix that then."

A warm flush runs through your body at his words. You know he isn't looking to get rid of you, but hearing him make plans for the future with you, no matter how tentative, makes you happier than you care to admit. Small promises that you know he'll make good on eventually given the time and opportunity.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Easy. A full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. Doesn't matter how they're cooked or the specific options, you can't go wrong."

You stretch yourself out in the cab as you answer, throwing your feet up on the dash. Your eyes close for a moment and you miss the way Mando's eyes rake over your extended frame.

"You're never awake for breakfast," Mando comments. He's right. You enjoy your sleep and when left to your own devices you easily dream through breakfast hours.

"That doesn't matter," you retort. "Breakfast food isn't only good in the morning."

You continue that way for a while, gathering small bits of information about him and sharing your own in return. You learn that he prefers hot weather over the cold, soft pillows over firm ones, showers over baths, and most surprisingly that he has a soft spot for musicals. That fact had made you giggle, imagining Mando singing along to The Music of the Night. With all of his mystery, he wouldn't make for a bad Phantom you think.

As the afternoon wears on, you can feel yourself growing tired. Between the warmth of the sun, the lulling rumble of the truck, and the comfortable environment of the cab, you're fighting to keep your eyes open. Mando notices your struggle and reaches a hand out towards you.

You aren't really sure when this began, but you aren't complaining about it. Mando would hold your hand whenever you fell asleep in the truck, thumb gently rubbing against your skin. His hands were rough, callused from years of work, but they felt nice. They felt strong, comforting. In those moments nothing else in the world mattered. And if you thought about his hands later, touching places other than your hands, then that was your business and no one else’s. 

You wake up a couple hours later, Mando calling your name to pull you from your sleep. The sun has moved down in the sky and you guess it’s somewhere close to five o’clock. You’d check the time on the radio, but Mando never seemed to bother keeping it right due to regularly changing time zones with all the cross country traveling. 

You’re sitting outside of some 24 hour diner on a random roadside. Mando seems to be fond of these little dives, preferring them to any of the big chain restaurants you always pass. Fast food is the only exception to that rule and even that’s rare, these food stops often being one of few chances to stretch your legs when you’re on the road.

“What do you think? Do they have the best pie in America?” you joke, pointing at the sun-worn sign hanging below the restaurant’s name. You can’t count how many ‘best blank in America’ signs you’ve seen at this point. While you can’t credit their authenticity, it usually did mean there was something good waiting for you on the menu.

“I suppose we’ll have to be the judges of that,” Mando replies.

You tug on your socks and shoes that you pulled off earlier in the day and hop out of the truck. The easy conversation and warm nap have you in a great mood, one that makes you a little bolder than you might otherwise be. Walking into the diner, you grab onto Mando’s arm, smiling at him when he looks down at you in surprise. He doesn’t pull away from you though and your heart beats a little bit faster.

The diner has plenty of open seats and you seat yourselves, grabbing one of the booths. The stiff vinyl isn’t the most comfortable, but you can’t say you’re surprised. The place looks like it hasn’t been renovated in a decade. If the smell from the kitchen is anything to go off of though, the food will be just fine.

A waitress comes over to take your orders. She’s exactly what you would imagine a waitress to look like in a diner like this one. Slightly heavyset, a kind face, and a big smile to offer you. “Hi there, what can I get the two of you?” she asks.

“I’ll take a coke, ma’am,” Mando says. He seems oblivious to the flush on the waitress’s cheeks at his baritone. 

“I’ll take a coke too.”

“I’ll be right back, folks.”

You reach over to grab a sticky menu from the end of the table. The stickiness grosses you out a little, but it really does add to the ambiance of the place. Your conversation from earlier drifting back into mind, you immediately look for the breakfast section. Perfect. Their ‘two eggs and more’ option is exactly what you were looking for.

The waitress returns with your drinks and takes your orders, Mando getting himself a burger and fries. You smirk at him, taking the wrapper off of your straw. “I thought you said you weren’t a burger and fries kind of guy?”

Mando watches as you carefully make a wrapper worm, dropping the smallest amount of soda on the paper to make it move. “I just said tacos were my favorite, never said I’m a guy who doesn’t enjoy a good burger and fries, sweetheart.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug.

You fall into a comfortable silence together at the table. Silence isn’t an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. When you first joined Mando you talked all the time. Trying to fill up the empty space, feeling like if someone wasn’t talking then the situation was awkward. Slowly you learned though. The silence was never awkward until you made it that way and unless Mando had something to say, he’d stay quiet. He’s not incapable of conversation, he just doesn’t like to force it.

You softly hum a tune that’s been stuck in your head, looking out the diner window and enjoying the sunset. It’s a gorgeous one today, the sky looking like an oil painting with its gradient of colors. The flat plains allow for a good view of it too, only a small building in the distance blocking any part of the horizon. You kick yourself for not picking up that disposable camera at the gas station this morning. The photo would never do it justice, but at least that way you could have a small piece of the gorgeous sky to hold onto.

Plates being set down on the table brings you back down to earth. You happily dig into your meal, pleased to have been right about the quality of food here. Nothing could beat a good meal at a greasy diner. Mando seems to enjoy his burger as well, scarfing it down well before you finish your plate.

He always ate like that and you aren’t sure why. It’s as though he thinks if he doesn’t eat it fast enough then someone is going to come and steal it from him. Early on you’d tried to speed up your eating, feeling awkward every time he finished and was forced to wait on you. Now though, you don’t care. Mando rarely ever stops moving and a meal with you is a time you can be certain that he isn’t doing anything for once. You hope that eventually it might encourage him to actually enjoy his food as well, but that still seems a long way off.

Mando picks at his fries and sips at his coke while you finish up. The waitress comes by to refill the drinks, another flush on her cheeks when Mando thanks her. There must not be many attractive men who roll through here if a simple thanks has her blushing, you think. Poor lady, she seems quite nice.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask Mando between bites of egg and toast.

“Plan?” 

“Yes, plan. We’ve been driving west for two days now and you seem to have some destination in mind. So, what’s the plan?” What plan, of course Mando has a plan. He always does. Was it always well thought out or complete? No, but there is never a time where he doesn’t have some sort of plan, some idea of where he’s off to next. You’re the one without plans, content with travelling alongside him.

Before Mando can reply, the waitress returns to the table and clears his now empty plate. “Can we get a slice of your pie?” Mando asks.

“Of course, what flavor would you like?” she replies.

“Whatever flavor you think is best, ma’am.” That garners yet another blush on the waitress’s cheeks. Wow. Things must be really bad around here then. One good-looking customer shouldn’t have that big of an impact on anyone, much less a woman who’s clearly made this job her life’s work.

She leaves and you prompt Mando again. “So? Plan?”

“I’m going to meet someone tonight, pick up a new job. Then we’ll go from there,” he finally tells you. 

You aren’t pleased by his half-cryptic half-telling answer. He’s always doing this to you, giving you answers but never quite the whole thing. You bet he already knows what the next job is, he’s just being coy about it for some ridiculous reason.

You decide not to push it and slide your plate over to Mando. There are some hash browns left and he won’t just ask for them despite the fact that you’re clearly done. He doesn’t say thanks, just picks up the fork and shovels them in. This by now is routine too so it doesn’t bother you, but it’s still odd. Mando is just weird about food.

He finishes the last of your meal and the waitress returns with the pie. “Blueberry, winner of the county festival five years running,” she tells you.

You grab a fork and dig in, suddenly finding the room in your stomach for dessert. Best pie in America might be a stretch, but you believe their claim to the best pie in the county. It’s delicious, eliciting a small but satisfied groan from you on the first bite. You go to take a second bite when you realize Mando hasn’t moved yet, he’s just watching you with an expression on his face that you can’t quite make out.

“Earth to Mando?” you say, waving your hand. “Try the pie, it’s delicious.”

He breaks from his stare and takes a piece of the pie. “‘S good,” he says around the mouthful.

You laugh at his terrible manners. “Gross, finish chewing before you talk.”

He doesn’t have a witty retort, but he gives you a grin that makes you feel like you’ve won a million dollars. It’s one of the ones that reaches his eyes, making them just shy of sparkling. Now you really wish you had bought that disposable camera.

Finishing the award-winning dessert, you and Mando go up to the counter to pay. He’s left a tip on the table, a sizable one in your opinion, but you aren’t going to say anything about it. Mando is always leaving big tips at places like these.

You take in the diner for one last moment, not paying attention to Mando’s conversation with the waitress until she says something that catches your ear.

“-shift ends in a half hour.” Did you hear that right? Was she really propositioning Mando right now? Christ, things must be downright desolate around here. 

Your heart stops as you wait to hear Mando’s reply. He could easily accept. She’s an attractive woman with that classic middle America charm about her. Any other man would probably take her up on the offer. Would it shatter your heart into a million pieces if Mando did? Most likely. But do you have any right to feel that way? Most likely not. 

Mando isn’t tied to you, at least not in that way, and he’s certainly still a man. You haven’t known him to chase after any women the whole time you’ve been with him, but surely he has needs and the waitress is beautiful and willing. You wouldn’t be able to fault him for it. 

“I’m flattered, but the lady here and I need to be getting back on the road,” Mando says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You do your best to keep your face neutral, not wanting to come off as rude while also trying not to make it obvious the way your heart swoops at Mando’s reply. You know he doesn’t mean anything serious by it, but the implication is still very much there.

Embarrassment washes over the poor woman’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just assumed…” she trails off, not finishing her thought. You want to feel bad for her, but you can’t help but feel sorry for yourself.

You have a good idea of what she assumed. You’ve heard a multitude of mistaken relationships by now between you and Mando. Everything from some kind of family relation, to something more perverted that’s assumed by greasy motel attendants who cast odd glances when you ask for a double instead of a single. It’s never any less uncomfortable.

 Mando brushes it off. “It’s fine ma’am, no harm, no foul.” The waitress doesn’t blush at his words anymore.

Bill paid, you and Mando leave the diner. His arm leaves you and you climb back into the truck. The radio flickers back to life and neither of you speak. You wish you could know what’s going on inside of his head. Probably just thinking about the next job. That seems like him, always focused on what’s coming next.

You can’t help but be consumed with thoughts of him. Situations like the one with the waitress always left you distracted. There’s no real way to describe your relationship with Mando. You had helped him with a deal and he had helped you with a way out of your one-horse town. Originally neither of you planned on staying together for this long, but at some point Mando stopped asking you where you wanted to go and you stopped asking if he was going to leave.

You’re comfortable around each other, content to drive across America while Mando picks up job after job. At some point your feelings deepened for him, you aren’t exactly sure when, but now you can’t imagine leaving Mando. It’s no longer just about the adventure of it for you. It’s something more, a deeper tie than you’ve ever had to anyone. However, you have no idea if he feels the same way and you don’t intend to find out. Better to love your mystery man from afar then reveal yourself and get left in the dust.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Mando reaches over and turns down the radio. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there.”

You’re a bit surprised to hear an apology. After all, he had nothing to really apologize for. The waitress had come onto him, not the other way around. You know Mando isn’t the type to flat out refuse and insult someone like that. What he had done was… fine. You had hardly even considered it.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Mando,” you tell him. “If anything she did, propositioning you like that.”

A small, relieved smile works its way across his face. “It was quite bold.” 

That makes you laugh. “I’m not surprised, she was sizing you up since we walked in.”

“She was not,” Mando argues.

You shift in your seat to face him. “Are you kidding? You really didn’t notice her blushing every time you spoke to her?” If Mando was this oblivious maybe you didn’t need to worry about him catching onto you.

“Now you’re just lying, sweetheart.”

“Am not. You just don’t pay attention.”

Mando rolls his eyes and turns the radio back up. He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. You let it slide and allow yourself to relax. Your hand falls to the center of the bench seat as you look out the window. The stars are coming out now, another gorgeous sight in the vast expanse of the sky. So far away from the city, it feels like you can see every pinprick of light the universe has to offer. It’s a bit disorienting honestly. Nothing makes you feel smaller by comparison and yet, you don’t really mind.

You startle as something wraps around your hand. Looking down, you realize that it’s just Mando, holding your hand as he does when you’re close to falling asleep in the truck. You look up at him, confused. You aren’t anywhere close to nodding off. He should know that, so why…? 

Mando doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. His thumb softly rubs against the back of your hand. You relax into his touch, turning your eyes back to the stars. Confusion about Mando’s actions doesn’t compare to the way your stomach flips at his gentle touch. It feels nice, domestic almost, if one can consider a life lived out of the front seat of a rusted out pickup domestic. His hand doesn’t leave yours until he pulls into the pothole filled parking lot of some dive bar.

Mando parks and turns the truck off. You move to get out of the truck with him when he squeezes your hand to stop you.

“Stay in the truck,” Mando says. His hand leaves you and he opens his own door, jumping out onto the cracked asphalt. 

You look over at him, incredulous. “Excuse me? You know I am old enough to go in there, right?”

“I know. Stay in the truck.” Mando closes the truck door, giving you no more room to argue with him. It pisses you off. 

What is this? Soften you up by holding your hand only to leave you behind? You hate when he does this, treating you like a child that’s just tagging along with him. You suppose you are tagging along, which stings a bit more, but you could be helpful, useful even if he would just let you in. Instead he keeps you at arm’s length at times, treating you like you can’t take care of yourself. He has no right to boss you around like that, telling you where you can and can’t go.

You watch his figure enter the bar, temper rising. If this place was good enough for him, it was certainly good enough for you. A bar like this had been where you met Mando months ago, working as a bartender and server. It didn’t bring back the best of memories, but you can handle yourself. At worst a fight might break out or patrons might get a little handsy. You can avoid the first and as for the second, it’s not as though Mando would need to put someone in the hospital for getting a little too flirty with you.

After fuming in the truck for a couple minutes, you make up your mind. You look yourself over in the mirror, trying to fix your appearance to look like you hadn't just spent the last two days in a truck. Pleased with yourself, you pull your shirt down slightly to reveal a bit more cleavage. The discovery of the power a pair of tits held in dive bars was one you made a long time ago. You flip the mirror back up and get out of the truck.

You practice your walk as you approach the bar door, trying to keep it calm and confident. Mando is going to be pissed at you for this, you already know, but you refuse to be treated like a child. If coming in here without his permission is what it takes for him to view you differently, then so be it. Younger you might be, but incapable you are not.

The moment you walk in the door, you spot Mando. He’s in the corner, talking to someone with his back to the door. He doesn’t even notice as you walk in and stroll up to the bar.

The man behind the counter is old, his white shirt spotted with stains and a towel thrown over his shoulder. It’s almost too stereotypical a look and you want to laugh. The stiff look he gives you though stifles your amusement.

“What can I get you?” he asks gruffly as you take a seat at the bartop.

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.” 

Whiskey is not your favorite drink. Not by a long shot. Really, you would have loved to order something fruity that you can’t taste the alcohol in, but whiskey is something you’ve learned to tolerate. You know that appearances matter in a place like this and a fruity drink would mark you as someone lost, not as someone who belongs here. You aren’t looking to get trashed anyway, just something to calm your nerves.

It doesn’t take long before someone is sidling up next to you at the bar. You don’t acknowledge him right away, instead staring up at the small CRT TV that’s playing the local news above the bar. Some murder case from a couple towns over is currently being highlighted. Lovely.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” he asks you.

You glance over at him, enough to get a look, but you don’t let your eyes linger. Lingering eyes would mean an invitation that you certainly don’t want to give. You have to admit, as far as seedy dive bar men went, he isn’t hard to look at. Not much older than you, clean shaven, bright blue eyes. Another time you might have gone for someone like him. Not now. These days your thoughts are only occupied by scruff, dark hair, and warm brown eyes.

“Came in for a drink,” you reply simply.

He leans in a bit closer. “Can I buy you another?”

You take a sip of your drink. “I think I’m alright, thanks.”

He pushes in even further, placing a hand on your thigh. This guy didn’t take no for an answer apparently. “Aw, come on now, don’t be that way sweetheart.”

Hearing him call you sweetheart makes you want to punch him more than him touching you does. It sounds wrong coming out of his mouth, harsh and manipulative, not the smooth and warm way Mando says it. For a moment, you do seriously consider punching this guy square in the jaw before deciding against it. You came in here to prove a point and not being able to handle a pushy guy would just prove the exact opposite of that.

You turn in your chair to move your thigh away from him. He has the decency to let his hand fall at least. “Don’t call me that,” you tell him.

“Alright then, what do I call you?”

You turn your attention back to the TV. Now they were highlighting a feel good story about an animal adoption from the nearby shelter. Odd shift in tone. You don’t reply to Blue-eyes and hope he gets the message. 

“Playing hard to get, that’s fine,” he says. You take another sip of your whiskey. The news shifts to the weather. There’s more warm weather on the way for the next week, no storms in sight. That’ll be nice to drive in you think.

Blue-eyes’ hand returns to your thigh, creeping up higher than it was before. “I don’t mind hard to get, sweetheart.”

That one garners a slap. You do it before you even give it a real thought. It’s a good one at least, making a very solid sound as his head spins. It’s a testament to the bar that no one even spares it a second glance. Blue-eyes turns back to you, furious.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” he hisses at you, roughly grabbing your arm.

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t take your hand off of her.” 

You’ve never been so happy to hear Mando’s voice in your life. Could you handle this guy? Probably. Do you want to? Absolutely not. You know on your own there's a near certain chance you'll end up with bruises before this guy gives up.

Somewhere in your mind you register the very real possibility that Mando is pissed at you right now. You shove it down, choosing to focus on the fact that he did just come to your defense. 

Blue-eyes is more stupid then he looks and doesn’t read the very obvious threat Mando poses. Instead he doubles down and tightens his grip on you. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, old man?”

You can't say you're surprised when Mando punches him in the face instead of answering the question. You also can’t say that you feel bad about it either. The surprise and hurt of the sudden punch makes Blue-eyes release his grip on you, giving you enough time to move out of the way as Mando moves in. Mando grabs a fistful of Blue-eyes' shirt and pulls the guy in towards his face. 

“Do you regret it?” Mando grits out. Blue-eyes sputters something that sounds like an apology and pushes himself away. 

Satisfied, Mando now turns on you. You were right, he's pissed. His typically soft, warm eyes are hard on you now as he pulls you away.

You flounder to tell him you haven't paid for your drink but he just ignores you, dragging you out of the bar. If you were smarter, you would think to be a little scared about making a man like Mando mad at you. Instead, your thoughts are occupied with how he's barely even trying to overpower you and yet you couldn't break free of his grip if you tried. You wonder if there's something wrong with you for how much it's turning you on.

Arriving back at the truck, Mando releases his grip. "Get in," he demands.

You do as you're told and climb into the passenger seat as Mando goes around. Nerves finally settle in. Mando would never hurt you, you know that, but he could decide to ditch you somewhere. Whatever this situation is with him, it's far from formal. He has no obligation to you and could easily choose to end it. With the trouble you’ve just caused, you wouldn’t be surprised if this all comes to a swift and sudden end.

As Mando climbs into the cab, you stare down at the floorboards, terrified that he's going to tell you he's dropping you off somewhere and leaving you behind for good. You can't imagine your life without him now. There's nowhere for you to go, nothing for you to do without him. Right back to square one.

He doesn't speak right away, which only makes you more nervous. He peels the truck out of the parking lot, headed back in the direction you came from. You still don't look at him. It's obvious you fucked up and there's nothing you can really say to fix that. Your only hope is that he forgives you.

You're headed back through the small nearby town when he finally speaks. “I told you to stay in the truck.”

You don’t say anything in response. Anything you can come up with sounds childish in your head. The exact opposite of what you'd been trying to prove. Thankfully, Mando takes your silence as an answer.

“Why would you even do something like that? Do you know how stupid that was?” His hands are tight on the wheel, glancing between you and the road as he yells.

You mumble back to him. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“He called me sweetheart,” you say a little louder.

“What?” He isn't going to let you off the hook with this and it gets under your skin. Some part of you thought he might be proud of you for smacking that creep and here he is berating you for it.

“He called me sweetheart, alright?” you half-shout.

Mando gives you a confused look, clearly not the answer he was expecting. “Do you- do you have a problem with that?” The heat is still present in his voice, but you can hear a little worry in it now. Shit. This is not what you wanted out of this whole ordeal.

You've never wanted the ground to come up and swallow you more. Why didn’t you just say that you smacked him for touching you? That would have been simple. How do you answer this without making everything weird? No, Mando, I don’t have a problem with that. I smacked him because I only like it when you call me that. Sure. That won’t be weird or awkward at all. 

After cursing yourself for a few seconds, you manage a response. “No, I- I just didn’t like it when he said it.”

"Oh." That's Mando's only reply.

You know he's still angry about you coming into the bar, but apparently your answer has sidelined him. If it wasn't so embarrassing, you might even be rejoicing at his reaction. Instead you just feel like a fool.

The silence remains as you pull into a little local motel with the vacancy sign lit up. Mando hands you forty dollars, way more than you need, and tells you to get a room.

Okay. So he isn't getting rid of you… yet.

You barely even listen to the attendant as they tell you they only have one single available for the night. Now is not the time to be arguing about sleeping arrangements. You take the key, room 104, and make your way back to the truck. 

You grab your bag from the flatbed and let Mando know the room number. He nods and goes to pull the truck around. You kick yourself as you walk over to the room. Why didn’t you just stay in the truck? Why didn’t you just lie to Mando about your reasons? He’s smart and it won’t take long now for him to put two and two together. Especially if he asks anymore questions.

You have no idea how Mando might react. If learning about your feelings towards him combined with what happened in the bar might be enough to leave you. He’s certainly not cold with you, but you’re not sure you’d call any of his actions romantic either. Holding your hand after the diner today is the closest he’s ever come. You wish you knew what that meant to him. You know what it meant to you.

Mando parks the truck outside of the room as you unlock the door. It’s not a fancy room, just one big square with a bathroom attached. There’s a full bed, a dresser with a TV on it, and a small table with a couple chairs. You toss your bag on the table and sit down on the edge of the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t upset, Mando can always see through your lies. Might as well just get this over with.

Nervous, you hide your face in your hands, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. You’re ready to deal with it, but not while actually looking at him. You can’t handle seeing his face as he figures things out; the way he might look at you while he rejects you. Suddenly you feel a wave of sympathy for the waitress earlier today. You hope Mando will let you down easy like he did for her.

You don’t look up when Mando comes into the room. His boots enter your line of vision and you close your eyes. You can’t look at any part of him right now. It’s too painful.

Mando says your name softly and you can sense as he kneels down in front of you. You don’t reply. Gently, he moves your hands away from your face. You still refuse to look at him and he cups your chin, lifting your head up to his.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You wish you could resist, but you can’t. Not when he speaks to you in that soft tone. Not when he calls you that.

You meet his eye and see all the concern and worry he holds there. “I’m sorry, Mando. I should have listened to you.”

His hand slides up to hold your cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I could have at least told you why I didn’t want you coming in with me.”

You’re surprised at his apology. Two apologies he didn’t need to make in one day. This isn’t something you ever expected. You assumed he would still be full of heat and anger, not this careful kindness.

“Why didn’t you want me to come in?” you ask. You need to know the reason, need to know why it is he told you to stay behind. No matter how much the reason might hurt.

Mando sighs. “I didn’t want you to come in because I didn’t want anyone else looking at you.”

You pull back out of shock. “What?” Did you hear that correctly? Could that mean what you thought it might?

He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair. “What can I say, sweetheart? I’m a jealous man.”

A thousand thoughts run through your mind. There are so many things you want to say, so many questions you want to ask, and yet none of them can find their way out. As a result, you do the only thing you can.

You lean in towards him, slowly, giving him enough time to stop you if he so chooses. He doesn’t though, instead following your lead and moving in closer. You carefully search his eyes for any answers they may hold. Your noses bump and you both pause. “Mando, I-”

He cuts you off. “Din. My name is Din.”

You close the gap and kiss him. The kiss is careful at first, as though you’re both still looking to confirm that yes, this is what you both want. Mand- Din’s lips are soft and sweet against yours and you melt as it’s everything you could have imagined and more. A small moan escapes you, one that you’re embarrassed about until it causes Din to deepen the kiss. Caution evaporates, quickly turning into passion as your tongues meet.

Din moves, getting up from the floor and pushing you back against the bed. His lips never leave yours, devouring you as though you might slip away at any moment. He gives your bottom lip a small nip, quickly soothing it with his tongue. You pull away, needing a moment to catch your breath.

“Is this okay?” Din asks, his voice low with desire. You respond by pulling him back down into another bruising kiss. Your positions shift as the kiss continues, Din’s knee finding its way between your legs as his arms wrap around you. Both of your hands have worked their way into his hair, something you’ve been fantasizing about for months now.

Din begins to kiss his way down your neck, leaving little love bites along the way. You gently tug on his hair, pulling a heavenly sound from him that only intensifies your pool of desire. Desperate for more, you move a hand down, seeking the hem of his shirt and slipping your hand underneath. His skin feels remarkable under your fingertips.

Din pulls away from your neck and quickly divests himself of his shirt. He allows you a moment to take him in, his lean physique flexing as he holds himself above you. Scars litter his body in various shapes and sizes, but you think they look beautiful against the glow of his honeyed skin. 

Taking the opportunity, you remove your top as well, leaving you in your basic everyday bra. You wish you had worn your other bra, the sexier one, but with the way Din is looking at you, you’re not sure it matters. His lips return to your body, working his way across any and all of your newly exposed skin. One hand splays on your waist, holding you, grounding Din against you.

“You’re so soft, sweetheart,” Din murmurs against you. His lips find their way up to your chest, placing careful kisses against the globes of your breasts. He pauses and looks up at you, seeking your permission. You arch your back, allowing Din access to slip a hand beneath you and undo the clasp.

He pulls the bra away from you and you flush under the intensity of his gaze. “Perfect, you’re perfect,” Din says before reoccupying his mouth with your breasts. It seems that he has a real oral fixation, not that you mind in the slightest. His warm mouth feels heavenly against you, licking and sucking wherever he can.

Din takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other. It’s the best thing you’ve felt in months, better than any of your late night fantasies when you would try to satisfy your growing want for the man currently giving you so much pleasure. As though your attempts could ever come close to the real thing.

Din releases your nipple with a pop and returns to your mouth, licking his way inside. His kiss alone is enough to make you see stars. It makes you forget any other kiss you’ve ever shared, enveloping you in him and him alone.

You pull back slightly from the kiss, unable to take more without further relief. “Din, please, I want you,” you pant into his mouth. Din growls, actually growls, at your words. It's a far hotter response than it should be.

“Yeah, sweetheart? What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.” His knee comes up and presses his thigh against you where you want him most, causing you to moan out his name. “Use your words, sweet girl.”

He’s trying to kill you, you think. Calling you a name like that. Sweet girl. It loops in your mind until Din’s fingers ghost over your nipples again. “I want you to touch me,” you tell him.

“I’m already touching you,” Din says. He’s a tease, you think, growing slightly frustrated with him. His thigh moves against you again though and he’s immediately forgiven.

“Please, Din,” you whine, hoping he’ll take pity on you. Thankfully he does, moving his leg away and quickly removing your pants. You already know you’re soaking, your panties feeling cold against you with the loss of the other cloth barrier.

Din pauses for another moment to take you in before moving. You’re nearly bare before him, almost entirely on display. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he compliments, his hands parting your thighs. “So perfect, so beautiful, and all mine.” You can feel yourself clench at his words. No one has ever made you feel this way before. His stare only relaxes you more, his words feeling like a warm blanket wrapping around your fears and quieting them.

Din’s fingers brush against you through the thin cotton. “Is this all for me, sweetheart? I can already feel how wet you are.”

He continues to tease you, only leaving you capable of nodding your head back at him. His eyes catch yours, watching your reaction as he pushes the near useless fabric off to the side and pushes one finger between your folds. Just the small touch sets you aflame, pushing yourself down onto his hand, wanting more. 

His finger leaves you and you frown until you watch as he brings it to his mouth and licks your slick off of it. Din moans at the taste. “You taste better than you do in my dreams.”

He leans down to kiss you, sharing the taste of yourself while he pulls your panties off completely. They’re thrown haphazardly into the room, lost to be found for later. 

Din then moves himself between your legs, slowly working kisses down your body as he slides back onto his knees on the floor. He grabs your waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed with ease and starts nipping and kissing your inner thighs. Your hands wind back into his hair, while you lie in disbelief that this is really happening right now.

Gentle kisses are placed along your folds, Din moving back as you try to grind your hips down onto him. His eyes catch yours again, mouth hovering over your clit as he speaks. “I’m going to taste you until you cum on my face and then I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

This time you manage a response, frantic to let him know that’s exactly what you want. “Yes, please, I want you so badly, Din.”

It’s all he needs to hear. His mouth comes down on your clit, carefully playing with the bundle of nerves, making you cry out and clench around nothing. He pulls away slightly and then licks a long stripe from bottom to top, pausing again at your clit to give it a teasing suck. Your hands pull at his hair from the attention.

He moves back down, teasing your entrance with his mouth. He moans, lapping up your pussy, acting every part a man dying of thirst who’s found oasis at your core. You buck into him and his hands quickly wrap around your legs, holding your hips in place. Din wants to pleasure you, but on his own terms, at his own speed.

You can’t make a coherent thought as he continues to eat you out. Small snippets of words make their way out of you, none of them making any real sense in conjunction with one another. It’s not until his thumb finds your clit as he continues to lick, suck, and nip at you that you find complete words to shout. “Din, oh god, yes, right there, I’m so close...”

Moments later you feel the tension within you snap, crying out as your body shakes from the overwhelming pleasure. Din continues to work you through your orgasm, only stopping when you physically push his head away from you. He trails hot kisses along your inner thighs again, telling you how beautiful you are, how good you taste, how perfect your pussy is.

As you come down from your high, Din removes the last of his clothes, finally freeing his stiff erection. Your breath catches as you take him in, your Adonis in the flesh. He’s gorgeous, you think, wondering what you did to get so lucky.

Then he’s back over top of you, kissing and sucking at your skin. Some of those are bound to leave marks for tomorrow but you don’t mind. You want everyone to see, for everyone to know that you’re his. No more mistaken assumptions about your relationship, you want it on display for the world.

You look down to catch a better glimpse of his cock, satiating the curiosity that’s plagued you for so long. He’s big. More than enough to fill you, possibly even more than you can handle. As wet as you are, you know you’ll need him to go slow, to slowly stretch you out before he can truly fuck you.

You tilt your hips, bumping against him, letting him know that you want him. “Do you want my fingers first?” Din asks. You know you should say yes, but you can’t imagine another moment without knowing what he feels like inside of you.

“No,” you tell him. “Just go slow.”

Din places a quick searing kiss against your lips and positions himself. The head of his cock presses against your slick entrance and you feel like you’re already seeing stars. Din is muttering in your ear, holding you tightly against him as he pushes into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart. So tight and wet for me. I can’t wait to fill you up, to feel every inch of your sweet pussy.”

You nearly forget to breath as he slowly pushes in further. You can feel every inch of him and you only want more. Din’s stream of compliments are interrupted when he finally bottoms out in you, holding himself still as your walls clench and stretch around him. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

You turn your head and pull him into a blazing kiss, loving the way he feels filling you up. You wonder how you were ever satisfied with your fingers before when this had been next to you for so long. Din is apparently thinking along the same lines, whispering to you, “I’d have done this long ago if I knew you felt this good.”

You don’t even have time to consider the words as he slowly begins to move in you. The pleasure borders on agonizing as you begin to move your hips, encouraging him to move faster. Din responds quickly to your urging, setting a furious pace as he begins to lose all control. You know you’ll still be feeling him tomorrow and the thought makes you smile. You never want to go another day without a reminder of how he feels.

His thumb returns to your clit and you don’t have time to warn him before you’re thrown into another orgasm. Your walls clench around him and you lose yourself in the feeling of cumming on his cock. Din quickly follows, pulling out of you just in time to paint your stomach with ropes of his spend. You mourn the loss of him, but once Din finishes he buries himself back inside of you, causing another shock of pleasure to zing through your body.

Din rolls the both of you over, keeping himself sheathed in you, and allowing you to collapse on top of him. You’re both sweaty and panting, trying to come up with words. Din’s fingers lightly trace along your back, causing goosebumps to erupt across your flesh. You lift your head up from his chest in order to look at his face.

He’s completely debauched, sweat causing hair to cling to his forehead, the rest completely wild from your hands. His eyes are still blown wide, happily looking back at you. His lips are pink and swollen from all the kisses and licks he’s pressed into your skin. You know you can’t look much better than him.

You give a small clench around him and smile at the expression that runs across Din’s face. “I love the way you fill me,” you tell him. Din presses a loving kiss against your sweaty forehead.

“I never want to leave this perfect pussy of yours.” You can tell he means it too. If he could, he would stay buried in you forever. You love the way that sounds. His eyes flutter closed, reveling in the feeling of having you surround him.

“Din,” you say.

His eyes pop back open and refocus on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

A smile blooms across your face. “Nothing, I just wanted to say it. Din. It suits you.” 

His name suits him in a different way than Mando does. Mando is the rough exterior, the front he puts up to the world. The one who punches men in bars for touching you and calling you pet names. The one that strikes fear into others, knowing that if he’s hot on their trail that they’re screwed. Din is the soft inside, the place where all of his ‘sweethearts’ originate, the cause for the hand holding and sparkling smiles. The man behind the armor that he presents to the world, the one who kisses and fills you up just right.

Din’s arms wrap around you tightly, clearly intent on never letting you go. You’re fine with that, letting it sink in that you’re finally laying in bed with the man who’s consumed your thoughts for months. A small, joyous giggle escapes you.

“What’s so funny?” Din asks.

“I thought you were going to leave me earlier. Now here I am, laying on top of you with your cock still inside of me.”

Din chuckles and you can feel it rumble in his chest. “I’m never letting you go sweetheart, no matter how much you piss me off.”

You fold your arms across his chest, letting your chin rest on your hands. “I am sorry. I just wanted you to notice me. I felt like you were treating me like a child,” you confess.

Din’s eyes widen a bit at your admission. “I always notice you, mesh’la. I never meant to treat you that way. I only want to keep you safe.”

“I know that now. Honestly, I feel so silly about it all.” He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair back from your face. 

“Next time, I’ll take you in with me. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine.” He grinds his hips up into you to prove his point. It makes you squeal, causing a smirk to settle on Din’s lips. You give his cheek a small flick in retaliation but make no attempt to move.

You lay there for a little while longer, laying your head back down against Din’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat beneath you. His hands trace anywhere he can touch on you, intoxicated by having you so close against him. Eventually though, you feel the call to use the bathroom and can no longer ignore it.

Din is almost painful sliding out of you, but you’re more upset about the loss of having him buried in you. Your legs are shaky as you stand, managing to make it to the bathroom on wobbly knees. You take a moment to clean yourself up, running a damp cloth across your body. Exhaustion hits as you return to bed, crawling under the covers and into Din’s arms.

You begin to drift off when Din asks, “Why’d you get a single? Not that I’m complaining.”

“All they had left. Maybe it was a sign,” you mumble back.

Din chuckles and presses a kiss against your head. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

[kmorales1]

Office Affairs

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: Explicit (Anyone under 18, go away, thanks.)

Warnings: Uh, unprotected sex(this is fiction please wrap it before you tap it), i'm bad at this. One(1) mention of spit(whoops).

A note: Hey, so I wrote this in an hour and (maybe) a half. This entire thing is purely based off my intense yearning for Javi the past few days(more like weeks). Also he's incredibly hard to write for so I hope I was able to capture his character. This is also my first time writing smut, let alone posting it. Be gentle with your critics lmao. It might not be entirely cohesive but I tried really hard but anyway this is what my brain popped out.

Javier Peña is the type of guy to take you home for a quick fuck, cuddle you like he’s in love with you, and then leave an hour later without barely a glance in your direction. You know this, you’d heard the whispers about him in the embassy when you were making your way to the filing room, or to the break room for your afternoon lunch.

And you believed them.

The first night Javier took you home you were 99% sure that you’d get the best fuck of your life out of him and then he’d be gone before you could even ask him to stay the night. And let’s be honest you wanted him to stay the night. To feel him pressed against you, his broad chest against your back, his breath fanning over the back of your neck. God, you yearned for that man. Or maybe just a man, it’d been a while.

You weren’t entirely wrong though, you did get the best fuck of your life out of him, but you also found the Javier that was sprawled in your bed, a lit cigarette between his lips, wasn’t the same man he was in the daylight of the office.

He was quieter, soft spoken, almost open.

The first few times he had stayed for a bit after to lay pressed beside you talking about work and you had even managed to pull a few details about his life back home. A few. But those few details only left you craving more, and who could blame you. He was intoxicating. You hadn’t been expecting it and now that you saw it, you wanted more.

“You know, you’re different like this.”

You had practically whispered the words to him, a little scared you might somehow push him back into the person he was in the light of day. But he only offered you something almost like a smile and leaned forward to press his lips to yours.

“I think, maybe i’m just different with you.”

He didn’t elaborate or say anything more, and you didn’t say anything in response. Cause what could you say? He’d pressed you open into the mattress a few minutes later his head between your thighs. Taking you apart slowly whispering filthy things as he brought you over the edge.

Your heart clenched as he laid his head on your thigh afterwards, his hair an unruly mess.

You wanted him like this all the time.

You weren’t naïve,though. So you didn’t think much of the way he laid beside you, or the things he said to you. He could feed any pretty woman words to make them feel special, and no matter how much you wanted to be different, something told you weren’t.

That became apparent when you started seeing less of Javier and hearing more about his informants and the other women he would bring home some nights. You weren’t mad, nor jealous, but you weren’t exactly fine either.

Coming home from a late night at work you had passed him and who you assumed was one of those said people that were whispered about. She was laughing at something, his arm locked tight around her waist guiding her down the hall. His face didn’t match hers but he certainly didn’t look unhappy, and when you crossed their path trying hurriedly to get into your apartment before seeing something you didn’t want to, he barely spared you a side glance.

Fine.

You stopped giving him the attention he silently would ask for in the daytime. His gaze burning hot on your body as you silently sipped your tea in the corner of the break room. Or the way he would brush your shoulder as he passed your desk. It’s almost laughable how he could seemingly seek your attention out one minute and then act like you didn’t exist the next. You didn’t play into it and things were fine.

Until they weren’t.

“You’re ignoring me, princesa.”

He’s got you cornered in the filing room his broad form practically towering over you. This is the closest you’ve been to him since you’d seen him that night, or the occasional time he would purposeful bump into you in the office.

“Hello Javi,” You barely managed to hold onto the papers in your hands. His close proximity to you slightly knocking you off center. You weren’t entirely lying when you said things were fine, but him being so close and the smell of him nearly overpowering was reminding you of the parts that were exactly not fine.

“I’m sorry i’ve been so busy.”

That’s a lie. You know it’s a lie, he knows it’s a lie. Things had been incredibly slow the past couple of weeks. Pablo in hiding from a recent raid that hit a little too close to home.

“I think we both know that’s a lie,”

And oh, is his voice a little breathier.

You curse yourself quietly, because you’re supposed to be putting this behind you. This man only sought you out when he felt like it when he was bored. But the way he’s pressed so close to you, if you just leaned forward a tiny bit. His eyes are skimming over your face, like he’s taking in the changes he’s missed in the past few weeks he hasn’t seen you.

There’s a tilt of his head and a small push forward and his lips are a near inch away from yours.

“Don’t you miss me, baby?”

Your knees nearly buckle.

He called you that exactly one time before. A rough raid with Carrillo had him stumbling into your apartment at nearly 1 am, luckily you had just gotten home from work and were still awake. His shirt was damp with sweat, the color of it slightly darker than the original pink, a stray mark of blood on his face- you later found out wasn’t his. He’d been needy, the way he had pressed you into the counter in your kitchen, fucked you within an inch of your life it felt like. Growling filthy things into your ear, praising you, before pulling you roughly to the floor(his back didn’t forgive him for days after that) and sliding you onto him. You’d rode him hard and fast nearly sobbing your release. He’d came up to cradle you to him. Whispering baby and your name reverently into your hair. You didn’t talk about it, what had made him so frantic. You had to practically peel yourself away from him and when you did it had broken the spell. He was up, fixing his jeans, kissing your forehead and then he was gone out the door before you could even get words out.

Javier whispering your name brings you back to the present, his eyes are locked on your lips and fuck-

Your fingers are dropping the papers and urgently sliding up his back to curl in his hair, pulling him the last bit of distance to bring his mouth to yours.

You’ll tell him later that you don’t forgive him for that debacle with the woman he brought home with him and you’ll also tell him the other things that have been pent up for the past almost month. And if he doesn’t like it oh well, but god right now all you want is to be fucked by this infuriating man.

“Javi-“

Your plea is broken as his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth his hands holding firmly to your hips.

“Javi please”

He shushes you, his leg coming to press between your thighs, right against where you want him the most and you nearly keen at the relief it gives. His thigh flexes and applies just the pressure to send your hips sliding forward.

“Quiet, princesa you don’t want anyone to hear,”

Oh fuck. You’re at work right now. You’re at work fuck. You’re at work. You remind yourself again.

One more time you’re at work-

But no one really comes back here. (that’s a lie)

His hands are guiding your hips roughly, and you’re practically riding his thigh. The feeling is too much and not enough all at once.

“Anything, Javi please.”

You’re breathless whimper has him growling under his breath as he pushes you deeper into the cabinets. His hands tear your skirt out of the way, pushing your panties aside before dipping his fingers into your center.

“Baby, fuck you’re so wet,”

His fingers leave you momentarily to slide into his mouth. The hum that leaves him is enough to push a wave of slick out of you, and you eagerly grip any part of him you can reach.

“Is this for me? You have missed me,”

The smug look on his face makes you want to roll your eyes, and you would if he wasn’t currently sliding his fingers back into you and curling them just like that-

“Fuck! Javi,”

The hand that is grasping your hips leaves to hurriedly slap a hand over your mouth. His eyes are burning into yours his teeth bared slightly.

“I said quiet, do you want our coworkers seeing how much a slut you are for me?”

He licks a line up the side of your neck before coming to suckle and bite lightly on your ear.

“Youd like it wouldn’t you?”

You’re practically dripping at his words, the squelching noise from his fingers fucking into you roughly is nearly obscene. You’re so close you could cry, if he could just give a little more.

“More,”

It’s a desperate plea for anything and it’s slightly muffled by his hand but he gets the message. His hand drops and you’re caught off guard by him roughly undoing his belt and pushing his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.

You nearly moan at the sight, long and thick with precum gathering at the tip. Fuck it’s been so long you want to taste. But he’s got you shoved back up against the nearest filing cabinet, his hand back over your mouth as he nudges his cock against your clit.

You keen at the slight pressure it gives before you jerk at the feeling of him sliding into you fully his hips flush to yours.

“Fuck, hermosa,” his teeth are clenched tight the cords of his neck strained as he whispers praises into your ear.

"Baby you’re so tight, missed you.”

You don’t even have time to process the last part before he’s almost urgently pulling out to slam back in. You want to worry about the noises that are being made but just as the thought comes in it’s gone. He’s fucking into you hard, his hand still covering your mouth tightly, trying hard to mask the moans that are escaping you. The slight jingle of his belt buckle as he roughly pounds into you shouldn’t be as erotic as it is. His head is pressed to your shoulder and you can feel the air from his mouth as he pants.

You’re so close you can practically feel yourself dripping down your thighs. One of your hands is curled tightly in his hair and the other snakes down your body to rub between your clit. Your breath is coming out harsh from your nose meeting the warm skin of his hand and god the thought of his hand over your mouth as he fucks you is so much you think you might come now.

But then his hand slips away and he’s sliding it in your hair to tilt your head back. Baring his teeth he gives one particularly hard thrust before demanding.

“Open.”

Immediately your mouth snaps open and he spits.

"Fucking swallow it."

You do, quickly before you lift eagerly to meet his mouth, teeth clinking harshly.

“Javi i’m gonna come-“

He’s pulling back, whispering urgently in your ear .

"Do it baby, do it now. Cum for me."

You’re pushing to meet his thrusts hurriedly chasing the orgasm you feel tightening in your stomach.

“I said now,” The harshness in his voice sends you reeling. You keen, a little too loudly to be in your office building, the thread snapping as you tumble over the edge. Your cunt clenching hard around him. Somewhere through the haze you feel Javier bite roughly into your shoulder and his cock jerk inside of you as he cums.

His hands are sliding around you to pull you into him his face meeting your neck as he pants, his cock softening inside of you. There’s a pleasant sounding hum from him as you card your fingers through his hair your nails scratching lazily at his scalp. The room is humid and sticky you suddenly come back to yourself, sinking down from your post orgasm high.

“Javier,”

The change in your voice has him pulling back to look at you before his eyes widen in understanding.

Yes, basking in the after sex glow isn’t the best idea at the moment.

“We can talk after work okay?”

There’s a nod from him before he’s sliding out of you with a hiss and tucking himself back into his jeans. And there’s a lot to talk about, he isn’t off the hook, and you’ve got to think it over because you know you have technically no right to even be upset.

You’re adjusting your skirt when you feel him cup your cheek.

“I really did miss you.”

Its said quietly, almost like it’s a secret.

And momentarily, you forget everything you need to be confused about with him.

"I missed you too."

[twelfth-harbinger]

Hello!! I just finished reading your Zhongli piece and it’s so so good! I love the way you write and your descriptions, unlike other writers who just dive into dialogue and feels very 1D, yours is 3-D!! I love it! Do you plan on continuing the Zhongli one with part 2 NSFW?!?

Also, may I please request a NSFW Diluc piece with female reader, who’s his co-worker/bartender who works at angels share with Charles?

Thank you for your hard work!

A/n: Firstly, yes!!! & thank you!!!, ilysm <3. Secondly Diluc is fucking hot & this is something I couldn’t get out my mind once I read your request. Pls Enjoy ^^

Mentions: Master Diluc likes being called...Master Diluc. Don’t taunt him it’ll lead to something spontaneous and igniting! Bar sex.

Warnings: Nsfw! So spicy hehe

The Angel of Angel’s Share

He spotted you on his occasional endeavors to Angels Share, being an outstanding and tremendous help to Charles when it came to cleaning up and serving drinks to the patrons of his humble business. You insisted that Charles let you help out once in a while as a side job — you needed the mora. Upon getting Dilics rather passive approval in a letter you got in! You spend most nights tidying up, wiping down tables and cleaning glasses periodically. Many of the bar patrons converse with you. Calling you the literal Angel of Angel’s Share. Your beauty was no secret, every man and woman there simply adored you. How could they not? You were friendly, outgoing and most importantly, kind. Your smile was as radiant as the sun itself and of course Diluc had to witness it with his own two eyes. Word did not spread around his establishment without him in the loop. Kaeya frequented the bar more often to flirt with see you; he was a regular before, but now? You rarely go a night where you don’t see him, even if it’s for a short while. Charles has to make snide comments about him slacking off to get him to leave.

All it takes is one night for things to burn brightly into something new, a night akin to this one. Diluc stood behind the counter to relieve Charles for the night shift — he had been there all morning and the night before. You walked in as Diluc was speaking to Charles, you wasted no time in maneuvering to the second floor to clear those tables first.

“Enjoy your night off Charles, I’ll take it from here.” Diluc waved him away and well, it left you there with him. Not alone of course, not yet. As the night pressed on you entertained the customers, served them delicious drinks Diluc prepared and made friends with Stanley?? The busy happy hour of Angels Share gave you no time to take a break. Not until it was well after hours and Diluc had locked the doors to Angel’s Share for the night.

“Good work today.” You chirped happily, as you sat at the bar of the counter atop a stool. Diluc prepared you spiked wolf hook juice on the house; it had a bearclaw kind of taste to it. One of Dliuc’s hands held an empty glass whilst the other dried it with a plain off-white dish cloth.

“I should be saying that to you, you overachieved tonight.” He didn’t mean for his comment to come off as brash, even though it did. You glanced up at him over the top to your glass, your eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. He quickly corrected himself with a light clear of his throat. “Not...that, that’s a bad thing. You..did well.”

Talk about awkward, you and he hadn’t spoken much since your employment over the past few months. You were undoubtedly curious about this handsome man with hair the color of fire. All dressed in black and a wielder of a claymore. He had to have some form of immense physical strength to do so and it only made you wonder what else he could do.

“Why thank you Master Diluc.” Your lips curled into a coy smile as you peeked up at him over the rim of your glass once more. His eyes were like flames too, and his gaze made you burn. It’s strange, so many people address him as Master Diluc regularly and yet you were the only person that was able to stoke the fire within him. Intentionally or not he enjoyed the way it rolled off your tongue and he wanted to hear it again. His hand stopped moving in the glass and he set it down neatly next to the others that were lined up.

“There’s no need to thank me, everyone deserves recognition for their hard work.” He played it cool, you’ll give him that. You stood up, hopping off the stool to the bar, only to walk around it and move past him. You were shorter than he was, he saw the top of your head. He was in the midst of asking you what you were doing but you stopped in front of him to drop to your knees. He fucking froze, he watched you completely unsure of what was going to happen next. He prayed to the gods that you weren’t going to do what he wanted you to do. He wouldn’t be able to keep it together otherwise and he doubted he’d stop you. With a cheeky grin you stood back up with a large jug of homemade grape juice in a hand. He exhaled quietly, letting out a silent sigh that caught in his throat. His face remained straight with a hint of a slight irritable frown threatening the corners of his lips. You proceeded to stand in front of him, turning your back to him to pour a glass of his favorite beverage.

“I know you don’t drink and I heard you liked grape juice from your brother. Why not sit and join me for a while?”

His eyes drifted down the back of your figure before he stepped aside shamefully, Kaeya rubbed off on him more than he cared to admit. Even so, he was ignoring any and all signals you were sending him. Or at least he was trying his very best to. Certainly nothing came that easy— a passing thought you both shared. He sat beside you at the bar, it was silent for a little while. You looked at him with a slight turn of your head and moved to place a hand on your cheek. He lowered the glass from his face and looked over at you. Seeing him up close was making you nervous, you thought you had it in you to seduce this man but you began having second thoughts. He stared at you as if he was trying to read you like a book. It only made things more complicated which lead to you doubting yourself even more. Kaeya never made you this nervous even when he flirted with you.

“My brother told you I liked grape juice what a nuisance.” He said, breaking the silence; he had to the cat ripped out your tongue. You looked at the glass jug and then at him and finally smiled, breaking a light sweat from your overthinking.

“O-Oh, yes haha.. he was teasing you quite a bit.” Diluc didn’t find it amusing Kaeya could get under his skin like it was his job. A light ‘tch’ left his lips as he raised his glass. You followed suit needing more liquid courage than you initially thought. “It’s okay,” You sighed out, you cheeks warming from the bitter sweet drink. “Apple juice is superior in any case.” Diluc looked at you and a light smile crossed his features as he shook his head.

“It’s not.” He stated, “At all in fact.” You caught his semi playful gaze, you narrowed your eyes a little at the comment. “Sunsettia juice is even better in all aspects.” You chuckled and lowered your hand onto the table.

“Coming from the juice enthusiast himself why am I not surprised.” Diluc smirked a bit, finding your comment funny. He looked at you and your radiantly warm smile; it really did resemble that of the morning and setting sun. The two of you remained there conversing with each other well into the night, losing track of time. He hadn’t felt this at ease with anyone by his side in a while. Jean was a great friend to talk to but she was so busy he rarely got to speak with her. He was too in his own right, running the wine industry in Monstadt was no easy task.

“Do you enjoy working here?” He asked as you stood up to stretch, the tables in the back still needed to be cleared, a few drinking tankards, bottles and glasses were scattered about. His question made you think, you loved the night atmosphere of the tavern and the people that came with it.

“Of course I do, it’s very inviting I dare say more than Cats Eye.” You looked his way with a grin he stood up along with you a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Though I do have my work cut out for me here.” You quipped lightly before making your way to the back of the bar where a wooden bench table sat nestled in the corner with a small cabinet and barrel behind it. Diluc followed after to aide in an easy clean up you worked hard enough for tonight. With your back turned you bend over the table without fully walking around it to reach for the glasses and tankards. Your arms were quite short given your stature, without thinking too deeply into his actions Dilic stood halfway behind you to grab the bottle.

“It’s fine to take a break once in a while. There is no need to overwork yourself.” He stated plainly as he picked up the second bottle that sat next to the first. Unbeknownst to him you felt his presence the moment he stepped up behind you. He smelled like a freshly lit fire in the middle of the Whispering Woods his warmth drew you in. You stepped back somewhat unintentionally, your backside grazing him lightly as you turned around to face him. Even on your toes you wouldn’t be at eye level, he stared down at you a bit embarrassed by what he believed was his fault. He opened his mouth to apologize, you couldn’t stop yourself from stealing a kiss. When your lips pressed against his in a sweetened and heated kiss, you noticed Diluc tensed up. The bottles he had fell over onto the surface of the table. Upon hearing that you pulled away and stood flat footed against the edge of the able. You avoided looking at him and tugged on the ends of your hair sheepishly.

“Sorry I...don’t know what came over me, I thought maybe...“ With your half hearted apology you trailed off looking up at Diluc who stared down at you with a perplexed look in his eye. With his gloved hand he reached up to cup your cheek and leaned down to press his lips firmly against yours. His other hand moved up to hold the other side of your cheek. He wanted to kiss you the moment everyone left. Your lips moved in time with his, your hands finding themselves holding onto the sides of his coat. Without breaking the kiss, he lowered his hands to your waist and then to your thighs. In one swift movement he effortlessly lifted you to sit you on top of the table. The bottles on the surface rattled upon him doing so, slightly moving the table in the process. Your hands moved up his chest from his sides as his own slipped further down your legs to hold onto your waist. His pants were growing tighter by the second, you were so beautiful and he hadn’t voiced it yet. Not that he was given the chance to, the moment you both came up for air you pulled him into another fierce kiss, you legs locking around him in efforts to draw him closer. You needed him to ruin you on that table top and he wasn’t going to deny you of one of life’s simple pleasures. After all this man made it so that people could drink happily within the safety of Angel’s Share. Your tongue moved past your lips and Diluc gladly glided his own over yours to gain access. His hand moved back up to your cheek only to slip down to your neck to hold you in place as his other hand moved up the side of your thigh to squeeze. His leather gloves felt so good on your skin, you wanted to feel more of him.

Your hands moved from his sides to his pants, fumbling with the belts and buttons to try and get them loose. Diluc moved to kiss your neck, his warm lips trailing hot kisses against your soft skin. He made an audible sound, a muffled moan as he kissed the nape of your neck. You tugged him closer upon finally undoing his bottoms. His hand wandered down your side and moved to hitch up your work tunic, the other pulling onto the string to your top. He yanked it down to reveal your bare chest, as he exposed your legs and thighs. He was going to thoroughly enjoy fucking you on top of that table. A slight smile crossed his features as his index finger and thumb moved down to grip your chin, he tilted your head up to look into your eyes. Never has a man made you this weak with such a simple gaze.

“Is this what you want?” He asked quietly, he wasn’t going to begin without asking you. Your brows furrowed in need and you nodded as your eyes searched his face. His own were a bit complacent when he didn’t move to give you what he knew you wanted; he wanted to hear you say it. He only moved in to kiss you once more before his lips found the skin of your neck again.

“Diluc..please.” You whined, he smiled lightly against your neck and kept kissing. You wondered why he was only kissing you, unbeknownst to you his hand moved down in between your legs and his crotch to free his fully hardened member from the confides of his trousers. “M-Master Di—“ Your breath hitched in your throat and you moaned out the rest of his name, a deep growl moving past his lips as he slipped inside of you. He stretched you out continuously as you contracted around his length in utter bliss. Your legs squeezed around him and his hands gripped your waist and thigh. Pulling you closer to his chest as he bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes rolled back as he pushed himself further; your lips parted in a light moan and your hands tangled in his red locks. Diluc’s hand moved from your thigh to your neck to hold you in place briefly as he leaned back to look at your face. It was intoxicating, if he could get drunk off your facial expressions he would. He pulled back and thrusted hard into you, your body jerked up and the table moved along with the bottles and glasses on top of it.

You cried out in pleasure and your hips bucked against his. He bit down on his bottom lip to surpress a groan, he thrusted once again, finding a hard and steady rhythm that left your body jerking upwards against the table and your chest exposed for him to see. An alluring sight that made him thrust even harder and your loud moans to fill the atmosphere of the bar. Mixed in were his own light goans and mild grunts, even as he laid you flat onto the table he didn’t stop. Though the pace slowed a bit, he became more forceful with his movements which made your back arch into his chest and your legs shake. You were going to cum a lot harder than you expected, you could feel it and so could he, you caught wind of a faint smirk that slipped across his face as he kissed you. A kiss deep enough where you could lose oneself. Your hands tugged at his hair and your face pleaded with a need for release.

The bottles, tankards and glasses had since fell onto the floor of Angel’s Share. Not that either of you could be bothered by it now. As your climax rushed at you like a battering ram Diluc groaned out low into your ear the sound made your body quiver, you were about to milk him dry. Your hands slipped out of his hair and fell back onto the table as you convulsed in an intense high. Diluc held you in his arms and sat you back up, with your legs wrapped around him once again. He turned and sat on the edge of the table with you on top, allowing you to ride out the rest of your orgasm as he filled your depths with his hot seed. The feeling itself made you shutter as he buried his face into your chest and his arms wrapped around you, the moan he let out was something you could never get tired of hearing. The area in Angel’s Share that you two both shared had grown hot, the sweat you broke out was enough to cause your breathing to be ragged.

“Master Diluc...” You mumbled into his hair with closed eyes and a smile, his hands rested on your waist as his head rested on your chest. He moved back to look up at you, his hand moving to brush your cheek. He kissed your cheek as he pulled back to look at your face.

“Yes?” He replied, a smile crossing his features, you grinned at him finding the humor in his answer. You kissed him once more, this time slowly to savor the taste of his lips. He looked up at you, his eyes flickering like fire. “There’s going to be a shipment at the Dawn Winery from Liyue, Charles usually comes to pick it up but, I trust you enough to be there in his stead.” Upon hearing those words you knew you’d see him again.

“I will gladly be there, Master Diluc.”

Bonus

After your visit to the Dawn winery a few day ago, you decided to get an afternoon drink at Angel’s Share. Outside you ran into Kaeya and Diluc sitting at one of the tables outside. Kaeya spotted you first of course and when your eyes met Diluc’s a smile surfaced onto your face and his own softened a bit. Which, caught Kaeya’s attention quickly; being the absurdly perceptive man that he was.

“You’re here early, I thought your shift doesn’t start until sundown.” Kaeya spoke with a smile that was suspiciously sly. Diluc sat there with his arms crossed and a placid frown on his face, you sat with them and looked at Kaeya unamused.

“I thought I’d get a drink before my shift, I’ve been quite busy as of late.” You replied moving a hand to rest on your cheek, Diluc was silent and Kaeya looked between you both before his eye settled on you.

“Have you now? You know, a few days ago I went to the Dawn Winery looking for you and Diluc seeing as Charles said you were going to be there.” Kaeya held up a letter from grandmaster Jean and waved it in the air idly. “I needed to deliver a letter from the active grandmaster to Diluc and hoped I’d run into you there and yet...I couldn’t find either of you.” Diluc frowned deeper and your smile began to fade slowly, your hand moved up casually to cover your mouth a bit and Kaeya’s smile grew as he went on. “So, I took it upon myself to look around given your maids told me you were in his study.” Diluc’s expression shifted from displeasure to pure annoyance. You were a bit nervous though wondering if you two had been found out already. You knew the answer in the back of your mind though. “When I couldn’t find you there I saw a maid walk out of the west wing hallway with blush staining her cheeks so, naturally I went that way and much to my surprise there you two were behind the semi closed doors to dear brothers bedroom-“ Diluc snatched the letter from his brother and narrowed his eyes. He stood up and narrowed his eyes at him.

“You finished ?” He asked, short tempered as always, you were a blushing mess on the other hand, with your face covered in attempts to hide your embarrassment. Of all the ways to be found out, it had to be Kaeya happening across you two at the Dawn Winery! Kaeya chuckled lightly and leaned back in the chair.

“Ah-Ah you interrupted me brother, I was just getting to the good part.” You peeked up at him and shook your head Dliuc let out and irritable sigh and turned his back to Kaeya and then looked over at you, a smile on his face one he’d only show to you really.

“I’ll see you later.” You nodded with a warmth to your cheeks as he walked off ignoring Kaeya all together. The three of you knowing Diluc was working tonight with you again. It left you two sitting there in a painful kind of silence where only one of you were inflicted and the other found it jovial.

“He must like you.” Kaeya sighed raising his wine glass to his lips, you glanced over at him with a slight glare and he smiled your way.

“Your point?” You retorted, it lead to him shrugging lightly as he finished the drink. He stood up, preparing to take his leave, moving to place a hand on his hip.

“None really, it’s just he got to you before I could.” Kaeya wouldn’t admit to him being beaten at his own game, he also wouldn’t voice at how it made him proud and happy for his brother at the same time. You looked at him with a straight face and he chortled. “You’ll make each other happy, especially with the sex you’re having. I’m not worried.” He patted your shoulder before he walked off in the opposite direction of his brother. Leaving you there blushing and with the future to think about, one where both you snd Diluc shared.

[duskwood-legacies]

Words: Waves 🌊, home, longing, sky.

Genre: Up to you ;)

Pairing: Jake x MC <3

"Hues of Pink and Blue"

•Fandom: Duskwood •Pairing/Character: Jake x MC •Word Count: 1.7k •Genre: Romance, Fluff •Summary: Long ago Jake discovered a place, hidden away from human touch and left deserted inside the face of earth. Nothing but ocean waves and himself have touched the secluded area that provided him shelter from his most worrisome days. As time went on and courage took the best of him, the moment he'd share this place with MC had finally come. •Author's Note: At the end of the story

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Emotions flourishing inside his chest and thoughts filled with imagined reactions, Jake pulled MC behind himself. His fingers intertwined hers, holding on tightly as he marched on.

Dawn settled over the wilderness. Dragonflies and waking-up fireflies passed them, increasing the anticipating burn on Jake’s skin. He longed this moment to come. He longed for the day courage took enough of him to lead MC this way.

The path Jake walked down on his worst days, the course he had taken as hope vanished from his life.

MC followed suit, trust fated her bond with Jake long ago. Secrets became a foreign phenomenon to them, tying both of their souls tighter together, day by day.

“Jake! Careful!” MC shouted. In the heat of his eagerness, Jake had picked up his pace and almost made him and her tumble to the ground. “You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

As they ventured along the coastline, she pictured all kinds of places Jake could take her. Fields filled with flowers, a deep blue deserted bay, a waterfall they’d share a long and passionate kiss under.

Although, her imagination was beyond underestimating the extent of the beauty she would witness in mere seconds.

The sacred sight of a cave’s entrance struck Jake’s vision, making him smile like a foolish child. It was everything he wished to do, introduce MC to all the beauty hidden behind the face of earth.

Fatigued light coated the entryway. MC’s interest was piqued, her eyes, curious as a puppy, inspected the way Jake was leading her along, the place he likely was aiming for.

One final glance back, one final grin, shot through Jake’s face as he turned around. MC couldn’t stop the small laugh inside her throat. His face shone with so much excitement and happiness, it reminded her of a young kitten chasing a ball of tin foil.

Colorful lights crossed their way as they stepped foot into the translucent cave, a gasp resonating from MC’s direction. With carefulness and a pleased smirk Jake led her along the trails made of stone. The walls and ceiling were lined with hundreds and hundreds of luminous crystals, large as trees. A place long forgotten, long untouched by humanity.

Serene ocean waves sang their gentle songs through hues of pink and blue. MC’s gaze wandered in awe, mouth agape, eyes wide open and breath captured inside her lungs.

Jake maneuvered her through the cave with ease and confidence, determination edging his frame.

His gaze constantly fell behind, an act of assuring himself of MC’s comfort and safety. Each time a smile would climb onto Jake’s face, feelings of love and affection dawning back on him, exactly like the day MC first admitted her interest in him.

Memories of their first meeting flared inside Jake’s mind, every so small detail invading his subconscious senses. The way MC’s confident and cheeky self fell into a shy and held-back demeanor, the way it matched so well with those other aspects he fell in love with.

One moment would always linger along this memory. MC’s voice broke off the first time she laughed in his presence, causing his own to erupt into a fit of laughter. It was such a small thing to her, yet it kept a safe and dear place inside his heart.

The image made his skin tingle with happiness.

Jake stopped on top of a bridge nature has carved between two cliffs. He turned around, dedicating every fiber of himself to MC. Her smile was comforting, eyes so soft and excited it made his stomach feel bubbly.

With all gentleness he was capable to collect he caressed MC’s cheek, making new sparks ignite inside her chest. She understood they were thinking of the same day, the same faithful evening. Those colors the crystals were illuminating enlightened Jake’s face and irises with a capturing trance. MC savored every piece of this moment, imprinted every shade and detail in her head.

The gap between them closed and their eyelids fell shut. MC combed her hand through Jake’s hair before letting it rest on his cheek, lightly pulling him closer. Thunder rang inside their hearts and veins, every kiss they shared felt like the first one over and over.

They broke apart. MC chuckled, closing in to rest her hand and head on Jake’s chest. He pulled her into an embrace, holding her softly as a thin piece of porcelain.

After eons he pulled away. He led her farther into the cave, walking on and on as MC followed him suit.

The crystals formed a harmony of blue, pink and grey the deeper they went, the more they dove into the secrecy of this hidden place. Eventually a large, clearing like area laid ahead. Sparkles on the floor shimmered in the colors of the shining stones around. A glowing, ashen like shine entwined the place, the calmness of the moon seeping into Jake’s and MC’s frames.

In the middle of it all Jake peacefully pulled MC down with him, observing her reaction with attention and excitement. She seemed happy, awestruck.

Both sat in lulled silence, listening to the harmony the ocean melodies were offering.

Once more Jake looked aside, expression falling at MC’s now faded smile. She didn’t resemble an image of confidence anymore, more so she looked unsatisfied and drifted away in the wrong thoughts. She tugged on her crop top and attempted to pull her already high-waisted jeans higher.

Jake examined her with caution. No long after he recognized the root of the problem. A sting made itself present inside his chest, the thought of MC minimalizing herself to something so small, so natural ached him.

He scooped closer to her, wrapping his arm around MC and placing his hand under hers on the crop top.

No muscle of hers moved, no word of hers was spoken. Jake placed a kiss on her temple. Offering reassurance to someone wasn’t one of his core strengths.

“Hey, look” He whispered, pulling back from MC and greatening their distance vaguely. Her focus parted away from her invalidating thoughts, briefly finding serenity inside Jake’s voice.

Jake pulled his shirt up, squeezing the rolls his belly now had due to sitting down. “I have them too!”

A surprised and grateful smile slithered onto MC’s expression, contaminating Jake to join in. He remembered all those times she comforted him on his darkest of days. Somehow she had always managed to demonstrate him he wasn’t alone, proved his emotions weren’t suffocating him with no opportunity for escape. The least he could do was attempting to pay her back the exact same way.

They laid back down onto the ground, a deep breath passing MC’s lips and leaving Jake to wonder. Was his attempt enough?

The moon shone brightly onto their faces. MC reached out, fingers stretched out and arm extended, longing to touch the moon, longing to take off into the sky and leaving behind nothing but scattered memories and insecurities. Desiring to take Jake’s hand and walk the moon’s cold surface.

Her daydream was interrupted by fingers intertwining with hers. Jake softly pulled her hand down to his mouth, placing light kisses on its back over and over until he rested it on his chest. His eyelids fell shut to quiet giggles of MC, a soft breeze of fresh adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Peaceful silence, nothing but waves and their thin breaths were heard.

A quiet weep took MC off guard. She drew her attention to Jake, rolling onto her side and gaze lingering on him with a worried, unfelt touch. A tear on Jake’s face betrayed what his mouth wanted to say, rendering him silent instead of telling excuses.

“Love…?”

One word. One word was all it took to disarm him. A smile, soft as the silver light, formed on Jake’s lips at MC’s innocent whisper.

His reaction evermore confused MC. Jake’s hand increased strength and pressure around hers, pushing it even further into his chest. He swung his free arm to cover his eyes, a low laugh crackling from his mouth and warming MC’s senses.

Jake’s head turned to look at her. Her breath hitched, a warm sensation running over her body as MC looked into his mellow gaze. His eyes gleamed with admiration, void of all the saddened emotions she expected to see.

No words were exchanged.

Yet both souls understood.

Jake’s thumb tenderly brushed over MC’s on his chest. Lost in lights of silver, blue and pink on her face, his brain froze the moment and relished and memorized every inch of MC’s features. Her grace dimmed the light of the crystals, made them look like child’s play, like a flower amongst many. So ordinary, so normal.

“I cannot believe I found someone like you.” A soft mutter ranked through Jake’s voice. MC chuckled, cheeks heating up with the bliss his words brought into her spirit.

“Likewise”

For minutes they laid on the crystal dusted ground, doing nothing but gazing at one another. Their hearts fluttered inside their chests as subtle shivers and trembles crept through their bodies.

Overwhelmed by emotions Jake looked skywards, vision grazing the lenient moonlight. The illusion of a small cottage on top of a cliff, blacked out by the bright shine of a full moon appeared in front of Jake’s inner eye. Outside he’d sit with MC, stargazing, holding hands and enjoying nothing but the night and each other’s presence. The home he had dreamed for both of them.

Sudden movement interrupted his imagination. MC laid curled up beside him, her head rested on his stomach and her hand still firmly held onto Jake’s on his chest. A sight so divine, so angelic he desired to never move again.

MC’s gaze lingered on their hands, the beauty of a million cherry petals on top of a flowing river sparkling inside her eyes. She made him feel at ease, made him feel like he doesn’t need to fantasize about a perfect home. Any place with her was more perfect than the most gracious of mansions, the most comfortable of apartments and more home than any house could provide.

Jake laid his head back down, closing his eyes and snaking his free arm around MC.

Their souls were at peace. A tranquil moment they shared, enough to tighten their bond, their trust, to a point unfathomable by human mind.

A tranquil moment, enough to erase the rest of the world out of their heads.

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A/N: Hi everyone!!💕 Writing this story was a lot of fun and, I must admit, I'm incredibly proud of the setting!🌿 Thanks a lot to @dreamer-writer-fangirl for enabling me this opportunity by requesting four words for me to write a story about💕

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Family Ties

AO3 Link: Read Here

Square Filled: Handjobs

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Other characters: OFCs: Meredith (Y/N’s mom), Jill (Y/N’s sister), Evie and Mia (Y/N’s nieces), OMC: David (Y/N’s dad), Brian (Y/N’s brother-in-law)

Word count: 6,539 (song lyrics in italics).

Rating: Explicit 18+!

Summary: Y/N’s family is coming to Lawrence to visit her, making this the perfect opportunity for Dean to meet them. Despite his nerves, Dean knows he has to bite the bullet and take the next step in order to have the future he wants with Y/N.

Warnings: Swearing, Dean’s self-deprecation rears its ugly head, Handjob, Dirty talk, A whole lotta fluff. 

Music: One of These Nights by Eagles (Dean and Y/N get ready for dinner scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

Created for @spnkinkbingo​

A/N: Time stamp #2 is here! I’m so excited to hear what you guys think of this. There’s just so much more to come for these two, and I can’t wait to share it with you all, but more on that later! ;) As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

“Alright, great. I can’t wait to see you guys soon!”

Y/N hung up the phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. The smile she had been wearing as she spoke to her family suddenly dropped into a worried expression.

Her mother had called saying that they wanted to come and visit her in Lawrence, now that summer break was about to start, and she would be free to see her family. Her mom, dad, Jill, Brian and the girls were all planning on coming down to Kansas and spending a few days there. It was more than enough time for Y/N to spend with them and for her family to finally meet Dean.

Which was the cause of her worry.

It’s not that she didn’t want them to meet Dean. She did. She just wasn’t sure if Dean wanted to meet them. Especially not all at once.

The keys jingling in the door caught her attention, hearing Dean’s boots in the hallway before he appeared in the living room. He walked over to the kitchen and placed the take-out bags on the bench, and then came towards her with a smirk on his face. She had sent him a message to pick up food when the call went on for longer than she was expecting.

“Hey,” she said, leaning up and kissing him, as he leaned down.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He dropped himself on the couch, sighing heavily as he laid back, closing his eyes. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

She smiled softly, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Well, relax for a bit, freshen up and then we can eat.”

He could clearly tell something was bothering her by the tremor in her voice, because he sat up slightly, frowning. “You okay, Y/N?”

She sighed as she turned to face him properly, trying to smile so that she didn’t worry him. “I’m fine, but there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” he asked, his frown becoming deeper.

“I was just on the phone with my mom, and… well she and everyone else – my dad, Jill, Brian and the girls – are all coming down here in a few days to see me,” she explained, carefully approaching the next subject.

“Okay…,” he trailed off, understanding so far what she was saying but waiting for more.

“And… they want to meet you,” she informed him, smiling softly. “I really want them to meet you too, but I wanted to see how you feel about it.”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly, trying to figure out the best way to continue. It’s not that he didn’t want to meet her family, it was because he had never done that before, in fear that he would be the last man a girl’s family would want her to be with.

“Dean?” She tried to get his attention, but he was practically staring into space. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure-”

He suddenly turned, shaking his head as he took her hands in his. “No, no I-I want to,” he nodded, firmly. “I’m just… I’m not sure they’d wanna meet me.”

“Why not?” she asked. It made her sad and angry to hear him say that.

“Well… I’m not exactly the type of guy that girls want their parents to meet,” he muttered, shrugging as he looked down at their joined hands.

She shook her head, scooting closer to him. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is, Y/N.” When he looked up at her, she felt her heart drop.

There was clearly something from his past that made him believe that to be true, and now it was up to her to make him see how wrong that was. He was a good man. He was perfect for her in every way, and she would prove that to him, more than she already had.

“It’s not,” she said, firmly as she shook her head. She squeezed his hand in hers, smiling at him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if you’re ready… I can’t wait for my family to see that.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking up at her. He knew he wanted to do this. It was the next step and he had to take it if they were going to have a future together. He just needed to be sure that she wanted her family to meet him.

“I’m positive,” she told him, smiling. “I need you to be completely sure, too.”

He gave her a firm nod. “I’d love to meet them.”

Y/N’s smile grew as she pushed herself into Dean, wrapping her arms around his neck as he fell back on the couch. She leaned down and kissed his lips, his cheek, his jaw, his neck and then moved back to his lips. He chuckled as she pulled away, slowly cupping her face in his hands, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re really sure, right?” she asked, still worried. “I just don’t want to pressure you to do something you don’t to.”

He reached up, kissing her lips softly. “I’m sure, Y/N. You met my family and they loved you, so… hopefully it’s the same story with yours.”

“It will be,” she said, smiling. “I just know it.”

Dean walked up the porch stairs of Y/N’s house, a bottle of Bourbon in one hand, a bouquet of pink carnations in the other. Using his elbow, he rang the doorbell, slowly releasing a ragged breath he had been holding in. He was about to meet Y/N’s family and to say he was nervous was an understatement. He had never met a girlfriend’s family before, never getting to that stage with anyone. When he thought he had with Lisa, she wasn’t interested in her family getting to know him better. He had met her sister on one occasion when she was visiting with Lisa’s baby niece, but other than that, there had been nothing.

Now, he was with Y/N. The woman he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He couldn’t screw up this up.

The door swung open, a smiling Y/N greeting him on the other side, appropriately dressed for the weather they were having in a long, peach colored, strappy summer dress. She let him in, stopping him from walking further after she closed the door. She took him in, dressed in a black, half-sleeve button-up shirt and jeans and his boots, looking as gorgeous as he always did. She leaned in, kissing him softly.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I missed you yesterday.”

Her family had gotten to Kansas City in the morning, and they spent the whole day together, giving them time to be with each other before Dean met them.

“I missed you more,” he whispered back, smirking. “I don’t like not having you in my bed.”

“I don’t like it either,” she said, her tone still hushed. She moved closer to him, kissing him again. Pulling away, she smiled at him. “So… you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he told her, with another shaky exhale.

She smiled softly and reassuringly, offering him her hand. “I got you.”

He smiled at her, gathering the bottle and bouquet in one hand, and taking hers with the other. He brought their linked hands to his lips, placing a kiss on hers. He knew he could do anything as long as he had her by his side.

“Let’s do this,” he said, winking at her.

Y/N took the lead as they walked down the hallway and into the living area where her family was. Dean saw them all sitting around and talking, laughing at something someone had said. As he and Y/N walked in, their heads turned to look at them, all of their eyes landing on him. A string of curses ran through his mind as Y/N’s father stood up, followed by her mother.

“Mom, dad… this is Dean,” Y/N introduced, with a big smile on her face. “Dean, this my dad, David and my mom, Meredith.”

“Good to finally meet you,” David said, offering his hand.

Dean quickly dropped Y/N’s hand as he shook her father’s, firmly. “Good to meet you, sir. I hope you’re a Bourbon man.”

He handed the bottle over, a little more confidence in him now, considering Y/N had given him the cheat sheet to get instant approval from her father and mother. He shook Meredith’s hand too, handing her the flowers.

“I do. Nice choice,” David smiled approvingly, giving Dean a little nod.

“These are beautiful, Dean. Thank you,” Meredith smiled, smelling the flowers.

“This is Jill, my sister and her husband Brian,” Y/N said, but paused for them to meet before she gestured for the girls to come forward. They were hiding behind Jill, slightly intimidated by Dean’s height. “And these two… are the most important people in our family. Evie and Mia.”

“Hey girls,” Dean smiled, crouching down to their level.

“Hi,” Evie muttered, shyly. “You’re really tall.”

Dean chuckled slightly, shaking his head. “I’m not as tall as my brother.”

Evie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded as his eyes widened like hers.

Evie laughed a little as she stepped out from behind Jill. “I’m 5. How old are you?”

“Evie,” Jill warned, shaking her head with a small laugh. “Sorry about her, she’s very inquisitive now.”

“It’s okay, really,” he said, waving it off. He moved a little closer to Evie, like he was about to tell her a secret. “I’m 35, kiddo. So pretty old.”

Y/N laughed a little as she saw her niece cup her hand over her mouth, dramatically as she heard how old Dean was. Dean laughed as well but held up his pinkie in a fake serious manner.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” he asked in a stage whisper, keeping within his little act.

She nodded and curled her pinkie around his. “Promise.”

“Good,” he said, giving her wink as he held a finger to his lips.

Little Mia wobbled on her legs, causing Jill to bend down and pick her up. Dean stood up and leaned over, lightly touching her chubby cheek. A small giggle left her, causing Dean to laugh as well.

Y/N felt her heart bursting with joy. She watched as Dean mingled with everyone, asking about their day out the previous day and general questions about their lives back at home in Rhinebeck. She knew things would go well, but they had gone better than she had ever pictured. Dean was now more at ease, asking them what they’d like to drink before he walked into the kitchen. She followed behind him, watching him take out 3 beers from the fridge and open them at the kitchen bench. She leaned into him, resting her chin on his arm as she looked up at him. “You’re amazing,” she whispered.

He looked at her and leaned down, kissing her forehead. “No. You are, and so are they.”

She closed her eyes at the feel of his lips on her skin, her smile beaming. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too” he said, leaning down to kiss her, passionately. He broke it after a moment, picking up the beers. “I’ll see you in there.”

He moved away, winking at her before he left the kitchen.

She watched from the kitchen as he sat amongst them, immediately immersing himself in the conversation. She sighed as her heart soared with the love she felt for him.

Lunch went incredibly well, Dean now comfortable with everyone and answering everyone’s questions. He had them all laughing with tales from his childhood, from work and just with his hilarious anecdotes and comments about everyone else’s stories he was listening to. When he mentioned the Impala, Y/N saw her dad’s eyes widen, her smile growing bigger if that was even possible, when Dean told him they could go for a drive one of these days.

As Y/N and Meredith cleared up after everyone was done with lunch, Jill and Brian took the girls outside in the backyard to play, now that the weather was a little more tolerable. Dean stood up from the table, clearing any remaining glasses and cutlery. He took them into the kitchen and returned to the table, catching the attention of Y/N’s father.

“Can I get ya anything else, sir?” Dean asked, as he turned to David.

“No, I’m good. Thanks Dean,” David smiled, gesturing for Dean to sit down. “Can we talk?”

Dean felt his heart begin to beat faster as he was suddenly nervous again. “Sure.” He sat down in the same chair he had occupied previously and faced the older man.

“Dean… I need to thank you,” David started as he looked up at Dean.

“Thank me? For what, sir?” Dean asked, confused as to what he had done that warranted praise.

“For making my daughter happier than I’ve ever seen her,” David replied, lowering his voice slightly so that Y/N didn’t hear from the kitchen. “She’s had a tough time after what her jerk of an ex did, but the fact that she’s now the way she used to be before him, better in fact… I have to thank you for that.”

Dean nodded but gave a little shrug. “That was all her, sir. She’s strong and clearly, she’s gotten that from you and Meredith. I only helped in any way that I could.”

“Definitely more from her mother than me. The three of them – Meredith, Jill and Y/N – they’re the reason I get up every morning,” David stated, smiling as he thought about his family.

Dean smirked, picking up his beer and holding it out. “To them.”

David smiled in return, picking up his bottle and clinking it with Dean’s. “To them.”

“Everything okay here?” Y/N asked, suddenly startling both of them as she and her mother walked back to the table.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Dean said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Dean!” little Evie hollered, as she came running into the house. She went right up to him and stood beside his chair, not intimidated by him anymore, her little face looking up at him. “Will you play outside with me and Mia?”

“Of course, peanut,” he said, getting up from the table. “Let’s go!”

Dean took off running after Evie, both of them sprinting into the backyard. Y/N laughed as she shook her head, loving that the kids had taken to him so quickly. Her mom came up beside her, putting her arm around her as they turned to look at each other.

“He’s a really good one,” she smiled, leaning over and kissing Y/N’s cheek.

“I think so, too,” Y/N said, smiling.

Meredith turned to David and gestured to the door. “Shall we take a walk? See the neighborhood?”

Y/N kept herself from laughing, knowing her mom was dying to see all the beautiful houses and their amazing gardens.

“Sure,” David said, as he stood up and took his wife’s hand. “See you soon, sweetie.” He walked past Y/N and kissed her head, as he led Meredith to the door.

“You two have fun!” she called out before the door shut behind them.

Y/N walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out the large jug of iced tea she had made. Pouring some into two glasses, she put the jug back in the fridge before taking the glasses out to her back porch. Jill was sitting at the outdoor dining table, watching Dean and Brian play with the girls. Y/N handed her a glass and sat down next to her sister, watching them too.

Dean roared after the little girl, who squealed and laughed as he chased her around the backyard. He picked up Evie, spinning her around, making her laugh even more. Little Mia had started walking, but it was more like waddling at this point. She stood in the grass, watching and clapping her chubby little hands. Brian stood behind her, making sure she didn’t fall.

“He’s amazing,” Jill told Y/N as they both watched Dean playing with the kids.

Y/N was feeling all kinds of things as she watched him. “Yeah, he is.”

“I think mom’s ready for the wedding, already,” Jill laughed, as Y/N rolled her eyes playfully.

“She’s going to be waiting a while, I think,” Y/N sighed, shrugging.

“Really?” Jill asked, frowning before it turned into a smile. “I personally don’t think so.”

“Jill.” Y/N shook her head, looking at her sister. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“I can when it’s true. Dad’s ready to drive the Impala around one of these days, the girls adore him,” Jill stated, trying to make her sister understand why she was saying that. “Y/N… it’s going to happen. I can feel it.”

Just before she could say anything, Y/N looked up and smiled at Dean as he walked over, carrying Mia in one arm as he held Evie’s hand with the other. Brian laughed as he sat down, slightly relieved that the kids had attached themselves to Dean for a while.

“Damn, these two are tiring,” he huffed out as he sat down at the outdoor table, under the shade of the back porch. “I don’t know how you guys do it,” he laughed as he looked between Jill and Brian.

“It gets easier after a few years,” Brian explained, picking up Jill’s glass and taking a sip.

“You’ll understand when you guys have some of your own,” Jill said, pointedly.

Y/N glared at her, silently telling her to knock it off.

“Yeah, it’ll probably all make sense, then,” Dean said, winking at Y/N.

Jill looked at Y/N with an “I told you so” look before sipping her iced tea.

After a moment, they all returned inside, spreading out on the couches. Little Mia had fallen asleep in Brian’s arms, as Evie was struggling to keep herself awake in Jill’s lap. The front door opened and closed, signalling that David and Meredith had returned.

“How was the walk?” Y/N asked, smiling at her mom.

“Great, but it’s still pretty hot out there.” She emphasised her statement with a wipe of her brow as she sat down.

“I think we should head out. Get these two down for a nap,” Jill told Brian quietly, but loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Why don’t we all go to dinner tonight? I can find something for us,” David asked, looking between everyone.

Everyone didn’t even need to think it over, more than willing to go out for dinner.

They all said their goodbyes, as Jill and Brian went back to the hotel with the girls. Y/N’s mother and father were staying with her, but David had an old friend that lived in Kansas City who he and Meredith would be catching up with before dinner, so they all left together. Y/N and Dean waved them all off as they drove away, stepping back into the house. Just as the door closed, she jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He leaned in, kissing her passionately.

“That went really well,” she mumbled against his lips, between kisses.

“You think so?” he asked, frowning.

She nodded, smiling as she bit her lip. “Absolutely. You did great!”

“Thanks,” he muttered, a small smile gracing his face.

“You can relax now,” she joked, kissing his lips softly. She wrapped her arms around him, tighter, leaning her forehead against his.

“How does an afternoon nap sound?” he asked, smirking.

“It sounds terrific,” she replied, returning his smile.

Dean carried Y/N towards her bedroom, laying soft kisses on her skin as he walked down the hallway. He was glad to have a little time with her before they met up with her family again later that evening, fully intending on cuddling up with her and enjoying a late afternoon nap in May.

After a relaxing snooze, Dean and Y/N got ready to go to dinner with her family. He went to his house to get dressed and quickly came back. She had gotten a text from Jill telling her where they would be going to eat, and Y/N relayed the information to Dean as she got dressed. He wore a fresh half-sleeve button-up shirt, in blue this time and his jeans, once again donning his boots. Y/N got dressed into a red with white polka dots, A-line, knee-length dress and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail.

Once she was dressed, she applied a touch of make-up, dancing to One of These Nights playing from her speaker as she stood in front of the mirror. Her hips swayed from side to side, not realising the pair of green eyes on her. Dean sat back in the chair across from the bed, smirking at the sight in front of him.

“Keep doing that and we’ll never leave, sweetheart,” he informed her, the smirk not leaving his face.

She shook her head, laughing slightly. “This song just gets me going.”

“I sure ain’t complaining,” he said, as he stood up.

Quickly moving behind her as she packed away her make-up, he grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the mirror and spinning her around. She laughed as he spun her, bringing her in close to him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Fuck. The things you do to me,” he whispered in her ear and leaned back, looking into her eyes.

“You’re one to talk,” she countered, smiling as she wagged her eyebrows.

One of these dreams

One of these lost and lonely dreams, now

We’re gonna find one

Oh, one that really screams

I’ve been searching for the daughter of the devil himself

I’ve been searching for an angel in white

I’ve been waiting for a woman who’s a little of both

And I can feel her but she’s nowhere in sight

Dean turned her around in his arms, her back pressed close to his chest. Leaning down, he kissed along her neck, smirking against her skin as she let out a soft moan.

“You know… he’s definitely talking about you,” he murmured, pulling her close to him.

“I’m the daughter of the devil?” she asked, shocked as she scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah,” he said, simply. “But you’re an angel in white, too. A little of both… that’s perfect, if you ask me.” He smirked at her in the mirror as she shook her head, trying not to show her amusement as she stopped herself from smiling.

“You’re insane,” she laughed, lightly as she moved away from him. She picked up her black purse that matched her black heels and offered him her hand. “We better go, come on.”

“Fine,” he whined, with a pout.

His plan to seduce her would just have to wait.

Despite it being a weekend, the traffic wasn’t as bad as Dean thought it would be driving into Kansas City. Very soon, he pulled up into the parking lot of the restaurant, cutting the engine. He made a move to get out, but felt Y/N tug on his shirt, causing him to turn around and face her. She smiled at him as she slid across the bench seat, instantly wrapping her arms around him. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, in a slow, sensual kiss.

Pulling away and clearing his throat, he blinked a few times as he looked at her in wonder. “What was that for?”

She bit her lip as she continued to smile and shrugged her shoulders. “To thank you for today. I hadn’t said it yet.”

“There’s no need to thank me, babe,” he told her, chuckling lightly.

“Yes, there is,” she said, nodding as she looked at him. “The way you were today with all of them; it was amazing. The way you were with the girls…”

She visibly shivered as she looked at him, her eyes flicking down to his lips before she looked up again. Seeing him with her nieces awoke something inside of her that she didn’t think would happen so soon. The desire to have children with him.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

She nodded as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. “You’re so wonderful to everyone, Dean. You make everyone around you really happy.”

She saw his cheeks darken a little despite the lack of light in the car, and she thought it was the cutest thing ever. Slowly, one arm left the link around his neck, as her hand drifted down to the top of his jeans. She leaned in and kissed him in the same, sensual pace as her hand began to rub over the crotch of his jeans. As they continued to kiss, she felt him started to get hard under the denim.

He pulled away from the kiss, sighing. “Fuck, Y/N. We-we can’t, not here-”

She shushed him in a low tone, giving him that mischievous smile he loved so much. “It’s okay, no one’s going to see. Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

She moved her other arm down too, as her hands quickly worked to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. Tugging them down, he lifted up slightly to let her pull them down to his thighs, his cock slapping against his lower stomach, semi hard.

Y/N kept her eyes on Dean’s as she brought her hand to her mouth, wetting it with saliva. She moved it down and took a hold of his cock, wrapping her fingers around the shaft in a firm grip. She slowly began to pump her hand up and down, her eyes never leaving him. She leaned in close to him, her eyes darkened.

“You’re so good to me, Dean,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “You treat me so well. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

She felt his cock getting harder as she continued to stroke him. She leaned down and dropped more spit onto it, getting him nice and wet.

“You’re so kind, generous, loving, loyal,” she stated, as leaned in and pecked his lips, softly. “The way you make me feel… no one’s ever made me feel so good.”

Dean groaned as he looked down at her hand, watching it pump his cock. He looked up at her, his eyes hooded as he felt the familiar rush of arousal to his dick.

“Your cock is so perfect,” she moaned softly, looking between him and what she was doing. “It fills me up so good when it’s inside me, hits that spot inside of me that only you can reach.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted, his eyes flicking between her hand and her eyes. “Shit.”

Between the handjob and her words, he was going to cum sooner than he wanted to. He let out short puffs of air as he threw his head back over the top of the seat, his neck straining. She leaned in, kissing him at his pulse point, softly nipping at it.

“I fucking love this cock,” she moaned, kissing his neck. “And I love your tongue, and your mouth… when you suck on my clit… fuck, Dean you drive me crazy.”

Moving up onto her knees, she leaned over him, her face closer to his, staring into his eyes. Her other hand moved down and cupped his balls, rolling them in her palm.

“How do my hands feel, Dean?” she asked, quickly kissing his lips.

“Oh, fuck… feels-feels so fucking good, sweetheart,” he choked out, struggling to hold her gaze.

“Yeah?” she smirked, chuckling slightly at how much under her spell he was. “I bet I know what you want around this cock instead.”

Dropping more of her saliva onto his cock, she felt him throbbing against her hands as one continued to stroke him while the other paid attention to his balls. She moved her hand under the head of his cock, creating a ring and twisting her wrist, causing him to moan loudly. His eyes were shut tight, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he kept clenching it. The sight of him like that had her biting down on her lip, feeling herself getting wet as she looked at him.

“I love you so much, Dean Winchester. I love everything about you,” she whispered against his lips. “Look at me.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open as his breathing became more erratic. She kissed his lips as she kept her eyes open, looking down at him. She massaged the head of his cock with her fingertips, smirking as he bit down on his lip.

“Y/N, I… fuck, I can’t,” he stuttered, shaking his head. His mouth opened as his eyes closed again, a choked moan leaving him.

Her other hand took hold of his cock, as she began to work both hands along his shaft. He was close, his cock pulsing as she pumped her hands.

“You close, baby?” she asked, smiling down at him.

He nodded frantically as little grunts left his lips, his hands clenching into his jeans as they rested on his thighs.

“Look at me, Dean. I want you to look into my eyes when I make you cum,” she ordered, her hands picking up speed.

He opened his eyes again, causing her to smile when they met hers.

“That’s it, handsome. Just keep your eyes on me,” she said, smiling at him. Leaning in closer, she lowered her voice into a hushed tone. “I’m so happy you’re in my life, Dean. I can’t imagine it without you anymore. I want you forever.”

Her hands worked him faster, his cock throbbing more as she brought him closer to his release. She held one hand around the base of his cock, as the other continued to stroke him, her hand closing over the head firmly on every upward motion.

“Y/N,” he growled, through his clenched teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart, I-”

“You wanna cum, Dean?” she asked, smirking down at him.

He huffed as he looked up at her. “Y-Yeah.”

She moaned as she felt his cock throb and pulse. Looking into his eyes, she nodded approvingly. “Give me that cum, baby. Come on, cum for me, Dean…”

Dean felt his dick throb and threw his head back, letting out a loud, choked moan as ropes of cum spurted out of his cock. It all dripped over Y/N’s hand as she continued to jerk his shaft while he reached his high. She milked him for all he was worth and leaned down, lapping up everything he gave her from around her hand. She sucked at the tip of his cock to get the last of it into her mouth, before leaning up and looking at him as she swallowed. She smiled at him and winked, loving that she had an advantage. He shook his head as he looked at her, breathing heavily as he came down from his high.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, shutting his eyes as he laughed. He opened his eyes, staring up at the roof of the car. He licked his lips and turned his head, looking at her.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, gorgeous,” he told her, tugging on her hand and pulling her closer. He leaned up, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

“We better clean up and go in,” she stated, after pulling her mouth away from his.

“Oh, now you wanna go in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Now? When I have to face your family after what you did to me?”

She laughed loudly as she picked up her purse and moved away from him, opening the passenger door and getting out of the car.

Y/N rested her purse on the hood and opened it, taking out a few napkins and cleaning up her hands. She took out her lipstick and compact mirror, reapplying it to her lips after her saliva got rid of some of it. Packing the items back into her purse, she slung it over her shoulder, watching through the windscreen as Dean fixed himself, zipped up his jeans and got out of the car.

“Shall we?” she asked, completely nonchalant. As if she hadn’t just given him a handjob in the car, in the middle of the parking lot of a restaurant. He looked her up and down, that dress making her look innocent which she absolutely wasn’t.

“Now you know what I mean when I say that song’s about you,” he told her, glaring at her, but a playful glint shone in his eyes too.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shrugging.

“You’re evil, Y/N Y/L/N,” he muttered, still glaring at her. He couldn’t keep it for long however, as a small smile started to grow.

“You love me,” she stated, laughing.

“Yeah,” he agreed, as he walked over to her. He held out his hand which she took instantly. “Let’s go.”

They walked into the restaurant, quickly spotting her family and walking over to the table. They all greeted each other and then Y/N sat down next to Jill with Dean next to her. She looked over at him, smiling to herself as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You okay there, Dean?” David asked.

Dean looked up at him, an eyebrow raised before he let out a small chuckle. “Just fine, sir. A lot of traffic on the road… just stretching out my legs.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to keep from laughing as she looked over the menu in front of her. Her eyes flicked up to see Dean glaring at her discreetly, before looking over the menu too. She bit her lip to keep from snickering as she ignored his gaze.

As the first round of drinks came and went, Dean entertained everyone with more stories of his past, making everyone at the table gravitate towards him. He usually hated being the centre of attention, but when he was comfortable with people, he was the life of the party. Y/N couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she watched him. He had been so nervous to meet her family, but now he just fit right in. As dinner came, she had to wrangle Evie away from Dean, as she wouldn’t let him eat, wanting his attention too. However, as dessert came around, she was fully cemented in Y/N’s lap; the two of them sharing a bowl of ice-cream.

“Aunty Y/N,” Evie got her attention in a hushed voice, leaning close to her ear.

“What’s up, honey?” Y/N asked, her tone hushed too.

“Are you gonna marry Dean?” Evie asked in return, cupping a hand near her mouth, making sure that Dean wouldn’t hear her.

Y/N looked down at her, amused as she laughed. “Do you want me to marry Dean?”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, enthusiastically. “He’s nice and played with me today. I want him to be my uncle.”

Y/N chuckled quietly, kissing her forehead. “You think he’ll make a good one?”

Evie nodded as she put a spoonful of ice-cream in her mouth.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, smiling as she stroked her niece’s hair with her other hand. She looked over at him, fully immersed in a conversation about cars with Brian and her father, and felt her heart skip a beat. “I think so, too.”

After dinner, they said their goodbyes to Jill, Brian and the girls who went back to the hotel they were staying in. Dean happened to be having a guys’ night with his brother and his friends the next day, so he invited Brian along. Jill was joining Y/N and her friends while their parents looked after the girls. Y/N was happy that her family would be meeting her second one, something that she had always hoped would happen. She was so elated that it finally was.

Dean pulled up outside his house, cutting the engine. He and Y/N both got out of the car, as she looked over to see her parents park her car in the driveway of her house. She closed her door and walked around to Dean’s side, smiling at him. She instantly moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She shook her head as she marvelled at him, pushing up on her toes despite her heels and leaning in, kissing him softly.

“What was that for?” he asked, when she pulled away.

“For being exactly who you are,” she replied, kissing him again. “Thank you for today. I know you were nervous, but god, you were incredible. I had no doubt that you would be, but I just wanted you to know that.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, smirking. “Helps that they’re all awesome, just like you.”

She blushed as she shook her head, looking up when her parents approached them. She stepped back from Dean, opening her purse and taking out her keys.

“Give me those, and you stay here tonight,” Meredith said, gesturing to the keys.

“Mom-” she started but her mother cut her off.

“Nope, I know what you’re going to say. We know where everything is now, so we’ll be fine,” she stated, a small smile on her face. “And don’t try to argue with me. I know you both need your time together, too.”

She added a quick wink directed at Y/N, while David wasn’t looking. Y/N’s eyes widened as Dean cleared his throat, having seen the gesture.

“Mom,” Y/N gritted out, nodding over to her dad.

“Oh, trust me, he didn’t hear.” Meredith leaned over, kissing her cheek. “Goodnight, honey. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, kids,” David said, leaning in and kissing her cheek, too.

“Goodnight, Meredith. Goodnight, sir,” Dean nodded at both of them. They waved them off and watched them go into Y/N’s house, closing the door behind them.

They both walked up the driveway and into Dean’s house. Y/N walked into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water as Dean locked up, walking in after her. She took a sip but put the glass down, watching him. He smirked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I think…” he trailed off, walking closer to her. “I need to get you back for that little stunt you pulled in the car.”

She smiled that naughty smile he loved so much, but it suddenly dropped into an innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She really was the perfect combination of sweet and mischievous. All good girls were.

“Oh really?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Suddenly, he dropped down quickly, wrapping his arms around her legs and lifting her up. He swung her over his shoulder as she squealed, lifting up his hand and landing a spank on her ass, causing her to yelp and laugh.

“Dean! Oh my god!” she cackled, hysterically as she hung upside down. “Put me down!”

“Nope. I’m taking you to bed, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice low and husky. It always told her what kind of mood he was in. “Teacher’s the one learning a lesson this time.”

Dean took off down the hallway with a laughing Y/N over his shoulder, ready to get her back in the best way possible.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

[lovedegrcssi]

( bethany joy lenz, forty-six, she/her ) did you know that christine “spike” nelson is in toronto? wow, time really has flown by since graduation. do you think they still remember having emma when she was so young? i know she graduated in 1992, but i heard since then they’ve been running her own hair business. they were always kind-hearted, but also had a tendency to be hard-headed too. i heard they still request just like heaven by the cure at above the dot’s karaoke night.

FULL NAME: christine nelson

NICKNAME: spike

BIRTHDATE: 20 september 1975

FAMILY: emma nelson ( daughter ) & jack simpson ( son ) / archibald “archie” “snake” simpson ( husband / tbd if someone picks up snake ) 

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cisfemale & she/her

SEXUALITY: spike is heterosexual. though she had moments where she’s experimented with her sexuality and thought that maybe she might be bisexual, or even more fluid in her sexuality, she currently still labels as heterosexual and doesn’t see herself as being with a woman. 

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: spike has a few tattoos, and a couple of small burn marks on her arms from when she started hairdressing. but nothing big and bold that you would really notice unless you truly were looking to pay attention to that sort of thing. 

HAIR COLOR: as a hairdresser, spike has had many har styles, but her current hair is her natural brown color and straight. no longer stylized in a punk rock way like her nickname 

christine was born to a young single mother and never really got a whole lot of everything. her mother worked hard for the two of them, and spike was...well, a bit rebellious trying to make sure everything she did was worthwhile for some time. but, of course, things didn’t go exactly as planned when after her first time having sex she wound up pregnant. she didn’t know what to do and how to react or anything, because she was so young and didn’t know if she could even handle being a mother. but, firmly believing that no matter what her boyfriend at the time believed, it was her choice to do what she wanted, spike went through with her pregnancy and became a mom at the tail end of her middle school career with the support of her mother and other friends around her. 

of course, things weren’t easy. her boyfriend wasn’t there for herself or the baby and it wasn’t exactly his fault but it was hard to see him living his life while she felt like she was struggling to keep her head above water most days. studying and keeping everything up with her daughter, it was a lot of work. while for a while shane paid some child support money, it got more complicated after his accident and left spike worried about what to do with everything she might need. and also about what might be coming for her in the future when it would be the world ahead of her and her daughter. 

graduation came and she felt like she was able to live her life, but she was working as a beautician and taking care of emma still. she always knew it would be hard work, but balancing it now that she was out of school she thought it would be easier. 

for some time it was, until emma hit her pre-teen years and spike was faced with the realization that she not only raised a mini-me, but a mini-caitlin in some ways too, and it was a lot to handle. while spike was still young and trying to live her own life--falling in love for real once more--she was struggling with how emma was going to handle everything too. and maybe things didn’t pan out the way they would have in a perfect world, but why would they?

she wound up pregnant once again before her wedding to snake and worried about what he might say about the pregnancy, she kept it a secret. it was the worst secret she might have kept and caused a fight. instead of getting married in the dress she’d picked out she wound up getting married in one of her old favorite band t-shirts and jeans, to the man she loved since high school and it was one of the best days of her life. 

of course, that didn’t mean everything was perfect. she still had to deal with troubles of raising a teenager, and a new baby, and also having a husband for the first time. 

eventually spike opened up her own salon business with money she’d been saving over the years and it’s been going well lately, but she’s still living paycheck the paycheck. 

[aegor-bamfsteel]

“When [King Edward I] perceived he could not recover, he called to him his eldest son, who was afterward king, and made him swear, in presence of all his barons, by the Saints, that as soon as he should be dead, he would have his body boiled in a large cauldron until the flesh should be separated from the bones; that he would have the flesh buried and the bones preserved; that every time the Scots should rebel against him, he would summon his people, and carry with him the bones of his father; for he believed most firmly that, as long as his bones were carried against the Scots, they would never be victorious. His son, however, did not fulfill what he had sworn, but had his father carried to London and buried—for which much evil befell him, as you have before heard.” -Sir Jean Froissart (ca 1337-1405), Chronicles of England, France and the Adjoining Countries

“On his deathbed, Ser Aegor Rivers had famously commanded his men to boil the flesh from his skull, dip it in gold, and carry it before them when they crossed the sea to retake Westeros.” -Jon Connington, ADWD

GRRM has applied some of the legends about Edward I to his characters before; King Garth V “Hammer of the Dornish” Gardener shares his nickname with Edward “Hammer of the Scots” Plantagenet; young Tywin Lannister defeated the rebellious House Reyne, which has the reversed color scheme of the coat of arms for House Montfort, a rebellious baronial house young Prince Edward defeated on behalf of his father, King Henry III (Tywin also has parallels to Edward who deeply mourned his wife Eleanor of Castile, and sent the last heiress of a rebel cause Gwenllian of Wales to a secluded convent). It seems he’s also taking this legend about Edward’s deathbed wishes and adapting it to Aegor Rivers, another hardened military man. It’s worth noting, however, that Froissart was writing over 50 years after Edward I died, and there’s no contemporary evidence this request was ever made (considering a papal bull against dismembering bodies, it would’ve been an impious command from a Crusader). Froissart was “reflecting Edward’s later reputation, rather than accurately recording a deathbed scene”. It’s also an explanation as to why England eventually lost the Scottish wars of Independence despite early success, since Edward II was theoretically being punished for disobeying his father’s last wishes. It’s certainly a staple of GRRM’s writing to take popular medieval legends and adapt them as if they were true (such as the institution of First Night).

Regarding Aegor Rivers, the request does seem similar to Edward’s in that, after decades of having fought against an enemy, he realizes that he will not be able to see the war brought to its conclusion, and would have his material remains to be there. However, unlike Edward, Aegor has no expectation that the Golden Company will be able to retake Westeros without him. Edward had been present at Falkirk, a smashing victory that broke the credibility of William Wallace, but was not present at the earlier English defeat at Stirling Bridge, so there’s a correlation between Edward’s presence and English victory. By contrast, we know of no great battles by name that Aegor won. The three Rebellions in which he fought were more successful than the two ones in which he didn’t (if you count a Blackfyre invading the Stepstones and getting killed there a Westerosi rebellion), but by no means were they victories. His golden skull isn’t acting like a reliquary to ensure Golden Company success in Westeros, as Edward’s bones might’ve been for England. It is simply the dying request of an exiled old man to have his bones back in the country of his birth. And while Edward died with his son at his side, Aegor spent his final moments with no friendly face and no hope for the future.

“All the skulls were grinning, even Bittersteel's on the tall pike in the center. What does he have to grin about? He died defeated and alone, a broken man in an alien land.” -Jon Connington, ADWD

[fullmarvelheart]

Crossing Lines (1/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 3,322

Series summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, little bit of angst, slight swearing, slow burn (more to be added as the series progresses)

A/N: I’m finally able to post this today! I’ve been counting down until I could get this out😂 This is the first story that I have written and posted on my Tumblr account. I’m a bit nervous but very excited. I have not entirely proofread this story. Though, I would like to thank my beta reader, Lauren, for all the help and motivation she gave me. The GIF is not mine, credit to the original creator! And a big thank you to the @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ for hosting Mob!Bucky Appreciation Day and inspiring me to post this story.

Series Masterlist

The sharp clicking noise of my heels, followed by the dull thud of several boots, echo on the wooden stairs leading to the basement of my childhood home. I follow the along the long stretch of the twisting hallways until we reach a door that's muffling the slaps and punches behind it. 

One of the men that had met me in the foyer, and had followed me down, knocks twice on the door as I tuck my hand into the back pocket of the curve-hugging black jeans I wore for the day. Moments later, the steel door swings open with a low whine from the give of the rusted hinges. The scent of blood and sweat is the first thing I notice followed by the image of the room. 

Five men stand beyond the doorway. The man who opened the door stands near the edge of steel, gun hanging loosely at his side. Two bodyguards stand in adjacent corners of the room, making sure it’s possible to guard the others with in. Two others, the two most trusted of the household, including the right hand to the leader of the Manhattan Mafia Empire, stand imposingly in front of a man bound to a chair in the center. By the amount of fresh blood dripping onto the floor, this wasn't just some petty offense against the leader. Which draws my attention to the final man, leaning carelessly on a table filled with painful weapons. Nicholas J. Fury, the leader of this mafia clan, and my adopted father. 

"You summoned me from my apartment, Boss?" I say with a smirk while jutting out my hip. 

Phil Coulson, father's righthand, gives me a smirk in return while Maria Hill, his enforcer, just sends a half-hearted glare my way. However, father's face remains neutral.

"I did." He spares me a one-eyed glance. "Tell me what you see?"

I hum in thought to myself as I stalk my way around to see the captive's face. The top half of his once light-colored shirt is now hanging open from being cut by a knife or something similarly sharp. But it's cut open enough to view a tattoo resting on his right breast. 

A red skull surrounded by a halo of octopus tentacles. 

I grunt in distaste. "HYDRA scum."

The man lifts up his bloodied and beaten head to snarl at me. He twists his mouth before lobbing a spit ball at my feet. The glob of mixed spit and blood lands inches from my black, closed-toe heels. 

I scoff at the action and brush my hand into the waistline of my jeans. When I feel the slim metal hilt, I maneuver the object into my palm. With the push of a small button the knife of the switchblade extends before I quickly drive it into his thigh. He screams out in pain as I keep the blade firmly in place. When his screams turn into tired wails of agony, I turn towards my father. 

"Who is he?" I ask, motioning my head towards the man.

"We believe he's behind the hit on George Barnes. Or at least, is attempting to put the blame on us." He explains in his no-nonsense tone. 

My eyes widen in shock, my lips parting slightly. 

"George Barnes was shot at? Is this why I've been called in?" The prisoner painfully chuckles, quietly enough for only me to hear him. 

"He's dead, sweet cheeks." He whispers with a smirk of victory.

I growl at him before twisting my knife and yanking it out while I stand.

"So, why am I here? I assume it's not to attend the funeral because you know I can't. It was just a risk just to even come here." My father gives me a pointed look.  

"I need you to go with them to the warehouse with the prisoner while your siblings and I attend the funeral that's being held in a couple of hours. After the funeral, George's son and I will discuss some business about our alliance with the Brooklyn clan. I'll call you with the details." I nod at his instructions. 

"You know the FBI is going to have me all over this case once they receive word of Barnes’ death, right?" He nods. 

"I'm counting on it." 

"I'll be waiting by the van." I tell him before wiping my knife on the man’s already dirty shirt and tucking the now closed switchblade into the band of my jeans.  

I'm escorted back up the stairs towards the side of the house where the cars sit waiting in father's massive garage. Though the reason for the escort is now clear. My safety. My personal bodyguards, some of my father's most trusted men, meet back up with me to continue through the house. The sounds of nearing footsteps draw my attention to another hallway. My siblings, the twins, round the corner with their own group of bodyguards. 

Wanda, the youngest, according to her brother, is dressed in all black. Appropriate for a funeral. Her brown hair is in casual waves while her makeup is mostly minimally visible. Her natural eyeshadow pairs well with the red lip tint she chose. Her normal red leather jacket is replaced by a similar black one that's draped over a black dress which is cinched at the waist. Her normal array of colorful and seemingly mismatched jewelry has been changed into a long silver chain necklace and a simple dark color bracelet. And to top off the outfit, she put on a pair of high heeled ankle boots. A surprised gasp leaves her lips when she spots me and soon, she's running to me as fast as she can in those heels. Her brother, Pietro, follows not too far behind her. 

Pietro is dressed in a similar fashion. His silver dyed hair is brushed into gentle waves. A black leather jackets lays over a black dress shirt while matching pants and shoes. He also wears a small silver chain with a blue pendant on it. A gift from his twin.

Wanda pulls me into a tight hug with an excited squeal and I laugh, returning her hug with equal excitement.

"Y/N/N what are you doing here?!" She giggles as she pulls back. I laugh while Pietro pulls me into a similar hug. 

"What? Can't an older sister stop by and see her two favorite siblings?" I gasp in mock offense once I'm released from the hug.

"We're your only siblings." Pietro reminds with a roll of his eyes. 

"Besides, being undercover doesn't really allow time for social visits." Wanda points out. I only sigh. Sometimes she's too perceptive. 

"It has to do with Brooklyn doesn't it?" Pietro asks while crossing his arms. As the only male heir of our father, Pietro is often included or informed of current affairs. Again, I sigh in defeat, though I shouldn’t be surprised he knows.  

"Yeah, father called me in. This is a real shit show and I have a feeling this is just the beginning of it." I mutter distastefully.

They both nod in understanding, but Wanda looks equal parts sad and disappointed. But this is our life, we're used to it by now. Even though it's not always what we wish to have.

I gently smile before pulling them both into a big hug. 

"Promise me you two will be careful out there?" Wanda tightens her grip on me. 

"It's not us," She begins slowly. "Who you should be worried about." I chuckle dryly, knowing she's right, as I squeeze her back before pulling away from both of them.

"I suppose not. Still, I do. Now, I need to be going soon. I will see you both later." Pietro nods in acceptance, but Wanda let's her head droop slightly. I give her hand a tight squeeze before me and my bodyguards resume our way to where the cars are. 

I climb back into the car that I came here in, and wait patiently for the driver and everyone to clamber in. The car is started but we remain idling sitting. As a way to occupy myself, I reach into the side door and feel for what I hid in there before I went in. When my fingers brush over the leather holster, I grab it and attach it, and the gun it holds, to a pocket on the inside of my leather jacket. When it's secure, I fold the jacket back over my chest, concealing the firearm in the process. 

A muffled struggle echoes through the once silent garage.

"You want me to take care of that?" I ask the men who sit with me in the car, my fingers brushing over the spot in my jacket where my gun rests. 

"Nah, I'll go check it out." One of my bodyguards, Mackenzie, or Mack as he's called, replies from the passenger seat. 

"Of bloody course you'd be the first one of us lot to check it out." The driver, a Brit, by the name of Hunter scoffs.  

Mack just shakes his head before he opens the door and leaves. When there's a few moments of silence after the car door is shut, that’s when Hunter speaks again. 

"What are the odds of him bringing up something about needing that shotgun-axe again once he gets back in here?"

I chuckle and I see the shoulders of the person next to me move slightly. 

"High." May, the bodyguard next to me and the one that I trust with mostly everything, responds with a slight edge of humor in her voice. Then she turns to me. "Boss, I was going to wait until we cleared the property,-"

"A good idea, May. I don't know much as of now, I can tell you that, but I'll tell the rest once we’re on the move."

She nods and the front passenger door opens at the same time. 

"You'd think the men would know how to handle prisoners, like that one, by now." He grumbles as he settles into his seat. "I swear, one look at a shotgun-axe would scare the life out of those boys. Maybe they'd actually listen to simple instructions at that point."

We all the chuckle as the caravan of cars begins its trip out of the garage and to the warehouse. As we pull down the driveway, I reach into the pocket behind the passenger seat and pull out the object I stashed there and clip it inside my jacket, not too far from my gun. The gold of the badge reflects the light onto the side door while I begin to put on the mask that's essential for my survival out there in this scary world. The letters of F, B, and I revolve in my mind as I stare out the window at my former home. My life is a dangerous one and every aspect has a devastating risk with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warehouse is a dark place. Even if there is daylight present, streaming through the dirty frosted windows, a dark and dangerous feeling surrounds the place. It clings to it like the smell of a cigarette on clothes. For newcomers, like the prisoner that followed us in another van just a few behind our own, it's daunting. It's certain death. To me and my bodyguards, only our hairs stand on end in anticipation of what is to come.

I informed my guards of what I knew about the situation on the way here. A reverent silence filled the air at the mention of the late George Barnes' death. He treated his men well, was honest and loyal to his allies, and was a good man. Brooklyn and all of New York will miss him.

I stand in the empty warehouse floor, several paces in front of the unconscious prisoner, who's slumped against his restraints. Turns out the men are really in an impatient mood today. I cross my arms while I zone out observing him. Why did HYDRA do this? What did they gain? What's the bigger picture that I'm missing?  

The faint sound of gravel crunching under tires drags me from my head and has me turning towards the opened garage-looking doors. Three black vans drive in and come to a stop not too far from the entrance. Father and Coulson are the first to step out from the center van. My siblings then file out from the one on the right. The rest of the men who were in the cars climb out and seem to form a barrier between the front entrance and the four people headed straight for me.

"I thought I would be receiving a phone call first." I give father a weary glance, noticing his seriousness about something.

"Change of plans." He answers swiftly, and rather seriously. I begin to grow uncomfortable.

The sound of more approaching vehicles has my eyes widening as I turn my curious and nervous expression on my father who gives me a reassuring nod. 

"Fury." I hiss under my breath, not liking the idea of going into a situation blindly. He simply ignores me.

My focus is drawn back to the entrance as car doors closing harshly sound in my ears, though my gaze never wavers from my father's profile. A cadence of footsteps march across the unpaved driveway and into the warehouse, only pausing in front of the line of father's men. It's only when the footsteps draw nearer that I finally look at the party joining us.

My eyes widen, ever so slightly, at the sight of three imposing men nearing closer to where I stand. The man on my left is tall and broad-chested. His shiny blond hair reflects the dim light of the warehouse. His jawline is clean and sharp like a knife, adding to the dangerous air around him. The man in the center is just slightly shorter than the one on his left. A few strands of his long brown hair frame his face while, I assume, the rest is pulled back. However, the stubble on his face and those piercing blue eyes that I can see, even in the dim warehouse lighting, gives me an idea of who I’m dealing with. James “Bucky” Barnes. A man whose reputation for being a cold-blooded killer and a ladies’ man is very well known. However, any idea of seriousness is completely forgotten when I notice the man on my right, James’ left, who’s giving me a hard scowl. The familiar sight of the deep chocolate brown skin, hard eyes, and black hair puts me at ease. I could almost laugh at the situation.

“Samuel T. Wilson.” I chuckle when I see his eye twitch at the sound of his full name.

The trio stops not too far away from my father’s group and me. The sight of those two chocolate brown eyes, that look like they want to murder me, have me smirking.

“Special Agent Y/L/N of the FBI.” He growls, and I feel the tension in the room immediately spike. “I thought I saw the last of ya when I was let go.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Wilson scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. I also notice Barnes shifting in my periphery and sigh to myself as I think of how to reword things. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been let go so easily. There wasn’t any substantial evidence against you, but the other agents were going to keep you locked up to send a message. I let it slip to our boss, and he had a big problem with what they were doing. You were let free not too long after. So quit looking like you want to kill me, and maybe offer a ‘thank you’ instead.”

He goes to speak, but that’s when father decides to step in.

“Gentlemen, we came here to discuss a business transaction, not hash out the past. If you three would, follow me. Agent, you too. Son, keep the rest of our guests some company.” There are a series of soft grumbles and complaints, but ultimately, everyone listens.

When the three Brooklyn boys pass the now awake prisoner, his face turns a scary shade of white. And that’s considering the fact that he was already pale due to blood loss. I feel a shiver begin to creep down my spine, but I suppress it. I tell myself it’s because of the type of fear these men can instill, but deep down, I know that it was a low growl I heard somewhere over my shoulder.

Father takes us to one of the few offices in the warehouse and has me shut the door. Barnes sits in the chair across from Fury with both his men flanking either side of him. The only person at my father’s side is Coulson on the right, until I walk up to the vacant spot on my father’s left.

“I think proper introductions should be made before we begin talks.”

“I agree.” Barnes cuts in. “I didn’t realize this meeting would include a dirty Fed.”

I scoff but am interrupted before I can make any smart remark.

“This, gentlemen, is my eldest child. Y/N was the first I adopted and raised in this life. The only reason she is in the FBI is to help us deal with HYDRA.”

“HYDRA is everywhere.” I start explaining. “Like cockroaches in an old building. The only way to make sure every loose end has been tied up is to have all the information. There’s no better way to do it.”

“Hold up. I thought your last name was ‘Y/L/N’.” This time, Wilson interrupts.

“A cover, obviously. If the FBI learned of my ties to the Underworld or to my father, it would be worse than if they thought I was just corrupt.”

“The point is that Y/N will be passing on any information she learns about HYDRA and their plot.”

“I’ll also be keeping a very close eye on anything that may have to do with what happened to your father.” At the mention of him, I see James’ lips twitch slightly while the furrow of his brow deepens. “I am sorry for what happened to him. Your father was a great and very well-respected man.”

The only sign of acknowledgement I get from the new leader of the Brooklyn clan is a slight nod of his head, and I begin to grow uncomfortable in the silence that follows. Luckily, a phone ringing stops the awkwardness from becoming worse. However, it’s not just any phone. It’s my phone. I quickly snatch it from one of the pockets of my leather jacket and glance at the screen.

“It’s my boss.” I inform before answering. “This is Y/L/N. Yes, sir. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” He hangs up. “I’m being called in. Send me the rest of the details later.” My father nods as he motions for me to leave. Before I do, I look over the three new faces and say in the most professional tone I can gather, “It was nice to properly meet you, gentlemen. I look forward to working with you.”

Without waiting for a reply from one of my father’s, hopefully, new allies to say anything, I hurry around the desk and out of the office. Once Hunter receives the word to get the car ready, I tuck my phone away again.

As I leave the warehouse, goosebumps prickle my skin. Not because it’s cold, or because I’m scared, but because of the pressure that’s suddenly fallen around my shoulders. This attack, this changes everything. HYDRA has always threatened the clans, carried out small or petty attacks, but they have never directly attacked the families. The death of George Barnes is only the catalyst. 

A war is coming, and blood will be spilled. But how prepared am I for what I expect to come?

Part 2

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 5: Amnesia

“‘Amnesic’?” you echoed.

“Yes, amnesic,” Kim Sejin confirmed. “It’s made the situation much more complicated than it normally would have turned out. He won’t sleep and refuses to eat or take any painkillers. It was a miracle he accepted any medical treatment at all.”

“Amnesia merely affects your memory,” you said confidently. “It shouldn’t disturb his basic intelligence.”

Last year, Se-Eun had been fanatic about a manhwa or manga about a protagonist who had suffered that exact ailment, which resulted in her reading up on everything about it. And of course, she had poured all of that so very necessary - no, not really, not until now - information into your brain, so you were feeling pretty up to date about the condition. There were two main types of amnesia, but neither of them would make a person lose all of his senses.

“Well, to clarify, he mistrusts everyone.” Sejin averted his gaze, then continued quietly. “The kid doesn’t even recognize his group members. It was really… tough seeing that, though it was even tougher when I was forced to send them home with him being the way he is.” He cleared his throat, then met your gaze again. You thought you saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes before he blinked and it was gone. “He barely speaks. He won’t sleep if someone is in the room. And even though he can’t eat with his broken arm, he won’t let anyone feed him.”

“The last might have something to do with hospital food in general,” you said, trying your best to lighten up the mood. In all honesty, you felt as if someone was twirling around your intestines with a giant, hot fork. “Have you tried something else? Sweets? Fried chicken?”

“Nothing works,” Sejin said bitterly. “Not even the nurses or the doctors can win him over. He’s… a bit out of it, if you ask me.”

You undid your hair and ran a frustrated hand through it. “Why call me?” you exclaimed. “Why not his parents?”

“His parents have been contacted,” he began, “but nobody has replied. And it wasn’t exactly my intention to call you. Your number was the only unfamiliar one Taehyung found among Jungkook’s contacts. Neither of us thought it would be you, considering the ID, though I am glad it was.”

“Why?” you asked, only fleetingly wondering exactly what kind of nickname you had had the misfortune of receiving on Jungkook’s phone that had made both Sejin and someone named Taehyung so surprised. Demon fiancée? The spawn of Satan? A better question would also be how he had gotten your number in the first place. You didn't have his.

“What exactly do you think I might accomplish that none of you haven’t already thought of?” you went on. “We’re just family friends. Why not get any of his other acquaintances? Or why not his girlfriend?” A little bit of your earlier jealousy trickled into your voice, weighing it down. It broke painfully, reluctantly. You cringed at the pitiful sound.

“He’s been asking for you.”

You paled. “What?”

Kim Sejin wore a dead-serious expression. “As soon as the kid regained consciousness, your name was the first thing that jumped out of his mouth. And I did call Yi-Jae almost first, but when she arrived, he couldn’t recognize her either. It really broke her.”

You almost didn't hear him. Jungkook had called for you? He remembered you out of everyone?

“I'm going in,” you said and finally opened the door.

Sejin looked like he had wanted to say something else but you were already halfway inside. Sitting on the edge of one of two hospital beds with his booted feet planted firmly into the floor and back toward the doorway, was a lonely guy dressed familiarly in a large t-shirt and loose-fitting blue jeans. Layers of bandage encircled his head, his right arm rested in a basic splint and you noticed minor scratches and bruises across his body that had mostly been patched up. A few spots of maroon sullied the otherwise white of his t-shirt. Other than that, Jeon Jungkook looked completely fine.

As soon as you entered, he spun around. What had initially been an expression of suspicion across his features melted into a face of recognition - and joy.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed and abruptly stood and made a movement to go to you before stopping himself. His eyes darted to something behind you and his features stiffened.

Kim Sejin had walked in after you. You were quick to gather yourself and cleared your throat. “I think I should handle this on my own,” you told Sejin. “If you could just wait outside…?”

He nodded once before quickly leaving, closing the door after him. You had still caught the hurt in the man’s eyes, however.

“Took you long enough!”

Jungkook continued toward you, grimacing slightly when he had to lean on his left leg. But he was smiling again. At you.

“Sorry, I was watching paint dry,” you said automatically, your brain and tongue having gotten used to quick retorts with Jungkook. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Jeon Jungkook was happy to see you?

“Because that seems healthy to do.”

“Heard you got ran over,” you said, ignoring him as you tried to get a grip of the situation. He was amnesic, you would have to keep that in mind all the time. He had probably lost at least the last five or so years while with BTS. That would explain why he remembered you, since your relationship practically predated the dinosaurs.

But when had there been a time in your life when you two were happy to see each other?

“Yeah, accident,” Jungkook said as he halted in front of you. “Or so they tell me.”

This close, you could see some dirt still left underneath his ear, and he smelled of alcohol, the city and disinfectant. You tried not to look too concerned, adopting a casual pose with your arm crossed over your chest. But inside, your emotions and thoughts were in turmoil.

“You do look great for someone supposedly hit by a car,” you admitted after conspicuously eyeing him up and down. “Barely a scratch.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell them.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to you, almost causing you to flinch backward at the sudden lack of space between you. “I don’t trust anyone of them. I mean, I get that my arm needs bandaging and that I need rest. I can feel that, physically. But there were six or so guys crowding me just recently, people I have never seen in all of my life, that were all incredibly concerned. They were telling me everything would be alright, that they could help me get better and that they were happy I wasn’t dead. But all I could think about was: ‘How long have they just been sitting there, watching me?'”

“What’s so bad about that?” you asked and frowned. “Even if you don’t know them, didn’t it feel great waking up to people waiting for you?”

“No,” he said quietly as he averted his gaze. “Not when I don’t know them and they keep telling me how much I do.”

There it was: fear. You could read it in his mere voice.

“Then I guess it’s my turn to try and convince you,” you said carefully. “You’ve gotten amnesia, Jungkook, that’s why you can’t remember them. But for years now, you’ve spent almost every day with six guys, training, performing and living together. They are your hyungs. The seven of you are BTS, one of the biggest, most popular K-pop groups in the world. You stood on a stage in a completely filled stadium just a few hours ago. Are you sure you don’t even feel a tiny bit of recognition?”

“No. All I know is you.”

You felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat and your face flush with color. That had been an unexpected response.

Jungkook seemed as if he were waiting for you to reply but you couldn’t find your voice. With a frustrated sigh, he backed away from you and sank down on the ledge of the same hospital bed he had sat on when you entered. He leaned his torso forward, placed his elbows on his thighs and rested his head in the palms of his hands. You remained standing, as paralyzed.

“You are all I can think about,” he murmured after a long pause, then grimaced. “I think I was angry with you and that I had something really, really important to tell you. I was… I was going to see you but that’s about all I can recall. Everything else is too blurry. It hurts just trying to think about what I had for breakfast - I can’t even begin to imagine having been friends with those guys, even less performed with them a couple hours ago. I am just so confused and paranoid and--”

His voice broke, and he ceased talking. Your heart ached seeing him like that. He didn’t react when you moved closer, or even when you sat down next to him. He simply hid his face in his hands. You were tempted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but even before you raised your arm, you recalled his eyes when he had looked at Park Yi-Jae. You recalled the ease with which he had moved to let her kiss his cheek.

This was wrong. Everything had gone so terribly wrong.

Still, you draped an arm over his shoulder blades and gently squeezed his bicep with your other hand. He tensed slightly, then relaxed as you began speaking.

“We’ll sort this through,” you told him softly. “One step after another. I don’t know how, and I doubt I’m even nearly enough qualified to help you, but I will do my very best. I refuse to see you break because of this.”

“I… I have wanted to become a singer for so very long...”

His voice was only one step above a whisper. It took all your willpower not to embrace him and hold him until he told you to stop. You knew it wouldn’t be right.

“I know,” you replied. “I won’t let you lose this opportunity. I’ll help you through this, Jeon Jungkook.”

One of his hands found yours, and clamped around it. “Even though I’ve been horrible toward you for the last ten, fifteen years or so?”

“Oh, so that you remember?” you asked while laughing. “I was starting to think you were a lost cause. Well, shoot, there goes the plan I had for using your pretty face to make money in a very illegal way.”

He chuckled, but wouldn’t show his face yet. “That’s dark, (Y/N). Cruel too. You don’t need any more money.”

You laughed again, feeling tremendously better now. “I’m just trying to lighten up the mood. We’re in a hospital, you know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware of that until just now.”

“No problem.” You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to regain a serious tone. “Jungkook, even though you can be a stupid brat more often than not, I have to admit that you’re one of the most head-strong, unyielding and hard-working people I know. If you can’t make it through this, I don’t think there’s anyone out there who can.”

Finally, he lifted his head and turned to look at you. There were no tears staining his cheeks, but his cheeks and nose were rosy and his brown eyes glittered, like he were just on the brink of crying. You gave him your gentlest smile then scooted away, feeling your heartbeats hasten and your skin grow warm underneath the weight of his gaze.

“Thank you.”

His hand wouldn’t release yours. Your heart was racing and slammed against the inner side of your ribcage so hard you thought it was trying to break out and run away - at least you were in the right place to get a cardiac arrest.

But still, he had simply thanked you. Why were you getting so weird because of that?

You cleared your throat and pointedly looked at his hand. Jungkook eyes widened in surprise and he quickly let go of you.

“So,” you began as you stood up, eager to get some distance between you two. “The first thing we need to do is get you something to eat and drink. And then you need to sleep. By the way, why aren’t you in a hospital gown?”

“I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to wear one,” he replied. “It makes me look sickly and dying, which I’m not. I’ve just injured my arm, that’s it.”

“Well, I don’t think sweaty, bloody clothes are the most optimal to rest in. I will have to find some new clothes for you to wear,” you said, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He was athletic and lithe, yet tall enough that he probably had to size upwards in most brands. While spending a moment trying to figure out the most optimal clothing store, you realized that since they lived together, his group members probably knew where he had his wardrobe. You decided you would go there as soon as possible.

“You don’t need to spend money on me,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh, his face hardening to stone.

You frowned, but decided against prying. He needed to sleep as soon as possible.

“Don’t worry,” you told him, “I won’t. I’ll find something fresh you can loan by tomorrow. Are you hungry? Should I return with some fast food or something first?”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded and checked your phone. “I have to go to school in less than six hours. I can try to come at lunch tomorrow, but most likely, I won’t be here until late afternoon. So you’ve got to tell me now if you want fried chicken or not. I’ll even buy some Pepsi if you’re sweet about it.”

You stood with your back against him as you searched for your parents’ driver in the contact list. You were waiting for him to pick up when Jungkook spoke.

“I won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

You opened your mouth to make fun of him when you saw his expression. It was that frightened expression you remembered from a long time back.

You knew you couldn’t leave him.

“Fine,” you said as you canceled the call. “But I will have to leave early in the morning. I can’t miss school.”

“As long as you wake me before you go.”

Jungkook looked at you with eyes you could not help but sympathize with. Yet you understood, he had to rest.

“I will,” you lied.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, he began lifting one leg after the other onto his bed when you stopped him. After taking off his boots and helping him with the paper-thin blanket, you washed your hands, face and mouth in a basin that was in the room. By the time you thought you wouldn’t smell like noodles anymore and you started drying yourself with a paper towel, you heard light snoring from behind you. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Jungkook must have fought back sleep for a long time while mouthing off the doctors and nurses.

You unzipped your jacket and hung it over one of seven chairs in the room, together with your purse. You set an alarm on your phone and plugged it into a socket that until then had powered an ugly bedside lamp. And finally, you found yourself sitting next to him on the other hospital bed in the room, watching his peaceful face.

You weren’t in love with Jeon Jungkook. You truly weren’t.

But you might have just begun falling for him.

[justlightlysedated]

I’m not sure if this is what you were after with your message earlier, but anything more with the Malex Charmed AU where Alex is a witch and Michael is a white lighter would be wonderful 💖💖💖

set in this au:

Michael’s never been so nervous about an assignment before. But that’s probably because he’s never been given such an important assignment before. Usually he takes care of future White Lighters or low level witches just learning to use their powers.

But these were not only the children of a Charmed One, but also the children of Jesse Manes, one of the most notoriously evil warlocks, who even the Source was rumoured to fear.

So yeah, he was nervous, but he knew what his strengths were, and he knew that he was chosen because he was the best at blending in and staying in character and the Elders really wanted to keep an eye on the Manes Brothers, without them actually knowing that they were being watched.

Michael takes a look at his reflection in the rearview mirror, and he looks just as terrified as he feels.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath trying to find his center, and calming himself down just like Max had taught him back when Michael had first become a White Lighter.

Once he feels more calm and less nervous, he gets out of his truck, making sure to grab his tool box.

Michael closes the door behind himself and looks up at the Manes Manor.

The architecture put it firmly somewhere in the early eighteen hundreds, and the mauve color of the wooden boards made it stand out even more in the neighborhood full of monotone colors.

Michael’s story was pretty easy to remember and to input. The Manes had several nosy neighbors, and Mrs. Karen Johnson, their next door neighbor had been heard complaining loudly about the fact that the boarded up windows at the Manes Manor hadn’t been fixed since they’d been broken almost a full week ago.

So Michael had decided that the best way to infiltrate was to pose as a handyman, after all, old Victorian Manors sometimes did need a lot of work done, if no one kept up with the upkeep, and something told Michael that the Manes were more concerned with other matters than their home falling around them.

Something which is proven when Michael gets closer and realizes that the door wasn’t left open, but was actually leaning against the door jamb, on it’s side.

Michael is trying really hard not to be judgemental here, but he’s surprised that they’re still alive at this point.

As he stops right by the edge of the welcome mat, covered in wood chips and what he’s pretty sure is green demon goo, and sets his tool box down, he can almost perfectly hear the argument going on inside.

“-should just admit that you have no idea what you’re actually doing,” one voice says, sounding very much on the edge of condescending.

“Just because you can’t do it, doesn’t mean that my patch job is bad,” another voice says sounding on edge.

There is silence for two seconds and then the sounds of wooden boards hitting the ground, along with the small metal sounds of nails falling.

“You were saying?” the first voice says.

Someone else scoffs, and then Michael hears footsteps.

Michael doesn’t bother hiding as the first brother appears, Flint, the middle one, walking out from where he thinks the living room is located and into the short hall that leads towards the front door, heading towards the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms.

But no one seems to notice him as his two brothers follow after him.

Gregory, the eldest and the tallest one of the three of them, is the one to speak next, “I agree with Alex. We should consider hiring someone.”

Michael clears his throat and takes a step closer to the entrance, but no one pays attention to him.

Flint stops right at the bottom of the stairs and gives Gregory a truly vicious look, “Of course you agree with Alex.”

Alex, who is the youngest brother, shares a look with Gregory and then obviously rolls his eyes, almost with his whole entire body, leaning back against the small table where an empty vase is located.

He’s the only one with his back to Michael, and yet, no one else notices that he’s standing right there.

“I’m just saying that your way didn’t work, maybe we should consider-”

“Dad always said that real men fix their own messes,” Flint interrupts.

Alex makes a truly impressive disgusted noise with his mouth, “Dad is also an evil bastard warlock who keeps sending demons to steal our powers, do you really want to keep listening to his advice?”

"Excuse-" Michael tries trying to interrupt them, but they keep talking over him.

Flint rolls his eyes with his whole body just like Alex did, “Just because you think he’s evil-”

“He’s sending demons after us to steal our powers,” Alex repeats.

Flint gives him an annoyed look, “Powers that we only have because of you.”

Alex pushes off the table then, making the vase rock alarmingly. "You're really still blaming me after the last demon confirmed that dad would've sent them after us anyway?"

Flint opens his mouth, but Alex cuts him off, before he can say a word.

"Do you want to be dead? Because that's what you'd be right now. Dead."

"I can't believe that you're willing to take a demon's word for it, when it's our dad-"

Alex scoffs, "Dad has wanted me dead our whole lives-"

Michael moves forward and knocks on the door, and he sees Alex twitch towards the sound, but at the same time Gregory speaks up, loudly.

"I think that maybe we should table this conversation for some other time," Gregory says speaking over his two brothers, who turn to face him. "And I also think that we should put it to a vote."

Flint and Alex just look at him expectantly.

"Should we call someone to look at the damage and give us an estimate so that we at least know how much money before deciding it costs too much and do it ourselves?" Gregory asks.

Flint scoffs, but doesn't move.

Alex raises his hand immediately, "I say we should."

"So do I," Gregory says, raising his own hand.

"Fine," Flint says, and turns around and stomps up the stairs.

Michael winces as the slamming of his bedroom door echoes loudly downstairs.

Alex and Gregory just look at each other.

"You make the call, I'll make the coffee," Gregory says, and turns around, heading towards the dining room and to the kitchen.

Alex just sighs and turns around and makes direct eye contact with Michael.

Michael feels very much like someone just punched him in the stomach and forced all of the air out of his lungs.

Michael had seen pictures of the three brothers to be able to tell who each one was and who had what power, but pictures really didn't do Alex Manes justice.

There was something magnetizing in his kohl lined gaze, and even though he was looking at Michael with suspicion, his gaze was so intense that Michael didn’t think he could look away, even if he wanted to.

Alex takes several steps forward which snaps Michael’s attention away from his face and down the rest of his body. The way his shoulders stretch out the thin fabric of his black t-shirt, and how thick his biceps look and down to how his black skinny jeans stretch across his thighs, and the flash of pale skin in the strategically placed rips.

Michael feels a stab of attraction low and hot in his belly and he thinks, oh, oh no.

“Can I help you?” Alex asks, sounding hostile, and Michael stares at him for a second longer, at the way he’s moved so that he’s right in the middle of the hall, but close enough to duck into the living room if Michael were inclined to attack.

Michael pulls himself out of the daze he’d fallen in, and lifts a hand and waves, "Hi. I've been trying to get your attention."

Alex gives him an expectant look like he expects Michael to explain why, so Michael does.

“I was fixing the back door for your neighbor, and she mentioned something about your windows, and I figured I might as well take a look since I don’t have any other jobs lined up for the next couple of hours.”

Alex looks him up and down for a second, taking in the toolbelt and the tool box that Michael had set down earlier.

“Which neighbor?” He acts like he’s testing Michael.

“Mrs. Johnson?” Michael responds, more like a question

Alex deflates at the answer, face losing all of it’s tension as he steps even closer, sending Michael a small, sheepish smile that almost sends Michael into a daze.

“Karen needs to mind her own business,” he says, sounding amused. “But since she has been dropping by with food and hints about knowing someone that would help, I’m not surprised she got tired of being ‘subtle’ and actually sent someone over.”

He does finger quotes around the word subtle, and Michael thinks that he maybe falls in love with him a little.

Michael shakes his head, and looks away from Alex. He hopes that this attraction thing is short lived, since he has a job to do, but a small part of him already knows that it’s not going to be as easy as that.

The only thing that he’s pinning his hopes on right now is that Alex is not interested and straight.

“Yeah,” Michael says weakly. “I heard the last bit of your conversation there, and I can give you an estimate right now if you want?”

He looks back to Alex, who looks up and then turns to look behind himself, the move making his shirt lift up, and showing off the rainbow studded belt he’s wearing.

Michael’s heart jumps in his chest, and he tells himself that that belt could mean anything, but that combined with the eyeliner and the cuffs around his ears are a blatant sign in a language that Michael is fully fluent in.

“That would be great,” he says turning back to face Michael, and the small smile on his face gets a little wider as he realizes that Michael had been staring at his belt.

Michael looks away from him then, and he leans down and reaches for his tool box, telling himself firmly that he has a job to do, that that’s all this is, a job, and that there are rules against this sort of thing. Rules that clearly state that relationships between witches and White Lighters are strictly prohibited.

He walks into the house, and signals to the door, “Should I add the door into my estimate as well?”

Alex looks over to the door, and makes a face, probably at the mess that’s on the welcome mat.

“Yes,” he says looking back at Michael, and then he takes a step closer, so that he’s within reaching distance.

“I’m Alex, by the way,” he says as he puts out one hand.

Michael swallows hard, but he reaches out with his free hand.

“Michael,” he says just as their hands make contact.

Alex inhales sharply, eyes falling shut as his hand squeezes Michael’s hand lightly.

Michael can feel the wave of magic that pours out of him momentarily, and he already knows that Alex is the one who can see the future, which means that he probably just got a premonition.

Michael needs to act like this isn’t something that he would know about, but before he can make an appropriately worried face, Alex is opening his eyes.

He licks his lips and looks at Michael with too wide eyes, pupils blown wide, and his eyes drop down to Michael’s mouth, and then even lower, before he looks back up to Michael’s eyes.

“It’s going to be so nice knowing you,” Alex says, in a low and breathy voice.

Michael’s eyes go wide and he feels heat flooding his cheeks as Alex’s voice hits him right in the middle of his stomach.

Fuck, he thinks. He is utterly fucked.

He wonders what the hell that could mean, what kind of premonition Alex had that would make him say that, but then Alex’s face goes a little panicked as he realizes what he just said, and he lets go of Michael’s hand, taking a step back and clearing his throat.

“I mean, nice to meet you,” he tells him in a completely unconvincing tone. “Let me show you the windows.”

He turns then and walks into the living room, and Michael watches him go, still feeling a little warm.

Oh no, he thinks again, and follows after Alex.

[iworshipkeanureeves]

Red Circle

John Wick x Reader

Summary: One week after meeting John at a night club Y/N shares a very unexpected first date with him.

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of shooting.

Words: 2K

Request: by @bvbwestfall​​

The reader first meets john at the red circle ( night club ), it’s her first time in New York and she first time going to a night club and she sees he’s hurt after the shooting and he's walking out and she tries to help him but he doesn't pay attention to her and later they meet and she asks how he is and he's confused and so she tells him that she tried to help him a few days, weeks ago or whatever?

It was her first night in New York, first time leaving her small hometown on her own; she finally felt freed. No one knew her, no one controlled her, Y/N was all by herself, ready to begin her new life.

Surrounded by the flashing lights, Y/N was downing her third cocktail in need of more confidence before hitting the dance floor. All she wanted tonight was to let go and dance until her feet could barely keep her up, to meet new people and just simply enjoy the night.

Grooving to the beat, Y/N was looking around, staring at neon faces and searching for someone she would fancy dancing with. Several men had tried getting with her, all of whom she had to push away grossed out by their overly nasty straightforwardness.

The night was beginning to get really disappointing, and Y/N felt lonelier with every song. Taking a look around, she noticed she had nothing in common with these people, the club began to feel atrocious, in fact. Maybe it was the alcohol wearing off, but the music was like knives piercing through her ears and she suddenly felt short of air.

Y/N was on her way to leave, pushing the crowd out of her way, when her eyes caught a mysterious tall guy leaning against the wall with his hand firmly pressed to his side. Y/N wasn’t sure maybe he had a little too much to drink, or maybe it was the lights messing up with his head, but as soon as she saw his white shirt getting drenched in deep red, she knew the man needed help.

She couldn’t see whether he was in pain. He didn’t seem like he was, but the stain getting more prominent on his shirt was telling else.

The man seemed dangerous and Y/N wasn’t sure if she wanted to get involved. Everyone had been warning her that New York could be vicious and she had to protect herself first. Her kind heart was suggesting otherwise.

When she saw the man moving rather fast, she figured he could be in shock. She thought he was probably disoriented, failing to understand what was going on.

Ignoring the burn in her feet, Y/N ran after, trying to catch the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you need help?” She inquired rather boldly, tapping on his shoulder, grabbing his wrist and trying to stall his steps.

The man was much stronger though, dragging Y/N behind him, wondering why she was so persistent and unwilling to let go.

“I’m fine.” Y/N heard a raspy voice, as the stranger stopped and turned around to face her. His words were stoic, but eyes however, seemed full of rage. They were dark, making Y/N feel as if she was staring into abyss; she could find no light escaping them. Those eyes were scary, but captivating too.

She was looking up, trying to read the man’s face, but he seemed stone cold, not a single sign of pain or concern. “Sir, I think we should get you an ambulance. You’re bleeding. Maybe you’re in shock, I don’t know but-“

“I said I’m fine.” He cut Y/N off rather strictly this time, moving her clenched palm away from around his wrist.

“But-“ She stuttered, feeling his hefty hands landing on her shoulders, as he was leaning closer to her.

“You have to leave this place. Now.” He commanded, staring into Y/N’s eyes, trying to make her understand. He was extremely convincing, and all Y/N gave him was a speechless nod before disappearing into the street.

---

Today it is exactly a week after Y/N’s encounter at the Red Circle club. Not a day has passed without her remembering the mysterious man, the one who actually saved her life that night.

Moments after leaving, Y/N heard horrible screams coming from inside the club, and soon the police sirens appeared. She was lucky enough to avoid a dreadful shooting that time, but she ended up with a foolish crush constantly nagging her mind.

For the whole week Y/N has been trying to keep herself busy decorating her new home, attending job interviews and reading books. Most of what she does these days is to steer her mind away from shooting at the club and the man that Y/N can’t forget. She has even taken up exercising, hoping it would help. Nonetheless, whatever she does, wherever she goes, all Y/N can think of is those fatal eyes staring at her and his tight grip lingering on her shoulders.    

Now, like every evening for the past week Y/N is going for a quick jog in the park. It is later than usual for her, but the sun is still up, making her feel secure enough.

She is taking her favorite route today, which covers majority of the park and leads to a pond with swans swimming in pairs. Y/N has already reached her goal and is running home. Her steps are in sync with her favorite beat and she’s pushing herself hard today.

Her gaze casually lands on a man walking his dog, wearing jeans and a white top. She watches him from behind, something about him reminds Y/N of that one she met at the Red Circle club; it’s the hair, maybe his bulky frame.

She wishes it was him, but in no world a man like that would be casually walking his dog in a sunset, Y/N thinks. Still, she is running and she knows she can pass him quickly to take a peek at his face.

Y/N doesn’t want to appear creepy, so she keeps a safe distance as she runs past the man, slightly turning her head to make sure it is not the one from the club.

But it is.

And now, left with this information, Y/N has no idea what to do next.

She knows she’s all sweaty, her face is probably tomato red and her hair is messed up. Nonetheless, here walks a man she couldn’t get out of her head ever since she met him. The man she might never have a chance to meet again; it feels like now or never. Really, what does she have to lose?

“Good evening, sir.” She walks to him, all breathy, and God knows maybe even a little smelly too.

“Evening.” The man politely replies. There’s warmth in his eyes, they are amber now, reflecting the setting sun. But that is the same man. Y/N is sure of that.  

“How is your-?“ She points to his stomach where his wound should be, causing a suspicious frown.

“Who hired you?” The stranger becomes dead serious; his muscles tense, and Y/N feels like the man is ready to fight her any second now.

“What do you mean?” She laughs.

Y/N is a little confused, failing to understand what his question meant. “I’m unemployed. I came to New York only a week ago.” She explains, managing to soften his stern face.

Even a slight shade of blush colors the stranger’s cheeks, as he realizes that Y/N is the girl, who tried to help him on the shooting night. She is not a threat; the man has to remind himself.

“You don’t seem too friendly,” she points out, giving him a teasing smile. Y/N believes the man didn’t mean to be rude with her, but she suspects he must be involved in some dangerous business and these are probably his trust issues that she is dealing with here.

“I’m careful.” The man confirms Y/N’s thoughts. He’s still serious, looking strong and tough, but Y/N finds it cute how he kneels down to praise the dog, taking the tennis ball away from the fangs.  

“Can you at least tell me your name?” Y/N insists, watching the man making another throw.  

“John.” He remains brief with his words.

“John? Doesn’t sound like your real name.” Y/N giggles, teasing him even more. She sees there is a true person hiding inside this rugged frame, and she takes on a challenge to get to him.

“Huh?”

“Too generic for a guy like you,” Y/N continues, adorably chuckling, walking side by side with him.

John doesn’t seem to oppose Y/N following him, but he remains silent. He still communicates, even if he uses no words; Y/N believes she hasn’t seen a frown or an arched brow to have as much expression as his does.

“So you really don’t remember me, huh?” She keeps playfully bothering him. “That’s a little hurtful…”

Suddenly John stops, taking a deep look into Y/N’s eyes. “You really don’t want a guy like me to remember you,” he says, and proceeds to walk faster than her.

“Wow so serious.” She teases again in a mocking tone. “What does it even mean ‘a guy like you’?”

“A guy like me is someone you should stay far away from. You’d be better off this way.” He’s direct and maybe even a little strict, but that doesn’t scare Y/N off. In fact, it only intrigues her more.

Y/N feels sort of strange going after a guy, as she is used to things being other way around, but she can’t resist; she is compelled by him, thinking of ways to entice the man.

“Maybe I should decide that myself? When you ask me on a date.” She chooses a slightly pushy approach, halting their promenade, and making John look at her with an extremely confused gaze.

“I don’t do dates.” He is concise again.

“Just one?” Y/N smirks, causing John to sigh. She sees she can break him, she just needs a little more time.

“I’m a busy man, I don’t have time for dates,” John explains kindly, preparing a leash to take the dog home.

“Okay…” They exchange apologetic smiles, which hold the meaning of a sad goodbye. Slowly, John turns around and begins to walk away

But Y/N can’t give up just yet. She decides to take one last try and starts rushing after them.

“What are you doing?” John smiles; he keeps walking, but his steps slow down.

“I’m squeezing our date into your tight schedule,” Y/N looks at him. She is waiting for any sign of affirmation, and surprisingly John smiles again. Two in a row, what an achievement, she is proud of herself. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” she shakes John’s hand. It’s huge, she notices; and very firm.

“Is it too late for coffee?” John asks.

“Yes, but for hot chocolate, it’s never too late!” Y/N gets excited. She can’t believe this is happening for real.

John hands her the leash and commands the dog to sit. Those puppy eyes are hard to resist, and Y/N kneels to scratch the dog behind the ears. She pets him for a while, while John is taking care of drinks.

“I think he likes me,” Y/N grins, welcoming John holding two cups in his sturdy hands.

“You’re easy to like,” he smirks.

They walk for a while, talking about random things, nothing too much. It’s mostly Y/N speaking, of course. But John is more than glad to listen to her. He enjoys getting to know Y/N, to learn how she has recently moved to New York, her ideas about decorating her new home, what pets she would love to have and galleries she would like to visit in town. 

They wander around, Y/N is happily walking the dog, but the sun is almost down, and Y/N knows she should better be going home soon.

“So what is it that you do?” She finally asks before preparing to say her goodbye. She doesn’t really expect for John to give an honest answer, but she can suspect what he does. She thinks she has already seen him at work. It was that night at the Red Circle club.

“It’s not exactly the first date material,” John sighs, it’s like something heavy falls onto his chest.  

“Then you can tell me on the second one. Same time next week?” Y/N knows it’s a bold move, but so far it has been working perfectly fine for her.

And it does again, as she sees John smiling, taking the leash back from her hand. “At the same coffee stand. I’ll see you then. Good night.”

Tag-list: @keandrews​ @rdjloverxxx​​ @danceoftwowolves @greenmanalishi​​ @lilywoood​​ (message me to be added or removed)

>Masterlist<

[ashintheairlikesnow]

okay what do we need to do to get that Chris on campus with Jake thing to happen because we will do it

Okay it’s not the whole thing or anything (I can work on that actually if you want) but here’s like six oh whoops it turned into a bunch of paragraphs of cute off the top of my head:

CW: VERY vaguely referenced past noncon/exploitation/abuse, recovering pet whumpee, conditioned responses, referenced/implied that character is potentially underaged

“Why can’t I-… I want to wear my, my, um, my my sweatshirt today, why can’t I wear that?” Chris stares longingly, almost pleadingly, as Jake tosses the balled-up dirty thing in the washing machine, smiles to himself. Two-pointer, he thinks. Not that he’s played sports since junior year of high school or anything, but he didn’t exactly suck at basketball.

“It’s too warm for sweatshirts and you’ve been wearing it for four days straight, Chris,” Jake says, pulling some clothes out of the neatly folded piles of clean shirts and pants that stay on a series of shelves in the laundry room for the rescues to pick from. Most rescues take a couple of weeks to start choosing things to keep in their rooms - Chris has been here for three and all he wants to wear is Jake’s sweatshirt and basketball shorts they’d found in the back of one of the closets, something a past rescue had left behind when they moved out to start fresh. “This is nothing. Look, you’ll still be covered up, I promise.”

“I, I will? Do you promise?” Chris hugged himself, all wiry limbs with the same forced sense of lithe gracefulness all the Romantics ended up with after training. “I don’t like um, like my skin showing I don’t like there to be too much, too much skin, Jake.”

Or any skin, Jake thinks. If it was up to Chris, they’d never see anything but his eyes. He had a feeling whoever Sir was had had a thing for Chris’s hair, too, in the past three days Chris had started to talk about dyeing it black or redder or just another color entirely. He’d seen Jake looking at a photo of a girl with pierced ears and mentioned he might want earrings, too.

That was all going to be big steps - Jake figures he’ll talk about it for a few months before he can do anything on his own. 

“Yeah, I promise. You know the rules here, Chris, you don’t show a single inch of skin to anybody ever unless you feel comfortable.”

“I, I, I would feel comfortable showing to-… to you, Jake,” Chris says, a little shyly. If he turns around, he knows, Chris’s face will be red, just at the cheekbones, and he’ll be doing that thing they all do where they tilt their head just the right way, just a little to the side, biting down on their lower lips to show they’re interested.

It’s probably pretty fucking seductive, if you’re a piece of shit pervert who orders one of them. When you’ve seen six of them do it, nearly robotically, falling back into motions trained into their muscle memory deeper than thought, it’s just creepy as shit.

“I know you would, buddy,” Jake says, keeping his eyes on the clothing. “But remember, we have rules about that, here.”

“Yeah, I, I know, I like the, um, the, the rules. I like them.” Chris sounds relieved, as though he’d said the words worrying that Jake would take him up on it or something. And probably he was worried about it - Nat seemed to think he was testing them, without even knowing.

Jake checks over the smaller sizes and pulls out a pair of straight-leg jeans, nothing special but they won’t cling, they’ll sit loose on Chris’s hips and won’t say anything about the shape of his legs. He tosses them over along with a random pair of boxers, and the rescued Box Boy quickly sheds his pajama pants and switches over to the new things while Jake has his back turned looking for shirts. 

“Is, um, are, are are are people going to, to look at me a lot today? Or not? Are they going to look? Is, um, because what if my Sir sees a picture, if if he, if he-”

Your ‘Sir’ knows where you are. You were a dirty little secret and that motherfucker isn’t going to say a fucking thing.

Jake doesn’t say it. Instead, he just turns with the shirts in hand and gives Chris a comforting, reassuring smile. “No, man. Look, remember what we talked about?”

Chris nods, his eyes going wide and solemn, very serious about the things he’d been asked to memorize. “My name is Christopher Garner and I, I, um, I’m your father’s brother’s oldest son and I, I, I’m visiting from Michigan and that’s the name of a, um, of a state in the United States of America and that is where we live.”

“Great. Just… don’t start telling everybody everything all at once, okay? But it’s good that you remember all of it. First things first, let’s cover up your number okay?”

He hands Chris a long-sleeved shirt and the boy pulls it on over his head, the strawberry-blond pushing through the spot for the neck and fluffing out around his head, mussed up and standing on end. He looks fucking adorable, like a little kid.

Because he probably still IS one, and if anyone would tell me who that fucking Sir is I’d rip his throat out with my goddamn teeth like that lady in the third Honor Bound movie did. 

That was a movie series he couldn’t watch with the rescues. Too… close, in some ways, to shit some of them had already seen. But Jake had his own DVD copies he watched sometimes while studying or doing homework. 

Chris is frowning at the cuffs on the ends of his sleeves, examining them up close. His green eyes have gone slightly crossed. “Why’s there a hole?”

“For your thumbs. Let me show you.” Jake steps forward and carefully shifts the cloth around, slipping Chris’s thumb through the purposefully cut hole just below the cuff. “See? Now you don’t have to worry about it riding up and showing your barcode. Plus, it’s kind of a thing a lot of people are doing on campus, so you’ll fit in.”

“I’ll fit in?” Chris looks up at him - up and up and up, the kid is so short - and Jake smiles back down. “Will I? I’ll, um, I’ll fit in?”

“Well… mostly. You’ll fit right in as my cousin, right?” Jake grins down, rubbing lightly at his shoulders, and Chris smiles back with an expression of such absolute trust that it physically hurts to look at him.

Everything they went through made them all so fucking trusting, so naïve and so ready to accept any hint of goodness that came their way as genuine. It was like… like trying to teach a dog to be a person.

“Right,” Chris says firmly. “Cousin. Christopher Garner, who comes from, from, from Minnesota-”

“Michigan.”

“Right. Michigan.” Chris’s face fell, just a little. “I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to to to um, to get it wrong-”

“You’re fine, Chris. We’ll practice on the bus on the way. Now, throw this one, too.” He hands him  thin zip-up hoodie, and Chris looks finally perfectly comfortable once he’s pulled the hood up and over his head. Every bit of skin he could reasonably cover is covered. Only his bangs stick out to show he had blond hair at all.

“It’s a long day for me, so we’re going to be on campus for a long time. I’ve got money for food and stuff, and listen-… Chris, this is important, very, very important that you remember this.”

Chris swallows, hard, and nods. He fixes his eyes on Jake with total focus. “Yes, Jake.”

“If you get hungry, or thirsty, or you have to use the bathroom, you absolutely have to tell me. Do you understand?”

Chris frowns, eyebrows furrowing. They’re the same pale copper as his hair, and sometimes in dim light it’s hard to tell he has any. “But we don’t decide if we’re hungry-”

“Yes, you do, Chris. Now, you do. With me, you get to decide when you eat food, okay? I don’t care if it’s ‘lunchtime’, or whatever. You just tell me you need something and I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Chris looks doubtful, but nods, slowly. “Okay, Jake. I can, um, I can do that, but you don’t have to feed me I’m used to not, to not eating, it doesn’t bother me I don’t even um feel, I don’t, don’t feel hungry much I don’t.”

“I know, buddy. But we’re going to try and concentrate on feeling hungry more. I’m going to buy you a coffee and a scone before my first class-”

“Are you, um, are you getting-”

“Yeah, I’ll get one too.” Chris relaxes, going nearly boneless in relief. Jake reaches out to take his hands - long, thin fingers not roughened or reddened by housework. They’re a little cold, but warm quickly to his touch, and Chris tightens his grip immediately, looking up at Jake, eyes wide and almost adoring. “You can do this, Chris, okay? I trust you. I believe in you.”

Chris’s fingers start to tremble in Jake’s grip, and his lips press together. His eyes tear up, just a little. “D-do you really, Jake? Am I good, to be trusted? Am I, um, am I am I am I-”

“You’re very good, Chris,” Jake says, softly. “And you’re going to do great. Okay, one more time. Who are you?”

“Christopher Garner but I like to be called Chris,” Chris says, each word dropped with importance, with gravity. For once, he thinks it all carefully through before he speaks. “I’m from Michigan, the part shaped like a mitten, and Michigan is a state in the United States of America, which is a country, and it’s our country where we live. I’m your cousin because your dad is my dad’s brother. I’m staying with you because my parents are on a cruise and I’m too young to stay home alone because I’m not eighteen.” 

“Perfect, buddy.”

Chris hesitates, looking guilty. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“I, um. I am eighteen.”

I’ll bet my left goddamn testicle you’re not. Doing this to you should count as a fucking justifiable homicide when I find that son of a bitch and gut him-

“I know, man.“ Jake’s voice stays soft and soothing. “But it’s just for the story.”

“… okay, okay, it’s just, um, just just for the story, I can do that. I can.” Chris nods quickly, giving Jake’s hands a tight squeeze with his own. 

Jake smiles, pulling back to ruffle the coppery hair. Chris glows at the attention, the affection, tilting his head into it like a cat. 

“Okay, bud. I think we’re ready. Let’s go catch the bus. If we get the 6:45 instead of the 7:15 we’ll have time to drink our coffee before my first class.”

He leads Chris out, the young rescue repeating his story quietly to himself, hands buried in the pockets of his zipup, his barcode and number safely hidden underneath his shirt, determined to make Jake proud and pretend to be just another free person like everyone else. 

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty: all the world’s a stage

“Time for the new record!” Scott declared as he rubbed his hands together.

It was the day before the official release date and Sam, Aurora, and Marla all had driven up to the studio in upstate New York to fetch the copies for themselves given it was a Tuesday. The former had her journal rested upon her lap for the entire trip but she had it tucked underneath her arm once they headed inside away from the impending lake effect snow. The end of October and the heart of autumn and yet the forecast called for snow all over most of the upstate area.

Belinda had stayed back down in New York City to tend to organizing the models for Miss Estes: their first one was within a week, and she vowed to give Sam and Marla some insight into their first real big art project for the winter term.

“I'd rather you ladies get a head start on it now,” she explained to them right before they left, “you know, as you're learning the basics of how to make it all look like cohesive drawings.”

And as she said that, she showed Sam a raise of the eyebrows as if she was concerned about her. Even though drawing came to her as if it was second nature, Sam still struggled with shading with graphite. Despite her holding onto the pencil at an angle so as to use the edge of the graphite, the shadows on her sketches always came out too soft and light for it to resemble to the real thing. Whenever Miss Estes or even Marla told her to keep on adding graphite and it would build, it did, but it never got to a point in which it was dark enough. It always seemed odd to her because she could do it with ink and colored pencil as if it was nothing. But she never realized just how much she struggled with graphite until she was shown the very basics there in class.

Thus, Sam rode along in the front seat next to Marla with what she wanted to make for the winter term swimming through her mind. She thought about Joey and what he had asked her back on his birthday, and she wondered if she could convince him to do the same as Cliff for their drawing class. And she kept those thoughts firmly on her mind as they reached the studio and were greeted by the guys themselves.

Joey himself was wrapped up in a dark knit sweater under a long black coat and a knit scarf: his jet black curls were tousled onto one side of his head. Some of the curls sprawled down his shoulder onto the heavy fabric. Even though the room was warm and safe from the harsh New York cold, he still shivered from the feeling. At one moment, he stepped out of the room and he offered to get the three girls a cup of hot chocolate for each of them.

Meanwhile, Frank had on a little pair of dark red gloves and he rubbed his hands together.

“I can't believe we're all about to let you girls have a little taste of our new record,” he remarked once they all congregated in that room together. Dan huddled down next to him with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“It almost feels like we're about to give away the new record,” he confessed to Frank.

“We kinda are, but we trust these girls, though,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, we'll take good care of these,” Aurora vowed to Dan.

“By the way, Sam has something a little special to share with you fellas,” Marla added, and she turned her head in her direction. “If it's not too much trouble.”

“Nah, I've been wanting to just let this happen already,” Sam confessed as she took out the journal from its hiding place under her arm. She had slipped a makeshift bookmark in between the pages to separate those ink drawings from the rest of the pack: that pencil sketch of Joey hung right behind the bookmark and she hoped that none of them would have a look at it.

She sprawled the book open before Frank and Dan to that very first drawing: the latter raised his eyebrows at the sight of that diseased drawing and the former gaped at the very sight of it.

“Wow,” Dan muttered.

“That's—That's—” Frank could hardly speak.

“What?” Sam asked them.

“I just lost my train of my thought,” Frank confessed as he ran his fingers through his hair and showed her an amazed expression. Dan chuckled at him. “Sam, it's so—so—so—”

“You made Frank forget himself for a second, Sam,” Marla told her with a grin on her face.

“These are thirty one drawings to represent all thirty one days in October,” Sam explained as she moved her fingers a little bit to put more emphasis on the drawing. “And they're in dedication of the new record.” She then turned the page to the next one, the inmates in the asylum. Followed by the next one. And the next one. Each time, Frank's eyes widened and his face fixated on what he saw before him. They heard him breathe out the words “oh my god.”

“Have you shown these to your classmates?” he finally choked out at one point.

“I haven't, no,” she admitted. Frank turned his head in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Charlie!” he called out. “Come check this out!”

Dan dropped his gaze a bit to one part of that thirty first drawing: his eyes caressed over the pen strokes. Sam could tell he was getting lost in the whole thing. Charlie strode into the room right then with his hood pulled over the crown of his head: some stray black curls jutted out from underneath the fabric of the hood.

“What's up, Frankie—holy shit,” he blurted out at the sight of the drawing before Dan's face. He turned and nodded at Charlie.

“She made these thirty one drawings for Spreading,” Frank explained to him. “And she did them pretty quickly, too.”

Charlie gaped at that.

“Thirty one drawings for each day in October,” Sam added in a low voice.

“Hasn't showed them to her classmates, either,” Dan told him; she handed Charlie the journal with her finger rested upon the top of the bookmark so he could start there. He gazed on at that first drawing as if he had seen heaven, and Frank and Dan returned to the three of them.

“Would like your copies?” Frank asked them as he shook his head about as if he returned to consciousness.

“Yes, please!” Aurora replied.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Marla retorted, and he and Dan gestured for the three of them to follow them onto the other side of the room. A table was tucked in the corner and Sam spotted a trio of small stacks of vinyl records wrapped up in filmy white paper sleeves right in the middle. Even from across the room, she could see the words “Spreading the Disease” scrawled on the outside of the paper in big black lettering.

“Sam, Aurora, and Marla,” Frank pointed to each of the stacks. “Those top ones are for each of you respectively.”

Aurora and Marla lunged to the table first, while Sam lingered back a bit to let them have at it. Dan turned to her with his hands still tucked in his jeans pockets.

“These are the very first pressings,” he explained with a little twinkle in his eye. “The very first.”

“So I'll protect it with my life,” she vowed to him. Aurora held her copy close to her chest as if it was about to get away from her, and that was Sam's cue at that moment. She then picked the one on top of the stack on the far left. The paper was smooth like tissue: she could feel the hard vinyl on the inside there. She held it before her as if she was about to behold it to the masses.

Dan turned his head to her and showed her a little smile.

“I just realized that we haven't really gotten to know each other that much,” she confessed to him.

“Me, too,” he replied. “I got a girlfriend, though.”

“We can still hang out from time to time,” she pointed out as she thought about Cliff and the yellow tulips he had given her.

“True!” Dan gave his feathery hair a slight toss back. “Maybe we can hang out over Thanksgiving or something, or whenever you have time off from school.”

“Can get like a bite of lunch or something with these two girls.” Sam then glimpsed down at the record in her hands. “I don't have a record player, either.”

“I do! Maybe when we hang out, I'll take you home and you can play it out there.”

“Sounds like a plan!” she declared as she held the record close to her chest.

She turned around and she noticed Charlie had taken a seat in the far corner of the room with the journal sprawled open across his lap. He lingered over the journal pages and he kept his fingers upon the pen strokes there on the paper.

“I think you opened Pandora's box,” Dan told her. “I don't think I've ever seen Charlie that enthralled by anything before.”

“It's going to be hell to pry it out of his hands,” Sam answered.

“Nah,” Dan assured her with a shake of his head, “it looks like he's near the end of it.”

Aurora burst out laughing at something that Marla had said, and Sam and Dan strode on over to Charlie, who lifted his attention from the pages.

“I'm in love,” he said to her. “I'm madly in love with this.”

Sam shrugged her shoulders and her mind fell blank at the sound of that. She moved the vinyl closer to her upper left arm.

“You don't mind if I show this to Scott and Joey?” he asked her.

“You might as well,” she answered with another shrug of her shoulders. “They're for you guys and in the honor of the new album.”

Without another word, Charlie stood to his feet and he made his way into the next room for Scott and Joey themselves. Sam then turned her attention to Dan.

“So we can't play the record here but we can hang out for a moment, though,” she told him. “What's the band you used to play in again?”

“Overkill.”

“Overkill, that was it!”

“We did covers at gigs, mostly Motorhead and Judas Priest covers at first, all over New Jersey—the band name came from Motorhead's song 'Overkill' in fact. But then the opportunity with them came up about as quick as the opportunity with Overkill came up, too. I wound up with them and ever since then, I've been teaching myself to make things like amps and pedals.”

“And how is that going?” Sam thought about Belinda and her love of the more kinesthetic art.

“It's going quite well,” he replied. “I just like working with my hands is all.”

“Don't we all?” “That's all art is, isn't it? Working with your hands and being creative?”

“Absolutely.”

Scott and Joey's chatter floated into the room right then. The idea of standing there with these five men with their eyes fixated on those thirty one drawings made her squirm in her shoes. Even though her parents were supportive of her artistry, she hadn't really given them much insight into her art up to that point. It was all in a world of its own and she never really understood as to why that was the case. Charlie soon returned to them with her journal cradled in both of his hands.

“I'm utterly speechless,” he admitted to her, “Scott is, too.”

“What did Joey think?” Sam asked him as she squirmed a little bit in her shoes.

“He was going crazy about it. Like, 'holy shit, this is the best art I've ever seen!' The three of us came to the conclusion that we want you to make prints of them.” “I wouldn't know the first thing about that, though,” she confessed as he handed the journal back to her.

“It's complicated but easy at the same time. I'll show you, though.”

“Will you?”

“Promise.” Charlie stuck out his pinky finger for her, and she hooked her own around it. “And I see you and Danny have been hanging out for a little bit, too.”

“I don't have a record player so he promised to bring me back to his place to play it,” she explained as she set the record on top of her journal and then tucked them under her arm.

“We're shootin' for Thanksgiving,” he answered, and he flashed Sam a wink.

Within time, the three girls thanked them and Charlie offered to take them home given the sky was heavy with snow. But Marla assured him that they could drive on back to the Bronx in one piece. Sam shivered and pulled the hood over her head with one hand. She thought about Charlie's promise and she squirmed even more in her seat. She hadn't gotten this amount of attention to her art before, and she hadn't been nudged like this before, either.

She gazed out the window at the ominous gray sky overhead and then to the lush forest on either side of the highway. Then she remembered Joey hadn't talked to her about posing for her, and she hoped she could do it by the time the green signs for the Bronx appeared on the right side of the road.

Marla switched on the heater once the first drops of cold rain fell onto the roof.

“By the way, Charlie told me to store the vinyls like books on shelves,” she told Sam and Aurora.

“That's what I've heard, too,” said the latter from the back seat.

“I'll nestle this in between my textbooks if I have to,” Sam chimed in.

“Might as well!” Marla exclaimed as the lanes widened into four. “If any of us get any more pieces of vinyl, we should set aside shelves for them.”

“Like, the top shelf could be the considered the vinyl shelf or something,” Aurora followed along. Sam gazed out the window again and she had a feeling that it was in fact the mere beginning of a big vinyl collection, not just for her but for the three of them.

Soon, they rolled into the Bronx and Aurora told Marla over and over again she was willing on the subway for the ride home.

“I wanna take you home, though,” Marla insisted as Sam stepped out of earshot with her journal and the copy of Spreading the Disease both tucked under her arm. She strode into the front of her apartment building when she spotted Cliff seated at the base of the stairs. She closed the front door and the blast of warm furnace air washed over her.

“Hey,” she said as she showed him a smile.

“Hi,” he replied to her as he set his hands on either side of him: she caught a flash of silver on his right hand all the while. He stood to his feet and his smooth long hair sprawled over his shoulders. He brought his hands to his coat collar. He had put on a silver ring in the shape of a skull on his right ring finger.

“Where'd you get that?” she asked him.

“What this?” He held out his hand for her to better see it.

“This was actually something I found,” he replied. “I figured that—you know, since—” He turned his head towards Emile's apartment. “—since you and I are in a relationship now,” he lowered his voice to a near whisper.

“Right, right. Guess I should find something for myself now.”

“If you want,” he said with a shrug, “this was just something I found and did on the spur of the moment.”

“Would you like to come upstairs and have some hot cocoa?” she offered him.

“Yes, please.”

Cliff followed her back to her place, and she set the vinyl and the journal on the coffee table once she stepped inside first.

“Is that their new record?” he asked her as he shut the door behind him.

“Yes, sir-ee,” she said, and she started to wonder if she even had some hot chocolate in her cupboard. He stripped off his coat and hung it up on the hook next to the door. She spotted a skull shaped tattoo on his upper arm.

“That's new,” she remarked; he held out his arm.

“That's 'cause it is!”

Cliff took his seat on the couch under the view into the kitchen. Every so often, as she put on the little red kettle and poured in some of the cocoa into two clean mugs, she caught a glimpse of either the crown of his head or his eyebrows and those eyes.

“You look like you wanna tell me something,” she declared as she doubled back into the living room so as to let the water boil.

“So it turns out, I won't be posing for your drawing class until your finals week,” he told her.

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. You know, just the whole thing with the schedule conflicts, between us and a couple of other models who've gotten slots before me.”

“Oh, yeah, Bel was talking about that the other day. There's a whole bunch of things going on with the art classes, especially the lower level ones like the ones we're in right now.”

“I should also tell you that we've finished recording our new record.” He gestured down to the vinyl on the coffee table.

“When should we expect the new Metall-icka record?” she asked him.

“Some time in March,” he answered with a chuckle at that. “It has to undergo mastering and mixing now, and then it's submitted in time for a deadline so it can be released in March.”

“Exactly like them,” she followed along.

“Do you know if they're going on tour at all?” he asked her.

“I don't. Aurora probably does, but not me, though. I’ll have to ask her when I see her again. What about you guys?”

“March. This spring is gonna be pretty eventual for us.”

The first whistles from the kettle caught Sam's attention and she ducked back into the kitchen. She poured the hot water over the cups of cocoa, and she returned to him with the mugs in hand.

“I'm sorry I don't have those tiny marshmallows,” she admitted.

“It's okay—besides, I like a little spice in my hot chocolate,” he told her.

“Spice? Like—spicy?”

“Yeah. A couple of spices, like nutmeg and cinnamon, and with some whipped cream on top.”

“Oh! So like Mexican hot chocolate.”

“Exactly! But I won't turn down free cocoa, though.”

He blew on the surface of the hot chocolate first and then he took a sip. He nodded his head at that, and then she took a sip herself.

“You ought to come along with us,” he suggested.

“What, on tour?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it is in March so I'd have to take time off from school, though,” she pointed out.

“And?”

“And? That’s a lot to ask for, though. I worked too hard to claim my place over here to the East Coast, though, Cliff. I can't give that up and I don’t really want to, either. I’d have to tell my parents about it, too...”

“It wouldn't be giving it up, though,” he assured her. “It's just getting to a couple of shows if and when you can. We're gonna be all over New York and Pennsylvania in April, literally right after the tour starts. Like we go to the Midwest on the twenty seventh of March, when the tour starts and we start coming to the Northeast not even two weeks after that. We hang out around here for almost three weeks and then we start going south and out west.”

“Going all over the place,” said Sam as she brought the mug of hot cocoa to her lips but she didn't take a sip. “All the world's a stage.”

“Literally! Although—” He hesitated and he lowered his gaze to the floor.

“What?”

“You heard this from me,” he said in a low voice even though they were alone in her apartment. “There are two things that I have been wanting to say to someone, and since you and I are together, I can finally say this.”

“What is it?”

“Well, the first thing is—Lars and I haven't been getting together as much. I dunno what it is, either. But he and I haven't been as friendly to one another lately.”

“Like you're kind of drifting apart?” she followed along.

“Yes—yeah! That's exactly what it is! He and I are drifting away from each other.”

“Why is that?” she asked him, to which he shook his head.

“I don't really know. I'm guessing it all started when we embarked on the new record and Lars was doing most of the talking to the press, and no one was really talking to me or James as much. It's gotten a little lopsided lately, with Lars being the wordsmith and the three of us being the ones who put our horns down and do it all at once. It's more so the case with me, though. No one really talks to me much now.”

“What's the other thing?”

“I think we're gonna fire Lars,” he confessed. “Well, I should say James and Kirk are plotting it. I'm not sure how I feel about it.”

“Have you tried to talk to them?” she asked him.

“Not really. I don't really know how to do it, though.”

“Have you told Dave about it?” she asked as she thought back to him and how he was fired on impulse.

“I'm thinking about it,” he said with a point of his finger. “Maybe he can help.”

“Yeah, maybe he can!” she replied, excited.

“He is a good friend, too. My good friend despite his being out on the job himself.”

He took another sip from his mug and that time he closed his eyes. She took another sip for herself.

“I dunno if Legacy are gonna be with us, though,” he confessed. “It's gonna be a tour with another band but I'm not sure yet. Jonny's supposed to tell us like—any day now, he should tell us about it. I hope it's them, but at the same time—you know, with Alex being in school and whatnot. You guys being in school matters the most.”

Sam turned her head and showed him a smile at that.

“So you want us to stay in school but you also want us to attend the shows, though,” she followed along with a knitting of her eyebrows.

“Exactly! But we also want you guys to do better than us.” He lowered his gaze to the journal on the coffee table.

“I haven't showed you these drawings, have I,” she said in a soft voice. “Thirty one ink drawings in honor of that new album as well as the month of October.”

“Ink, like black ink?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect for Halloween.”

Sam then gasped at that.

“Happy Halloween, Cliff,” she proclaimed as she brought her mug closer to him, and he returned the favor.

“Happy Halloween, Sam I am,” he echoed and they clinked their mugs together. They took a drink in unison, and then she brought her attention to the journal. Cliff opened to a page past the bookmark and he clasped a hand to his chest.

“All the world's a stage, Sam,” he recalled, and then his face lit up. “I have an idea.”

“What's that?”

“Do you mind if—when we go on tour, and you're not able to make it, I take this journal with me to keep me company?”

She was stunned by that, such that she didn't know how to reply to it.

“It sounds weird, sure. But—the road gets kind of isolated after a while.”

“Take the journal so it seems like I'm there with you,” she followed along.

“Exactly. I'll also share it to everyone I can, too. Make sure you get seen in other pockets of the country. Do what our friends did for us with our demo tape to get us signed.”

Sam showed him a little warm smile and then she leaned in closer to his face. She brushed her lips against his and he sighed through his nose at the feeling. He tasted like chocolate. Perfect.

“By the way, I quit smoking,” he told her in a low voice, to which she gasped and gave him a second, more eager kiss on the lips.

“What say the two of us have some pumpkin pie in a bit?” she offered him.

“Sounds good by me!” And they gave each other another toast of the mugs.

[bangtanlalaland]

the final touch | kth (m.)

synopsis ↳you are left with Taehyung to close up shop yet again. your only concern is: “can I handle another closing shift with him?”

--

— nail tech!au

→pairing: nail tech!kim taehyung x nail tech!female reader

→genre: smut, pwp

→word count: 3.1k

→contents ⨯ warnings: heavy petting, kissing, swearing, dirty talk, masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), face fucking, squirting, unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!), creampie

--

Time was slowly approaching to shut the nail shop down, and it had been a long day. Mr. Lee, your manager, left you in charge to close with Taehyung yet again for the 3rd time this week. The one person you weren’t comfortable working with here. The only reason why you started working here to begin with is because you figured the extra cash wouldn’t hurt, considering that every bit helps when you’re a struggling college student. Why aren’t you fond of working with him? Well let’s start with the first reason why:

1) He’s ridiculously smoking hot. And God knows you do not do well around attractive guys. Even today, you don’t know how you made it through training when you first got hired. That is, since Mr. Lee assigned Taehyung to train you then. He literally gives you goosebumps anytime he: looks at you with those gorgeous cat-like eyes, calls your name with that intoxicating voice, or simply brushes past you to grab warm towels from the towel warmer. You always ponder if he has a girlfriend, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he did. How could he not?

He literally appears unreal, like a manga character. He’s been here since you started about a year ago. You noticed he always shows up to work with a new hair color just about every week or so. It’s either blonde, red, blue, gray, or sometimes pink. Out of those colors, your favorite one is actually dark blue. It contrasts so well with his apricot-toned skin. Lucky for you, that’s his hair color now.

2) The biggest reason of them all. He. Flirts. Too. Much. And no, not with you. The customers. All the time. You’re not sure if the reason you’re annoyed with this is because you’d rather have him flirting with you or the fact that he moves like a turtle, when you could really use his help (especially on the weekends) if he would just stop playing around.

But apparently, he was seen as the “best nail tech” here because he attracted the most customers. Most importantly, he kept them returning. The only reason they’d keep coming back was so that they could exchange looks and numbers with him, and it drives you insane. Not only do younger women come in because of him, but older women do too. Like 40-60 years old. It makes you gag.

3) Did you mention how hot he is?

It was the last hour until closing, and there were about 3 people left to service. As always, you had to help 2 customers, a mother and daughter, on your own while Taehyung was obviously occupied the past hour with the remaining customer. 99% of the time he was flirting. The 1% left was his actual work.

You were applying the final coat of polish on the mother’s toenails, while at the corner of your eye you could see and clearly hear the flirty remarks that were given to Tae. You cringed. Thankfully no one else came in at the last minute, which meant you were all set to clean up your station as well as the rest of the shop after checking the mother and daughter out at the counter.

Two minutes till closing, you lock the doors and turn the “Open” sign off. As you turned around, you noticed Tae wasn’t here. Ugh, where did that fucker go? I’m going to leave him here alone if he doesn’t help me close. You walk towards the back of the store and make your way to the storage closet just before the breakroom, where the cleaning supplies are.

You open the door and hear soft moans. It’s dark and you can’t see. You flip the switch so the light turns on, and sure enough there he was.. jacking off. His eyes dart open towards you after realizing you were standing in the doorway.

“Shit!” he exclaims. You immediately froze. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “What the fuck, Tae?” He hurriedly turns around to zip his pants up, you could tell he was embarrassed. He turns back around towards you and his rock hard bulge is so obvious. “Please! Please don’t tell Mr. Lee. I can’t afford to lose my job! I’ll do anything! Just don’t tell him. Please?”

“I hear you.”

He sighs of relief and adds, “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could repay you. It’s just... I’ve been really sexually frustrated lately, and I don’t know what to do about it. I have to get off like 3 times a day now, and it sucks.” Your eyes widen and you gulp that thick lump of nervousness that caused your throat to tighten.

He looks down at you with those eyes filled of lust. You can feel the tension in the room rising, and you don’t know who is going to make the first move. You take another look at his bulging member, and he notices. He looks down at his erection and back up at you. You blurt out: “Oh stop it! Don’t give me that look. You were just standing here jerking off, how can I not notice how hard you are?”

He just stands there, blushing away.

“Ugh, whatever. When was the last time you had a blowjob?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

You roll your eyes, “Just asking. I mean.. all of those women you flirt with. I’m surprised none of them have pounced on your dick already.” He scoffs, “That’s because I know my limits. And besides, I don’t want them. I only do that for tips. You should try it sometime.” Your eyebrows furrow, piecing together the fact that the shop hardly gets male customers. You shake your head at him,

“Yeah, yeah whatever you say. Well are you going to help me clean up so we can leave or are you just going to stand there enticing me with your... dick?”

“Enticing you?”

“Yes! You’re enticing me. You do know that I’m straight, right?”

“Yeah... Why do you ask?”

“You literally just suggested that I flirt with our clients to get better tips. You know most of our clients are women.”

“I was talking about guys though.”

“Oh, really? Where? Because I obviously don’t see any.”

He starts to say something but then pauses, looking up in the air and squinting his eyes. You had assumed he didn’t have anything to come back with. “Okay, I’m done here.”

“Wait,” he pleads while grabbing your arm, turning you around, and looking into your eyes. You hadn’t noticed his facial features because you’d never been so close to him before. At least not this close. He had a small beauty mark on his nose and on his bottom lip.

He was literally inches away from your face. His lips so pink and luscious. He was staring at you the entire time, your body temperature rising through the roof. You finally look up into those beautiful, brown eyes. “Did you really mean what you said when you said I am enticing you?” You slowly nod your head and reply with a simple but quiet “yes.”

“Then you have no idea what I’m capable of.” He licks his lips, lightly pinching your left cheek with his fingers before leaning down to press his lips against yours. His lips were so juicy, tasting like berries. So silky, like your bedsheets at home. So soft, like a cloud. You could literally melt in his mouth right now. You pull away, feeling stunned then ask,

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I know you wanted to.”

Your eyes widen, “What makes you think that?”

“If you didn’t want to, you would have stopped me. And you didn’t.. I think you were really into it. Besides, you told on yourself,” he presses himself against you. You can feel his hard cock rubbing against your thigh. “I’m turning you on, remember?” You feel the temperature in the room rising, and despite how nervous you are, you’ve always wanted Taehyung from the first day he started working here.

And here he is now, pressed upon you with his stiff member. You smile nervously and don’t make eye contact with him. Instead you place your palms on his chest, then play with the buttons on his white-sleeved button down. You slowly ease down towards his jeans, rubbing what’s sheltered underneath and you hear an “oh fuck” from him.

He lifts your chin up with his finger and meets your lips once again. You entangle your fingers in his hair, as he asks for entrance into your mouth with his tongue. You give him access, and he lets out a soft moan that gives your core a rush of arousal. He grasps your left cheek with his hand and eases toward your earlobe, placing soft wet kisses then whispers,

“I really want to fuck you. Tell me you want it too.” The bass of his deep, masculine voice making your insides shiver. He steps back, staring deeply into your eyes and swipes your cheek back and forth with his thumb. You reply with a simple: “Yes, I do.”

Then you open your mouth to take his thumb in, sucking it ever so gracefully while looking into his eyes. He sucks his teeth, making that “hiss” sound. And you let go of his thumb with a “pop” sound. “Fuck,” he slips. “Follow me.” You lead him to the break room in the back of the shop, where the leather sofa is. You shove him towards the sofa, and he plops down with his legs open. You straddle on top of him to continue your make-out session.

Your lips meet once again. He grabs your ass, firmly squeezing it and guiding your hips. You move your hips back and forth, grinding on his clothed erection. You give his neck one lick using your tongue, trailing along his earlobe and giving him gentle kisses, gaining a low moan from him. He grabs your tits and kindly squeezes them, “Oh, Taehyung.. I’m so horny. Please, I need you in my mouth.”

You ease off of him and kneel down, grabbing his belt to unloosen it and unzip his khakis. He lifts up just enough to pull his pants and boxers down. His stiff member plops straight up, and your mouth waters at the sight of it. He slides down a little, getting himself comfortable and giving you closer access.

"Holy fuck, you’re huge.”

He softly chuckles, “You think so?”

“Um... yeah? I mean look at it!”

You couldn’t estimate how long it is, but you knew it was long enough to make you squeal. You spit on your palm and wrap your fingers around his shaft, spreading the saliva along it as you jack him off. You notice the slit on his tip is oozing with pre-cum so you drop a line of saliva onto it and spread more of your spit on his cock. Next you wrap your lips around his mushroom-shaped tip, softly sucking and pulling away repeatedly, making that “pop” sound.

“Fuck... Stop fucking teasing.” He grabs a handful of your hair and pushes you down onto his cock, forcing you to take him whole. He catches you off guard by thrusting his hips into your mouth. You glide your tongue under his shaft, attempting to restrain yourself from gagging. You hear him say,

“Yes, just like that.. *hisses* don’t stop..”

The slurpy sounds of you getting face-fucked echo throughout the room, and you feel a gush of wetness soak your panties. He stops thrusting and relaxes. You let in a huge inhale as you pull away trying to catch your breath, leaving a string of spit coming from your mouth leading to his cock. You give him another stroke with your hand and he grabs your hands lifting you up.

You both switch positions. Now you’re laying against the couch with your legs open. He helps to remove your polo tee, and khaki pants, revealing your D sized cup bra, paired with your silky panties. He grins, giving you a lustful expression, “Wow, I never knew this was underneath your uniform this whole time.” His compliment makes you blush. He runs his hands along your body, starting with your breasts. He un-snaps your bra and throws it across the room.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He caresses your tits, and plays with your nipples. Flicking your left nipple with his tongue, he wraps his lips around it giving a lengthy suck while looking up at you. You throw your head back in pleasure and moan his name, running your fingers through his silky, straight hair. He moves to your right breast and repeats the same action, while slipping his hand towards your aching core. Rubbing gently through your panties.

“Mmm, please Taehyung. Just fuck me already.

“I want to taste you first.” He wraps his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to him and kissing the silky material that’s concealing your core. He teases you a little more by grazing his nails across the inner parts of your thighs. You groan and squirm in response. “I love seeing you like this.. All horny and ready for me. It’s so hot.”

He pulls the seam of your panties and you lift up off of the sofa to help remove them. He spreads your legs open to finally reveal what’s been hidden. He traces your pussy lips, covering his fingers in your juices.

“Woah. You’re fucking soaked, I love it.” He dives in head first, laying his tongue flat upon your lips, gliding up and down from your entrance to your clit. He returns to your clit and flicks it with his tongue then begins sucking on it. You let out a loud gasp and curl your toes. He sucks and kisses your pussy lips, licking all around and spreading his saliva with his tongue, mixed with your wetness.

“Ah, Yes! Uh-please don’t stop!” You can’t help but grasp his hair once again and grind against his face. He moans into you, and it makes your pussy tingle intensely. He inserts his long, slender finger inside of you twisting it in and out. He gave your clit one last lick and pulled away adding another finger inside of you fingering your pussy moderately, making sure to curve them into a “come here” gesture.

You suddenly feel an unfamiliar urge, and then woosh. You look down to find that you squirted all over Tae’s fingers and made a small mess on the sofa and floor. He licks and slurps your juices. Completely caught off guard, you lay there shocked.

“Oh my God! I’ve never squirted before.”

“Hmm.. there’s a first time for everything, right?” He adds, while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. With his cock stiff and your ready, dripping core, he uses his member to slide along your lips, rubbing against your clit. He gives your pussy a few slaps with his cock. “Fuck me already, Tae. Please.”

He gives you a smirk before saying, “Be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it,” then ramming in all the way and rubbing your clit simultaneously. You breathe in a loud gasp, trying to adjust to his size.

“Mmm, fuck. You’re so tight and wet, why didn’t I fuck you sooner?”

His cock literally filling every inch of you, he takes hold of your hips to pick up the pace. You yelp from how thick he feels inside of you. Your tits now jiggling up and down from the fast pace, he uses one hand to wrap around your throat. Your moans becoming uncontrollable. He switches rhythms, and groans at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The next thing you know, he flips you over and has your ass up with your face down while he’s pounding your kitty like there’s no tomorrow. You try grasping the couch, to catch yourself from falling forward from how hard he’s banging into you. But you’re conflicted from trying to cover your mouth to conceal your intense screams.

Noticing this, he bends over to pull your hands away saying: “No. I want to hear you scream, baby.” Your hands immediately grip the couch again as he slows down his thrusts. Your kitty clenching tight around him. “Good girl. You’re so sexy.” He drags his nails down your back, erupting soft moans from you. He gradually slows his pace, and you follow his lead. He guides you into the cowgirl position, and you position yourself on top of him.

You rub your heat against his tip before inserting him inside of you. “Uh! Oh fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back, taking all of him in and rubbing your clit. You feel yourself on the verge of an orgasm any moment now. Taehyung, who is nearly drained and almost out of breath, as you pick up your pace while riding him. Your thighs slapping against his, both of your bodies dampened with perspiration.

“Y/N, you feel amazing... I don’t think I can last any longer.” He reaches towards your breasts and sucks on them, playing with them as they jiggle in his face. To your surprise he picks you up, with his dick still inside of you, and pins you down on the sofa into the missionary position. His body pressed on top of yours. You reach down to rub your clit again as he hammers into you.

That tense feeling deep inside of you re-approaches stronger than ever and you feel your body entering a stage of nostalgia. You knew exactly what was happening so you wrap your arms around Tae’s neck.

“T-tae-hyung, I am- c-cumming,” You manage to say between breaths. His thrusts becoming harder and slower, but deeper. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fucking cock.” He demands while lifting himself up enough to rub your clit in circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to have your walls pulse rapidly around his length. And that’s all it took for your orgasm to reach it’s full potential over you.

Causing your legs to tremble furiously, your nails to scrape his back up and down, your breathing to become delayed, your eyes to roll in the back of your head, and your moans to turn into a high-pitched sound that you become inaudible due to the wave of bliss that flows throughout your body.

“Oh, fuck. I’m cumming,” Taehyung moans. You feel your walls being drenched in his hot, sticky load. He collapses on top of you, resting his head in between your tits. Breathing heavily he attempts to say, “That was...”

Although you were slowly coming down from your high, your body still slightly twitching, you gather up the strength to play with the strands of his hair and respond with, “Amazing?” He smiles, revealing those pearly whites. “So amazing.” A sudden silence overtakes the room.

You both remain rested on each other, like you were stuck together. Glued. The vibration from his vocal cord rumbles against your exposed abdomen when he breaks the silence: “Hey, you are on the pill right?”

Your eyes widen. Oh shit. You thought.

[nightwingshero]

2-6 and 43-45 for 2 ocs of your choice! :D

Thank you hun!!! Have some Security Captain lore!

2. What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin?

Quinn’s hair is dirty blonde with darker roots, usually parted but can get a bit windswept (which only adds to his boyish charm). His eyes are a dark blue and super pretty, and he’s also caucasian. 

Grayson has black hair, but he keeps it cut short so he doesn’t have to deal with it (can’t blame him for that). His eyes are icy blue, taking after his father (like Wren took after her mother). Gray is also caucasion.

3. How tall is your OC?

Quinn is 6′05 and always stands at full height, mostly because his posture is learned from his upbringing and the military. 

Grayson is 6′01, he got his height mostly on his mother’s side--her father was rather tall (and his own father was about 5′10). Between him and Wren, he was definitely the sibling that won out on the height side of things. 

4. What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

Answered here for Quinn.

Grayson’s glare. He’s comes across as cold and indifferent, definitely super dry humor, and he has a resting bitch face most of the time. He does have a scar along his neck from his not-so-legal endeavors when he was younger, so that’s rather noticeable. But mostly, it’s him looking like he’s pissed off or frustrated all the damn time. 

5. What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

Quinn usually wears a sweater or a turtle neck (and when it’s too hot for that, a plain t shirt or button up does just fine) with a sheepskin bomber jacket. Jeans are usually his way to go, with very nice shoes like this (or shoes like these or these). On a special night, he’d wear a button up with a blazer, with nice dress paints or designer jeans.

Grayson is definitely a jean jacker or a hoodie kind of guy. He does sport a coat here and there, anything that has pockets because he’s shoving his hand in them often. He does plaid and just regular t-shirts, honestly he doesn’t really care what’s on them, and long sleeved shirts. He used to do the baggy pants for a while there, but not so much anymore, he uses those weird ribbon belts or some shit. Or he just gets the right size (get your shit together, Gray). He wears beanies from time to time, and just boots or converse, depending on what’s going on (most likely boots). On a special night? Probably just the closest thing he had to a button up and his not-so-ripped-and-dirty jeans with his nice pair of boots (they’re only a little worn).

6. What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances?

For Quinn, I’d say either clean or sharp. Quinn normally looks rather sharp even when he isn’t. It’s a lot due to his confidence to be honest. He could be wearing rags and you would still feel underdressed (he wouldn’t do it on purpose though, I promise). He just seems very clean cut, and he still manages this somewhat after the Collapse, although I could say that’s where he looks more sharp--since most of his clothes aren’t like what he’d normally wear (a bit more of a rugged feel, I guess). 

I would say plain. Like, Grayson doesn’t really care. Its just...normal stuff he throws on and goes about his day. Mostly a jacket and a shirt, with jeans and shoes. He was a thief for awhile there, standing out wasn’t something he intended on doing. It helped him to make as less of an impression as possible, and it worked. After the Collapse, its not so bad, but he’s sporting a cargo jacket and a shirt...still rather plain. 

43. What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

Quinn is witty and charming! He loves to tease with dry humor from time to time, but it’s a front, mostly because he knows he can be intimidating. It makes people even more flustered (or annoyed). Sometimes you can’t tell he’s kidding when it should be obvious, so he’ll let you flounder a bit until you figure it out. A lot of the time, once you’ve figured it out, he’s already continued onto a different subject or has started talking to someone else (you bet he’s throwing you a knowing smile when you figure it out though).

Grayson...has a very dry and sarcastic sense of humor. You never see it coming, so people are too shocked to say something in return (because he’s just so damn quiet and people don’t expect him to have a sense of humor) or they burst out laughing, throwing something right back at him. Gray is actually rather easygoing, people just think he’s too angry to be fun. 

44. What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Disloyalty, dishonesty, and ignorance. He doesn’t care much for apathy or cowardice, either. Quinn is someone that values core things in people, and when you commit to something, he expects that commitment. He also firmly believes that someone should believe in something. Not religiously, just...as a human. You should believe in something, whether that’s yourself, your people, a higher power, anything. He doesn’t understand people who don’t have really anything that motivates them. He also doesn’t appreciate judging a book by its cover. He’s been assumed to be just a trust fund pretty boy, when that’s so far from the truth. Quinn also firmly believes that if you want a fight, you put your money where your mouth is. He doesn’t react well to hostage situations after the Collapse, it makes him burn hot over it. 

Grayson hates it when he’s not taken seriously, when you lie, and when you betray your people (kinda along the same lines as Quinn). He’s very much a fighter, if you’re going to throw down, then throw the fuck down. But don’t talk shit and then do nothing. He can’t stand people that talk a big talk, but doesn’t walk the walk. If he can’t respect you, he doesn’t like you. He also hates being judged on his past, people just assuming because he was a criminal it automatically makes him a bad person. He also can’t stand people with power that throw it around and hurt other people. That will get you shot real fast. Gray also can’t stand being led on by anything. He can handle the truth. You want him to be bait, then you say that. Don’t lead him to believe something its not, he can handle the truth of it, and would probably agree to it. Just be upfront. 

45. What are some things that annoy your OC?

Quinn can’t stand mouth chewers or nail biters. It drives him up the damn wall. He grew up well-mannered, so it easily gets under his skin when that happens. Quinn is also not afraid to say something about it either, and can be passive aggressive from time to time if it continues to be an issue. 

Grayson absolutely gets annoyed when people try to fill the silence with him. He values quiet time and doesn’t feel that there has to be noise or conversation going on constantly when two or more people are in a room. He’s comfortable with silence. So it gets on his nerves when people try to do small talk just for the sake of conversation without there being any weight or value to it.