#took a trip UNDER a car of a neighbor the other day went into town twice and sat for like. at LEAST two hours

[theonlythingimfuckingisstupid]

He likes to scare the shit out of me I think

[differenteagletragedy]

With the Baxter angst with mc drowning in a riptide, I’m curious as to what Cove’s (and our family in general) reaction is when we’re found and the days/weeks after our death. Thanks, I love your writing

Thank you so much! Here you go :)

"You ok, son?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

Cliff watched as Cove came into the house, his arms full of shopping bags. He was most definitely not fine.

It had been a little over a week since you'd drowned, and Cove was just not himself. Not that Cliff expected he would be after such a traumatic loss, but his behavior was becoming more concerning every day and he wasn't sure what to do.

That night you'd gone out for a swim, your moms came knocking on the Holdens' door frantically around 10:00. Cliff had answered the door and hearing the commotion, Cove came out of his room. Pam and Noelani explained how you'd wanted to go to the ocean by yourself, but then you didn't come home and you didn't answer your phone. When they went to check on you, your things were on the beach but you were nowhere to be found.

Both men had set out to help look for you, as had many of the other neighbors. Authorities were called -- it was an unusually chaotic night for the quiet little street -- but by the morning, your body had been found.

Cliff was pretty sure Cove hadn't slept since.

He hadn't been down to the beach, which was understandable, even though it had been a nearly daily activity for him. But he also hadn't showered. Cliff had taken time away from the shop to be there for his son, but when he'd gone out for a quick grocery run one evening, he came back to a pile of sand in the hallway.

"It's time we got this out of the house," Cove had muttered, broom in hand.

Cliff didn't want to be overbearing -- honestly he had no idea how to help Cove through this -- so he'd watched as Cove did an overhaul of his bedroom. He took out his surfboard and tucked it somewhere out of sight, then packed his swim trunks and wetsuits in a trash bag and set them by the curb. Cliff did grab those up and put them away for him, sure that someday he might want to return to the beach, but as the days went on he stopped being so sure.

That day, when Cove had come in with his bags after a trip to town, Cliff followed him to his bedroom. His son didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care that he had an audience. From the bags, he pulled out bubble wrap, a pack of rubber bands and some smaller plastic bags. He left again without a word, went back to his car, and came back with a cooler.

"What are you doing?" Cliff finally asked.

After taking the time to sort out his newly acquired supplies, Cove knelt down and grabbed a box from under his bed. He opened it, grabbed a few more items, then pushed it aside. He used his free hand to grab one of the smaller bags, and that's when he answered Cliff.

"I'm getting rid of the fish."

Cove was expressionless as he began the task of getting each individual fish into its own bag, securing it, then placing it inside the cooler. Cliff was taken aback for a number of reasons, a big one because he knew how much his son loved his pets. Another was that he was taking the fish off, with everything else that was going on, without a single tear falling.

"I think we need to talk," he said at last, but Cove wasn't interested.

"There's nothing to talk about. I don't want them anymore. Some guy in town is taking them, I'm going to drive them down there in a little bit."

"Cove," he said softly, reaching out to grab his son's shoulder. They both stayed silent, then the younger man let out a shaky sigh.

"I can't sleep, Dad," he said, looking at him for the first time that day. "I can't sleep with them in here. The water ..."

He glanced over to the tank, the little piece of the ocean he'd been so excited to have in his own room years ago. But now, since you were gone, it wasn't welcome anymore.

"Is that why you haven't been showering?"

He nodded.

"Have you been drinking?" Cliff asked. He'd known Cove hadn't been eating that much, but if he was developing this deep of an aversion to water, he wanted to make sure.

"I haven't been thirsty," Cove answered.

Cliff sighed, then decided it was time to take charge. He emptied Cove's hands, setting the scoop and net on the floor, then took him in his arms.

Cove started crying almost immediately.

"You have to take care of yourself," Cliff told him. "And if you can't right now, then you have to let me help you."

"I don't want to," Cove replied, his body wracked with sobs. "I don't want to do any of it."

He cried for a long time, sometimes slowing to a a near stop before starting up violently again. Cliff cried too, feeling utterly helpless. But eventually, when he didn't have any more tears, Cove went a little limp. He was exhausted.

"Come in here," Cliff told him. "I'll take care of it."

He moved to stand beside Cove, letting him lean against his side. He took him to the living room and laid him down on the couch, then grabbed the blanket that was thrown on the back of it to cover him up.

"I'll take care of it," he told him again. "Just sleep for now."

He kneeled on the floor next to Cove, stroking his hair until he drifted off. Then he went in his own bedroom, cleared off his dresser, and began the task of moving the fish tank in there.

When he was almost done, he heard a knock at the door. He moved quickly, not wanting to wake Cove, then quietly opened it and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. It was then that he saw Liz standing there stone-faced, a box in her arms.

"Hey, Liz," he said, trying for a smile but failing. "How are you all holding up?"

"Not great," she answered frankly. "Ma won't get out of bed. They're talking about selling the house but they want to think it through."

He nodded, not sure what to say to that. Liz looked down at the box, then back up at him and asked, "How's Cove?"

"About as good as you'd expect," he said.

"That bad, huh?"

Without waiting for a reply, she held up the box to Cliff.

"What's this?" he asked, taking it from her.

"It's ... it's for Cove. I think he'll appreciate it the most."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Liz excused herself, walking back across the street and going inside. After she closed the door, Cliff lifted the box's lid and took a peek.

Seashells, all different kinds and colors. He remembered you collecting them with Cove when you were younger, how much time you'd spent together on the beach looking for the best ones.

She was right. Cove would appreciate it the most.

He snuck back inside, box in hand, and moved past a lightly snoring Cove. He went back to his bedroom and put the box safely on his dresser by the tank.

Someday Cove would be ready for this again. He'd be ready for the water, and ready to remember you. Until then, Cliff could keep these memories safe.

[thatesqcrush]

Staycation: Spooky Edition

A very very late Kinktober piece. Rafael x f Reader (established relationship). WC: 5Kish. CW: this got away from me - there is some very rough sex, some dom/sub dynamics, language, impact play (being smacked and spanked), some degradation talk, oral (m receiving).

AN: big thanks to @beccabarba for help & encouragement.

—

The wind howled fiercely and the sky was an eerie green, a sign of an impending storm. You pulled over and put your car into park. You got out of the car and covered your eyes with your hand as you gazed upon the house ahead of you. It was massive, almost looming before you.

The house was advertised as Victorian and it certainly was, with its red brick, steeply pitched roof, gables and round towers and turrets to draw the eye upward. There was a wraparound porch likely intended to give the home a cozier feel, but overall the house gave off a sinister vibe. It was as if the house watched you back.

Your phone pinged and you were quick to check who it was. It was your boyfriend and he was on his way by train and would meet you later that evening at the house.

You quickly texted him back before grabbing your luggage and making your way up the winding path to the house that would be your home for the weekend.

Your boyfriend was one of the top prosecutors in all of Manhattan. Getting time off was rare but this weekend had been locked away months ago. Rather than spend time at a quaint B&B on the beach, you both decided to make the most of upstate New York in the fall with the ever changing colorful leaves and crisp air. You had found the house on AirBnB and it seemed to be a much more appropriate choice.

You knew from a message from the owner, there was a key under a rock. Sure enough you found the key and unlocked the door. The door was heavy, and opened with a creak. The interior design was ornate and eccentric. On the entryway table was a thick binder with the word ‘welcome’ plastered on it. There was a grand staircase and high ceilings. The house was furnished with hardwood floors, dark wood furniture and decorative wallpaper, multiple fireplaces, a formal dining room, a parlor and even a library.

You settled in quickly, spending the majority of the time poring through the thick binder, which gave a detailed history of the home. You also learned that the home was accompanied with a tragic love story –

In 1837, a man of considerable wealth by the name of William Axtell had this home built for his fiancee. His fiancee was educated, graceful and beautiful, but she was not the one Axtell loved — alas, he was in love with her sister, Alva. He simply couldn’t bear to be without her, and so he did what any man would do: built a secret chamber in his house and hid her away in there. Only one other person knew about Alva: a maid who took care of her and brought her food. Alva would wait all day until William could slip away, and then he’d visit her upstairs in their secret sex chamber. One day, when William was away on an extended business trip, the maid died. There was no one to bring Alva food or drink, and so she starved to death. Let that be a lesson to you if you’ve secreted an illicit love away in a clandestine sex chamber: have some kind of food distribution buddy system in place. You know, like how you don’t go swimming alone.

There was a blueprint of the home which notated where the secret chamber was and pictures of William, his fiancee and Alva.

As you traced the photos, a chill went up your spine. While you didn’t believe in the paranormal, you weren’t completely dismissive of the chill. You warily closed the binder. In that moment, your phone began to buzz causing you to jump. It was Rafael again. You saw the curtain of the window move and realized your chill must have just been the wind from outside. You let out a small laugh at yourself for getting worked up over nothing.

After speaking with Rafael, you finished unpacking before going to the neighboring town for groceries. You had planned on making a romantic dinner for when Rafael arrived. You loaded up on groceries and bottles of wine and made small talk with the cashier as you were rung up.

By the time you got back, Rafael had already arrived. He had settled in as well, having changed from his suit (as he had court that morning) into dark blue jeans, a maroon marled knit sweater. His hair had grayed considerably and was slicked back in a perfect coif. He had grown out his beard a bit, but it was still neat. His cologne was a combination that was equal parts earthy, peppery and citrusy.

“You made it!” You exclaimed as you walked in. Rafael pressed a kiss to your lips and then offered his hands to take the groceries from you.

“This place is incredible,” Rafael replied as he followed you through the house. You nodded excitedly.

“Right? It’s beautiful and there are so many rooms and halls to get lost in. I definitely want to check out the library. Though, when I first arrived, it gave me —“

“A spooky vibe?” Rafael interjected. He rummaged for a wine opener, winking when he found one. You reached for the wine glasses and quickly rinsed and dried them. Rafael set the opened wine aside to let it breathe.

Rafael wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yeah, I got the same vibe. You’re not scared are you?”

You ran your fingertips under the hem of Rafael’s sweater, letting out a little hum as his muscles twitched beneath your touch. Rafael pulled you even closer, lifting your chin with the crook of his index finger. His green eyes twinkled and you felt yourself grow warm. “Not at all. I’ve got my big strong boyfriend from the Bronx to keep me safe.”

—

It had started to rain.

Raindrops pelted hard and the exterior board and batten shutters swung wildly, pounding against the house. You and Rafael ran around the house shutting them and making certain the doors were bolted.

The two of you settled in the living room, sitting in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled and popped. Rafael between your legs and leaned back against you. He turned the page of his worn copy of Jekyll and Hyde, and continued to read out loud. You closed your eyes, letting the timbre of his voice envelope you as you played with his hair, massaging his scalp in process.

Suddenly everything went dark.

"Guess it was bound to happen sooner or later," Rafael remarked. Carefully you both stood and you each turned on the flashlights on your cell phones to look around.

You looked at Rafael. “The binder said that the fuse box was downstairs in the basement.”

Rafael sighed. “I guess I’ll be going down to the basement.”

“I’ll go,” you volunteered. “Stay up here and text me if the lights come back on.”

—

All Rafael could hear was the sound of the storm pushing through. He tried to check on the duration of the storm but his phone was loading slowly.

There was a flicker and then the lights came back on. Rafael sighed in relief and texted you that the lights were back. He anticipated the sound of your footsteps bounding up the stairs but nothing came.

Rafael waited a few more minutes, ignoring the knot of worry that was beginning to brew. He texted you once more and called your name.

Again nothing.

Fear pricked at Rafael. It wasn’t like you to not be responsive. He made his way down the basement, his heart thudding in his chest and his palms beginning to sweat. He called for you but was answered in silence. He crept quietly, but the floor still creaked with every step. His pulse pounded in his ears.

Rafael had been a prosecutor for far too long. His mind was racing in all the ways you could have been possibly kidnapped or murdered. He was all set to call Olivia when something caught his eye.

At the end of the hall, a bookcase was turned vertically, revealing a partially opened door. Rafael walked toward it, even though all his horror movie training screamed at him to not to. He called your name once more as he fully opened the door.

The oxblood-hued room was packed with recherché items that wouldn't look out of place in a grand gentlemen's club, including a posh Chesterfield chair, vintage ship model and antique carriage clock. There was a plush bed with bedding that could be described as sumptuous.

Rafael recalled the story of William and Alva that you told him over dinner. It dawned on him that this room was the secret chamber. He walked in cautiously and carefully, scanning the room. There was a knot in his stomach, and he felt tense all over.

He had the sense he was not the only one in the room. When he turned around, he was met with you shouting “Boo!” in his face.

Rafael let out a shout, nearly jumping out of his skin. “Jesus Christ!”

You began to laugh. “I’m sorry but that was just too easy. I couldn’t help it.” You continued to laugh, so much so that you had to double over.

Rafael gave you an incredulous look. “Ha ha, really fucking funny.”

You stood up, still chuckling a bit and wiped your eyes. “Oh come on! It was just a joke! You have to admit that I got you good.”

Rafael glowered at you and took a step closer towards you. “You know, I don't like practical jokes.”

You smirked and cocked your brow, challenging. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Rafael reached for you and pulled you close to him where you were practically chest to chest. Your palms were on his chest and you could feel his heart thundering rapidly. He gripped your chin with his index and thumb. “You’ll see.”

You saw the change in his expression to something more lustful and predatory, the sensual look in his eye sending a jolt of hot anticipation through you.

You jerked your chin from his grip but barely had a chance to look away as he gripped your cheeks, squeezing but not too tightly.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Do I look like I am playing a fucking game?” Rafael all but growled, his green eyes burning with desire. You shook your head in response. Your pulse began to quicken and arousal stoked your core. “For the rest of the time we are here, you will answer me as sir.”

“Yes.”

His gaze darkened as he ran his fingers softly along your jawline, holding your chin so your eyes met his. When his fingers flattened out against your cheek, you had an inkling as to what was coming. Still, when the sharp smack landed against your skin, you jumped slightly. The sting bloomed into heat. Rafael knew what that did to you, and you didn't miss his little smirk as he did it again, slightly harder, pricking your skin, watching your reaction. He put a fingertip beneath your chin.

“What did you say?” Rafael prodded, his brow cocked.

“Yes sir.” You breathed.

“Good girl,” Rafael murmured. He then kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue. His hand was tight in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss and suck along your neck. His teeth grazed sharply against your skin, causing you to groan in response to the pricks of pain. A dark mark bloomed easily and he ran his tongue over it, soothing the area. He again nipped up your jawline before kissing you once more, the kiss more soft than before, but still full of passion. His tongue licked hotly in your mouth. You could feel his cock, hard against your body. Your were certain you were already dripping and your nerves were buzzing, erotically charged.

“Strip. And get on the bed,” Rafael all but growled.

You looked at the bed and then around the room. You also were certain that the room was haunted as fuck, but you did not want to bring it up lest it change the mood.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Rafael snapped, bringing your focus back to him.

“No sir!” You yanked your shirt off and then sat on the bed to remove your shoes. This was then followed by your pants and undergarments. You laid prostrate on the bed, eagerly anticipating Rafael’s next move.

Rafael stood at the foot of the bed and placed his hands on his hips, his green eyes narrowing at you a little as took in the sight of your naked form. He began to undress himself. Buttons were undone nimbly and quickly, followed by his shoes and remainder of his clothes. He jacked himself languidly, casually spitting into his palm.

The bed creaked under his weight and you felt him move behind you. His large hands ghosted your skin, feeling the knobs of your spine. When he got to your ass, he squeezed your flesh, before laying a hard spank on your ass. You let out a small moan, which garnered another spank, this time harder than before. Rafael sat on his haunches, spreading your ass cheeks apart. Nothing major had even happened yet and he already knew you were dripping.

Rafael sucked on two of his fingers, using his own saliva to lubricate them. The tips of his fingers ghosted over your puckered rosebud before shoving his fingers inside of you. Your startled gasp turned into a breathy moan as he coated them in your wetness before pulling them out to spread it over your pussy, and then shoving them back in, fingering you roughly. His other hand landed sharply on your ass giving you another spank.

“A mess,” Rafael growled. “I can fucking smell how needy you are.” The pace of his fingers increase and the wet sounds of your arousal are evident in the quiet room. “Tonight is about me. Your one job is to make me happy.”

“Yes sir,” you gasped in reply, your hips moving in their own accord to match the thrust of his hand.

“You’re going to pay for your stunt. You’re not going to come until I tell you to. Me entiendes?”

You were completely lost in your pleasure and his words didn’t register. When you failed to respond, he abruptly removed his fingers, causing you to cry out at the empty feeling.

Two more spanks. The skin of your ass was hot and you wondered if Rafael could see the outline of his hand. Rafael grabbed your ass cheeks and spread you apart once more. You felt his stubble, pricking your skin and then you felt the prick of his teeth once more as he bit you - first one then the other, then repeating in a pattern. The bites are followed by additional spanks. It was unrelenting, the sting of the bites and spanks caused your toes to curl. And then it was over and you felt Rafael’s tongue on your skin licking soothingly. His mouth hovered over your pussy, his breath hot. You pushed back, desperate for more.

Rafael smacked your ass once more. “No sweetheart. Your job is to make me feel good tonight. And maybe, just maybe, if you’re good enough, I will let you come.”

You nodded and Rafael’s eyes narrowed.

“Use your words,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir. Going to make you feel good,” you whimpered. Rafael smirked and nudged you to roll over. He wrapped his arm around you, and pulled you flush against him. You could feel his cock on the small of your back, hard and leaking.

His other hand smoothed up your thigh, encouraging it apart from the other one as he reached your pussy and traced his fingers through your folds. He stopped as he pressed down on your clit and drew his hand back to deliver a short, hard spank to the swelling bundle of nerves. You squealed, body jolting at the sudden impact.

“Fuck,” you muttered, biting down on your bottom lip. Rafael’s face disappeared into the crook of your neck, sucking and kissing your skin while one hand grabbed your tit, tugging and twisting your nipple. You let out a small moan in response. His other hand headed back down to your opening, fingers inside of you, pumping. You groaned, your nails digging into the meat of his thighs.

“I want to cum, sir, please,” you begged desperately.

“No,” Rafael replied sternly. “Hold it.”

“Please, please, I’ll be a good girl,” you begged again. A sharp spank landed on your pussy and you squealed.

“What did I tell you about begging me?” he growled. You felt the pad of his thumb tease your clit. “So fucking wet. I bet I could just slide my cock in and make that tight pussy take it. You’d take it, right?”

“Yes,” you hissed, your eyes screwing shut.

You felt your orgasm bubble up in your gut and you tried to ignore it but it was futile. Rafael felt you tense and he removed his fingers from you and slapped your pussy sharply once more. You let out a whimper in response.

You turned to Rafael and leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was sloppy, open mouthed, his tongue licking hotly into your mouth. You pulled away briefly and grabbed his hand to suck his finger, imitating what you wanted to do.

“Want to suck my cock?” Rafael asked. His breathing was already labored, intent on making the evening last but he was already overworked. He knew once he fucked you, it wouldn’t be long.

You nodded, humming in agreement.

“Ask me to let you.”

“Yes sir. Can I taste your cock sir?” Your eyes met his. A delicious smirk curled on his plump lips and lit up his entire face. His green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Rafael nodded and spread his legs wider to make room for you. As you positioned yourself, he gripped himself at the base. You looked up at him and he tapped his cock against your mouth. “Open.”

You follow his command and open your mouth to take his cock. He’s cut. It’s a nice fleshy pink color, but the head is a couple shades darker; when you’ve been edging him, it darkens to almost purple. There are a few visible veins, and an especially thick one that runs along the underside.

Saliva gathered in your mouth at the sight of his heavy cock. A thick line of pre-cum dripped out of his slit, dripping down until it slowed at the base. Your hand ghosted over the patch of dark curls there, sending a shiver up Rafael’s spine.

You wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock, enveloping it in your warm, wet heat. You sucked, pulling the salty liquid from him and onto your awaiting tongue, letting out a small hum. You pulled off briefly and then opened your mouth wider so you could take more of him.

Rafael petted your hair softly, enjoying watching you take his cock inch by inch, until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, and then pulled off to catch your breath.

“Let me change position,” Rafael commented. You remained in place as he climbed off the bed and stood. He beckoned you with a finger and you quickly scrambled over. You looked up at him, batting your eyes. He tapped his cock on your lips and you opened widely.

“Relax sweetheart, open your throat,” Rafael ordered as he began to feed his cock into your mouth. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply through your nose. His hands wove into your hair and he pulled your head forward as he snapped his hips, shoving the remainder of his thick cock into your mouth and throat. His hands were firm in your hair, keeping you in place. Your eyes began to water and saliva pooled from the corners of your mouth. He withdrew and repeated again and again, holding your willing mouth flush against him, your nose buried in his salt and pepper curls.

Finally, he relented and began to thrust into your mouth, a brutal pace abusing your throat with his thick length. Tears streamed down your face, and your eye makeup was smeared. Any gloss that might have remained on your lips was now gone.

“You take my cock so well,” Rafael praised. He pushed you a bit further, your jaw ached and throbbed. “Such a dirty girl with my cock in your throat. Do you like having my cock in your throat?”

You let out a muffled response and Rafael pulled you off of him, by your hair. The pain ebbed into a tingle of pleasure.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

He watched in fascination the spit string that connected your lips to his cock pull thin before finally breaking.

He gripped your chin hard, smushing your lips together. He slapped you once more. “Answer me.”

Your cunt clenched in response to the sting.

“Yes sir, I love your cock in my mouth,” you croaked. Rafael laughed and shoved your head back onto his cock. His hands were on the sides of your head, moving your head over his cock, his hips meeting the movements. He growled as he fucked your face, testing the limits your throat could handle. But you knelt there, mouth open wide as another wave of tears streamed down your face, moaning as he pushed you past the limits of comfort, ruining you. You could feel your juices slick on your thighs and there was a growing ache in between your legs that so desperately wanted to be touched. And while your throat was sore and your jaw ached, you loved it when Rafael used you as he pleased.

“Good girl, take that cock,” Rafael grunted. He bent forward, leaning over your body so he could slip his fingers back into your pussy. Because of the position, you began to bob on his cock, using a hand for assistance. The only sounds in the room were his grunts and groans, mixed with your muffled moans and whines.

“I’m going to cum if we keep this up” Rafael groaned and he withdrew from your mouth and pussy. You watched him as he sucked his fingers clean of your pussy juice. He let out a hum of satisfaction. Your eyes went down to his cock, it stuck out with a slight curve. Cum leaked easily now.

Rafael watched you and he smirked. “Is there something you want?”

“Yes sir.” You replied. Without prompting, you elaborated. “I want your cock sir.”

“I didn’t hear you say please.”

“Please sir.”

“Turn around,” Rafael commanded. You acquiesced to his request, turning around so you were on all fours.

Rafael wasted no time. The bed dipped with his weight and spread your cheeks once more. “Look at that pretty pussy. And it’s mine.”

He thrusted in himself inside of you, burying himself to the hilt. His pelvis was snug against the curve of your ass. He waited a minute, letting you adjust. He saw you nod and he began to move. He started slowly at first but steadily picked up speed. His balls are hefty and you can feel the weight of them slap against your pussy. He held on to your hips steadily, driving your ass lower into the bed until your legs buckled and you landed on the bed, ass up, torso down, face into the mattress.

The pace was brutal as he fucked you hard and deep. His fingers dug into your hips and you’re certain that there will be bruises once done. You felt every ridge of his cock against your walls with each harsh thrust and you needed more of it. You heard yourself - don’t stop, fuck me harder, give it to me - but it all sounded slurred to you.

There are a series of spanks to your ass in response.

Rafael’s legs were now framing your thighs, pounding down into you. You gripped the bedspread and cried out his name every time his cock pistoned into you again.

Suddenly you were aware that your arms were being pulled behind you. Rafael held your arms together, handcuff style, as he continued, giving you exactly what you wanted - what you both so desperately wanted. He’s also chasing his release, but he will give you what you want.

You bit down on your bottom lip as he took you closer and closer to the edge. Your clit throbbed, aching, needing to be touched.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, so fucking perfect,” Rafael grunted. Sweat dripped down his body and onto yours as he kept his pace. “I bet you wanna come.”

A stream of yes, yes, yes, left your mouth.

Rafael slowed his pace and you whined in protest. “Don’t stop, please. Sir, please.”

“Thank me for fucking you. And maybe I will let you come.”

You nodded frantically. “Your cock feels so good! Yes, yes! Thank you for fucking me sir!”

“Atta girl, now you get it. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours sir!” You cried out.

Rafael released one of your arms. “Go ahead, come.”

You frantically reach below to your clit and your fingers slip due to the mix of your and Rafael’s wet mess. You find your clit and rubbed in haphazard circles, chasing the sweet relief of orgasm. It doesn’t take long and before you realize it, you are coming hard, Rafael’s name escaping from your lips. It had never been this intense before, as if one orgasm rolled into the other. Rafael groaned as you squirted, your juices releasing all over his cock. He inwardly beamed - you hadn’t ever done that before.

“Yes,” Rafael hissed. “Coat that cock, cover it all up.”

You slumped forward, unable to hold yourself up. You are lost in your own haze, unaware that Rafael hadn’t come yet. You let out a yelp as Rafael pulled you upward, thrusting back into you. The pace is somehow even harder than before as you hear the sound of skin slapping on skin.

Rafael is growling and grunting. “You think just because you fucking came, that it means get to be fucking lazy on me?”

“No sir,” you cried out. The ache that had dissipated started to grow again. “Fuck me sir. Use me!”

Rafael’s teeth gnashed together as his release approached. A deep rumble emanated from his chest and you had been intimate with him long enough to know that he was about to come.

He grunted, pumping faster, and then his hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm, and he came, hard. Ropes of thick white creamy come filled you. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god, fuck!” He shuddered as he finished coming. He stayed there before withdrawing, his cock softening. You felt some of his come dribble out.

You both flopped onto your backs, bodies covered in sweat and heaving, trying to catch your breath.

Rafael shifted and he loomed over you. You furrowed your brows at first but then your mouth formed an ‘O’ as he pushed up your legs. He used his fingers to spread your lips and watched as his release dripped out of you. He scooped up some and spread it along your belly, as if he was marking his territory.

He reached back down to your pussy and scooped some more of his release. He then spread it on your clit, and began to rub you once more.

“I know you can do it again.” Rafael slid two fingers inside of you, curling them.

Your legs trembled as you felt yet another orgasm begin to build. You can almost feel Rafael’s smile against you as he jackhammered his fingers inside of you, fucking his come back into you.

“Come on, one more sweetheart.” His words were your undoing and your hips jerk. He lifted his head and you looked at him with wide eyes. “Give it to me.” He began rubbing your clit roughly and horizontally rapidly. You arched your back sharply, and wailed as you came again. Sound went fuzzy and you squeezed your eyes tightly. Rafael just kept his mouth open by your cunt, collecting your cum in his mouth as you squirted once more.

You collapsed against the bed as you came down back to reality. Rafael covered his body with yours and pressed a kiss to your mouth, sharing your come with you. The kiss was wet and messy but soft, dare say gentle.

“How was that?” Rafael questioned, his eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You hummed ame gave him a smile. “Oh yeah. That was perfect.”

Rafael eventually peeled his sweaty body off of you. You snuggled into his chest, basking in his warmth.

All of a sudden, the lights flickered and the room was plunged into darkness. It was followed by a sound that could only be described as non human. You yelped and then the lights flicked back on.

You and Rafael looked at eachother, eyes wide, both of you clearly spooked. “Let's get out of here!”

Rafael nodded and you both scrambled, grabbing your clothes before peeling out of the room and heading back up stairs.

When you both got back to the main floor, you were both laughing hard as you redressed. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary!” You cried out. “What the hell was that?”

Rafael shook his head and rubbed his face. “Let's not go back down there.”

You nodded. “But what you did down there - that you can do again.”

Rafael gave you a wicked smile, his eyes lighting up in response.

“But first can we find someplace else to stay?” You questioned, your tone hopeful.

Rafael nodded, finding his phone. “Already on it.”

FIN.

--

Tags: @mgarner1227, @madpanda75, @beccabarba, @dreamlover31, @sass-and-suspenders, @melk917 @youreverycolor, @neely1177, @witches-unruly-heart, @skittle479, @plaidbooks, @mommakat32, @garturbo, @sweetsummertime99, @ottosuricato, @qvid-pro-qvo, @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos, @annabelleb49, @zoeykaytesmom, @bananas-pajamas, @pieceofshittytitty, @itsjustmyfantasyroom, @ktiz90, @evee87, @differentshadesofgray @catnip987 @detective-giggles @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @rachelxwayne @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @missirenlove @tintinxtintin @law-nerd105 @bisexual-dreamer02 @rampantmuses @mishaissocoolike @choppedgalaxynerd @beardedbarba @storiesofsvu @a-brignac

[jpitha]

The Bedrock Dispatch

And now for something completely different. This was another writing game/contest thing. I was given the theme and the "flash rule" a rule created on the spot that I needed to include in my story. Since the theme was Myths of the Near Stone age and I needed to include Dinosaurs, I was drawn to the Flintstones which I think technically makes this fanfiction? Neat. Anyway, it's completely different to what I normally write.

Theme: Myths of the Near Stone Age Flash Rule: Must have Stampeding Dinosaurs. 1311 words.

****

The housewife grabbed the vacuum cleaner and began to run it back and forth across the carpet in the living room. Its legs tied to a small wooden cart, the pygmy mammoth was forced to use its trunk to suck up the dust and dirt in the small, stylish living room.

Job complete, she put it into the closet with the other appliances. Only after the door was closed did the tiny mammoth cry.

Chores finished, she met her neighbor for drinks, cigarettes, and a shopping trip into town. The clothes washer had died; it had choked on a sock. How was she to know that it could choke on socks? The manual didn’t say anything about that. Her husband threw the dead washer out with the trash that morning and she needed to buy another. Her annoyance over the washer’s death was tempered by the excitement of another shopping trip with her friend.

****

The foreman stood at the edge of the quarry. He watched the animals place massive stones in their mouths, lift them, and then swing them over the edge of the quarry, letting the boulders drop with a heavy thud. Their teeth long ago ground away to painful nubs, the brontosauruses lifted and carried stones while people strapped in little cabins on their back used winches to help, and whips when the animals were too tired to lift.

The crane in the back - number thirty-nine - looked rough. Foam collected on the edges of its mouth and its head would shake as it tried to lift even small stones. The operator fought with the winch and when that failed, used the whip. The foreman frowned and stubbed out his cigarette on the ground in front of him. He was going to have to kill it tonight and get another. He lamented the loss in productivity. It was necessary though. The quarry owner had decreed that production would not slip this month. While he cast his eyes to the other animals in the quarry, a bird tied to a perch a foot above his head watched the sun nervously. He shook silently in fear, but the foreman didn’t notice.

Soon, it was the end of the day. The foreman, watching a sundial on his wrist, pulled hard on the tailfeathers of the bird above him. The bird’s scream of pain signaled the end of the day. A man in the quarry shouted in joy and slid down the tail of his brontosaurus and ran to his car, the animal forgotten or ignored. Someone else would take care of it. If they didn’t? There were plenty of brontosauruses around. They’d just get another.

He made his way home, walked into the house, and kissed his wife as she met him at the door. She handed him a drink and a cigarette. As he passed through the kitchen, he finished his drink and poured another from the iced pitcher on the counter. He glanced at the empty spot in the kitchen where the washer was supposed to be and frowned. He made his way to his backyard and saw his friend and neighbor. “Another beautiful day, eh friend?” He made his way to a comfortable chair under a tree, near the low fence.

“You said it, Fred. Another day in paradise.” The neighbor leaned on his fence. “Hey, I heard that your clothes washer died, did your wife manage all right today?”

Fred took a drag on his cigarette and frowned. “Darned thing choked on a sock; can you believe it? A washer that can’t wash socks. I tossed it with the trash and Wilma went into town and bought another. Probably thirty other things to go with it too.” Fred took a sip of his cocktail and finished his cigarette. He lit another automatically. “Barn, how do you do it? Betty doesn’t seem to run through your paycheck before you even earn it. I feel like I’m paid on Thursday and broke by Sunday.”

Barney hopped the low fence, not spilling his drink or dropping his cigarette and joined Fred at another chair in the yard. “I gotta tell you Fred, the secret is to set some aside before you hand it over. Give her half, you take half. Keep it in the bank, stuff it in your sock drawer, whatever it takes.” Barney sipped his cocktail, a Bourbon old fashioned. “It’s just how they are. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

While Fred and Barney talked, Fred’s lawn mower started screaming. The howling of the mower was loud even though it was in the shed. Fred and Barney got up slowly and slightly unsteadily and made their way over to his shed. As he opened it, he saw the mower, still tied to the little cart, screaming and crying. Its mouth was red and inflamed and blood poured from multiple wounds on its legs. It looked like the mower was trying to bite their legs off. Fred reached down to touch the mower’s legs and it snapped at him. Fred yanked his hand back.

“Did you see that? It tried to bite me!” Fred tipped his rocks glass back and finished his drink, a tom collins. The ice clinked.

Barney sighed and shook his head. “Just goes to show you, things aren’t like they were when we were younger. Once it’s dead, we’ll head to Gimblestones and pick up a new one. Folks have to go further and further out to find new appliances and they never last as long as they used to.” He patted his friend on the back. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll fix it in the morning.”

Fred stared at the lawn mower.

At the dying animal.

At the lawn mower.

At the dying animal.

“No.” Fred shook his head. “This isn’t right, Barn. It’s a living thing. Look at it, it’s screaming. I have to help it.” He reached for the mower again.

Barney put his hand on Fred’s arm, stopping him. “Fred. This is the way of things. This is how things are. This-“ He pointed at the mower. “-is how we have all this.” Barney gestures behind him towards suburbia, towards the rows of small houses with manicured lawns. “Your mower? Your washer? Those are the price we pay for progress.” He let go of Fred’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go have another drink. After, we can head to the lodge. By the morning it’ll be gone, and we can go shopping and get another.”

Fred looked at the mower.

At the dying animal.

At the mower.

He turned away from the mower and looked at Barney. “You’re right Barn. Let’s go get a drink and head out. This is a tomorrow problem.”

Fred closed the door to the shed and walked back inside.

****

The young man stood outside the city. He watched a herd of Brontosaurus thunder across the plain. His partner had spooked them and as expected, they stampeded. Soon they would tire, and he could swoop in. If he was able to capture four of them alive, they could be repurposed in town, and he would make enough money to support his brothers and sisters for another month. He watched them carefully. The quarry. The quarry would buy them. His stomach growled. He had skipped breakfast and lunch to save money. One meal a day was enough, he told himself.

There. Those four. Two adults and two calves lagged behind the rest. He had hoped for four adults, but this was better. He’d get half again more for the calves. They lived longer, took to the yoke better, lasted longer. He kicked his heels on the ground and the jeep took off. Steering towards the animals, he readied his tranquilizer gun and leaned out the window. Today was turning out to be a good day after all.

****

[voraciousvore]

In the Belly of the Giant (31/39)

Chapter 31

Trent was confused. He hadn’t received any calls or texts from Mr. Greenwood for a couple of days, or any of his other coworkers for that matter. The day was fading fast, yet his phone remained silent. Such an instance was unusual, to say the least. While he had been rewarded with a solid chunk of change for his last job, he was always greedy for more money. He had expensive needs and vices. Alcohol, cigarettes, and illicit drugs weren’t free, after all. Not to mention, he enjoyed his job: Slaughtering and beating people, especially those who were unable to defend themselves, satisfied his barbaric bloodlust. 

He decided to go to the warehouse and see what was going on. He suspected something bad must’ve happened, but he wouldn’t know until he went to see for himself. He dressed in his usual clothes, dark jeans and a leather jacket over a shirt that at one point was white. He hadn’t washed them in a week, but he figured they were still good. After pocketing his trusty knife and holstering his pistol in his waistband, he glanced over to the terrarium. Eren was wrapped up in her blanket in a lump, facing away from him, listless. He snuck up on her and banged on the glass hard with his hand. She jumped up with fright, staring at him with wild eyes. He laughed cruelly and she glared at him defiantly. He loved to torment his little prisoner. He’d have to have some fun with her later, but for now he had work to attend to. 

Trent left his apartment, locking the door behind him, and went out to his slick black car. Despite the trashiness of the area he lived in, nobody dared touch his car. His neighbors knew better than to mess with a dangerous, high-ranking gang member like him. If they so much as left a smudge on his precious car, they’d end up with a bullet in the head or a knife in their back. He got in and started the engine with a roar. The automobile purred as he drove it on the road. 

As he approached the warehouse, he noticed immediately something was off. The gravel lot, situated behind the crumbling buildings, was empty of cars, an unprecedented circumstance. Besides the fact that Mr. Greenwood practically lived there, the gang always had muscle present to guard the goods. Trent spotted a police car hidden in the shadows and he knew. The police, somehow, discovered their hideout and gutted it. Mr. Greenwood and most of the others were likely arrested. He drove off before he could be seen and swore furiously to himself. 

He would survive. He always did. A violent beast of a man like him could always take what he wanted. Still, he was angry at the police. He would be out a lot of money for their interference. He cursed again and punched the inside of his car door with a massive fist. He wanted to take his rage out on something. Maybe he’d go home and torture his little human slave tonight. 

He might as well use his trip out of the house to get supplies. He was craving a glass of red wine. Eren’s delectable flavor paired well with the bottle of Merlot he had last time, but he would look over his options. His mouth started to water at the thought of eating her again. He needed more food too. He was hungry. Eren was delicious enough to satisfy his palate, but she wasn’t enough to fill his giant belly on her own. Perhaps a nice ribeye, cooked rare and bloody. His mood started to perk up a bit as he parked his car next to the grocery store. He had driven to the nicer area of town for his errand, since he desired only the finest wines and meat cuts. 

He strolled into the grocery store and took his time picking out a few bottles of wine. As he wended his way to the meat department, grabbing steak sauce off the shelf, he stiffened. At the end of the aisle, turned away from him, was a cop. Trent felt a burning anger rise in his gut. He fingered the butt of his pistol under his shirt. He was tempted to feed his thirst for revenge and blood, despite being in a public place. With some difficulty, he restrained himself. 

The cop turned in his direction, and Trent was surprised to see a familiar face. The giant had changed with age, obviously, but was still recognizable as that nerdy, lanky, pimple-faced kid that always hung out in the library at his high school. Trent wasn’t friends with him, but he may have bullied him a couple of times, pushed him over and knocked his dorky glasses off his face. He smirked at the memory. And now that pathetic little geek was a cop? He wouldn’t have expected that development. 

He tried to recall the name of his former fellow student. Was it something with a “J?” Josh? Joel? The cop, unaware of the predatory eyes watching him, walked around the corner into the next aisle, out of Trent’s range of vision. The name suddenly hit Trent with the force of a sledgehammer. Joey. His name was Joey. Trent froze as the realization dawned on him. Eren had been crying out for someone named Joey. Trent had assumed, with Eren being a human, that her Joey was also a human. Now, he was seriously questioning that assumption. 

After all, they all went to the same high school together, right? Trent had been expelled early on, but there was no reason to believe Eren didn’t stay at the school, and maybe even stayed on the giant side of town after she graduated. She probably knew Joey. If she stayed for him, they might even be lovers. The pieces were starting to click together. Her spirited resistance and mental fortitude made sense if she was bolstered by the hope of Joey rescuing her. And he was a cop! He could, plausibly, be a threat to Trent, especially if he had been involved in busting up his gang. The police might be closer to catching him than he was aware. 

Trent needed to know for sure. Impulsive as he was, he didn’t think through the consequences of directly approaching the cop. There was nothing the officer could do to him anyway. He wasn’t committing a crime by talking to him; he had no evidence against him or reason for suspicion. Trent was confident in himself to the point of arrogance, having never been caught. He strode into the next aisle with purpose, almost bellicose with the swift, jerky movements of his limbs. 

“Hey, you! Aren’t you Joey?” he shouted at the police officer. Joey looked up at the mention of his name, loaf of bread in hand, bewildered. 

“Y-yeah?” he replied, confused as to why this random man was coming up to him. 

“Bro! We went to high school together! Don’t you remember me?” Trent exclaimed with a mocking sneer. He came over and stood an uncomfortably close distance to Joey, puffing out his chest and lording over him with his superior height. 

Joey regarded the other giant, with his long red hair, green eyes, and prominent teeth. His face darkened with recognition. “Oh. Trent,” he muttered, hardly concealing the disgust in his tone. 

“Yeah, you remember me! I was the one that got expelled for eating that human student!” Trent remarked, cocking his eyebrow. He wanted to gauge Joey’s reaction, and he wasn’t disappointed. Joey’s hands twitched and his eyebrows folded down with anger. Trent’s sneer deepened.  

“How is Eren, by the way?” he asked, moving in closer and dropping his voice. Joey by this point had regained his composure and sized up Trent with a serious, condescending expression. As he opened his mouth to respond, his eyes dropped down and he caught a glimpse of Trent’s tattoo on his hand. Joey went rigid. He tried to recover and act nonchalant, but Trent saw what he was looking at. 

“Oh, I see you’re interested in my tattoo,” he remarked, ostensibly showing it off by brandishing his fist towards Joey in a threatening gesture. 

Joey, having been ambushed, was one step behind but attempted to feign ignorance anyway. “T-that’s an odd tattoo. What’s it mean?” 

“You don’t know, huh?” Trent replied sardonically. “It marks me as a spiritual descendant of Polyphemus. Hence the cyclopean eye.” 

“Just what the hell does that mean?” Joey questioned him, baffled. “That you’re a savage, drunken dimwit blinded to reality?” 

“No, of course not,” Trent scoffed. He leaned in, his green eyes gleaming with bloodthirsty rage. “It means I’m a man-eater.”  

Joey felt his blood run cold. Trent was dangerous, and had clearly approached him for a reason. With his uniform in plain sight, he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t affiliated with the police department. Trent was a member of the gang that Joey was instrumental in taking down. He had the tattoo; he matched Millie’s description with his unusual physical characteristics. Joey didn’t know what sort of bizarre game Trent was playing here, but the man was obviously trying to intimidate him. He wished he could arrest the gang member, but the police chief had already warned him that the tattoo alone wasn’t sufficient evidence. Joey gritted his teeth with frustration but kept his cool. 

“Just what do you want from me, Trent? We’re not friends,” Joey said, narrowing his eyes. 

Trent bared his teeth at Joey in a grin. “I’m telling you, that you’d better watch your back, Joey,” he warned. “Or you might regret it, worse than you could ever imagine.” Joey tried his best to conceal his shock and horror, but his emotions still seeped through in a diluted form to his face. Trent laughed and walked away. Joey stood in the aisle, mouth agape, stunned. 

Judging by Joey’s reaction to his mention of Eren, Trent surmised Joey likely had some sort of emotional connection with her. He couldn’t be positive, but he didn’t want to overplay his hand and reveal too much. If he wanted to know more, he could always persuade Eren to talk. However, he was fairly certain he had the right Joey. He quickly collected his groceries and exited the store, making sure the cop wasn’t tailing him as he drove off. He had stolen plates on his car anyway, which would make him harder to track. 

Joey replayed the conversation in his head and tried to parse through the layered significance of Trent’s words. He was deeply disturbed by the fact that the criminal giant had been gutsy enough to come right up to him, despite him being in his police uniform. He had the feeling the man’s ire toward him was personal, not just towards the police in general. 

And why had he mentioned Eren? Of course, it made sense that he would have seen and recognized Eren, if she had been trafficked through his gang. However, Joey wasn’t sure if Trent knew that Eren and him were dating, unless he had obtained the information via Eren herself. His threat was especially ominous and cryptic. 

Joey had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Trent was obviously linked to Eren’s disappearance; he had gone out of his way to taunt and threaten Joey; he had established a link between the pair. Joey was revolted to his very core by the thought that Trent might have some power over Eren. What if he was the one who had her? Considering their history, a ravenous, violent, filthy monster like him would be the worst person he could possibly think of to hold Eren prisoner.  

Chapter 32

Chapter 1

[neganisacat]

Chapter One: New Year Disaster

Standing there as everything burns. What went wrong? This once peaceful town is now a blazing inferno: cars on fire, buildings destroyed, homes, and business are nothing but charred remains. The streets were littered with debris and corpses. The only sounds that could be heard are the crying of children and the wailing sirens from emergency vehicles. This place is like a war zone. Everything is gone, black smoke obscures the sky with the setting sun’s rays giving it a hellish glow. A dark-furred monkey stood in the streets as the EMS rushed past him.

His golden eyes pooled with unshaded tears, scrunching his nose in disgust at the horrid smell. His lips formed a scowl as he growled. The town he grew up in was no more, this safe haven was now hell. Who had done this? And why this town, his home, his neighbors, friends, and the children. Both of his hands curled into a fist. He shouldn’t have left to go into the city, his body shook with rage the townspeople had done nothing to deserve this. They were good people; both humans and demons lived in peace.

“I will find whoever did this and when I do… I’ll kill them.” The dark-furred monkey growled. A hand placed itself on his shoulder making him look back. Seeing his father with a broken expression hurt him. Mac hasn’t seen that look ever since his mother passed away.

“I know, son. I’m just as angry as you are.” They both looked back at the scene before them with a grim expression. Today of all days. Just why? It's the lunar new year and this had to have happened.

...Hours prior...

Our scene is set in a small town on the outskirts of the city. The sun is over the horizon as an edgy monkey laid in bed. A groan came from him as he tiredly glanced at the bedside clock. His fuzzy vision focused on the time it was barely even… wait a minute it’s almost…eight! Oh shit! Throwing off the covers he scrambled to get dressed and bolted out of the room whilst grabbing his bag. A yellow, red, and black colored bag with a devilish grinning money logo on the side. Running down the steps almost tripping luckily he balanced himself and if the stairs didn't kill him first, his grandfather would.

Rushing to the door a voice called out, “Whoa, there champ. Why the rush?” His father sat at the table reading the newspaper and had a cup of coffee in hand. “I called your grandfather ahead of time and told him that you overslept. Now your lunch is on the table by the door. Have a good day, Mac. Also be back before 1800.”

Snatching it off the table, stuffing it into his bag. He waved at his father, calling out a quick love you and ran like hell towards the city. Dodging people left and right, ducking under and jumping over things, all the while getting shouted at. Waving them off with a cheeky grin and continuing on his way to his grandfather’s dojo. Now, Mac is no stranger when it comes to showing off and boy does he love doing parkour just to get others attention. Rather it be jumping from car to car, or lamppost to lamppost you name it he's done it.

Turning a corner, Macaque slowed his pace to walk. Breathing heavily he took a moment to steady his breathing in and out, inhale and exhale. Relaxing the mind and body. Now with a steady breathing, Mac continued his way to the dojo. The jet black-furred monkey had finally made it to his grandfather’s dojo. Macaque had opened the door… THWACK. He was met with a staff to the head.

“ACK! Geez, you old monkey! The hell was that for?!” Macaque exclaimed while rubbing his throbbing head. The elder monkey cheekily grinned and then laughed. “Oh ho, my dear grandson, this is the last year of having you as my student. It’s a must.”

Glaring at the elderly still rubbing the now sore spot, he marched right past and grumbled. “Yeah, it’s a must, my ass.” Which resulted in another hit to his backside. “Gah! Oh that tears it! You lost your staff privileges.” Grabbing it away from his grandfather, Mac tossed it up on to a high self and out of the old monkey’s reach.

“My grandson! Why must you treat me this way?! Do you want me not to get back off the floor if I were to fall!?” He scoffed at the dramatic monkey and went about his business. Placing his bag by the coffee table making his way to boxes of new year’s decorations. It’s like this every year, that old monkey waits till the last minute to set up for the new year.

Some time passes and the dojo is all decorated. Macaque is sprawled out on the couch napping. With one arm on his chest and right leg propped on the arm of the coach as the other arm and leg dangle off the side. A shack lunch bag sitting on the table with an empty bowl and half eaten mooncake sat to the side. The six eared monkey murmuring in his sleep scratches an itch on the side of his face.

“Mmm pha~ so sleepy.” He stretched, waking his tired bones and himself. Lazily setting up, macaque still with a sleep dazed expression looking at the wall clock which read 1800… fuck was all he could think without bedding his grandfather good bye, Mac grabbed his bag and bolted for the door and barreled down the streets.

‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. OH SHIT! I’m late, I'm late, I'm late! Dad’s gonna kill me!!’ He inwardly cried. Macaque wasn’t paying any attention until fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars drove by causing him to jump back. Something wasn’t right you usually don’t see that many emergency responders unless… oh god no… please no! No! Don’t let it be the town he called home all his life. Running faster, dodging, jumping, and zipping by people not caring for the shouts. Macaque just had to get home. He has to know, just has to. Mac can’t lose another parent; he can't! His mother is already gone. He’s not ready to lose his father.

Arriving home, Mac was horrified by the state that everything was in. The town was gone, nothing remained where it once was. Everything and I mean everything was burning. The firemen were busy putting out the fires, policemen set up blockades, and the EMS were checking up on people and loading up the injured.

His mind raced and his body shook with rage. One question popped into his thoughts. Who did this?

Present Moment

Both father and son stare at the sight. This once was their home; the lively town is just... hell. A heavy silence fell between them. Neither one dared to speak, the somber cries filled their ears. The six-eared monkey regretted going into the city when he should've stayed to help the townspeople. The older male patted his son's shoulder in comfort.

"It'll be alright, Mac. We can get through this just like before. A monkey troop of two! We're warriors, remember that my boy." His worn face bore a wide grin. So optimistic the man was.

Mac huffed a laugh and nodded, "Yeah, just like before."

Before… back when his mother was killed. That moment haunts him. The blood pooling around her body; the scared expression ever frozen on her face.

"Macaque, son… I know I miss her too." Pulling him into a much needed hug. "She'll always love you. You're her little shadow warrior."

"Guess, grandpa is gonna have guests for new years after all." Macaque spoke. The pain in his voice was a dead give away.

The father nods, "Come now, son, let's go and spend the new year with Huizhong."

[jonjon47]

Desire

A secret worth telling

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”

          Federico García Lorca

This is my secret.

I have wanted to write this up for a long time.

I have had the hots for my cousins from a rather early age. I stayed with their family in Michigan over the summer after I turned sixteen. My aunt got me a job working at a neighboring riding academy, painting, feeding the horses and cleaning out the to make money to help with restoring my 1958 MGTD (an antique car) and movie money. My 2 girl cousins and I would do all this sexy teasing and flirting but we were young and cousins, so nothing ever came of it… it was always the 3 of us together and that made it awkward for anyone to make a move. That was ok, cause neither was thinking of making a move…just all this crazy teasing.

There was the incident of them looking over the outdoor shower-changing area where I was taking a shower and getting dressed after swimming in the nearby pond. They got a look at me and the family jewels long before I ever even got a chance to see them in less than a rather staid 2-piece bathing suit.

Before returning to Detroit, they set me up on a date with this cute bbw that was a friend of theirs, and we got into some heavy petting, while sitting on the stairs in the living room (smelly fingers). Was that 3rd base?

Then one of my cousins, Juicy, came out to California with her husband and baby and at one point I went down to LA to stay with them. We paled around for a few days and had a great time. We even went to Disneyland. We were great together having fun like good friends, though up till then I had never had a friend that was a girl. However, there was some slight undercurrent of more than just buddies.

Sometime later she came up to the Bay Area to stay with my parents and then up to the City to do the tourist thing going to the Golden Gate Park, Fisherman’s Wharf and Sausalito and all, with me. I then went down to be with her a couple of days at my parent’s home. That is where things really got intense. While sitting on the couch and watching TV late into the night we got touchy feely. Here we were watching a late movie under a blanket and I was rubbing her leg under her skirt and she was getting up close to my dick. We just sat there watching the television and stroking each other. No way we could lean over and kiss as that really would be dangerous.

We had to go out for a walk, in order to kiss and hug and express our awakening lust, outside beyond the eyes and ears of my mother and father and her baby girl. We walked around the neighborhood with these intense sexual vibrations washing over us. Pushing up against a tree in the shadows we had some incredible full opened mouthed kisses; she reached down and stroked my cock and I rubbed her pussy through her panties but nothing more came of it…at the house with the rest of the family and her child, there was no way to get down and going off in the car at night to a motel wouldn’t be possible either or maybe we weren’t ready for that step right then…

This was very, very heavy for the both of us. However, it was later clear that she had come to the decision to go beyond this steamy interlude, as I would find out few years later.

Actually, many years later, married and separated and living in Venezuela, I went up to Florida for my grandfather’s funeral and we were housed in a neighbor’s place across the street from my grandmother’s place. Juicy was in the master bedroom and I was across the hall. That didn’t last long as we spent the next 3 nights ravishing each other.

I lived very far away, but here I was on a business trip to the USA that took me close to Juicy’s home and I contacted her to see if my partner and I could stay overnight at her place, as we had calls to make in the same town. I just thought it would be great to see her again. I wasn’t really thinking we would get into any hot lusty sex thing… well maybe it was at the back of my mind to see where the feelings from before could take us but it wasn’t the intention, I had for going there. Not really, really.

Well, what would you know? When we drove up, she let us know that her husband and the father to her 2 children, was out of town on a business, and the girls were spending the night with friends.

That bit of reality changed the atmosphere immediately.

We had dinner together and as my partner didn’t speak English and didn’t know my cousin, he went off to watch TV and early to bed, and Juicy and I sat down talking, flirting really. As the evening progressed things got more and more exciting or hot, I’d have to write. I mean we did the down and dirty a few times, including forward cowgirl, back door.

In the morning, before others were up, we snuck into a downstairs ½ bathroom. Though the appendage was over worked she was determined and with skillful mouth and hands on her part, we were able to get it up and fucked quietly on the counter, front over the edge and leaning forward with me standing behind her, sort of standing doggy.

  Later.

Some years later while in Florida to help with some family business, I met up with Red-hot, my younger cousin from the Midwest, who was there to help with the same thing. For some reason we were in the same hotel, different floors, rooms, but the same place. After the family meetings we went to see Kiss of the Spiderwoman and on the way out we picked up some fast-food burgers and fries and took them back to my room to eat.

I didn’t have a swim suit with me but I went down to swim in the hotel pool in jockey, tighty-whities while she sat on the edge with her feet in the water talking with me. Obviously, when I got out the tighty-whities were partially transparent and clinging to my lower-body parts. What can I say, I was on display.

After the swim we went up to our rooms. I changed and Red-Hot came to my room to watch TV with me. There were 2 queen size beds and we each took one and settled in to watch some dumb series. I wish I knew what got us started, but it wasn’t long before she was in my bed or me in her bed and we started kissing and touching and caressing, and well we fucked like teenagers in heaven, back seat of the family sedan like hot lust.

In the morning we had another go at it and she said to do it hard. “I like it hard, do it harder, shake my world.” Or something like that.

She went to her room to change for the day and was surprised by a message from her husband who wondered where she was late at night.

We went out for breakfast and I have never see her again, though we have sent messages over social media apps.

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Make A Scene

AMHL – Masterlist

Dick immediately noticed when Y/N started getting quieter and quieter as they got closer and closer to the venue.

Bruce had hired a driver to pick them up from their apartment in Gotham. And the car had gone quiet now. 

Dick reached over to gently hold her hand.

“Nervous?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, not really seeing the point in trying to lie to her boyfriend.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, ya know.”

She gave him a look. “You know that wasn’t the same.” Her eyes flickered to the driver. “I wasn’t exactly…myself. And I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

Also, tonight they didn’t have the security and comfort of being at Wayne Manor.

No, instead this particular event was being held at the ballroom of Gotham’s most extravagant five-star hotel. It was a party for Wayne Enterprises, not a personal charity or party of the Wayne family.

Bruce had kindly asked Dick and Y/N to attend when board members and business partners started asking if the whole family would be attending. Jason hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts about it. None of them expected him to show up. Tim had to attend since he worked for Wayne Enterprises. And Damian…Well, Damian was his father’s son and not yet an adult. He basically had to do whatever Bruce asked of him while he lived under his roof.

“I’m not gonna leave your side,” Dick promised.

He squeezed her hand to further emphasize it.

Their car pulled up to the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

There had to be a hundred journalists and photographers, along with random civilians who had nothing better to do than to see Gotham’s elite get out of cars and walk into a hotel.

Dick took in a deep breath.

Thankfully the car’s windows were tinted and protected them from any onlookers.

“Ready?” He asked her.

She nodded.

Dick opened the door and ignored the screams and flashes as he carefully helped Y/N out of the car with his offered hand. He also shielded her from the photographers to give her a moment to get out and adjust herself before they could capture any photos of her.

“Mr. Grayson! Mr. Grayson! Who is your mystery girlfriend?” Someone yelled.

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dick was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham City through association.

It wasn’t like people were asking for selfies everywhere he went. Or that the paparazzi were following his every move.

But in Gotham, people took note of where Dick Grayson went and who he was with.

And everyone noticed he’d had the same woman on his arm for quite some time now.

Even though Y/N and Dick had been dating for over a year, the media still couldn’t figure out Y/N’s identity. 

What they didn’t realize was that she controlled every single piece of information about herself that lived on the internet.

They didn’t stand a chance. 

Dick smiled and waved at people who called his name. But his hand other hand never left Y/N’s as he helped her up the stairs.

“Who are you wearing?” A female journalist yelled at Y/N.

She ignored them and focused on getting up the stairs without tripping and face planting. Not that Dick would ever let that happen.

However, she knew her outfit was going to draw gazes.

Y/N had made a promise to herself that if she was going to be forced to attend events like this with Dick, then she was going make a statement. People were already going to be staring at her, so she figured she might as well give them something good to stare at.

Instead of wearing a typical cocktail and formal dress, Y/N wore a full men’s suit that was tailored to perfection, but with the bowtie undone. It was what the fashion magazines would describe as “androgynous” in the press tomorrow morning.

Y/N wanted to control her own narrative. And she’d rather be judged for her bold decisions than just her trying to blend in.

Bruce insisted on paying for all the boys’ date’s dresses – in this case, suit – if they happened to bring one. He always thought it was more of an incentive for them to attend these terrible events if he encouraged them to bring significant others. And the press always had a field day with it, which only helped throw people of their trail when it came to their secret lives as vigilantes.

Everyone kept screaming Dick’s name as they walked in, and Y/N wondered how he got so good at smiling through the chaos and ignoring them.

Once they were inside, Dick felt the tension leave Y/N’s body a bit.

“Alcohol?” He offered with a smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, knowing it was exactly what she needed.

Quickly, he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter.

They clinked glasses.

Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my date.”

Y/N smiled at his sincerity.

Dick sighed before he threw back the champagne, “The quicker we find Bruce and prove we were here, the sooner we can leave.”

“Try not to sound so excited,” she laughed darkly.

Suddenly felt a small human wrap around her thighs.

Y/N gasped in excitement, “Dami!”

Dick smiled as he looked down at his 10-year-old brother hugging his girlfriend.

“Dick gave me the drawing you made for us. It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to find the perfect frame for it,” she told the boy.

Damian beamed with pride at that.

Suddenly the boy started asking a million questions about Stoker, one of his kittens that he’d given to them to take care of when Bruce gave a limit to how many cats Damian was allowed to have in the manor.

Then, to Dick’s shock, he saw Jason slowly walk over to them with his hands in his pant pockets.

He was not at all dressed nice enough for the event. No suit jacket. No tie. His white button-up shirt wrinkled, messily tucked into his pants, and with two many buttons undone. The sloppiness of it all clearly wasn’t an issue with the women, seeing as all of them were ogling Jason.

“Todd,” Damian greeted coldly, pausing his conversation with Y/N, who whipped around at the name.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled as she went to greet him.

Jason gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“I really didn’t think you were coming,” Dick told his brother.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I got a business engagement.”

Y/N and Dick shared a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“I found my neighbor crying on her fire escape a few nights ago. Apparently… one of the finance bros of Wayne fucking Enterprises was everything but a gentleman to her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “J, I already took care of that.”

“I know,” Jason nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He was clearly on a personal mission tonight. “You deleted the evidence. I am teaching him a lesson.”

Dick slowly put together what they were implying.

“Oh, please don’t make a scene, Jason.” Dick begged him.

Because he knew Bruce wouldn’t be dealing with the aftermath; it would be him.

“Don’t worry!” Jason laughed. "I’m gonna take him outside before I beat the shit out of him. No one here will even notice. It’ll be fine,” Jason assured him as he gave Dick a far too heavy slap on the back.

“Just tell Bruce and he’ll get him fired,” Dick tried to convince him to take the less violent route.

“Oh, we already did,” Y/N muttered.

Dick’s gaze shot to his girlfriend.

“He’s getting fired on Monday,” she clarified sheepishly.

“Since when do the two of you work together behind my back?” Dick accused them.

But he wasn’t actually mad about anything – maybe just a little bit bitter.

Jason opened his mouth.

“I swear to God, Jason, if you say ‘club business,’ I will lose it…” Dick warned.

Y/N tried to hide her smile.

“Got him,” Jason growled as he glared at someone on the other side of the room.

As soon as he left them, Dick gave Y/N his full attention.

“Seriously?” He accused.

“I’m sorry! He asked me for a favor and I was happy to do it once I realized what it was,” Y/N defended.

Dick pouted a little. Mostly because he hated being left out.

“Don’t worry, ya big baby. I’m still your ‘guy in the chair’ and no one else’s,” she teased before giving him a kiss, immediately wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“How come Jason gets to beat up people at events like this, but I’m expected to behave like a well-trained dog?” Damian mumbled.

Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Jason likes to think he’s a lone wolf who doesn’t have to play by the rules,” Y/N tried to comfort the boy.

To distract Damian from getting further into how unfair it was, Y/N asked him to show her more of his drawings.

This seemed to please Damian and he pulled his phone out, flipping through photos and showing Y/N his recent sketches.

With Y/N being entertained by his youngest brother, Dick decided to go to the bar and get the two of them a stronger drink and maybe get a kiddie cocktail for Damian. He’d pretend to be patronized and annoyed by it, but Dick knew better.

He patiently waited for the bartender’s attention. 

“So Gotham’s Golden Boy really has returned…” a husky voice uttered beside him at the bar.

Dick glanced over to see a beautiful woman close to his age eyeing him.

It was clear what she wanted. Dick used tactics like this on countless missions.

“So I have,” he answered.

He was polite, but distant.

Women hitting on him at events like this was nothing new. To Gotham, Dick Grayson was a Bruce Wayne 2.0 – younger, just as charming and handsome as his mentor and stand-in father figure. 

Dick knew how to play the game. But he never had any interest in casual relationships like Bruce did.

“Back for good?” The woman persisted.

“My girlfriend and I are just in town for a few weeks,” he answered before ordering his drinks with the bartender finally.

“Oh, brought up the girlfriend rather quickly,” she laughed.

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…my friends and I had a bet going.”

Then she pointed to a group of three young women, who were giggling and smiling, not even trying to pretend like they weren’t watching them closely.

“Oh, yeah?” Dick asked, already tired of this conversation.

--

Jason had already rejoined Y/N and Damian.

Y/N looked down to see his knuckles red with irritation and bruised.

“Please tell me there’s not a corpse in the alley behind this hotel now…” Y/N sighed.

“No,” Jason answered coldly. “Though there fucking should be.”

“What did he do?” Damian asked curiously, clearly he hadn’t been listening to their earlier conversation that closely.

Y/N shifted her weight in discomfort, not sure how to handle the subject with the boy. Yes, Damian was far more mature than many grown men, but he was still just a kid. There were some things Y/N felt like they should at least try to protect him from still. 

“He got my neighbor too drunk to consent, filmed them having sex without her knowing it, and then showed it to a bunch of people at their work,” Jason answered bluntly.

Damian’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking long and hard about what his brother just told him.

After a moment, the boy perked up, “I know where we could hide the body so even father won’t find out.”

“Damian!” Y/N scolded.

But Jason was beaming.

Y/N looked around for Dick, hoping to find another sane person to stop the two boys from actually murdering anyone tonight.

But when she finally spotted him, she saw a woman standing far too close to Dick and pointing to a group of girls who flirtatiously waved and winked at both of them.

“Real cute,” Y/N muttered to herself.

“Vultures,” Damian growled as he followed her gaze.

“Jason, if I leave you alone with Damian, are you going to kill someone?” She asked without taking her eyes off her boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Damian groaned.

“No, I need you to watch Jason to make sure he doesn’t change his mind about keeping that asshole alive.”

“Fine,” Damian whined.

Without any further confirmation, Y/N left them. 

She walked across the party on a mission, never taking her stare off of her boyfriend.

Dick did a double take when he noticed her heading towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted innocently.

Because he was innocent. All he’d done was be polite to a bunch of women who were after him for his name…and maybe his good looks.

“I was wondering where my drink was,” Y/N said with a surprising calmness and smile.

Then she turned to the woman. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be a friend of Dick’s.” 

She held her hand out.

No cattiness. No rudeness.

Y/N said it with the same kindness that drunk women having with other drunk women in bar bathrooms.

“Oh…I’m Irina,” the woman stuttered as she took Y/N’s offered hand, clearly confused by Y/N’s niceness.

Dick held out her drink.

Y/N took it, quickly clinked her glass with both Dick and Irina.

“Cheers,” she sang before tossing it back and chugging the drink that was meant to be slowly sipped.

Dick didn’t know what game his girlfriend was playing, but he was intrigued.

Once Y/N lightly placed her empty glass back on the bar, she turned to Dick and tilted her head to the side. “Could you show me to the bathrooms? I have no idea where they are.”

“Of course,” Dick answered without knowing where this was going.

“It was nice meeting you, Irina,” Y/N told the woman as she linked her fingers with Dick’s and guided him away.

—

Meanwhile, Jason watched the interaction as if he were watching an award-winning movie. Him and Damian were way too far to hear, but everyone in the bat family could read lips more than fluently.

Then Jason smirked as he watched Y/N drag Dick away.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted as he snuck up on the two of them. “What are we staring at?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason hummed with hilarity, “just watching Y/N assert her dominance.”

“Good for her,” Bruce grinned as he realized what was happening.

He moved his attention to his youngest boy. “Alfred is waiting outside with the car. You’re officially released from your duties.”

“Finally,” Damian groaned.

“Don’t you wanna say bye to Y/N?” Jason asked.

“They’re coming to the manor tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce answered for his son. Then he raised a brow at Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Jason’s only response was a shrug.

Bruce tried to hide his disappointment and nodded before he guided Damian away and walked him outside, where Alfred was waiting.

10 minutes later, Jason saw Dick trailing behind Y/N as she walked back to the main area of the event.

Jason burst out laughing at the spectacle. 

Dick’s hair was an absolute mess. Half of his shirt was untucked. His jacket was draped over his forearm. His lips were swollen and pink. Y/N had left lipstick all over his neck and even a bit on the collar of his shirt.

Yet somehow not a single hair was out of place on Y/N and her makeup was still immaculate. Her outfit was just as sleek and clean as when she’d arrived. The only thing different was the proud smirk on her lips.

Clearly Y/N had just had her way with Dick.

But she wanted to make sure the whole party knew about it.

—

Y/N hadn’t said a word to Dick since she dragged him from that woman.

Her body did all the talking.

One second they were at the bathroom doors, the next Y/N had thrown him against the tiled wall after locking the bathroom door.

She gave no verbal explanation, just started kissing him and undoing his pants.

“Not that I’m complaining. Like, at all,” Dick laughed as they rejoined the party. “But wanna to tell me what that was all about?”

Y/N finally stopped walking and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “I think you know, Richard.”

Y/N only ever used his full first name to provoke and tease him. And he hated that it worked every single time.

Dick glanced around to see that everyone in their vicinity was eyeing them. Well, they were mostly eyeing him and how it was clear he’d just been fucked in the bathroom.

He stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “Ohhh, I see how it is.” His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second. “If a guy does that, he’s jealous and possessive. But if a woman does it, it’s sexy…”

Y/N proudly smiled like the cheshire cat. “Exactly.”

Something over his shoulder caught her attention. “Oh, I see Tim. I’m going to go say hi.”

Without hesitation, she brushed past him.

Dick let his head fall, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

He’d pay her back later tonight. And by ‘pay her back,’ he would just tell her how incredibly hot her behavior had been and basically invite her to do it whenever she damn well pleased.

Dick felt a presence beside him, and he didn’t have to raise his head to know it was Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick greeted him nonchalantly.

“You have lipstick all over your neck,” Bruce told him as he took a sip of his drink and looked around the party. “And your zippers down.”

“Sure is,” Dick sighed.

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

OK. This was way too fun to write. 

Let me know what you think!!!

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

[its-warm-in-here]

Playing Pretend

I’m sorry I didn't get this up sooner. I gutted the end but here’s the first part of the first chapter of a Heisenberg x reader fic that will probably go on too long. This is more of a prolog. No smut yet! Written with a female reader in mind, but I may have versions for both m and f when the final product goes up. Gonna start out kinda fluffy before we get darker. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

Summary: This summer trip to Romania was supposed to be momentous, life changing, and the bases for your master’s thesis. Too bad the villagers want you gone and this ‘Mother Miranda’ won't even see you. Luckily, you run into a greasy engineer who says he can help.

Or

Karl tries to take a day off from being ‘Lord Heisenberg’ with the cute stranger who wandered into the village. Things only spiral from there.

~2080 words

Miranda loved the yearly festivals. She always made a big show of the village, flowers and banners everywhere. The townsfolk would bring out their best clothing, even if their best was still black and brown. The dreary village would come alive with drinking, dancing and merry making. Even some of the neighboring villages would join in the festivities. The town would be near bustling, the local tavern would be full, laughter and song would echo from the church to the castle.

He hated it. All of it. Heisenberg avoided the celebrations, instead opting to stay holed up in his factory as much as possible. And it wasn't just because of the excess of people, while that didn't help. No, it was an insidious purpose for these gatherings. He exhaled a ring of cigar smoke.

First, boost morale through the village and reaffirm the people's faith in Mother Miranda. Second, and far more insidious, was to widen the flock, to expand her influence and bring in new blood for her experiments. The surrounding towns were just as small and removed from the rest of the world as Miranda's village. Made it easy to bring new blood under her wing. Youth would meet and marry, a drunk or four would go missing, and some of the visitors would become new members of Miranda's community. More meat for her Cadou grinder.

Heisenberg flicked the ash from his cigar and watched it float down before the wind caught it. The early morning view from the top of his factory wasn't bad. It was his own part of the world: no view of the village, the stench of the reservoir was nonexistent, and the most he could see of Castle Dimitrescu was a massive wall keeping their territory separated. Just him and his machines. He took another puff. As much as he planned to avoid today, Heisenberg knew that he would have to make at least some appearance. All the Lords did, even if it was just for a moment. Just another way to show her power; having all of her ‘children’ before the townsfolk. He grimaced at the thought. Târgul de Fete was set to start soon. At least that gave him the morning to get shit done. Heisenberg kicked a bit of metal scrap off the roof and it bounced off the scrap heap below with a ping! before landing in the dirt. He rolled his shoulder. Time to get to work.

---

"Well fuck you too!" You slammed the door behind you.  Why even bother going through the proper channels? No matter what, they turn you down, tell you to leave and treat you like an outcast. You spoke to towns folk, to village leaders, hell, you even wanted an audience with their 'Mother Miranda,' but she refused to even see you! You stormed along the path and the few people that had not made their way to the Târgul de Fete celebration steered clear of you, opting to give you a side eye and shuffle to their destination. All you wanted was to observe their festival, and maybe take a few pictures, but even that was negotiable. You had even offered to leave your camera behind with them for the day. Why hadn't you gone to Sweden with the rest of your class? No, instead you went to some culty, backwater town in Romania!

You kicked a rock, hard, sending it flying into the tall grass. "God Damnit!" This was supposed to have been your thesis! Supposed to be life changing! No, now you were just stuck, miles from any true civilization and being kicked out of some stupid, ramshackle heap, whose plants can't even grow right in a Romanian summer. Some of the plants were barely green, most appeared dry or yellowing. The flowers were either wilted and falling apart or hadn't even bloomed. You were no botanist, but you were certain that wasn't healthy.

You kicked another rock, it soared through the grass, but it struck something metal this time before landing with a thud. They didn't want you here, didn't want you at Târgul de Fete? Fine, but they didn't take your camera. Without thinking, you dug the old DSLR out of your bag and snapped a picture of the church.

And immediately deleted it.

You signed. Even if the villagers were a bunch of jackasses, this was their culture and they made it very clear that you were not welcome. Even if they had agreed to all this three months ago. And even if they had called you a bad omen, a poison and a danger to the whole village.  You weren't about to infringe. Crestfallen, you huffed your bag over your shoulder and began the trek back out of town. It was at least a four hour walk to your rental car and a good chunk of that walk was more of a hike. Not like there was much you could do other than leave after cussing out the town speakers and nearly slamming the door off its hinges.

The village had felt abandoned when you walked in, and now that everyone had headed off to a celebration, the village was positively desolate. No traditional brightly-colored dresses or intricate belts to be seen. And no wary or hostile glares from the inhabitants either. It was... quiet. Aside from the occasional crow, you might as well have been in a ghost town. It took you a bit to find the correct path out of the grave yard, but after spinning in circles for a good moment, you pushed past a red door and were back on your way. The village wasn't large, most of the paths were poorly maintained and the whole place was enveloped in a strange fish smell.

You bit the inside of your cheek. This was a good thing, really. Who would've wanted to stay in the ramshackle place for more than a few hours, let alone a few days? You groaned and kicked at the ground again. While not lacking in repellent attributes, the pagan worship of the place fascinated you.  They had their own religion but had incorporated traditional Romania holidays into their culture. Where else in Europe could you see that happen in real time? Of course, you could think of a couple of places, but you had picked here in the Carpathian mountains in particular! While you did have a second choice, you couldn't stop the self pity from setting in.

Ugh.

The village was relatively small and was quickly fading to forest, the castle that overlooked the town vanished behind you as you shuffled down a particularly steep part of the path. The trees here looked more normal, less sickly. While it was only marginally, you felt a bit better, a bit less mad. Stepping away from that place was a breath of fresh air.

Your boots skid a bit as you reach a flat spot. With a huff, you grip both backpack straps to center yourself.  If this couldn't be your thesis, that didn't mean you had to hate the walk. This was Romania afterall, when was the next time you were going to be here? The sky may be overcast, but it sort of added to the eerie charm of this place. You sidestepped your way down another steep incline, using one hand to grip overgrown branches for balance. The last step is a bit further, but you find your footing easily.

And the rock gave way under you, tilting forward with an abrupt grinding sound. A burst of panicked adrenaline rushed through as you struggled to stop. You pitch forward, stumbling over branches and underbrush, your eyes forcibly losing focus.

"The fuck?"

That wasn't your voice. You slammed full force into something, another body? And it gives under you. The other person takes the brunt of the fall, landing on their back with a distinct, "oof."

For a moment, you don't speak, too focused on catching the breath. Finally, your vision swims back and you find your voice, "Damnit... are you ok?"

The man under you goans, sitting half way up to look you over. His hair is grey, and a bit too long, but he couldn't be any older than forty, possibly younger. "Get off." Your eyes go wide and that panicked beat fills your chest. "Ya deaf? Off."

"Er, right," you scramble to your feet and, without thinking, extend a hand to the stranger, "Sorry about... that." You gestured vaguely to the path. "Lost my balance."

He lets out an exasperated huff, and knocks your hand away. For a moment, he doesn't acknowledge you, instead retrieving something from the grass behind him. He's wearing a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up with black leather gloves. You force yourself to look somewhere, anywhere else, nervously bouncing from foot to foot. When he turns back to you, he has a tattered, wide brim hat in place and is looking over a pair of broken sunglasses. One of the lenses was clearly shattered, but he hooked them over his shirt collar, his attention finally turning to you. "You're not from around here, huh?”

You couldn't help but snort, "What gave it away, the wind breaker? Don't worry, I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" He repeats.

You start moving back to the path. "Yup, your village speaker has made that very clear."

"They were clear? Not all back and forth on it?" He chuckles, "That's impressive, they must really not like you."

You stare at him, was this a friendly face? It was certainly a handsome face, even with scarring and stubble. But a trustworthy one? "You sure you're ok? Didn't scramble that brain when I ran into you? The rest of the town was pretty dead set on driving me out."

" 'Cause they're a bunch of morons, sweetheart," he insisted, "All part of Mother Miranda's big, idiot mob."

"Huh," you are walking ahead on the path, and he's not but a footfall behind you.

"But they don't matter."

"No?"

"What matters is, why didn't they want you here?"

You stop, turning to face this stranger. He was gruff, and more than a little rude, but in comparison to the townsfolk, he was downright friendly. Hell, you were surprised he was so forward with you.  "Masters thesis," you put plainly, hoping he'll leave it at that.

"On what?"

"Anthropology."

He leaned in close. He wasn't that much taller than you, but you couldn't help but move away from his imposing figure. From this distance, you could smell motor oil and some kind of smoke on his clothes. "That's it?" You scoff, the sooner you are back in your car the better. "I just mean, it's surprising they'd want you gone. You sure there's nothing else? Didn't kick over any goat statues?"

"Not that I noticed," you started back down the path. You'd wasted too much time talking to this weirdo anyway. Just based on his demeanor and dislike of the rest of the village, you wonder if you'd maybe tripped over the town pariah. He certainly wasn't dressed like anyone else from the village.

"I could get you back in."

You stopped, not fifteen feet from him. "You're assuming I want to go back in." And didn’t you? You just risk getting yelled at again. But if there was a chance to write your thesis...

“Well, if you're not interested,” he turned to leave. You grit your teeth, your nails digging deep into your backpack straps.

“Hold up!" It doesn't take much to catch up to him. "How exactly are we going to do this?"

"My word carries a certain amount of weight," he carried on, "Though,  the village doesn't meet on these matters till next week."

"But what good does that-"

He isn't listening, "For today, I know a place you can watch the town. Besides, you're an Archeologist, you probably want an interview, right?" Of course he gestures to himself with a sort of half bow.

You roll your eyes, but still follow, "Anthropologist." He gives you a blank look. "I'm studying Anthropology, not Archeology."

He doesn't seem to care, instead pulling a cigar and lighter from his pants pocket. "Got a name?"

"Oh, (y/n). You?"

The stranger is part way up on the path you had tripped down. "Karl," he had extended you a gloved hand. You look from him to his hand, before brushing past him, pulling yourself up next to him without the offered aid.

[rjhpandapaws]

Heyyo Panda!! I have another ask for you, but only if I’m not being a pain in the ask.

I’m picking the prompt “Lost” for allen60.

Pls tell me about their camping trip from hell, which was actually a blessing in disguise. (They get together miles from civilisation, through a series of hilarious arguments about who misread the map)

//You are never a pain send as many as you like!! //I am going to go with Canonverse because that just seems like it would be the most fun.

“You can just admit we’re lost Six, no one is going to judge you.” Allen said after he waited five minutes for Sixty to either look up from the map or come off of red, “You’re allowed to make mistakes.” They’d originally pulled into the rest stop parking lot because Allen thought he had missed an exit somewhere and wanted to check the map. When he drove on the interstate lone enough everything started to look the same and he was liable to miss his turn off, which was exactly why he started taking trips like this with company. So he could have a navigator. Most of the time he would take Gavin or someone from his unit, but when he brought it up he learned Sixty had never been on a camping trip. So he chose to take him instead. As he watched Sixty pour over the map as his LED cycled to show he had at least heard Allen he understood a few of the placed he had gone wrong. Sixty had never been outside of Detroit, he could look up land marks almost instantly, but that didn’t mean he would recognize them. After being shot in the head, and then brought back he processed things a little slower than most androids. Allen was relatively certain he was witnessing one of those loops. “Hey, Six.” He tried again, “Sixty.”

“What?” He finally responded, his tone was sharp as he looked up at Allen with evident frustration, “I am trying to figure out where we are. I can’t triangulate with your constant talking.” “Six, there isn’t any cell service out here.” Allen explained, “That’s kind of the point of the trip.” There was a long beat of silence. It was eventually punctuated by the crinkling of paper and Allen was handed back a neatly folded map, “Well then Captain, congratulation’s we’re lost.” If it were anyone else Allen would have laughed, “I’ll head inside and ask for directions. Do you want to come with me? They might have something you can sample.” “Sure.” He replied and they both got out. The thing about getting directions from locals was that they tended to use landmarks that “everyone” knows. Which renders them all but useless if you’re from out of the area, but it was still endearing to see Sixty try his best to find them. Even if watching him down dish-soap like it was soda was an unsettling part to the image.

Sixty’s face when they finally made it to a camp ground was worth all of it. This wasn’t the planned one of course, they’d taken a few too many wrong turns for that, but it would work. It was far away from the rest of the world and they would both have a chance to just be. Sixty’s face was plastered to the window, his radio active green dish-soap was in the cup holder long forgotten as he took in the scenery. They didn’t run in to their next problem until they got to their plot. In all of Allen’s planning, or lack there of in this case, he hadn’t accounted for small town ideals on androids. On either side of them were camping trailers adorned with Anti-Android stickers and flags. He didn’t want Sixty to be surrounded by this for the next three days, it had been part of what Allen was trying to get him away from. “Interesting neighbors.” Was all Sixty had to say about it, “We should probably get the tent set up before it gets dark. You don’t have night vision.” “Six, we can find another place, you don’t have to do this.” Allen said carefully. “It’s not every day that I get to ruin two people’s weekends.” He looked back at Allen with a smile, “If anything happens we have the authority to deal with it, relax okay? Besides I don’t exactly want to risk getting lost again.” That was a fair point. They weren’t from here, and Allen didn’t want to spend the first night of their weekend car camping, “Alright, but if they start anything, come to me okay.” “Sure.” He said in a way that let Allen know, that was the opposite of what was going to happen.

Setting up a tent was always a nightmare, not as much as taking down, but it did make the list of things Allen hated the most about camping; and that was before Sixty managed to get tangled up in the tent fabric. All of the things to be said in compliment of prototype androids considered, the one thing Allen wished they came with was common sense. “Okay stop laughing and help me please Allen.” Sixty said when it became clear that Allen was in fact not on his way over, “I did everything according to the pictures and now I am stuck and there is no tent.” “You did them out of order Six.” He replied when he caught his breath, “And I really don’t know what else went wrong to get you stuck like that.” “I don’t care what went wrong, just get me out.” He snapped. One untangled android and a couple of hours later, the tent was finally set up. It was dim enough now that Sixty’s LED was a little more noticeable. Allen was on edge, but Sixty at least seemed content to sit and watch the fire, and Allen had learned to keep the lighter fluid away from him. If he wasn’t trying to start a forest fire he was drinking it. Which all things considered, was something Allen should have seen coming. “I can see your stress levels rising Captain.” Sixty looked up from the fire, and seeing the flame dancing in his eyes was a little unsettling if he was honest, “They won’t try anything tonight, they are only observing. So relax and come join me by the fire.”

“Call me Allen while we’re out here Six.” He replied as he made his way over, “We’re off hours, I’m not your captain.” “Alright then Allen,” He grinned at the way Sixty said his name with all the enthusiasm of a child that had been told they were allowed to swear, “You were the one who said vacations were about relaxing, so sit down and relax.” Allen took the open chair beside Sixty and made a show of sitting down, “Happy?” “Sure, so what do we do now?” He asked, “We’ve started a fire, and I’m not allowed to stick anything in it, so what else do people do when they camp. Other than sleep outside.” “First of all, you aren’t allowed to put anything in the fire because you will find a way to burn the entire campground down.” Allen sighed, “Usually people will tell horror stories or make smores, but you can’t eat so...” “So tell me a horror story.” He replied. “I don’t know any good ones.” He said with a shrug. Sixty groaned, “So we’re just supposed to sit and stare at the fire until it goes out?” As if on cue there was a distant roll of thunder and it began pouring rain. Allen cursed under his breath and made for the tent and Sixty followed after him. They made it inside before Allen got soaked to the bone and zipped it up behind them, they could figure out something to do once the rain let up.

Except the storm didn’t actually let up at all. At one point it even hailed. Allen wanted to kick himself for not checking the weather before they left, but he had figured Sixty would know despite this being his first camping trip. In a way though, being holed up in a tent with Sixty wasn’t all that bad. At the very least it was warmer then being out in the elements. The hardest part was avoiding spilling his guts to Sixty. There wasn’t much else they could do other than talk because Sixty counted the card every time they tried to play a game. It wasn’t his fault, probability calculation was one of the few things he couldn’t turn off because it was tied directly to how he operated. So they talked, a lot. Allen about his childhood and why he enjoyed camping so much, and Sixty on what it was like to be an android. The more he learned about Sixty the harder it became to keep these things to himself. He started to use endearments for Sixty, and he didn’t catch himself. It wasn’t until the last day when they were packing up despite the rain that either one of them acknowledged it, and at that it wasn’t Allen who brought it up. It was Sixty. “Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly. “Which ‘it’ exactly?” It was poor way to deflect but Allen was nervous. “All of it any of it.” He replied, “Am I really someone you don’t mind being trapped in the woods with.” Allen closed the trunk of his car and leaned against it. He was soaked through, but he didn’t mind, the heater in his car worked fine. He didn’t reply until Sixty looked at him. It was the moment of truth, “I meant every word of all of it, and given the chance you are the only person I would make a habit of getting stranded in the woods with.” The kiss that came after seemed natural, it was a long time coming Allen supposed and as he drove back with one hand in Sixty’s he decided they could probably make a tradition out of getting lost together.

(Prompt from this list)

@asset35-maya

[keltonwrites]

I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed.  “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

Subscribe to the newsletter here. Follow on Instagram here.

[onlysarah235678]

A Little Bit

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

Request: Can you write about the reader working in healthcare/retail (during or not during COVID-your choice) and she meets Billie and they hit it off?

A/N:  So I wrote this a lot faster than I thought I would…don’t expect that to happen again. I hope this is okay. I decided to write about the members of healthcare we don’t always hear about. Also, my friend’s a vet so… enjoy?

Warnings: None? Brief mention of bugs?

It had been wandering around her neighborhood for weeks, but it wasn’t until today that Billie Dean paid it much attention. She’d assumed that the cat was one of her neighbor’s and they just let it roam around. She’d seen its lithe black form darting across the streets on days when she returned from filming late into the night, but besides briefly wondering about where it was going, she never spared it much thought.

However, as she peered under her deck at the sound of quiet meows, she realized she had a problem. She had been out working in her garden on one of her rare days off when she heard it. The medium had turned and seen a pair of eyes from across the yard, and despite her better judgement she went to investigate.

Now, as she stared at the black cat surrounded by her litter of 6, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting back to her garden anytime soon.

“Dr. Y/L/N, Lindsey just added another one to your morning.”

You tried not to groan in annoyance when you heard one of the vet assistants say this to you. The day had barely started, but things had been ridiculously busy. The practice you worked at had up to 5 other doctors working at a time on a regular weekday, but since today was Saturday, there were only two working.

Dr. Hahn and you.

The schedule had already been booked by the time you arrived to work, and it was just luck that you had a cancellation for your 11:30 slot. You had already planned on taking an early lunch when news of another appointment being scheduled came. You tried not to be annoyed because this was your job and you did love it. You were just exhausted. It had been a long week.

A long month really.

Since moving to L.A after finishing school, you hadn’t spent much time doing anything other than work. Let alone getting to know the city. You had jumped into your work and spent almost every waking minute thinking about it. As a new vet, you were trying your best to prove yourself and make a good impression at your job. You thought you were doing a fairly good job, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to have much time to yourself.

Other than walking your dog, Milo, who had made the cross-country trip with you, most of your free time was spent making sure you had the most up-to-date information out there to offer your clients. You didn’t want to be caught off guard, not again.

You eventually smiled at the assistant and thanked her despite wanting to glare instead.

“Thank you, Erin.”

It wasn’t her fault you weren’t getting your early lunch.

After corralling the cat and her kittens into the most suitable container she could find, Billie Dean was on her way to the vet. She had called a couple and unfortunately hadn’t been able to get an appointment so last minute. She had almost given up, when the last one she’d called had luckily had a cancellation for only about an hour away.

It was perfect timing until it took her almost 20 minutes to get the cats out from under the deck. The mom hadn’t trusted her immediately and it had taken some coaxing before she’d risked reaching out to pet the mother. While speaking more reassurances that she was sure the cats didn’t understand, Billie Dean collected all 6 kittens and the mother and loaded them into the front seat.

It wasn’t until she started driving that she realized she might be late. This clinic was almost 30 minutes away with normal weekend traffic. Billie Dean sighed before she made sure that all of the cats were still settled in the box before beginning to drive a little bit faster.

Hopefully she wouldn’t be too late.

“They’re late.”

You hadn’t realized it immediately because your last appointment ran over, but once 11:40 rolled around you realized that your 11:30 had never shown up.

You had looked over the details of the appointment quickly realizing that hopefully it would be routine kitten stuff. You hadn’t recognized the name of the owner because well, you didn’t watch much television. It wasn’t until the assistant you were working with for the morning, commented on it, that you realized that Billie Dean Howard was anything special.

“Oh no! She didn’t show up?? Ugh, I was dying to meet her.”

You turned to your disappointed assistant, Erin with a confused frown. You continued to type up your medical note from the last appointment before asking off-handedly.

“Who did you say she was again?”

If you had been paying more attention, you would have noticed Erin shoot you an incredulous look. Instead you were writing about the last patient’s bloodwork when the brunette finally answered you.

“Look, Dr. Y/L/N. I know you’re new to town, but how do you not know who Billie Dean Howard is?”

You just shrugged while shooting the younger woman a sheepish look. You were very good about being the last to know things. It wasn’t your fault you were so out of touch from school. There had hardly been any time for television when you were always studying.

“Sorry, you know I don’t watch much tv.”

Erin shook her head with a sigh before she decided to take pity on you. You finished typing your note and turned to face the other brunette as she explained to you who your missed appointment had been.

“She’s a famous medium who goes to various places around the world that are haunted for her television show. It’s so good, I watched an entire season yesterday.”

Before you had a chance to ask how that was possible, Lindsey appeared with a piece of paper and a sympathetic smile on her face.

“Your 11:30 is here.”

You looked at the clock, it was a quarter to noon, before you just nodded with a small smile. Lindsey handed the check in sheet to Erin who grabbed it with an excited squeal that made you nearly roll your eyes.

At least one of you were excited for this.

Billie Dean was beyond stressed. She had been making good time for her appointment, when the mom cat, she’d taken to calling her Bit, had decided to jump out of the box and explore her car. She’d been so distracted and worried that she’d slowed to the point that people were honking her off the road. She’d stopped in a parking lot to try and get Bit back into the box, but as soon as the door opened, she’d jumped out.

Billie had questioned her decision to not just ignore the cat this morning as she spent the next 15 minutes trying to catch Bit and return her to the car.

Now, she was really late and she knew that she had probably missed her appointment. She hurried inside with the box, making sure to hold onto Bit so she didn’t jump out again before opening the front door. She hurried toward the counter with an apologetic smile and a hopeful look.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a bit of a time getting here. I have an appointment for 11:30.”

Billie figured she didn’t need to give her name because the look on the receptionist’s face when she saw her was telling enough. She was used to having fans so she just smiled politely as the other blonde, Lindsey, her nametag said, nodded frantically and ran to the printer.

“Of course, Ms. Howard. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

Billie watched as the younger blonde nearly ran toward the back before she sat down with a sigh. She looked at the box of cats with a small smile. She scratched Bit’s chin before she checked on each of the kittens. They all looked so tiny and weak. They all were huddled up in the middle of the box sleeping on top of each other. It was truly adorable.

“Ms. Howard?”

The medium had been too busy contemplating how many of the kittens she could keep to realize that someone else had entered the waiting room. She looked up to see a brunette smiling at her and holding a door to the back open. She jumped up, clutching onto the box carefully before making her way over to the woman in scrubs.

“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Erin just smiled and shook her head as she led Billie Dean to a nearby exam room. She’d already screamed silently before coming to get the blonde so she wouldn’t geek out, but she couldn’t help but be a little starstruck by the medium’s presence.

“It’s not a problem, we’re just glad to see kittens on our schedule.”

You waited while your assistant got the history from Billie Dean. From where you were seated in the pharmacy, you could hear some of what was being said. It sounded like a standard visit. No issues except for apparently a random cat decided to have kittens underneath Billie’s porch. You tried not to overthink this visit as you listened to the blonde talk to her assistant. You hadn’t been nervous before because you hadn’t really needed to be.

Except that was when you hadn’t known that you were going to be seeing someone who was famous. Someone whose name you didn’t even recognize, but that was beside the point. The point was that now that the idea was in your head, you were freaking out a little bit.

You could hear a slight accent in her voice and you couldn’t help but smile at it. It sounded cute.

You sat up slightly, startled at the sudden thought. You shook your head scolding yourself for being so unprofessional and attempted to push that thought to the back of your mind. You turned at the sound of the exam door opening and watched as Erin shut it behind her quietly with a huge smile on her face.

“She’s so cool. Oh my god that was so cool!”

She whisper screamed at you and you couldn’t help but laugh in amusement. Someone was clearly starstruck. Hopefully she could get through this without embarrassing them. Or at least her. Anyone. Hopefully no one would be embarrassed.

“Hi, Ms. Howard. I’m Y/F/N, Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

You were surprised by what greeted you inside the exam room. The cat that was bouncing around the room was less of a surprise than the woman who sat in one of the chairs against the wall. You had to stop herself from showing your surprise as you took in the blonde who you’d never heard of until about an hour ago.

Billie Dean Howard wasn’t what you’d been expecting. She was middle-aged with honey blonde hair that fell in neat curls. She was wearing a silk blouse and a skirt with heels. She was definitely the most dressed up of all of your clients today. God, she was beautiful and you had to remind yourself to not stare at her legs as you held out your hand.

The medium smiled as she reached out her own hand and shook yours. Her hand was so soft, but you counted to two before releasing it with a shake of your head.

“Nice to meet you Dr. Y/L/N. I apologize for being so late.” You smiled at the thought of what Erin had told you. It sounded like she had a hell of a time getting here. You couldn’t blame her after what she’d gone through to simply get these cats looked at.

“No need. It sounds like this one was quite the troublemaker.” You pet Bit as she wandered over to you to check you out, and you smiled as she rubbed her face on your hand.

You noticed Billie roll her eyes with a sigh and you couldn’t help but smile at what she said.

“She definitely was. That’s where her name came from after all.”

You frowned in confusion but didn’t get a chance to ask before Billie was explaining herself. She eyed you curiously as she shrugged indifferently.

“I may have called her, her name with an added ‘ch’ a couple times on the way here. Specifically, while I was chasing her around a Denny’s parking lot.”

You tried not to laugh at the ridiculous image that conjured in your brain, but it was useless. You were laughing before you could help it because honestly who wouldn’t find this elegant woman running after a cat in a parking lot hilarious.

You stifled your laughter before you cleared your throat and shot Billie a smile. “Well, it sounds like the name suits her.”

You examine each of the kittens carefully, and confirm that they are less than a week old since their eyes are still closed. They are all a little buggy from living under the deck so you deworm them and Bit so she won’t spread any parasites to them. As you explain this to Billie while applying the medication, you notice that she is shooting you an odd look. You don’t really worry too much about it because it’s probably just confusion from a too-sciency word you used.

When the kittens are all checked out and the mom is back in the box resting with them, you decide that you should figure out what happens next.

“They’ll need their mom for milk for the next month, but have you decided if you want to keep them?”

Erin leaves at this point because now that the exams are done, you’re mostly just talking. You pretend not to notice how she is reluctant to leave, and instead focus on Billie’s wide eyes as she shakes her head with a laugh.

“No, I don’t think I can keep them all. Maybe one or two. I don’t want to be known as the crazy old cat lady.”

You laugh again before moving your stethoscope off the exam table so it’s not sitting in all of the baby food you fed to Bit. “You’re definitely not old, Ms. Howard.”

You nearly slap your hand to your mouth as your eyes widen in mortification. God you did not just say that did you? You look to the blonde about to apologize, but you see her smiling at you instead. You hear her teasing tone and blush despite your best efforts at what she says in response.

“Thank you dear, but please. Call me Billie.”

You nod dumbly before you start picking off some of the black hair on your coat, only to give up after a few seconds. You’re covered and you miss the amused look Billie shoots you as you try to get back on track.

“Okay, Billie. Well once they’re old enough, you can take them to a shelter, or you can bring them here. We adopt out kittens. Our last ones actually just went home with some clients.”

It’s nearly 12:30 when you’re finished answering some of Billie’s general questions. You had an assistant find a carrier for Billie to take so she wouldn’t have to worry about Bit escaping again. You load the cats into it while Billie gets checked out at the front desk. By the time she gets back, you have only Bit left to put in.

Of course she decides she’d rather run around the room though. You ignore your growling stomach which conveniently covers up the sound of the door opening behind you as you hurry to catch the cat.

“Come here you little, Bit. You need to get in here so your mom doesn’t lose you at Denny’s again.”

Once you finally get her inside the carrier and close it with a sigh, you realize that you are being watched. You look up from where you’re kneeling on the ground to see Billie watching you from the doorway with a smile. You fight a blush as you pick up the carrier carefully before taking a step toward the door.

“Here, let me help you to your car.”

Billie shook her head. She’d already taken up a lot of your time. It was nearly 1 and most everyone else was on lunch.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sweetheart. I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

Billie looked like she was going to argue, but you just stood with the carrier held in your hand with a smile. Ready to go. She sighed and your smile widened as you followed the blonde out of the building.

You nearly stop short at the pet name, the second pet name she’s used, but you recover just in time to shake your head with a smile.

“Don’t be silly. It’s not a problem.”

You arrive to her car without incident and she opens the backdoor for you. You smile before placing them in the back seat, trying not to be too nosy as you duck into her car before standing up straight again.

“You’re all set, Ms—Billie.”

Billie smiles at your save as she shuts the door behind you. You stand by awkwardly as she takes a moment to study you. She opens her mouth to say something but stops short before simply nodding.

“Thank you again. It was nice to meet you, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You blush before waving her off as you look away to hopefully save face before responding. “Y/F/N, please and you too.”

As you’re about to turn away and head back inside for some much-needed lunch when something occurs to you. You smile slightly as you dig into your pocket and grab a card to hand to her. The medium takes your business card with a smile, and her fingers brush against yours briefly. Your cheeks redden and you curse yourself when you see Billie’s smile turn into a smirk. You manage to speak up before she can and drop your hand away and into your pocket.

“My card. In case you have any questions. You can call us or email anytime.”

Billie looked over the card, realizing that it had the clinic’s number and a shared email address on it. She decided not to be deterred and shot the blushing doctor a curious look.

“So in the event of an emergency, and the clinic’s closed…what number would I call?”

You laughed nervously as you thought about your options. You could tell that Billie was flirting. You were dense, but not that dense, and you decided to take a risk. You shrugged before you dug around in your pocket once again for a pen before reaching out for the card you’d just given away.

“Well you could call the emergency clinic up the road, or you can call me. Whichever.”

Billie looks at the number that you scrawled down with a grin. “This is your personal number?”

You smirked before taking a step back toward the building hoping to retreat before you say something too dumb. “It is. To use for emergencies or whatever else.”

You smile a little wider as Billie’s face lights up and she shoots you a suggestive look. You merely laugh before turning around and heading back inside. You know she’s watching you, but you don’t turn around until you reach the door. You’re not surprised to see her still standing there watching, and you shoot her one last smile and wave before ducking back inside.

Part 2 

[draganasimpsforjeff]

Hunting Dogs (proxies x reader) Chapter Two

"GET HER!"

The sirens went off in your head as you bolted away from the scene and around the corner where you came from. Your first instinct was to go to your job and use the phone to call the police as you weren't able to pay for your phone bill this month since you just moved here, but when you saw the building; the lights were off and shutters drawn as it was closed.

"Fuck!" You said to yourself, hearing footsteps stomping near you and you drew a breath, breaking into a run once more as you raced through the busy street of T/N or what you were use to being as busy, but it was very relative to vacant. That's odd.

The only thing that was an indicator of the town being alive was the cars driving past, but it was like no one cared or stopped to think: Why is someone being chased by three large men? What happened? Should I stop and help? Call the police and give information?

No. It was like you were just separate from the world around you. Everyone was living their life while you were running to keep yours. "Just f-fucking tackle her already!" One of the man said and the next thing you knew you saw your apartment building.

How long was I fucking running for? it doesn't ever take me this quick to get home.

But you never really felt the need to run to your home before. But either way, you were glad and had a small wave of relief wash over you as you took your keys out of your uniform pocket and grabbed the key you recognized as the one to unlock the door. You tried running faster, pressing in the code to enter the building and it slowly granted you access.

You pulled open the iron gate and closed it as soon as your body was inside. "I'll get you! Don't think for a fucking minute that you're safe!" The man with the white mask growled, shaking the bars and watched as you ascended up the stairs and around a few corners until you reached your door. You swallowed thickly, shaking like a leaf in fear as you struggled to put the key into the slot and turn.

You closed the door behind you, locking it with your hand and slid your body down and onto the floor, pulling your knees up your chest. Why didn't I just stay longer at my job? This could've all been avoided! Or I could've just stayed and talked to Mr. Saka after my shift like I usually do...that would've been enough time...

You didn't realize that you were crying. You lifted your hand and wiped your face dry. You didn't have the strength to get up as you just only had enough energy to stare at the wall a few feet away from you. You heard someone walking down the hallway and your body tensed up, eyes darting around the room for a weapon or a place to hide, but realized it was just one of your neighbors and you let out a shaky breath that you were holding in.

Maybe, I'm safe. They don't know where I went. They can't get in without a code! And even if they tried to break in, they don't know what floor I'm on or room! Haha fuck you assholes.

You let out a low chuckle, pushing yourself up from the floor and walked to your bedroom. You flipped the switch and went over to your dresser, picking out your usual nightly wear. Discarding the dirty clothes into the hamper in your closet and laid down on your bed.

"What a fucking day." you said to yourself and didn't know if you were gonna be able to fall asleep. Your eyes widened as you had forgotten about your phone in your pants pocket. You got out of bed, almost tripping as your foot was stuck in the blanket. You opened the closet door again and checked your pockets, feeling the familiar bulge. "Thank god." you mumbled, pressing the power button and it showed the time. 10:38 p.m. You groaned, tossing your phone onto the bed.

It's definitely too early to go to bed.

You battled your thoughts as you recall your boss saying it was gonna need you early in the morning but with recent events you didn't know how you were gonna be able to shut your eyes long enough without thinking that you heard footsteps, creaking or some type of psycho in the corner of your room, watching you sleep.

You reached your arm out and grabbed your sleeping medication and opened the cap, taking your prescribed dose onto your palm. You groaned as you didn't have a beverage around you and once again, pulled yourself out of the warmth and comfort your bed provided.

Raking a hand through your hair, you walked out of the short hallway that led to your kitchen. You opened the cabinet and grabbed a small glass and put it under the faucet. Water poured out and you swallowed the pill along with the cold water. You dumped out the rest of the water, turning the handle and went back to your room.

You laid down on your bed and closed your eyes, snuggling up under the covers, trying to ignore your cruel mind that was planting ideas in your head while you attempted to comfort yourself, drifting off.

"What the fuck are we suppose to now? She's a goddamn witness!" Masky yelled in frustrated, pulling at his bangs and sat down on the ground, feeling the intense need to punch at the pavement underneath him. "W-we know that." Toby sighs, his twitching getting the best of him and tossed one of his hatchets into the wooden fence beside him. He sighs, using his strength and took it out of the wood. In front of him, Hoodie took a deep breath, exhaling into his mask and looked between two of the men.

They were unstable and he definitely hated being the only calculated and more leveled headed one out of the group, but everyone played their part. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses, their methods to their madness. "Let's see if there's anyway we can climb up the building. If there's a chance there is, then we can see if it's stable enough for our weight and proceed from there, if not, then we can  grab grappling hooks from the mansion." He said and Masky chuckles, "Yeah and what if twitchy McGee misses?" He asks, eyeing Toby who turned so quick that he was surprised he didn't get whiplash.

"The fuck did you just call me you piece of shit!? Tell me why I shouldn't fucking bury this blade into your neck right now!" He stomped, going over to the man who was sitting down, but a held out hand was pushed against him. "Enough you two! This is not going to help our situation. If you keep pushing each other, I'll do this myself and you know boss will know, but maybe if you guys are gone things can actually get done here." He threatened, removing his hand from the younger individual.

The other two men stared at each other, mentally telling each to fuck off or they'll be killed. Toby growled, sliding the handle of his hatchet back into it's proper place and walked away. Masky looks down and can feel the burning sensation of Hoodie's eyes on him. He looked up, "If you're going to give me a lecture, get it the fuck over with already. It's the same shit everyday." He pushes himself up from the ground and stands up.

Hoodie scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, maybe if you two grew up. Especially you." Hoodie gave him a long look, turning away with his back turned to him. "For fuck's sake, your older and you've been doing this longer than him, act like it." He added, going to stand where he was previously.

"Sh-"

"Look!" Toby points upwards to a specific window and the other two followed to where he was pointing to, seeing the familiar face of the person they were after. Animalistic grins were painted on their faces as they watched the oblivious victim, drinking water and retreating back to another part of the apartment. "Good Job, you did something right for once." Masky smirks, looking at Toby over his shoulder. Toby rolls his eyes and looks at Hoodie. "Now what?' he asks, his fingers twitching in anticipation. There was so much he wanted to do to the person thinking they were safe.

"We count." he says, looking around for a sign to see what building number it was and once he got the digits. He went to the front of the building where the gate was that kept them from getting in, remembering the fucker went up the stairs and turned to the next set of flights. He rounded back to the back of it and Toby reminded him of where he saw them. Hoodie nodded, moving his fingers sideways and up and down, counting the amount of floors there were and where the room was located from others. He took out a piece of crumbled paper and a small pencil he took with him just in case.

He wrote down the digits, using his leg as a table to write on. "Good. Now we wait." He smirks, going over to where there was shade and they could hide easily, leaning their backs against the fence, they glued their eyes to the window where you were seen from.

[krustywhore]

a language in itself // moreid

inspired by this doodle by @owlpip / @owlpipscribbles and i just had the cutest idea when i saw it so naturally i wrote this little one-shot<3 fig i hope you like it

Spencer, who was arguably not-so easily frazzled, was currently debating whether or not to lose his shit in front of all of his new coworkers. It was his first day at the BAU, for Christ’s sake, and he was seconds away from making a complete fool of himself in the middle of the bullpen.

With nearly a dozen books in his arms, the arm of his glasses held firmly between his teeth, and a to-go cup of black coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack, he was an accident waiting to happen. He passed interns and desk agents coming and going as he headed to where he was told to meet his new boss, but it was only a matter of time before his adamancy in taking only one trip from his car came back to bite him.

If he had known there was a thick bundle of computer cables wired under the carpeted bullpen floor, he would’ve made it to his new desk without a single problem, but his scuffed Chuck Taylor’s immediately caught the bump of wires and before he knew it books were tumbling to the ground and his full cup of coffee had emptied itself all over…a very attractive man.

Fuck.

His glasses were in his lap, thankfully unbroken, but he hastily put them on only for the blurry man above him to get somehow more handsome.

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, his face went bright red and he fumbled trying to collect everything off the floor.

“Hey, hey, slow down kid,” the man spoke, making Spencer freeze on his knees, looking back up. “You okay?”

He was certain his heart was seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Me? I…I’m the one that just spilled hot coffee all over your shirt,” he laughed nervously, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’m so sorry-“

The man laughed and somehow even his teeth were perfect when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. One of the benefits of this job is carrying spare clothes around in case we end up skipping town,” the man smirked, picking up some of the scattered books and stacking them up on a nearby desk. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Spencer shook his head, still blushing as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him from around the room. He just hoped none of them belonged to his new boss.

“Good, well, I’ll take these for you if you’ll show me where your desk is,” he offered, a dark coffee stain still clear as day in the middle of his navy blue shirt.

Spencer followed uncomfortably behind him before pointing to an empty desk in the corner of the bullpen opposite another desk with a fair spread of files and picture frames adorning it.

“No kidding,” the man chuckled, dropping the stack of books on the desk. “I guess we’re desk neighbors, pretty boy.”

Spencer choked, coughing until he regained his composure as his handsome apparent-coworker pounded on his back to help him.

“Thank you,” he choked out, his throat still groggy. “I…I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

The man’s casual smile dropped and he took on a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Spencer fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, thoroughly embarrassed enough for one lifetime.

“I mean that I just spilled coffee all over you and humiliated myself on my first day and…and I clearly don’t belong here if I can’t even make it an hour before causing a disaster, but you’re just so…so nice and historically, guys like you are never nice to guys like me, but you are! And…and I can’t possibly fit in here, I don’t know what Gideon was thinking-”

“Hold up, Jason Gideon? Holy shit, you’re the one he’s been telling us about!” He looked like he was completely gobsmacked, looking Spencer up and down multiple times to the point where the younger man was getting concerned.

“I guess so…?” He explained shyly. “Why, did he not tell you I was twenty-two?”

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his shoes.

“No, no it’s not that it’s...,” he paused, smiling as if he was nervous. “It’s just that I was going to ask you out before I knew we were would be working together.”

Spencer did a double-take and just…stared.

“You…w-what?”

His older counterpart smiled.

“I know it’s technically against the rules but…I would love to take you to get a replacement coffee sometime,” he smirked, leaning up against Spencer’s desk. “What do ya’ say, pretty boy?”

Reid definitely wasn’t any more prepared for the nickname than he was before, but somehow when it followed an invitation for a date, it felt more genuine.

Not that he had ever been asked out before, and especially not by anyone as attractive as the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” he mumbled, desperate for any excuse.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, at your service,” he grinned, reaching forward to grip the short length of necktie that poked out from underneath Spencer’s sweater vest. “And you are?”

His heart was beating so fast and his head was spinning so dizzyingly that he almost didn’t register the response until it hit him hard.

Derek Morgan.

Fuck, even his name was sexy.

He flushed bright red at the even closer contact and how closely their faces were. Surely Derek wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the office but…but something told him the other man didn’t much care.

“D-Dr. Spencer Reid,” he stumbled, barely getting the words out of his mouth in what was more of a breathy whisper. He nearly blocked out everyone else in the room as his eyes just latched onto Derek’s and refused to look away. “And…I would love to get coffee with you, but I’m paying. Since, you know, I probably just gave you at least a second-degree burn from the last one.”

The beautiful man—Derek, his brain supplied—laughed heartily, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he reluctantly let go of Spencer’s tie.

“You drive a hard bargain, Doc,” he teased, circling around to his desk only to pull out a small duffel bag from which he produced a light gray henley shirt. “How’s lunch today sound?”

Spencer smiled as the older man began walking backwards slowly, not looking away until he got his answer.

“You know where I’ll be,” he answered, pleasantly surprising himself with his own ability to be coy.

Derek shot him one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway and Spencer was left absolutely dumbfounded by the conversation he’d just had.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath, sliding off his satchel and depositing it on his desk chair before following the signs to where Agent Gideon’s office was located, as he had been instructed to stop by upon arrival.

His hands were shaking and his heart was still pounding and he was sure that Gideon was going to comment on how red he knew his face would still be, but he was practically floating on cloud nine as he sat down with his pseudo-mentor.

“Spencer, did something happen? You look…stressed,” the older profiler spoke as he stepped into the room. He shrugged in an attempt to be casual, not really wanting to discuss his romantic life with Gideon of all people. Especially when it involved someone they both worked with.

“No, nothing, I guess I’m just excited,” he lied through his teeth, hoping the man who studied behavior for a living and knew him like his own son couldn’t tell he was definitely blowing smoke.

“Right, well, if you’re ready now I can have JJ call the team in for the briefing and you can meet everyone,” Gideon explained and Spencer followed him out of the room and down the hall. He pulled out a chair around the large round table for the younger man to sit down and he moved to stand by a large screen to talk to a blonde woman who didn’t look too much older than he was. She smiled at him as she began pressing buttons on a remote and he gave a quick wave before the room filled with, what he assumed was the rest of the team. As he stood he immediately locked eyes with Derek again, who smirked and set down his files in front of the seat right beside Spencer’s.

“Alright, well as I told you all, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and he’ll be joining our team from now on. Spencer, this is Agent Hotchner, our unit chief, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau,” Gideon listed, despite the fact that they all could’ve introduced themselves, but he was met with a tight hug from Penelope before he could protest and awkwardly adjusted his clothing afterwards.

He smiled nonetheless and explained that he didn’t do handshakes to the rest of the team before they all filled up the seats around the table with Derek sitting so close that he couldn’t help but notice him in the corner of his eye.

“So, no handshakes?” The other man whispered in his ear as JJ passed around the folders of new case files to the team.

Spencer huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, I have a bit of an issue with germs. Did you know shaking hands can transfer over three thousand bacteria between parties? Scientifically speaking, it would be safer to kiss,” he rambled before freezing as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

“Oh, really? Strictly scientifically?” Derek teased, knocking their knees together under the table.

He knew Derek was looking at him but he felt a smirk creep onto his lips as he refused to give in and kept his eyes on the slides JJ was presenting.

“Strictly,” he smirked coyly.

As they all collected their things and took off on the jet, Spencer couldn’t help glancing up from his work every few minutes to sneak glances at Derek from across the plane. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Derek was almost always staring back. Seemingly none of the other team members noticed anything going on between them, or if they did, they graciously didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t long until they landed and made their way to the local police station, all expressing concern that the station’s coffee machine was broken until Derek spoke up before anyone could move on.

“Reid and I will go pick up some coffee and lunch for everyone, I think we passed a cafe just down the street. You go ahead and start here, we’ll be back in no time,” he offered, nudging Spencer with his elbow until the younger man followed him out the door and into one of the parked SUV’s. “So, does now work for you to take a quick coffee date?”

Spencer laughed, relaxing already as Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“Now sounds perfect.”

[yikesimonfire]

Raining in Reverse || Alfie & Raina

Timing: Current. Location: Downtown. Parties: @rainaim​ & @yikesimonfire​ Summary: A friendship blossoms during a rainstorm. Content: None.

A rainy day in White Crest spelled death for the Ramirez family, not that the majority of the townsfolk had any idea why. On days like today — with the fatal droplets of water plummeting from the sky — Alfie stayed tucked away inside, longing for the sun.

That wasn’t the case today.

The fridge in Alfie’s apartment was a barren wasteland and without a crumb of food hiding in the cabinets, he had no choice but to embark on a perilous journey. He donned his best raincoat and boots, grabbed his trusty umbrella, and begrudgingly left the safety of his apartment. It would be too risky to try and wrangle the umbrella in and out of his car without getting wet. He had no choice but to head to the grocery store on foot.

For the most part, his trip was going better than expected. Alfie made the quick trip to the store without issue. It wasn’t until he stepped out (grocery bag of fresh fruits and sunflower seeds in tow) that disaster struck.

Without warning, the wind picked up as he trudged past Flagg’s and plucked the umbrella straight from Alfie’s grasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!” Alfie squawked. Without hesitation, he ducked his head under his raincoat, consequently dropping his food supply in the process. He hastily made an about face before he half-ran, half-shuffled after his umbrella which was now somersaulting down the sidewalk. “No, nononono!” he croaked.

Rain hit his single layer of protection and rolled down his back before soaking the exposed part of his shirt. The wet fabric clung to his skin and Alfie let out a pained screech. He spun around, frantically searching for shelter. To hell with the umbrella! He was going to die!

Raina wasn’t sure why White Crest had erected such a sweet tooth in her. Normally, she’d eat a few cookies and call it a day. Lately, she found herself with tins of caramel chews, cookies, and fudge. Maybe it was Maine that had awoken something in her, playing into the idea of excitement and being in a grand, new place. Regardless of whatever it was, she knew that she was giving the shop’s of White Crest her hard earned money-- as she should. The town had welcomed her graciously into its (unforgiving) arms. It wasn’t like she had any qualms, at least, not in the usual sense. Even if she did, she would write them off with ease. 

Flagg’s was a constant stop for her at this point. After work. Before work on closing shifts. Even days where she didn’t have work. There were too many flavors to pass up. Some good, some not so great, but Raina wanted to try them all. Plus, it wasn’t like she had much else to do to pass the time. Her roommate worked long hours at the hospital, and usually Raina was left to her own devices. There wasn’t even anyone to call from back home. Her aunt’s number rang and rang, until one day it finally told her that it was disconnected. Raina was alone, but she didn’t have to be. 

She walked out of the shop, spoon hanging out of her mouth while Rainbow Freeze coated her taste buds. Raina barely noticed that it had begun to storm, not until an extreme gust of wind forced somebody’s umbrella down the sidewalk, right out of their hands. She could feel the little dots of water begin to tickle her face and she hummed. She was close enough to her car that if she really wanted to, she could get there before it started to really pour, but she found herself grounded as she watched the boy who’d lost his umbrella scramble towards it. It continued to give chase, and she gasped as she watched him drop the contents of his bag onto the ground. 

He looked frantic and severely frightened. Was he afraid of storms? Without thinking, Raina ran towards him, her own froyo forgotten on the window sill of a neighboring shop as she ran towards him. “Are you okay?” She shouted after him. Why was he so scared? Raina let out a soft whine of protest in spite of herself and let the magic spark, electric and buzzing through her. The rain just over the boy frozen in time, a larger-platform like puddle above his head. It was small, but covered the frame of his shoulders at least. “Ya alright?” She said, making sure to focus on the magic so that it wouldn’t break. At least this was something she’d done plenty of times to know the extent of how far it’d go. It was simply collecting the water above him. 

Alfie’s heart pounded in his chest and he was nearly frozen in fear. He could easily make it into one of the nearby shops — he had to — but the pain from his dampened shirt was so excruciating that it rendered him helpless. For a moment, he didn’t even register that someone had spoken to him. When his eyes fell on the girl, allowing the rain to freely fall down on her, Alfie’s first thought was that she would make fun of him. Clearly, she wasn’t affected by the storm at all. 

“I-I’m fine,” he lied.

Wait… had she just asked if he was alright? Alfie already knew the answer to that since he’d found it in him to respond to her concern. He swallowed hard, oblivious to the sudden lack of rain pattering against his raincoat, before he shook his head.

“Actually, no, I… I’m not,” stammered Alfie. “I’m afrai— I hate rain.” Being afraid of storms was not unusual, but very few people shared his aversion to water altogether. Explaining it would be messy and potentially expose him to even more danger. “I can’t get my hair wet,” he lied again. It wasn’t entirely untrue; he couldn’t get any part of him wet. 

As Alfie looked at her, something in his mind finally clicked. The sound of rain still surrounded them, but his view of the girl was completely unobstructed. Hesitantly, Alfie straightened up as he glanced around. While the rain continued to fall around him, not a single drop landed on him. Was he dead?! He outstretched his hand, palm up, before he looked in bewilderment.

“Uh… do you—?” Was she seeing this? Alfie’s eyes shot back to her as he pointed to the barrier above him. He recognized her from somewhere. Coffee. She’d served him coffee the other day. “You’re…” Alfie began before realizing he didn’t know her name. “Did you do that?” he asked instead.

Raina hadn’t quite discovered if doing magic in the middle of the street was a good thing, but for the most part, the streets seemed to be barren due to the sudden onslaught of rain. If people were looking at them from the inside, she was unaware. The closer she was now, Raina could practically spell out the fear that was written across his features. She felt bad. Guilty, even. She doubted it to be true, but it seemed wherever she went these days, it rained, and ferociously at that. It was probably a coincidence. But what she did know was that her magic did feel stronger when it poured. 

“Rain ain’t for everyone, I understand.” She had almost thought he said I hate Raina, but that wouldn’t make any sense. He didn’t know who she was. Did he? She snapped out of her thoughts and blinked at him. The rain had stopped just overtop him, but it continued to pour down on top of herself. 

She quickly looked up at his hair and nodded, “Well, I won’t let you get soaked or nothin’.” She looked around, eager to find any kind of canopy that they could wait out the storm under. It was a little farther along, but there was a giant overhang off of a shop she hadn’t yet been inside. Not that she would try to go inside. She was soaking wet. He seemed to put two and two together, his hand outstretched, only he pulled away with a dry palm. She wanted to smile at him, to show him that yes, she had done that, but she tried to focus on the magic above his head to prevent it from spilling onto him. That wouldn’t do him much good if he were afraid of the rain. “I did, and I know it’s weird, but I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you with it.” 

Raina nodded towards the canopy a yard or so away. “We can go over there? That’ll be better, yeah?” She gave him a reassuring smile before taking a tentative step forward. She didn’t hate the rain, not by a long shot, but Raina was beginning to grow uncomfortable with the way it slid down the back of her shirt. She was ready to get out from under it, too. Too afraid to extend her barrier over top herself, she slowly began to walk in front of him. “Just follow me, alright? I ain’t gonna let it fall.” 

Despite being surrounded by spellcasters nearly his entire life, the use of magic still managed to surprise Alfie. For the longest time, the Vurals were the only magic-users that he was aware of. Sure, he figured there must have been more, but he was recently coming into contact with more people that at the very least had an interest in the craft. It seemed so glaring to him now that it could only be some sort of sign from the universe. Or maybe not. He was probably overthinking it. 

Alfie shot another cursory glance to the shroud above him. One wrong move and he would be royally fucked. Maybe this girl wouldn’t hurt him with it, but the implication that she could didn’t ease his mind. Whatever charm she was using to keep him out of the rain was a good enough indication that her magic could be fatal against him. It might not have been a true indication of how her magic manifested, but Alfie didn’t want to piss her off and find out. 

“I appreciate it,” he shakily exhaled. Alfie’s eyes followed the direction of her nod and he offered a timid smile in response. He needed to trust her — he didn’t have any other choice at this point. “Yeah, it’s perfect,” he agreed. It didn’t take long for Alfie to fall in line behind her, wearily checking to make sure the makeshift umbrella was still covering him as he walked. 

Soon enough, the shop canopy took its place and Alfie heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Seriously, I— I can’t even begin to express my gratitude.” This complete stranger just saved his life and he couldn’t even tell her. At that moment, it didn’t even matter that the water soaking his shirt was causing him searing pain. Well… except that it absolutely mattered. He might still be alive, but that didn’t change the fact that water didn’t roll off of him like a duck’s back like it seemed to do for her.

Alfie reached behind his back and rolled the wet fabric up so it was no longer touching his skin. He was afraid to know the extent of his damage. As he looked back to his savior, he let out an airy breath. The water may not have affected her the same way it did him, but the same could not be said for her clothes. “You’re drenched — you realize that, right?” Stupid question; how could she not? “Does that not… bother you at all?”

Raina was careful to not let her magic falter. She’d done this tons of times. Only, those times had been done for herself. It wouldn’t be any different, right? Using it to help someone else? If anything, it only made her concentrate harder. She led the way to the canopy and once he was underneath it, she focused on shifting the water so that it didn’t go underneath him. The small barrier dissipated, falling like rain to accompany the rest of the drops that continued to splatter around them. 

She stepped underneath the canopy and began to wring out her clothes. She looked over at him when he began to speak and she shook her head. “Nah, it looked like you were mighty uncomfortable and the last thing I’d wanna do is leave you in that state.” Of course, Raina was ignorant to the fact that she had practically saved his life. 

She watched as he knotted the back of his shirt away from his skin. She blinked and looked back into his eyes and shrugged before she looked down at herself. She shifted her feet and her shoes let out a squeak in resistance. “‘S alright. It’s not the first time.” She’d been caught in the rain dozens of times. Sometimes she’d use her magic, sometimes she wouldn’t. Usually, she had an umbrella. Raina was careful not to stand too close to him as she began to shake out like a dog. 

Suddenly, she recalled the days where she’d come rushing in from her mother’s garden. The rain would fall and her mother would force Raina to dance in it. They would, but after awhile they’d fall into the mudroom full of giggles and rouge cheeks. “I don’t mind it most of the time, nah.” She took a small step forward and looked up at the sky. “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon.” Raina turned around to look where they’d taken refuge. “Looks like this place is closed, too.” She frowned. “No matter!” She reached inside of her messenger bag and pulled out a packet of tissues. “Ain’t much, but maybe it’ll get some of the water off?” She offered. “Or just leave ‘lil pieces of tissue on your face, but.” She shrugged. “Better than nothin!” 

Uncomfortable was a serious understatement. Sitting in a chair without good lumbar support was uncomfortable. A Doritos shard wedged between teeth was uncomfortable. This? Rain? It was unbearable — even worse than that. At least it was in Alfie’s case. 

In all of his years up until this point, Alfie had managed to avoid situations like this. He stayed home from school. He cancelled plans; cancelled dates when he still went on them. Yet somehow, despite his caution, he was still thoroughly unprepared. If he learned anything from this venture out, it was that he should be utilizing food delivery services much more often. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to only be mildly inconvenienced by the rain, and he’d certainly never know the joys of splashing in puddles or frolicking during a light shower. 

“Not the first time?” echoed Alfie, his brow raised, as if this were a foreign concept. “Can’t say the same, myself.” It probably wasn’t wise to overshare about his inexperience with the rain, but she already saw him at one of his lowest points and probably deduced as much. 

Alfie grimaced at the stranger’s observation. That was just his luck, wasn’t it? First he was stuck at home without any food and now he was stranded on a downtown sidewalk, waiting for the storm to cease. His eyes followed her hands as she retrieved the tissues and offered them out to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he politely accepted with a soft “Thanks.” Fortunately enough, the hood of Alfie’s raincoat (as well as his quick thinking) spared him from taking any droplets of water to the face. 

Taking the tissue was a formality. What he didn’t expect was to find that his face was damp with sweat. She must have mistaken his perspiration for precipitation. Gross. Embarrassed, Alfie balled up the used tissue and immediately stuffed it into his pocket. She’d been so kind to him — more than he probably deserved — and she didn’t even know his name.

“I’m Alfie, by the way,” he suddenly blurted. “Figured it’s only fair I introduced myself after you saved my life and all.” His lips pursed together into an almost apologetic smile. “I, uh… I wish there was some way I could repay you,” Alfie added. Here he was, receiving nothing but kindness with nothing to give her in return but his gratitude. No matter how much she wrung her clothes out, it didn’t change the fact that she’d jumped out into the storm to save his neck. He’d give her the shirt off his back if he could.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. “Actually— hang on,” Alfie said, shaking his raincoat off and letting it fall to the mostly-dry pavement. In one swift motion, he peeled his t-shirt off before reaching down for his jacket, slipping it back on to retain some form of decency. “Here,” he nodded, thrusting the shirt towards her. “It’s… mostly dry. Should help you towel down better than those tissues.” 

Raina lifted her messenger bag off of her shoulder. She rubbed the spot it had been digging into and dropped it at her feet. Inside was a small sketchbook, a few pens and a charcoal pencil. Luckily the bag was an inexpensive one, as were the contents inside. She wanted to open and find out if her most recent works had been destroyed, but even if they had, she could always draw them over. It was a new sketchbook, barely used-- barely thought out structures on weighted paper. 

“Alfie?” She sounded out the name on her tongue. “Nice to meet ya, m’name Raina.” She beamed at him, momentarily forgetting that her name could create an unintended joke. “Honest.” The witch nearly bent down to swipe her wallet from her bag, but she’d wait and see if he pestered her about whether or not she was being honest. “Wouldn’t be true savin’ if I expected somethin’ from you, would it?” She set her hands on her hips. 

It’d only be a matter of time before the storm let up. She watched forlornly as her froyo tipped over, blown over by a sudden gust of wind. It rolled onto the sidewalk and continued to roll until it was so far that Raina could no longer see it. She had just inadvertently littered. Darn it, she thought. 

Alfie’s sudden movements piqued Raina’s interest as she turned to look at him, but it wasn’t what she had expected. He was taking off his shirt-- Oh. Raina blinked at him and looked down at his outstretched hand. She took the shirt gratefully and averted her eyes as he pulled his jacket back on. She’d seen chests. It wasn’t anything not normal. 

“Thank ya,” She reasoned with herself. She looked down at the shirt. It was dry for the most part, only dotted with a few raindrops. Raina held it up with a smile before she tried to figure out how to change it. Oh! Raina pulled the shirt over her already soaked one. She stuck her arms inside, the bigger shirt more forgiving than her own. She awkwardly stuck her arms through the holes and bunched it up towards her neck before she popped her arms back through and took off the shirt. 

“When you go to the river ‘an fish, you learn creative ways for peelin off the smelly clothin.” She smiled at him and held up her own shirt as if a battle trophy. She rolled it into a ball and looked down at her messenger bag. Instead of putting it inside, she decided to tie it to the strap. “I appreciate it,” She said again with a genuine smile. “I’ll make sure to wash it ‘an get it back to you in no time.” Raina paused, “but I might need your number for that! Or if that ain’t comfortable for you, you can come by Coffee Plus weekdays except Thursday, and I can hold it for ya!” She smiled at him before realizing, “you’re not allergic to certain detergents, are you? I can’t use nothin’ by Gain for some reason.” 

“Raina,” Alfie nodded, the irony of the situation not hitting him until she reiterated that she was telling the truth. A small laugh escaped him as his fingers fumbled over the buttons of his raincoat — he had to maintain some bit of decency after all. “That, uh… seems pretty fitting, all things considered.” Did it? Sure, he’d seen her magic firsthand, but that didn’t mean she was controlling the rain itself. Right? If that were the case, she should be able to stop it altogether. 

Before Alfie could press the subject further for some peace of mind, Raina pulled his shirt over her own. He averted his gaze as she wriggled underneath the fabric and managed to remove her soiled top without much struggle. His brow raised at the mention of fishing. It was yet another activity on the ever growing list that Alfie would never be able to relate to. Part of him wondered what other seemingly normal things Raina did that further alienated him. Would she think he was weird if she knew?

"Don’t mention it,” Alfie sheepishly replied with a dismissive wave. “Really, it’s the least I could do after—” He cut himself off and pursed his lips. He’d already mentioned the fact that Raina saved his life. Driving it home any more than that would only rouse suspicion about how much truth his words held. Spellcaster or not, she obviously had some kind of power which probably meant she knew a thing or two about supernatural creatures; particularly ones that her powers affected. “After all that,” he stated simply. 

Despite his reservations surrounding her abilities, Alfie couldn’t help the fact that he was rapidly growing endeared to this strange girl. A wide grin took the place of his previously meek smile. “I’m not that fussed about getting it back,” he admitted. The truth of the matter was that he had about a dozen just like it back at home. “But if it makes you feel any better, no; any detergent’s fine by me.” As he said this, Alfie reached into his back pocket and brandished his cellphone. A few taps later, he pulled up the new contact screen before handing the device to Raina. “Tell you what, you can text me and we’ll, uh… we’ll figure out something from there.” 

The rain continued to fall and Raina began to wonder just how long the storm would last. If all else failed, she could escore him to where he needed to go, but there was no telling how long she could keep her magic up, and with him being so terrified of water, Raina didn’t want to chance letting it fall due to a distraction or inability to hold the water above his head. She patted down the shirt he’d lent her and looked at him with another smile, this one bigger than the last.

“Well, it don’t go unnoticed or unappreciated.” Raina nodded as if to reaffirm her statement. Her wet hair dribbled down the front of her new shirt and she awkwardly pulled it into her hands, leaning to the side to wring that out, too. Afterwards, she threw it up in a haphazard bun with the hair tie around her wrist. When Alfie confirmed that any detergent worked, she gave him a thumbs up. “Great, that’s great!” She could wash it and get it back to him that way he wouldn’t go missing something that belonged to him. 

When Alfie offered her his phone, she lit up. She took the phone from him after wiping her damp hands off on the shirt he’d given her. She punched her name into his phone and added an umbrella under rain drops next to her name. “It seemed a lil fitting,” She laughed with ease. Raina leaned against the wall and hummed. “Sorry ‘bout your umbrella, too. I saw it fly away like it had its own legs!” She paused, “Or I guess wings, but yanno.” Raina laughed again. “I have a few extra, so when I give you your shirt back, maybe it’ll come with an umbrella care package.” She extended her arms out in front of her and stretched her fingers into the air. The buzzing against her skin from the onslaught of rain was hard to ignore. It reminded her of what she’d done for Alfie. 

“Not that I mind savin’ you ‘an all, but…” She chewed the inside of her cheek. She figured if he were some kind of spellcaster, he would’ve revealed it by now. Maybe he was just human, or maybe he didn’t want to show her his cards. Maybe he was secretive for a reason. Raina shook the maybe’s literally from her head as she leaned to the side, hitting the water out of her ear. “If you could keep that b’tween us, I’d be mighty grateful.” She straightened up and smiled. “‘S just that I don’t want people knowin, you know? I mean, it’s fine that you know-- that’s totally fine, ‘cause you seem cool with it, but I don’t wanna have to go escortin’ people all over.” Her eyebrows furrowed, “not that I meant I minded escortin’ you, but do you know what I mean?” She touched her fingers to her chin. “Please don’t tell me I’m comin’ across as an ass?” 

Alfie couldn’t help but laugh at the emoji that now accompanied Raina’s name in his phone. Instinctively, his hand darted up to cover his mouth as he sniggered. “It’s perfect,” he agreed, although the words were slightly muffled by his palm. With his phone back in his possession, Alfie quickly shot a text to the number she’d entered: a storm cloud emoji followed by a rainbow. He briefly wondered which emoji (if any) she would save next to his name and elected not to mention that she was the only person in his contacts saved this way. The thought made him feel guilty. Surely, some of his other friends would appreciate the gesture. It was just never anything that he’d considered before. 

“Eh, it’s fine. It wouldn’t be the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last.” Alfie softly sighed as his gaze shifted back to the storm, blindly stuffing his phone back into the rear pocket of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time the wind swept up his unsuspecting umbrella by a long shot, but it was the first time such a gust was synchronous with a downpour. “You really don’t need to do that, though,” he assured. “Seriously, Raina. You’ve done more than enough to help me out as it is.” 

The fact that Raina wanted to keep the little rescue mission a secret didn’t come as a surprise. Most witches didn’t go around showcasing their powers all willy-nilly — and for good reason. What did surprise Alfie was his response. “No, of course! You don’t sound like an ass at all. Trust me, I understand better than you’d think. Doing stuff like that is… well, it can be dangerous. Especially in a town like White Crest.” Alfie knew all about keeping a crucial part of his identity on the down-low. For years, he’d managed to evade giving that part of himself away. Sometimes it was almost impossible, but others… Well, his family had their techniques. Sharing even this much with Raina was dangerous enough. He’d need to tip-toe around it more carefully so as to not put himself at risk.

A subject change seemed to be in order. “You, uh… been doing that long?” Alright, well, that wasn’t exactly the shift Alfie hoped for. His mouth sputtered out the words before he actually had a chance to think them through. “Sorry, that’s way too personal, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer that.”

Raina could hear the buzz of her phone in her bag. Was it rude to grab it and save Alfie’s number? Or would it be rude if she didn’t with him standing right there? He knew where she worked, and she had said it proudly, so it wasn’t like she was going to ghost him. She hoped he knew that. Raina was happy to make friends all over White Crest. Some had come at unsuspecting moments, but she was grateful for them nonetheless. So Raina leaned down and grabbed her phone out of her bag. She saved Alfie’s number and attached a raindrop emoji next to it, before erasing that and adding an umbrella, like the one she’d put in his phone. She dropped her phone back into her bag. “Only doin’ what a person’d do if they saw someone in need, is all.” 

When Alfie began to speak about how he understood, she felt her eyes widen. So maybe he knew a little about magic, or had been around it before, or maybe-- Raina reeled her thoughts in and simply put on a smile, this one a little less enthusiastic than the last, but still in the same wheelhouse. “Really appreciate that.” It took everything in Raina’s power to not ask him what he meant. It was clear that maybe he wanted to keep it as a secret, but she still wanted to know. What if he was like her, but too scared to admit it? Too scared that she might freak out? That didn’t make any sense, she thought. Not after what she’d done for him. She grappled with the idea of asking him the specifics about what he meant, but decided to push it out of the way. Maybe next time. 

“Huh?” Raina blanked. “The water thing?” She thought for a moment. She could give Alfie her entire life story, but decided to shrug. “It’s been happenin’ for a while, yeah.” Maybe she’d tell him later to make him feel more comfortable-- No, was that manipulative? She cleared her throat. “I figured it out when I was about… six? I think.” She wondered if there were earlier inclinations that she had powers, like when she was a baby. Had she come out of the womb freezing things, or did the ability manifest over time? “But yeah, water ‘an I, we’re like--” She crossed her index and middle finger as if making a promise, “We’re like this.” She let out a laugh. “Sorta sounds dumb when I put it that way.” She could write essays on what her magic meant to her, as well as water, rain, the ocean-- any of it, but she felt it overbearing. 

“It doesn’t sound dumb at all,” Alfie assured her with a thoughtful nod. For as long as he could remember, the phoenix had been surrounded by his own flames. There weren’t many stories about him setting the house on fire as an infant by sneezing, but he distinctly remembered combusting in his youth. Even if his siblings didn’t give him constant reminders (which they seemed to enjoy on a relatively frequent basis), that wasn’t something he could easily forget. He considered sharing this particular story with Raina. What would it hurt? It’s not like he would need to dive into the reality of why. Still, he owed it to himself — and his family — to keep the information private. He’d already broken the family oath by letting Eddie in on it. If anyone else knew, it was because they were deemed trustworthy by the rest of his family. Alfie simply wasn’t allowed to make those sort of decisions.

Alfie allowed the conversation to lull for a bit before elaborating. “I get the feeling. Not with water, obviously, but…” His lips pressed together before he let out a breathy chuckle. “Y’know. Something being so closely tied to who you are that it’s impossible to separate it from your identity.” For instance, the fact that his skin was sloughing off underneath his raincoat because he got it wet. Or that sometimes his hairline sprouted the beginning of vibrant, flame-colored plumage. It wasn’t all there was to him, but it was intrinsic to the existence of Alfonzo Ramirez. 

“Sorry,” added Alfie. “I don’t mean to pry. Besides, it’s probably not the safest thing to talk about out in the open like this.” Even if they were the only ones around to hear. The sound of rain pitter-pattered around them, bouncing off the awning and onto the pavement, as Alfie looked on. “You’re pretty new around here, aren’t you? I mean, compared to most White Crest residents.” He didn’t actually know how long Raina had been living in the small town. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. There’s actually a lot of people here that I don’t know and I’ve been here for… forever.”

The rain continued to fall, big blotted drops of water now careening towards where they stood, funneling into a drain. Raina discreetly used her magic to keep the line forward, running towards the drain so that it wouldn’t pool at their feet.

I get the feeling. Raina wondered what he meant. She wanted to ask, but she decided she wouldn’t pressure him into revealing something that might be a better kept secret. Maybe it was better that way, she thought. It seemed like Alfie truly understood, and Raina felt a small twinge in her chest. She was glad that somebody could get it, and even though she didn’t know how he understood, she was grateful that she wasn’t being looked at as if she were crazy. Whoever, or whatever Alfie was, Raina knew she had found herself a friend in him.

“I’m new. Newer than the shine on my headlights at least.” She had just gotten them waxed. She looked out towards the shops that kept their doors closed. She looked towards Alfie, too. Maybe it was a good thing she’d gone to get froyo. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to help him. “But I’m thinkin’ it’ll do me good to be here.” She smiled at Alfie and palmed the sides of her head in an attempt to flatten down the distinct curl that came with the rain.