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jetaime-jespere · 3 years

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Right Where You Left Me Part 2

“I wonder what two people do in a hotel room when no one is watching.”

Rated M for smut/darker themes

April | Fourteen Months Ago

“We’re looking for two men, both about forty years old,” Aaron says calmly, surveying the small crowd of detectives that have gathered around them in the cramped Newark Police Station. They’re listening intently; two more bodies were found early that morning and the clock is now ticking faster. “They’re most likely friends. They’ve known each other for years, it’s likely they’ve been at this a long time in one way or another.”

Beside him, Emily nods assuredly as she rests her hands on her hips. Ever since he discreetly passed the coffee to her in the hotel lobby, she’d been the picture of focus, any of the doubt he’d seen the night before gone from her face. He knows her well enough to know it’s probably just an act - the art of compartmentalization at work - but it’s good enough for right now. It has to be. “Keep in mind both are alpha males, dominant personalities. This is rare in duos like this, but it makes them all the more dangerous.”

“They know the area well,” Dave adds. “Which suggests they’re local. Been around awhile. Probably born in Jersey. They probably fit right in. You wouldn’t give them a passing thought.”

“What we do know is they have no intention of stopping.” Morgan rounds out the rest of the profile. Behind him is an evidence board full of photos and hastily scribbled notes and diagrams. It’s only 10 AM yet it feels like much later. They’ve been at this for several hours already with no end in sight, the sure sign of another draining day. “Which is why we need to catch them at their own game.”

“What do you have in mind?” The weary, yet brusque Newark detective asks, his slight New York accent heavy.

“They operate at night and essentially go dark during the day. We have to get creative with this one,” Morgan reasons. “If not, we’re never going to find them.”

“I hope you’ve got something in mind.”

June | Present Day

“Maybe I’ll have that drink now.” Emily frees her arm from under his grasp with a well-timed jerk, reaching for the untouched wine glass on the table. It shakes in her hand as she takes a long sip, and Aaron prepares for it to slide from her fingers and shatter all over the table. It doesn’t, and he breathes a sigh of relief. The less attention they bring to themselves, the better. He doesn’t dare turn around to see if the others are watching. By now, they’re probably more than aware of his vacant seat at the table, sensing his absence around the dance floor.

From her place beside him, Emily pushes the glass between her hands, stares at the floral centerpiece. She’s nervous, he assesses. But then again, so is he. Aaron has thought of this moment often, what it would be like to see her again. What he (she) would say, how she (he) would react. But then, it was nothing more than a wishful fantasy. Now it’s real; he has one chance he can’t screw up. “Are you lonely there? All by yourself?” It’s one of the many thoughts that’s plagued him in the long nights he’s lain awake, staring at the ceiling for hours at a time. The thought of her alone, some four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean, is never far from his mind. He’s known her long enough to know she appreciates some level of anonymity, that she’s always been fiercely independent. Yet it doesn’t change the fact that she’s bearing the burden alone, something that seems cruelly unfair.

“Lonely isn’t the word I’d use.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Let me ask you, Aaron. Are you lonely? Have you moved on?”

“Moved on?” He stares at her in disbelief. “What do you think, Emily? You up and left days after we buried him. Things aren’t … things aren’t the same now. None of us have just moved on, you know. We didn’t just lose him. We lost you too.”

She regards him for a moment, as if she’s never considered the question before, and not exactly sure how to answer it. “London is where I belong now,” Emily says coolly, swirling the wine around in the glass. The dark red liquid clings to the side; remnants of her lipstick stain the outer rim. “It’s for the better, anyway. For all of us.”

“If it’s where you belong, if that’s what you think, then what’s your third reason? You only gave me two.”

Her arms fold over her chest in defense. The wine does little to settle the incessant, taunting voice she’s heard in her head since she stepped into Heathrow airport some twenty-four hours ago. Emily prepared herself on the plane for this; she knew exactly what coming here would entail, every past memory and nightmare it would conjure, from the moment she hung up the phone after hearing Dave’s happy news. But there was no convincing her otherwise and she’d filled out the RSVP card in her telltale slanted handwriting, putting it in the mail without hesitation. A smile had crossed her face when she imagined what Dave’s reaction might be when he opened the small envelope. On the passable days (there really aren’t good days anymore), she can picture them together, some semblance of peace settled between them. They have one another, one of the only things that gives her any comfort these days.

Emily hears Clyde’s words in her mind over again, louder and louder. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he’d said gently, on more than one occasion, most recently a few nights ago. She’d called him in the early hours of the morning, yanked from the clutches of another nightmare. Of course he’d answered on the first ring, already reaching for his jacket and scarf, and a short time later, Emily heard the twist of a key in her apartment door. She took a few deep breaths when she heard him shut and bolt it behind him, temporarily soothed by the sound of water filling a glass and shoes scratching against the floor. When he pushed the door to her bedroom open, few words were said between them. She’s stopped apologizing for calling; he’s stopped asking if she’s okay. It’s a ritual they have, albeit an unspoken one - she calls, he comes, and they spend a few hours piecing back together what will only fall apart again within a matter of time.

“You really think going back is a good idea?” Clyde flipped through the television channels once she calmed down, changed, and the sweaty sheets were replaced with fresh ones. He had the remote in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other, his feet propped up on the foot of her bed. He settled on a rerun of a sitcom, checked his watch, and rubbed his hand across his face.

“I have to,” Emily said simply, tearing at the ragged skin around her fingernails.

“Why?” He began, yet he’d made the face that told her exactly how he felt about the whole situation.

“I promised Dave years ago I would.” It’s not nearly as convincing as she wanted, but not a complete lie. Unfortunately, Clyde saw right through her reticence.

“That’s not the only reason.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you miss him might be a good start.” Clyde’s casual, unflinching honesty was always one of her favorite things about him. The ability to be rational and objective in his assessment of her time and time again, yet cautious in his approach. It’s a balance that has been learned over the years, mastered in the last few months. “That maybe you made a mistake and you’re too afraid to admit it.”

“I didn’t make a mistake. But of course I miss him, Clyde. I loved him.”

He’d spun the glass in his hands and laughed for the first time since finding her in bed a screaming mess. “I believe you have your tenses incorrect, darling. Aren’t you a linguist?” His knack for picking up on the most subtle things never ceased to amaze her.

“There are some things,” she began slowly, counting her breaths like her therapist had taught her months ago. “That I never got a chance to say. That I couldn’t say once everything … you know.”

“And you’re willing to put yourself through hell again, for the off chance you work up the courage to say the things you never got to?”

“Yes.”

Clyde nodded with a deep sigh, accepting defeat. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before in the last year. They’ve done this before; they will again soon. “Why don’t you try and get some rest? We have to be up in -” he checked his watch again. “Four hours.”

Emily groaned; she’s no stranger to the long days that often follow nights like this. She’d long stopped fighting Clyde on his demand that she attempt to rest. Eventually she’d succumb to the exhaustion that blanketed her mind, but only after she relived it all, just one more time.

...

Emily has a therapist in London - an older woman who oddly enough resembles her mother in looks and mannerisms. But she’s nothing like her, and for reasons she can’t explain, Emily felt an appreciation for her instantly. She doesn’t try to make her forget - she’ll never forget. But what she does is try to help her forgive, mostly herself. She’ll never do that, either. How could she, after it all went wrong? The other part of the process, as she’s learned through many agonizing sessions of recounting it all - the events of that day, the ones leading up to it - was everything that wasn’t said, and the price she paid.

Seeing them (him) hurts as much as the thought it would. Of course, their last conversation before it all fell apart had been an argument, one that will haunt her for the rest of her days. She’ll never be able to take it back; the damage has already been done. |

“Tell me,” he says calmly, as the music around them ceases. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“Unfinished business,” Emily tells him. “There are things I never -”

She’s interrupted by the band starting up yet again, along with the invitation for couples to join Dave and Krystall on the floor as the first dance comes to an end. Emily pointedly looks away, completely perturbed by the idea of it, yet it gives him an idea. He can’t let her slip away again. Not yet. “Do you dance?” Aaron asks, with a boyish grin that elicits the slightest knowing smile from her. She remembers.

“Not much, these days. There isn’t much of an occasion now, you know.”

“But you did,” Aaron forces a smile that hurts a little more than it should. “At least you would dance with me.”

Read the rest on ao3

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #Aaron x emily #hotchniss fic #angst and pain #TW for major character death #bring your tissues

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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We Sold Our Souls | 001: Beca

Summary: A small-town rock band continues to play even smaller venues well past high school graduation. Aubrey, Beca, Emily, and Chloe struggle with newfound fame and the long bloody road to get there.

[Based off of "We Sold Our Souls" By Grady Hendrix"]

Read on AO3 | Dt to the amazing @ifionlyhadmorepaper

Beca’s fingers were split and callused where Chloe’s were warm and protected. They were covered in bandages of all shapes and sizes, little adhesive papers that browned at the edges from dirt or from blood that hadn’t been dabbed away. They were wrapped, lacerated where she had pressed too hard on the velvet cords of her guitar. Beca Mitchell would play until rustic oozing syrup covered the face of the instrument.

They stung, sometimes, but right now she leaned into the numbness that the temperature in the office provided. She wanted to spread them in an equal motion over the glass of the desk so each finger lined up with a toe in her Doc Martins. Instead, she placed them calmly in her lap and stared at the silver pen that rested next to the contract.

She picked silently at the ace bandage that she had strategically wrapped around her pinky finger. It had been the newest slice; a wound still fresh to the sterile room. She was sure it would drip one, maybe two drops of red on the white linoleum.

Beca glanced up from the writing utensil and saw nothing but a suit, a slate and dull grey that blended perfectly with the rest of the room. There were no photos on the wall, nothing but a bland black leather sofa and a glass coffee table that matched the same desk they sat at now. She wanted to look through the floor to ceiling windows but saw nothing but white. Everything was white.

She was the darkest thing in the room.

Her boot tapped against, a low and thumbed rhythm. She waited for him to say something, to say anything. But she realized quickly that he may be darker than her. She could stare into the abyss that was his face, into the shadow but it would mean nothing. There were no defining features other than a crisp, business-like smile.

She had switched from pulling at the dressing of her wounds to picking at the frayed edges of her black jean jacket, littered with patches and permanent marker. Beca traced a signature that Chloe had drawn on one drunken night.

They had popped a bottle of champagne and the bubbles made the cuts on her fingers burn something fierce. But she let the golden liquid slosh onto the carpet of the hotel room, and bubble up in her throat until she couldn’t quite hold it between her lips anymore. Chloe kissed her and she tasted like weed and cherry.

It was the first night that their song was played on the radio.

The four of them huddled around a radio, its antenna stretched to the ceiling of that dingy room. The lights buzzed as much as the static, and it was close to three am; too late for the bar handlers to be heading home, and too early for the suits to be warming up their cars. But they played it- they played it.

They could quite possibly be the only four people in the entire world to hear the first song from the DEMO that Beca slid under the studio door.

When she leaned forward, the leather her pants made an ungodly noise. She didn’t’ want to read through the stack bound with a thick black clip. The first page was highlighted where she needed to initial and bolded at the most important parts; the parts that distracted her from what really mattered.

Her father was a stockbroker before he was dead, and he would tell her every single time he brought home a new contract, that they make the glittery things darker. That’s not what she was supposed to read; she was supposed to look at the little pieces of text that had stars next to them. People liked to trick you with shiny things.

Beca moved her finger across the large stack; the paper was cool to the touch and caught on the adhesive of her ace bandage. “What exactly are you offering me here?”

Summer 1985

It took her four whole months to save up for the old white Charvel that sat at the back of Shawl's pawn shop. There were bars strapped across the windows and an ugly neon orange sign that let Beca know when they were closed and when they weren’t. She would cling to those bars when old man Shawl would tell her to buy something or get the fuck out.

He stared at her even harder when she emptied the shoebox of change and crumpled up bills stained with sweat and sticky substances onto the glass counter, but even he couldn’t turn down a profit. She waited for ages while his liver-spotted hands counted the money carefully. Then he pursed his lips and pulled the beat up guitar down from his perch above his shoulder.

In later years, Beca knew she didn’t have nearly enough, and she thanked him silently for taking pity on her and passing it over anyway. She was driving all of his customers, she reasoned, by sulking on the hot sidewalk in front of the shop, letting banana flavored popsicles drip onto her fingers until it was nothing but a stick left.

She had fastened the worn leather strap around her chest and straddled her jet red bicycle. Beca had never peddled so fast in her life. The Mid-August heat clung to every inch of her was humming with sweat by the time she skidded to a stop in front of her house. She let the bike drop and got an instant hit of relief when she crossed the threshold into the open garage.

Beca scooted past the dusty Monza that barely fit in front of the door leading into their kitchen. Her mother had bought it off a stranger that came into the diner back in 78’. There were questionable stains in the backseat and an odd scent of Clorox that they could never get rid of. But it ran back and forth, and that’s all they needed.

She pulled open the honey blossom fridge and grabbed the closest thing they had to a cool drink. Beca drank tang straight from the pitcher, letting it drip down her face and soak into the collar of her shirt. She was noisy when she drank, and oblivious to her mother watching her from the archway as she tied her apron around her waist.

“We have glasses, Bec’s”

Her mother didn’t’ comment on the guitar strapped to her back. She figured that her daughter had picked up another hobby. Last year it was basketball, and the year before that she begged and begged for a set of baseball cards from the local hobby shop. After they were shoved under her bed she was told to fund her ventures on her own.

Beca swallowed the last of the orange flavoring on her tongue and took a savoring breath to fill her burning lungs. She turned to the woman and smiled “That would just dirty two things instead of one. Besides, you don’t drink this anyway.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her mother wrestled silently with the faux pearl earrings that matched the beaded necklace against her collarbone. The soft blue tone of her uniform washed out her skin and made her look pale despite the summer heat that lingered well into August.

Beca placed the glass decanter back into the bottom half of the fridge before she mock saluted her mother and wandered back out to the garage. Her skin instantly became slick with sweat. She pulled an empty milk crate a few inches from the line of the setting sun.

She finally pulled the old Charvel from her back and situated it in her arms. It was far from a perfect fit. She reached over the neck and felt the way the side dug into her ribs uncomfortably. The strings were frail and sounded rough as she dragged her thumb against them.

Beca had only learned the start of one song, the first few cords of Black Sabbath’s Tomorrows Dream. They had printed the cords on the back of the record sleeve, each specific note highlighted in a comically large dot. Beca would breathe in the dust of the garage and listen to the record on a constant loop, pressing her fingers down against the notes.

She took a deep breath and started to follow the instructions that she had completed a million times over. The strings were too tight and it sounded choppy, sharp, and thick all at once. She cringed at her half-hearted attempt and the way the cords cut so deeply into her fingertips they stung.

She ignored the old car pulling out of the garage, and the way she had to squint at the darkness after a while. There was still the sour taste of orange on her tongue and sweat dripped from her nose. But she played and played, and played until there was blood against the white face of the instrument and tears pinching at her eyes. It sounded somewhat like Black Sabbath.

“You like metal?”

Beca jerked her hand back quickly and drew in a sticky warm breath of air. She had been so wrapped up in her task that she hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone anymore. A girl stood in the dull light that leaked from the garage and into the pavement. She didn’t’ quite pass the threshold- instead, she lingered.

A certain chill had invaded the air and the girl folded into herself. Her wild mane of orange hair fell around her shoulders and ghostly blue eyes lit up optimistically at the sight of a guitar.

“Uh,”

“That’s a Charvel, right? I begged my parents for one last Christmas but they got me an acoustic instead. Hooked me up with lessons from Miss Jensen. I learned one country song and started pocketing the fifty bucks a week instead.”

“Yeah,” Beca swallowed hard “It’s a Charvel”

“That’s cool,” she rocked back and forth on the souls of her sneakers. The cold didn’t’ seem to get to her much anymore. Beca tried to place her. Her ears were ringing and her fingers hurt. The crickets were hissing their own song. “You go to Kennedy don’t you?”

“I’m second year”

“I’m third.” She beamed “I live right next door, I’ve seen you around.”

Beca lifted her chin; she had seen the girl around too. It usually followed loud screaming and slamming doors. She would sit on her stoop and stare at the way her cassette player would turn. Beca had seen her flip a tape four times once- still like a statue until the music stopped and hat to be reset.

“Listen, I uh- don’t want to intrude, but maybe we could play together sometime?”

“Yeah, I would like that.” She found herself saying, the orange drink in her system making her stomach churn. She nearly felt bad, felt a pang of sadness for the girl. “I’m Beca.”

“Hi, Beca. I’m Chloe.”

Winter 1994

Beca let the case fall shut a little too loudly. The acoustics on the small stage seemed to catch all the wrong things. She couldn’t get her voice to carry earlier in the night, but the fur-lined box that they housed their amp in bounced all the way to the entry of the little venue in Portland.

She blinked hard, trying to ignore the harsh red lights that covered every single inch of the place. There were bumper stickers covering the spotty paint of the walls and a bar that was more piss and peanut shells than anything. Emily gulped down warm beer and struggled to keep it down momentarily. She didn’t look up at the noise, her stare trained on a coaster, and the crumbs that lie next to it.

Beca leaned back on her heels and pulled in a thick breath. She smelled like sweat and blood and alcohol. Her little stunt had drawn the attention of Aubrey, the woman wrapping the cord to a different amp around her forearm and palm. She narrowed her unripe stare.

“This was fucking shit,”

“I’m doing my best”

They spoke at the same time. She knew that Aubrey’s anger was buzzing, it was festering until it finally burst. She looked pale under the red lights, the same tattoo they had all gotten two years ago stretched under her tank top and down to the gap between her jeans.

She knew what Aubrey was going to say. Her best wasn’t good enough, and it never was; they had been doing this for years, eight long years and they were still playing the shit-stink venues in even shittier towns. They barely had an audience tonight, and it had all been Beca’s fault. The whole room was thinking it, but no one had the balls to say it other than Aubrey.

Chloe moved from the corner of the room, “We’ll get a better place, Bree.”

“Yeah? When? I’m tired of giving my all to an audience that doesn’t’ fucking exist. We’re not kids anymore.”

“We’re shit broke.” Emily turned in the creaky barstool, swallowing the foam at the bottom of her glass. “I don’t even think we have gas in the van.”

“How much from this gig?” Chloe asked.

Her hair was matted with sweat and her thumb pulled at the chain around her neck. It was fastened with a marbled red pick, one from their first real venue ever. She had nervously wiped away the gold lettering and now the smooth plastic was all that was left. Beca hated disappointing her, and she did it often these days.

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred? Beca that’s barely enough to cover the hotel rooms.” Aubrey let the wrapped cord fall back to the stage “We don’t break even on this. It’s not fucking worth it. It never was and it never is.”

They all knew what came next. Emily stared down a coaster she had begun to shred. The remaining foam on the glass culminated at the very bottom of the glass and she knew she couldn’t muster enough change to order another one. So she sat with the sour taste in her mouth and festered.

Aubrey would mention Julliard.

“I could have had everything.” She hissed instead.

Beca didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, she leaned down and pulled the amp up with nothing more than a grunt. Instead, she walked out into the cold Portland air and let it make her skin tighter. She blinked away the red light and searched for the keys in her pockets. She had left them inside.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #Emily Junk #Aubrey Posen #Junksen #band au #rocker au

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 5 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: remember when call me maybe played on the radio? also, when I was writing this I found myself missing Denali a lot so I included her in the story from now hehe & after this chapter, there are no more time skips, now we are at the “present” part of it Enjoy & thanks for reading <3

-5-

At the age of twenty-two, Priyanka felt like she was invincible.

She was living in Toronto where she went to college with a broadcasting major. She worked in a record store downtown and rocked it as if she was the main character of High Fidelity. She still had the car she bought in her teen years but it worked perfectly and she couldn’t complain. She also shared an apartment with Scarlett who turned out to be a better roommate than expected.

Yeah, life was good. Finally, things had fallen into place.

Now she was on her way back home to spend the first proper vacation with her family she had ever had since moving out and although she loved her new life, she found herself missing the old times when everything seemed simpler.

Scarlett had returned a few days before Priyanka but they had agreed on meeting with the entire group to have some shots as soon as they all were there.

The sun was bright and yellow in the sky when she arrived home. As soon as she set a foot in, her nephews and nieces pounced on her. She spent the whole day playing with them –Priyanka liked to think she was not a regular aunt but rather a cool aunt- and ended up so tired that she went straight to bed after dinner –and for goodness sake, she had missed homemade food.

Going back to her old room was weird. It felt wider now that her sister lived in Australia and spent most of the year touring with a great orchestra. Most of Priyanka’s stuff was in Toronto and the remaining ones were inside boxes somewhere in the basement; the walls were empty and there were marks where the sticky tape was on gluing posters and photos, same old curtains, and even the same lamp on the nightstand. Her luggage was untouched, clothes folded –kind of- inside it. She’d unpack in the morning and until then she would put on whatever she found on the drawer as pajamas. Luckily, she had a Totally Spies! old t-shirt with a hole in one of the sides that would do just fine.

Before turning off the lights, she saw the picture of her graduation, smiling while she hugged her friends and a good feeling invaded her body.

The moment her head touched the pillow she fell asleep.

It wasn’t until the morning after things went downhill.

Priyanka didn’t know yet, she had a great morning drinking coffee and catching up with her mother before getting a text from Kiara asking if she’d like to have brunch with them –don’t judge her, a mimosa sounded delightful- plus they mentioned something about waffles discounts.

She had grabbed the first thing her hands picked from her suitcase, a pair of grey sweatpants, sneakers, and a tank top; the morning was still chilly so she put on a light jacket and tied her hair into a ponytail.

She texted Denali as well; she was a friend Priyanka met one winter she came to town from Alaska for a skating competition and ever since then, she would visit once in a while to hang out with them and practice with one of the local coaches. They got along instantly because Denali was fun to be around, she was also a very talented skater and a great drinking buddy to have next to her any night.

She replied shortly after, something about meeting them there.

It was nice to be in her hometown again, driving around with the same car she bought there, knowing exactly where to turn and where to go. Call Me Maybe played in the radio on repeat and she let it be, even sang along with her windows down.

She passed by Lemon’s old house -the one where she lived before moving to New York- her parents had sold it a few months after splitting up and a new family lived there already, Priyanka sometimes saw little kids playing around and couldn’t help but think of them sometimes. Those days most of her memories with Lemon were nostalgically tinted more than angry like the day she left.

Lemon’s father had re-married a couple of years ago, he met a French-Canadian woman in one of his business trips; she had an older daughter called Rita that Priyanka had met a few times in town. Although she had never spoken to her, according to her friends, she had a charming accent and funnier than she looked in her classy exterior.

Lemon had returned for the wedding that time but their paths didn’t cross.

They hadn’t met in seven years now.

When Priyanka arrived, the dining was flooded with people and waiters going back and forward with pots of coffee and flying orders. She quickly found her friends among the crowded tables and made her way to the table without bothering other customers.

“Hello, ladies!” She smiled widely. “Missed me much?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I saw you like three days ago, you clingy bitch.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Priyanka hugged Kiara and then Juice who were sitting on the other side of the squared table.

“Well, I did miss you.” Juice said.

“See? Even your girlfriend is happy to see me.”

“Again, we’re not dating…”

“Yeah, yeah… we’ve heard it before.” Kiara complained and Scarlett crossed her arms on her chest. “Anyway… have you eaten yet?”

“No, I had coffee with my mom and now I’m starving.” She perused the menu and finally set her mind on the cinnamon waffles. “We should wait for Denali to order, though.”

“Priyanka…” Scarlett called her name with a particular tone.

Very particular.

She suddenly took a closer look at her friends. They all seemed secretive; in possession of some valuable knowledge, Priyanka wasn’t. Juice avoided eye contact, Kiara continued fidgeting and Scarlett was nicer than ever.

It had to be bad.

“What’s going on with you guys?” She was a little scared of asking.

“I think we should wait for the food…” Juice scratched the back of her head.

“No, we have to do this fast and effectively, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” Kiara disagreed.

“Uh… guys, you’re freaking me out. What the hell is going on?”

Scarlett followed Kiara’s advice.

“Lemon’s here.”

Priyanka was perplexed and for once in her life didn’t have a witty comeback. She had gone blank.

“Is she broken?” Juice waved right in front of her trying to catch any movement in her eyes.

“Give it a moment, let it sink…”

Priyanka looked at her roommate. “When you say she’s here you mean…?”

She pointed at Kiara.

“Okay so, she’s still close with some of the girls… you know, Boa, Tynomi…” Priyanka nodded, mechanically. “I bumped into Tynomi the other day and she casually mentioned that Lemon’s in town for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?!”

Great. Just great.

“What is she doing here?” Kiara opened her mouth to reply but Priyanka shushed her. “You know what? I don’t wanna know… I don’t care… I couldn’t care less.”

It didn’t make sense. Lemon hadn’t been back in five years since the wedding and she chose that particular summer to make her triumphal returning. Priyanka was starting to believe she’d become a ghostly memory of her childhood days but somehow she was there in flesh and bone.

Her hands were sweaty.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m late,” Denali’s voice took them out of their bubble. “Wow… you all look… somber… Should I come back later?” You didn’t need to be an expert to perceive the environment.

“No, it’s not…” Priyanka shook her head.

She wasn’t letting her ruin her vacations.

“Sorry. Hi, Nali…” She stood up and hugged the girl tightly. “Remember everyone?”

“Hi everyone,” She greeted the girls one by one and then sat next to Priyanka. “Seriously, if you need me to leave…”

“No need.” Priyanka assured.

“Then what’s going on? Cat got your tongue? You’re usually the loudest table wherever you go.”

“Priyanka’s first crush is in town.” Juice filled the blanks.

“Aw, that’s cute… are you meeting her soon?”

“Not if I can help it…” She muttered.

“She’s also her former best friend…”

“Oh…”

“…Who hadn’t seen her in the past seven years. It’s like her own Envy Adams.”

“Oh, no… Okay… that’s… I’m going to sit here and pretend that I’m reading this interesting menu…” Denali covered her face with the said item.

“Don’t bother, Nali. You have nothing to worry about.” She put her hand over her shoulder. “I’m totally fine with it.” Priyanka sounded convinced.

“Yeah… about that…” Kiara started. “Did we forget to mention she’s in this establishment right now…?”

Priyanka almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s here… here.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Well, that’s…” Priyanka was feeling dizzy. “Would you excuse me for a second? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Pri!” One of the girls called her name but she didn’t turn back.

Priyanka locked herself in the first free booth she found.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this moment before, years ago when the wounds were still fresh and her heart had been broken, but now… after all that time, she wasn’t prepared. Her mind refused to let the memories go away but she had managed to live a life without Lemon, a life that was good and where she achieved everything she wanted. Now she felt like she was walking back to a place where she was overexposed and it was too much to handle.

She took a deep breath. No.

She wasn’t that little girl anymore, she had endured worse and by no way, she’d give all that power to a single person that wasn’t even part of her life anymore.

Priyanka lifted her head and heard the sound of the water running from the sink diverted her attention. She couldn’t see the reflection in the mirror but that silhouette, a hint of blonde hair and a floral dress, the pastel nails shaking the water drops…

It had to be…

She grabbed a paper towel and tossed it in the trash before leaving the bathroom.

Priyanka’s blood was rushing and some type of instinct made her open the door and get out of the bathroom.

She had to know.

Her eyes traveled around the dining, trying to distinguish among those faces but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Priyanka returned to the bathroom as if the sugar rush diminished and threw some cold water on her face. The reflection on the mirror stared back at her, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked bigger than ever. She took a deep breath before going back to her table with her friends; they’d get worried if she stayed there any longer.

She walked back, shaking the feeling with every step, she only slowed down when she started getting closer and saw her. She saw her right in front of their table; her hand touching the top rail of the chair where Priyanka was sitting, her frame was still petite but she wasn’t either a sweet little girl or an adolescent teenager, she was a young woman now.

She had curves and toned ballerina legs, her hair was longer and blonder than before and it looked silky and wavy, even her posture was different, relaxed, matured, she was lively talking to her friends even laughing at something Kiara said.

What had happened there?

Juice spotted Priyanka right behind, the others did too and suddenly all the eyes of the table were on her.

Lemon turned around.

She was wearing a buttoned dress with short sleeves and a daisy design in white, yellow, blue, and green; her hair had two pins holding away from her face and there were rosy hints on her features, the tip of her nose, from her cheekbones to her cheeks; her lips in perfect pastel pink lip gloss, her lashes had mascara on and her signature eyeshadow had the right amount of spark to make her eyes pop –Lemon had worn contact lenses since she was sixteen because she was practically blind without glasses, Priyanka knew.

She blinked a couple of times and then smirked.

She smirked.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She smiled at the people sitting at the table. “It’s nice to see you, guys. I hope we can hang out sometime.”

It was like a slap on Priyanka’s face who had said nothing yet.

Scarlett’s eyes were playing ping-pong, going from Priyanka to Lemon non-stop; Juice was nervous but she kept smiling, Kiara was still in disbelief and Denali hid behind the menu again.

She walked next to Priyanka like a breeze.

Now the anger built over the years had resurfaced and made her blood boil under her skin.

“Hello to you too.” Priyanka spat loudly enough for her to hear.

Kiara mouthed oh shit.

Lemon stopped and looked at Priyanka over her shoulder.

“Oh, so you can speak now…” She nodded.

Her face remained inscrutable it was annoying. Priyanka had her nails pressing the inside of her palms so hard, her knuckles were turning white.

“If that’s it…”

“It’s not.” Priyanka was fuming.

“How unfortunate because it is for me.” She walked away with the last word, leaving Priyanka behind.

She followed her figure until she was out of the dining and then felt the hand of Juice grabbing her wrist.

“Pri…?” She tested.

“It’s fine… I’m fine.” She sat back on her chair but the image of Lemon’s fingers touching it didn’t help.

She internally thanked the waitress that approached to take their order because she didn’t want to talk about it.

Priyanka didn’t want to admit that even after all those years, her heart kept running wild in her presence and there was nothing she could do. All those years of being apart hadn’t done a single thing for her hopeless, stupid little heart.

#rpdr fanfiction #priyanka #lemon #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #drcan #can1 #timeskips #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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lettersinscarlet · 4 years

Text

Turn the Car Around (Colby Brock Imagine)

Hey guys! I know that it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, and that’s on me. I’m really really sorry, but I’m really trying. I’ve been dealing with a lot and also trying to keep up with everything and I haven’t been doing a great job. Anyway, I’m hoping to get some more stuff out soon and I’ve been bouncing around a few ideas in my head. Alright guys, I hope you enjoy!

Song: Shattered (Turn the Car Around) by O. A. R.

——————————————————————————

You walked into Colby’s apartment and you smiled. You were a little confused, because Colby didn’t even acknowledge you when you walked in. You craned you’re neck and you saw that he was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed and his head down. You walked over and waved at him.

“Hey, Colbs,” you said warily and you saw his expression darken slightly. He looked up at you and you saw thunderclouds in his eyes.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked angrily. You checked your watch and saw that it was around 10:45. Your sighed as you realized why he was upset.

“I didn’t but I do now,” you admitted. He rolled his eyes before he settled his gaze on you.

“What were you doing?” he asked monotonously.

“I was working,” you explained. “My boss sprung on this task that was due at the end of the day, so we were working so hard and I was so focused that I lost track of time and I’m sorry.”

“We? So you weren’t alone?” he probed, an edge appearing in his voice.

“Well, no, I wasn’t alone-“

“Who were you with?” he fired at you. You took a breath and you looked at the floor, knowing he would be angry when you told him.

“Nick,” you whispered. You saw something flash in him and then he was on his feet.

“Nick?” he scoffed. “Of course! So you blew me off, again, for the third time and I find out you were hanging around Nick!” he started, almost visibly shaking with anger.

“You know it’s not like that. We’ve had this conversation before-“

“Yeah. We did. Do you remember how that went? You told me that you’d call when you were ‘working late’ or whatever and you promised that I wouldn’t need to feel this way, but guess what? I do!” He was losing control now, anger clouding his judgement.

But you couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong. You did promise him those things. Recently, you had been working later more often. It just so happened that Nick ended up working late those same nights. Colby had started to get jealous, so you made those promises to him, and you had broken them. Again. But you had already been through this fight, and you were getting tired of it.

“I swear, Colby, I didn’t mean to! It just slipped my mind-“ but you knew those were the wrong words as soon as they came out of your mouth.

“Oh, so I just slipped your mind? I guess I wasn’t important enough for you to remember the second part of this relationship!” he roared.

“Of course you’re important to me! You know I love you,” you told him. Your throat was getting a little tight and your eyes felt a little bit watery.

“Do I? Do I know you love me? Are you sure I’m important to you? Because it doesn’t seem like that to me.” You saw that his eyes were red and a few tears had slipped through his eyes. You stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“You don’t think I love you? Are you saying that you don’t trust me?” The gates flooded and tears poured down your face now. Another fight. You couldn’t handle it anymore, and now he didn’t trust you.

“How can I, when you practically forget I exist? I’m sure you remember that Nick is there with you, taking all your time,” he answered. You stared at him in shock, not believing what you heard. You suddenly stopped and wiped away the tears on your face.

“Screw this, I’m out of here.” You grabbed your keys and you headed back out, slamming the door behind you.

You got in your car and you drove off, not for the first time in your relationship. It seemed like you guys were in a pattern, and you couldn’t break out of it.

You drove and cried, tears streaming down your face like the rain on the windshield. How ironic. You were driving away, angry and hurt. You loved him, loved him with all your heart.

You got to the point of the road where you normally turn around and head back to him. The same motions. You loved him so much and you couldn’t let him go, but you couldn’t get out of this pattern. So you didn’t turn around at that spot. You drove further. Further and further and eventually you were going faster, tears pouring out of your eyes like water from a hose.

Which is why you didn’t see that you were swerving. A lot. So much so, that you were practically in the other lane. And then the car showed up. You barely saw the headlights but you did hear your car crunch audibly and you started spinning, slamming into the wall near the edge of the road. Your head hit the steering wheel and you blacked out.

The cops showed up and they pulled you out of the car, unconscious and barely breathing. They found out who you were as they rushed you to the nearest hospital. They called your emergency contact, which was Colby. You had made him it years ago after you had moved out to LA, even before you guys were dating. When he got the call, he nearly dropped his phone. He instantly rushed out to go see you, calling Sam in his panic.

He got to the hospital and he say and waited. And waited. And waited. It felt like weeks rather than hours that he waited, Sam and Kat showed up later, waiting with Colby. He was pacing, crying, panicking, shaking, and fidgeting the whole time. He couldn’t calm down. He knew it was his fault that you were out driving instead of home with him. He should’ve just ignored it and got over his jealous side. He shouldn’t have questioned you, because he knew that you loved him and he knew that you cared about him.

The doctor came back later, telling the three of them that they could go back and see you, but you wouldn’t be awake. You were physically exhausted and needed time to recover from the extensive surgery you had gone through.

Sam and Kat waited for some time, but eventually they left, because Colby insisted on staying the night with you. He sat up in the chair all night, just waiting for you to wake up.

It was close to four in the morning when you blinked open your eyes. The lights were harsh and you groaned when you looked at the light. Colby was by your side in and instant, lightly holding your hand. You looked over at him and your eyes were wide as you remembered why you were there. You tried to apologize, but he cut you off.

“Shhhh, don’t apologize. This is my fault. Listen, I don’t care how many times you stand me up, who else you hang out with, or anything else that I don’t agree with. I can’t lose you again,” he said. He cleared his throat before he continued, but his voice came out quieter. “You always come back after we fight. We get explosive, one of us walks out, but we come back. I just got so scared, because this time, I didn’t know if you would come back. It was killing me. But I know that you love me and I know that you care, I was just being rash. I won’t let that come between us anymore, I swear. But please, take me back, because I need you, and I love you.”

You nodded your head as more tears fell freely down your face. He lifted his hand and wiped away that ones that fell, before smiling at you. He kissed your head and stroked your hair. You started drifting off to sleep and he hummed to you.

No matter what, no matter how many times you broke until you shattered, no matter if you needed more time but you couldn’t have it, no matter how many times you were unsure of what you wanted, you knew one thing for sure.

You would always turn the car around.

———

Taglist:

@sp00kybrock @yikes-xander @daddydobrock @trapbrock-local @thenameisbabe @far-to-many-bands @lyssaholic @wacky-webber-458 @colbysbaby @katiaw2 @brocks-girl @chesterbenningtonaremylife @frickin-bats @magicxshadows @absolutelynobodyposts @nyctophobics

#colby #colby brock #colby imagine #colby brock imagine #colby fic #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby fanfic #colby fanfiction #colby brock fanfiction #colby x reader #colby brock x reader #x reader #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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lovebitesimagines · 4 years

Text

London Girl- One.

Here we go! The first chapter of my new series, London Girl! Thought it was about time Arthur Shelby got some love.

I have so many cool ideas for this series, but I’m always open to suggestions. Feel free to message me if you have any ideas!

[1] [2] [3]

Tag list: @power-of-words23 @therightcupoftea @igottagetmyselftogemina @midnattheir @the-makingsofgreatness

Wanna be on the tag list? Just drop me a message x

Warnings: Swearing, smut implied.

You are the only child of the notorious London gangster, Alfie Solomons. What happens when you meet Arthur Shelby?

YOUR POV

Small Heath had only ever been a figment of your imagination, a setting created through the fractures of words you heard from behind closed doors, your ear pressed up against wooden frames. Your father had always painted the town as somewhere darker than the soot that gathered at the bottom of your fireplace, with the devils children residing within its walls. You knew better than to believe everything your father ever told you. Growing up in London, you knew exactly what he was- it hadn’t taken long for the whispers to reach your ears. Despite his best efforts to prevent you from ever walking upon Small Heaths tainted soil, you weren’t afraid of the monsters that roamed the streets.

“I heard right, that there is this place in Small Heath” your friend Elizabeth began, her voice low and her face alight with childlike excitement “Where the parties are wild, and the men are even wilder”.

“What’s wrong with the men down here? I think the parties are just fine” you chuckled gently, sipping at your whiskey. You noted how her eyes briefly dropped down to your glass, her nose wrinkling slightly in disgust.

“Surely you want some more…I don’t know…excitement?” she stated, raising an eyebrow as she brought her gaze up to you. Her eyes glinted, a silent plot hatching behind her blue eyes. “Anyway, don’t you want to go somewhere that you aren’t watched?”.

You didn’t have to look around you, to know that your fathers henchmen where watching your every move. It was one of the ‘perks’ of being the only child of the most feared man in London.

It hadn’t taken you much persuading to agree to Elizabeth’s plan, the idea tantalizing you more than you cared to admit. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your cherry red lips pouting softly as you took in your appearance. Everyone had always told you that you had been blessed with your mothers looks, that any aspect of your father shone through in your personality. Your cream laced dress clung to your body, highlighting the few curves that you possessed. Your (Y/C/H) hair hung loose to your shoulders, the waves caressing your exposed skin.

A tap at your bedroom window shook you from your trance. You turned to face it, lifting up the pane of glass to peer on the street down below. Elizabeth stood beside a cab car, waving frantically at you. You snatched your fur shawl and bag from your bed, quickly glancing back at your bedroom door. This wouldn’t be the first time you snuck out late at night.

Little did you know that after this evening, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

A mixture of loud music and shouting echoed through the red brick walls, as you and Elizabeth stood facing the entrance to The Garrison. Shadows moved against the thinly veiled windows, grime cloaking the outskirts of the glass. Shards of glass laid amongst discarded cigarette stubs, glistening underneath the soft glow of the streetlamp. You couldn’t help but instantly fall in love with the shabby exterior. It was nothing like the places you knew back home in London.

You slowly moved forward, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek as you rested your hand upon the rough paintwork that coated the door and pushed. Rough wooden splinters cut into the palm of your hand; shards of dark green paint crumbling to the ground beneath your feet. The hinges squealed as the door swung open, announcing your arrival to the locals. A brief hush fell across the room as you entered, pairs of eyes scanning across your frame in an attempt to decipher who you were.

You made your way across to the bar, sighing in relief as conversations swelled up around you like smoke. You hadn’t realised that you had been holding your breath, nervous at the thought of someone potentially recognising who you were.

“This isn’t anything like I imagined. It’s all a bit…feral” Elizabeth grimaced, moving to stand beside you. You chuckled softly, turning to face the barman.

“Two whiskies please” your lips formed into a polite smile, as you ordered your drinks.

“You ain’t from round ‘ere” he grunted, his face sour with disgust. His dark eyes skimmed over your appearance, a frown etching deep upon his forehead.

“Two. Fucking. Whiskies”.

“I don’t like serving people that ain’t from round ‘ere” he sneered, his lips curling up. You sighed in frustration, turning to face Elizabeth.

“No luck here” you stated softly, gently shrugging your shoulders in defeat.

“You heard the lady Harry. Two fucking whiskies”.

You spun around to face the deep voice that had sounded from behind you, your eyes meeting his.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, the room feeling as if it had come to a halt around you both. You had never seen eyes like his shade of dark grey before, so full of fire and secrets. He wore a newsboy cap, a few strands of his dirty blonde hair falling out from beneath the peak, casting a shadow across his features. His lips where framed by a thick moustache, evidently recently trimmed.

“I’m Arthur”.

*****************************************************************************************************ARTHURS POV

Arthur had noticed you the moment you had waltzed into the pub, a stranger in the midst of his sanctuary. You moved with a rare kind of elegance, almost as if you were floating, the kind that was rarely seen in places such as Small Heath. His pupils dilated as he appreciated your curves, your dress a stark contrast against the dull backdrop. He watched as your hair fell over your shoulders, his throat parched with a thirst only you could quench.

“Beauty she is, ain’t she?” Tommy chuckled lowly, nudging John as they both noted who had stolen Arthurs attention. Arthur sighed inwardly, an empty chuckle sounding out from between his lips, as he glanced down at the glass he grasped within his hands. He knew that just one glance at his younger brother, and you would drop your knickers faster than a bullet. Women very rarely paid any attention to him, and deep down he couldn’t blame them. He was Arthur Shelby, after all.

“Ahh, let him have this one Tommy” John laughed, taking a sip of his lager. “We can’t let you have all the fun”.

“Go on then Arthur. This one is one me” Tommy stated with a smirk.

“Two whiskies please” Arthur glanced up at the sound of your voice, his eyes snapping to you like a magnet. Your accent was as soft as he had imagined, floating melodically towards his ears. You stood not far from him, your back to him, besides a woman he assumed was your friend.

“You ain’t from round here” Arthur furrowed his brows at the bar tenders words, loosening his grip upon his glass.

“Two. Fucking. Whiskies”.

Arthur made his way towards you, the crowds around him parting like waves.

“I don’t like serving people that ain’t from round ‘ere”.

“You heard the lady. Two fucking whiskies” Arthurs voice came out rougher than he had intended, his fingernails digging into the soft wood of the bar. The bartender paled under the angry glare he threw his way, hurrying to complete your drinks order. Nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of a Shelby.

Arthur turned to face you, suddenly nervous at formally meeting you.

Your eyes met.

It must have been witchcraft, the way a simple eye contact made him feel. There was something about the way that your (Y/C/E) eyes enchanted him, trapping him in your gaze. He noted how your red lips parted slightly, and he found himself imagining the way you would taste. The plumpness of your pout suggested that your lips would be soft, a blessing against his own chapped pair. He noted the way your skin flushed as he looked at you, and he suddenly became very aware of the silence that had grown between you both.

“I’m Arthur”.

No second name, a deliberate choice. Most women ran in the other direction at the sound of it, and he wanted to keep you around for as long as he could.

“Hello Arthur. I’m (Y/N)” you smiled softly, nodding gently in the direction of the two glasses of whiskey that had slid across the bar towards you. “Thank you for the drinks”.

“My pleasure” he slid his hands into the pockets of his waistcoat, anxiously wrapping a loose thread around his thumb. “I don’t suppose you…don’t suppose you’d want to dance?”.

The slight pause made his heart sink. Of course, you wouldn’t want too. No woman in their right mind would want to be seen dancing with Arthur fucking Shelby, not when his younger brothers where much more eligible.

“I’d love too”.

*****************************************************************************************************

YOUR POV

Music swelled within the air, soft and effortless, as Arthur gently entangled his fingers with yours to lead you across to the dance floor. His hand was warm, his skin rough and scratching against your palm. A simple touch seemed to cement you both together, neither one of you wanting to relinquish the sensation.

“I don’t normally dance” Arthur chuckled lowly, letting go of your hand as he turned to face you upon the make-shift dance floor- a small space of bare flooring in front of the band, that few couples occupied.

“Just follow my lead, and you’ll be fine” you smiled softly as you stepped a little closer to him. “Place your hands upon my hips”.

Arthur obeyed your command, the lump in his throat bobbing as he placed his hands just above your waist. His grip was gentle yet firm, as he pulled you slightly closer towards him, your chest pressed up against his. You swallowed nervously, your skin igniting at his touch. You stood on the balls of your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck, as you begun to slowly move together.

The music spun around you both, lifting you around like gravity. Everyone blurred around you, as if they were nothing more than paint that had been splattered carelessly upon a canvas. You lost count of the amount of times you had stood on each other’s feet, but Arthur still smiled brightly down at you as if you were the only woman in the room that mattered.

“See? You’re a natural” you stated gently, as the music came to a slow end. You let your arms drop slowly from their place around Arthurs neck, as you smiled softly up at him.

“You’re too kind” he chuckled, his fingers absent mindedly stroking your waist, as he appeared deep in thought. “What brings you down to Small Heath anyway?”

“Oh, you know. Bored London girl, wanting to explore. Another cliché story” you stated, glancing down at Arthurs arms as you spoke. He paused, taking in your words.

“I want to know more about you, London girl” he stated, reaching to entangle your fingers once more. “Come with me”.

*****************************************************************************************************

ARTHURS POV

Arthur swore he must have been dreaming. It must have been a figment of his imagination, something he had conjured up within the darkness of his mind, watching your lips move and your voice agree to dance with him. The simple sensation of your hand within his, tying him to you, drove him wild. Your skin was a welcome smoothness against his own, callous hands. It made him wonder how smooth the rest of you was.

“I don’t normally dance” he chuckled, embarrassed by his lack of experience in this matter. You were a rare kind of woman, a brave kind of woman, agreeing to dance and be seen with a man like him.

“Just follow my lead, and you’ll be fine. Place your hands upon my hips”.

Arthur couldn’t move his hands quick enough, placing his hands gently and firmly upon your waist. Your curves where soft, an addicting feeling that he wanted to explore. He pulled you closer to him, breathing in your scent. You smelt like roses and honey, a softness which matched the sensation of your frame.

Dancing with you felt easy, effortless almost, as if he was walking upon clouds. He couldn’t help but smile down at you, in awe of your beauty which radiated from you, your skin shining with a youthful glow.

What was somebody like you, doing with somebody like him?

“See? You’re a natural”.

“You’re too kind” Arthur responded, his heart silently sinking as the dance came to a stop. He didn’t want to let you go. He didn’t want this moment to end. His mind whirled with a million topics of conversation, each one more pathetic than the last, as he absent minded stroked your waist. “What brings you to Small Heath?”

“Oh, you know. Bored London girl, wanting to explore. Another cliché story”.

Arthur watched as your head dipped slightly, pausing to reflect upon what you had said.

“I want to know more about you London Girl. Come with me” he slid his fingers through yours, flames dancing upon his skin at the touch. He led you through the crowds, people parting as you made your way through, and out through the back door onto the yard, grabbing a bottle of whiskey on his way through.

It wasn’t the most spectacular of places, not quite as exquisite as you deserved. Arthur was embarrassed at the surroundings, only a few crates for you both to sit upon, the ground littered with a variety of empty bullet cases and cigarette stubs.

“I’m sorry, ‘bout the state of the place. It’s just…somewhere quiet. Away from prying eyes” Arthur stated, glancing nervously over at you. Your skin was glowing under the soft light cast by the moon, his eyes magnetically drawn to you. He watched as you made your way over to the crates, a smile dancing upon your lips.

“I hate crowds. Always feel like I’m being watched” you stated, sitting down upon a crate.

“You and me both” Arthur sat down beside you with a soft grunt, passing you the bottle of whiskey. “I always feel under a spotlight, especially in my family”.

“I’m under such scrutiny back home” you began, bringing the bottle to your lips, taking a long swig of whiskey. “I just want to feel…feel something you know?”

Arthurs eyes met yours as you finished speaking. You didn’t need to explain, he knew exactly how you felt, because he felt it too.

You couldn’t possibly be the missing piece of him.

Could you?

“I can make you feel something” Arthur suggested, heat rising on his skin at the absurdity of his suggestion. There was no possible chance that you would agree to this, or that you would even entertain the idea.

A few excruciating seconds of silence dragged by, music faintly resounding from indoors.

He’d fucked it.

Well and truly fucked it, right at the first hurdle.

“Ignore me. I’m just being-“.

Your lips silenced him, pressing up firmly against his own, hot, fiery and demanding to be felt. Arthur brought his hand up to your hair, his fingers dancing between your soft strands. Your lips were warm, and sweet, an aftertaste of whiskey lingering upon your breath. You were a drug, and Arthur was already addicted.

He pulled away slowly, leaning his forehead against yours, basking in the silence that shrouded you both. Your eyes where alight with wordless suggestions, as they briefly met with his own.

He would make you feel.

*****************************************************************************************************

YOUR POV

You awoke to soft sunlight, streaming through thin, moth eaten curtains. You groaned lightly, your eyes adjusting to the daylight. You reached out, stretching your arms as you wriggled down further in the bed, your fingertips touching bare skin.

You were not alone.

You quickly sat up, glancing at the man who was laying peacefully asleep besides you. His chest bare and exposed, the sunlight dancing upon his bare skin. Purple marks where etched upon his neck, a secret reminder of the night you had both shared. Your eyes moved upon your dress that lay discarded carelessly upon the floor, crumpled in a heap.

You stood up silently, shimmying the dress back on, ignoring the dull thud that echoed within your head. You leant forward, placing a soft kiss upon Arthurs forehead, before leaving the room.

You didn’t even know his last name, but you already felt as if he was a massive part of you. It was as if he was a missing part of you, that you did not know that you so desperately needed. It frightened you. The vulnerability. You had opened yourself up to somebody who, 24 hours ago, was a complete stranger.

As you hailed down a cab, you knew that it wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

After all, you where his London girl.

#Arthur Shelby #Arthur Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x oc #Arthur Shelby imagines #Arthur Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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thebluesiren66 · 4 years

Text

A Little Tied Up

Sam Winchester X Reader

Summary: Sam gets captured while the two of you are working a case, luckily Sam has a girl like you to rush in and save the day, but as payment for saving his ass, you decide to take advantage of his current condition. *wink wink*

Warnings: Pretty much Porn Without Plot, Slight bondage kink if you squint, language, Sex in unconventional situations, slight Dom!Reader, more Dom!Sam towards the end, SMUT.

A/N: Requests are always open, I'm terrible at getting fics out in timely manners cuz I'm garbage. But I'm still trying!! (Based on Season 13, Episode 11.)

It was just a little nest, Dean called it 'a milk run mission'. So you and Sam could handle this one together, but you knew that was just an excuse so he would get to stay at the bunker all by himself, walk around naked, and watch porn as loud as he wanted. It was just as well for you and Sam anyway, you could be as lovey as you wanted or flirt shamelessly and not have to worry about all the dirty looks and glares.

You guys blew into town and got right down to business, checking for local witnesses or security camera leads. You were just on the way back to the motel, taking a short cut across a scummy alleyway when Sam and you were jumped by three vampires. Long story short, Sam attempted to take on all three while shoving you away and telling you to run. Typical Sam Winchester. Always the martyr.

The vampires didn't seem to take much interest in you anyway, they had snatched up Sam and drove away in a black SUV before you could even get your first punch in. Apparently they underestimated you, thought you weren't much of a threat to them. Big mistake.

Sloppy. You thought to yourself as you wiped the last of the blood off your machete with the shirt of a freshly beheaded corpse. They hadn't even frisked Sam for his phone before driving him all the way to their 'secret' nest hide out. It took you less than ten minutes to track Sams cell and let them lead you to an abandoned hospital fifteen minutes out of town.

Seven bodies, one by one all, came scrambling to you like sheep to the slaughter. A whole nest down, rescued Sammy, and it wasn't even eleven o'clock. You cracked your neck and sheathed your knife, taking off down the winding hallway to try and find where they stashed your boyfriend.

"Sammy?" You called sweetly, almost teasingly.

You knew you were never going to let him live down the fact that he had gotten himself nabbed by the most incompetent monster nest of all time.

You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself a little as you turned into a dark room at the end of the first floor where you heard indistinct muffling and the scrapping of table legs on the floor.

"Tis I! Your white knight, come to save the damsel!" you announced dramatically as you flipped on the lights and your eyes landed on your lover.

And what a sight he was. A light sheen of sweat formed on his brow, the vein in his neck straining beautifully and tempting your eyes all the way down to the top three buttons of his white dress shirt that had been ripped open. You could see the dark spirals of his chest hair and his tattoo peeking from behind the silky ripples of his shirt. Your eyes trailed all the way down his body, to his black slacks and the outline of his impressive length. Even flaccid, you could almost always see that Sam was packing. And the position he was stuck in, held to the examining table by leather belts, was doing absolutely nothing to conceal Sams manhood.

"(Y/N)!! Thank God..." Sam sighed in relief as he saw you appear around the dark corner.

You bit your lip and swayed your hips purposefully as you slowly approached the table.

"My my, what have we here?" you purred suggestively, finally getting close enough to be able to run your hands over the taught muscles of Sams thighs.

You couldn't help but smile at the doe look in Sams eyes as you shamelessly ran your hands up the smooth material of his suit pants. No matter where you were, every inch of Sams body always reacted to you in the most delicious way. His steeled muscles rippled beneath your hands and you kept your eyes locked on one another as your fingertips inched closer and closer towards his center.

"Are you really doing this to me?? Here??" Sam almost whimpered as his head fell back to the metal table with a low thud, his eyes darting around the room in search of anything to distract his blood from flowing south.

You hummed out a low giggle and promptly swung your leg over the cold metal table and straddled your lovers hips, forcing his attention back to you. Sliding your hands from his waist up each of his rocky abs, you reveled in the tight muscles beneath you. When your hands continued up his chest, they were interrupted by the leather strap across his chiseled pecks. You huffed slightly and began to unclasp the offending article.

Sam let out a little relieved sigh when he felt your hands begin to unravel the tight band across his chest. He couldn't wait to be off this damn table and kissing the living daylights out of you. His repose faltered slightly when he didn't feel your hands reach for the leather cuffs binding his arms, and instead began teasing at the remaining buttons of his dress shirt.

"(Y/N)..." Sam warned almost in a low growl.

"Come on baby..." You cooed, leaning over and pressing your chest with his so you could nibble at the column of Sams sculpted neck.

"I saved you from all the big bad vampires! There's no one around for miles... and I very rarely get to have you at my mercy like this... Can't I have just a little taste... Daddy??"

Sams body reacted to you instantly, hardening almost completely under your clothed core. You rarely called him that, but every time you did it never failed to set him on fire.

"You're playing a dangerous game Baby Girl... I won't be held responsible for what happens to you when I get out of these." Sam tugged on his restraints and lowly growled into your ear before giving it a quick nibble as you started to trail your lips down his collarbone.

You loved it when Sam talked to you like that, there was no doubt already a puddle forming in your panties. Your fingers worked open button after button on Sams shirt, and your mouth left open wet kisses on each new patch of exposed skin. The taste of Sams skin was always intoxicating, natural spices and a bitter sweetness flooded your mouth as you licked and nipped at each of his tensing muscles. You could tell that Sam was enjoying this just as much as you were, because his hardened member started bucking into your hips and creating the most delicious pressure.

When Sams shirt was finally all the way unbuttoned and pushed away from his hard chest, you moaned slightly at the sight. His tanned skin, the wisps of chest hair, the midnight black tattoo, it was all just too much for a girl to handle.

You quickly tossed your shirt over your head and smirked as Sam raked his eyes over you and pulled his bottom lip beneath his teeth. Slowly you leant over Sam again and pressed your pillowy breasts against his chest before kissing him sweetly. Sam wasn't really in the mood for sweet though, he pressed his lips into yours as hard as he could and swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, searching for entrance. When you granted it to him Sam moaned into your mouth and kept trying to grind his hips harder into yours. When you finally pulled away, you let your teeth gently scrape over the hollow of Sams throat. You kept your eyes fixed on his face as you continued to drag your mouth down his chest, between his pecks, over each ripple of his abs, until finally you had scooted back far enough to feel his belt buckle under your chin.

Sams eyes were dangerously dark as he watched you unbuckle his belt and tug on the zipper of his pants. His sharpened stare was meant as a warning, but you took it as more of a challenge as you tugged his pants down just enough to reveal his erection straining through his boxers. You could practically hear Sam grinding his teeth as you mouthed his covered cock and ran your nails up and down his thighs.

When you heard the tell tale sounds of leather stretching and giving way from Sams incessant prying, you decided it would probably be best to give him some relief (or you really were going to get yourself in trouble).

In one swift tug, you freed Sams hard member. The tip was swollen and weeping, but you could tell that he still wasn't completely stiff, so you took it upon yourself to fix that. You took the head of his cock into your mouth and suckled lightly, Sams muscles contracted even tighter and a primal grunt forced itself out from behind clenched teeth.

"Fuck Baby Girl..." Sam cursed, pulling even harder against his restraints.

You smiled around him at his encouragement and took him deeper into your mouth. Even at half mast you could never fit all of Sam in your mouth, so your hands squeezed and stroked the base of his thick cock while you tongued at the sensitive vein underneath the head. You knew this always drove Sam crazy, and you could tell how much he loved it by the slight tremor in his hips and the way he growled low in his chest. He was almost painfully hard now, his girth made your jaw ache and by now you were sure you were dripping.

Sam swallowed a whimper as your mouth left him and you returned to standing beside the table. His sanity was about to snap from all your incessant teasing, but he stilled as you slowly rolled your leggings down your ass. His mouth started to water as more and more of your supple skin came to view, first your legs, then you unclasped your bra teasingly slow and let it fall to the ground with a smirk. Finally you slipped your panties down your thighs and strode back over to him.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your haste to climb back into Sams lap, the only thing you could think about was having him inside you, you needed it. When you finally perched yourself on top of Sams length, you wasted no time sinking down until he was buried to the hilt.

This time Sam didn't bother trying to bite back his moan, you always just felt too damn good. You moaned with him as you began softly rocking your hips. Sams cock felt so delicious inside you, the friction from even the slightest of movement was able to put you right on the edge. You softly rubbed your finger tips over your clit and you knew you'd be coming in no time at all. Sam watched you as you rode him, your breasts bouncing slightly, you were panting and whining as you got closer and closer to your edge. But Sam needed more.

You were so caught up in your own throes of pleasure you didn't even notice Sams biceps straining against the ever weakening leather of his restraints. That is, until they snapped.

One moment you were on the edge of the most blissful orgasm, ridding Sam into oblivion. The next moment, Sams arms were wrapped around your waist and he was hauling you up and off the table completely. The next few seconds were only blurs of shapes and colors as Sam dropped your legs to the floor, spun you in his arms, and folded you over the metal table and plowed his hard cock back into your aching channel.

You practically screamed out your moans of pleasure as Sam roughly fucked into you from behind. One of his hands pressed into the center of your back, keeping your chest firmly pinned to the table. While the other tangled itself in your hair and tugged harshly.

"I told you I wouldn't be held responsible for what happened when I got loose Baby Girl..." Sam growled in between thrusts.

The hand that was pressing into your back traveled down to your ass, squeezing it harshly before continuing down your thigh and hoisting your leg up to rest on the table beside you. Sam new this angle would open you up more to his harsh thrusts, hitting all those special spots that made you scream for him. He gave you a couple of test nudges with the tip of his cock, delighting in the way your back arched and your nails tried to find purchase in the smooth metal beneath you.

"Now you're gonna be a good girl and take it all..."

Your momentary reprieve was over as Sam resumed his vicious pace, slamming his hips into yours and drawing every single wanton and sinful noise from your mouth. All you could do was arch into Sams touch and take every ounce of pleasure he gave you as you felt the beginnings of an earth shattering orgasm approaching. You couldn't even find the words to tell Sam you were close as he drilled into your over stimulated pussy. You came with a scream of his name and Sams release came close after yours as he felt your walls milk him dry.

Sam braced his arms on either side of you and you could feel his hot breath as he panted against the back of your neck. After a few moments he began peppering wet kisses along your shoulder blades and he slowly eased himself out of your center.

Sam chuckled softly and you slowly worked up enough strength to face him and stare at him questioningly.

"Next time I get to save the day and have my way with you while you're tied up." Sam gave you a cheeky grin before scooping you up in his arms and placing a searing kiss to your lips.

#Sam Winchester #Sam winchester smut #Sam winchester x reader #Smut #18+#Supernatural smut #supernatural fanfic #mine

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mss4msu · 5 years

Text

“Do I Wanna Know?” (Chapter 7)

Summary: On a visit to a local nightclub, the lounge singer catches your eye. Soon becoming a regular at the club, the way you look on the dancefloor gets his attention. You begin to hear stories about the notorious crime lord who owns and operates the small nightclub. When your friends worry that you’ve gotten mixed up with a mobster, you wonder if it’s better to be left in the dark and find yourself asking, “Do I wanna know?” if you’re getting involved with one of the most revered mobsters in the city.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Words: 1807

Warnings: Language, Reference to Violence

A/N: Because I know what’s going to happen, writing this chapter was a struggle bc I just wanna get to the good stufffffff. Thanks for keeping with me babeyeeeees.

Read the Full Story Here

You spent the entire night over the toilet, your body alternating between bouts of vomiting and intense shaking that caused your whole body to convulse. The scenes of what you had seen replayed in your head and you gagged each time you thought of how hard James had beaten that man. After several bouts of dry heaving, everything went dark.

You awoke to the feeling of the cold tile floor on your cheek. You tried to push yourself up, but your head began to pound violently. You saw a bottle of water in front of you and reached for it, you didn’t know where it had come from, but figured you must have grabbed it from the car on the way home last night.

You contorted your face trying to remember what had happened the night before, which only made the blood in your head beat harder. You forced yourself to lean against the wall and put your head between your legs, praying for the pounding to stop just for a few minutes so you could gather your bearings. You took deep breaths in and out until the pain behind your eyes finally started to subside.

Once the pain was gone enough for you to think somewhat clearly, you began to go through the events of the night before. You had had a terrible day at work, and so you decided to go to see James at the club, you remembered that bit. You left work and had Peter take you home to change and then he took you for food and then to the club, you could picture that clearly enough. That’s when things got a bit fuzzy. You remembered getting to the club, someone leading you in, you couldn’t quite place the face in your mind, and getting a table in the front. You knew you had drinks brought to you, but you couldn’t recall the number or the contents. You had watched James sing, and the song had been catchy, but you couldn’t think of even one line from it. The song had ended, and you remembered sitting at the table and continuing to drink, but then nothing. You weren’t sure if you had seen James at all, you didn’t exactly know how or when you’d had gotten home, and you couldn’t figure out why you had woken up in the bathroom.

You heard a faint buzzing, and after realizing it wasn’t your headache, you began to reach around for your phone. It stopped vibrating just as you finally had it in your hand. You brought the phone close to your face, trying to get your eyes to focus on the screen. You had two missed call notifications from James and a few texts from him as well. You unlocked your phone and opened your messages.

“(Y/N)! Are you alright? You had quite a bit to drink at the club, so I called Peter to pick you up. I asked him to let me know when you were home safe, and he did, but I want to hear it from you too.” -- Saturday 12:02AM

“Don’t forget to drink some, or a lot, of water and maybe take some Advil. I’ll get to the bottom of who was in charge of giving you so many free drinks.” -- Saturday 12:03 AM

“Hey, (Y/N). Still haven’t heard from you and wanted to be sure you’re feeling alright after last night.” -- Saturday 8:17AM

Your lips twisted up into a smile at how considerate James was to be checking in on you. You sat for a moment with your eyes closed, thinking about how to respond. Finally you typed back:

“Hi James, I’m not feeling my best, but I’m feeling a lot better than I was just a bit ago. Thanks for checking in on me and making sure I got home safe. I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night, because I can’t seem to remember even if I did” -- Saturday 8:22AM

“Of course. I’ll have some food delivered to your apartment if you think you can stomach it. After all you drank, I’ve got to think you’ve got quite the hangover.” -- Saturday 8:22AM

Your stomach rumbled as you read his text.

“James, you really don’t have to do that, but I appreciate the thought.” -- Saturday 8:23AM

“You bet, doll. I’ll see you later this week. Take care of yourself.” -- Saturday 8:23AM

“Ok” --Saturday 8:24AM

You forced yourself up from the floor and clung to the walls as you slowly walked yourself to the kitchen, your head taking up its pounding beat from earlier. You fixed yourself a bowl of dry cereal and moved to the couch, gingerly laying down and placing the cereal on your stomach. You took a handful of it in your hand and stuffed it in your mouth, chomping away quickly, trying to appease your stomach. You finished your cereal and got more comfortable on the couch, quickly falling asleep.

You woke up to the buzz of your phone next to you. It was the number for the front door, and you answered hesitantly.

“Hi, I have an order for (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” the voice in the phone said.

“Ok,” you said groggily, slowly sitting up, “Be right there.”

You got up and went to the door, the only shoes you could find were your Louboutins from James. You shoved your feet into them and hurried downstairs to the door.

“Here you go,” the delivery person said as they handed you a large bag.

“Thanks?” you took the bag and went back up to your apartment.

You sat back down on the couch and opened up the bag on your coffee table. On top was a single white rose. You brought it to your nose and inhaled deeply before gently setting it down and seeing what else was in the bag. You pulled out a large bottle of gatorade and immediately unscrewed the cap and took a long drink of it. Next, you grabbed a large container and one smell upon opening it let you know that it was bacon mac and cheese. You found a smaller container filled with chicken noodle soup. One last container had a giant chocolate brownie in it.

You picked up your phone and took a picture of your haul, and sent it to James along with a message that said:

“Thanks! This should revive me from my deathbed in no time.” -- Saturday 7:24PM

While James normally responded between minutes, you stared at your phone for three minutes waiting for a reply that didn’t come. You locked the screen and grabbed your tv remote. You put on the first comedy you saw and dug into the mac and cheese. Every minute or so you would pause to check your phone, but you still didn’t hear anything from James. You began to worry that maybe you had fucked something up while drunk. You put a movie on and tried to focus on the plot. When you decided to give up and just go to bed, your phone finally lit up.

“Glad to hear it.” -- Saturday 11:47PM

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you tried to think of what to respond. You ultimately decided not to send anything, as you were too tired to carry on a conversation anyway. You got off the couch, put the leftover food in your fridge, got ready for bed, and then flopped down on your bed. You fell asleep quickly.

You awoke in a cold sweat in the morning from the most vivid dream:

You were at the club and had wandered down a long hallway full of locked doors until you found a room at the end of the hall that was unlocked. You pushed open the door and a wave of blood flooded over you. You looked up from the blood washing over you to see James repeatedly beating a man. When James looked up at you, his eyes were pitch black and he had a terrible, evil grimace on his face. He came quickly at you, and you stumbled back down the hallway. You tripped and fell and James caught up to you. You woke up before you saw his face again.

You grabbed your phone, getting onto Instagram and going to the White Wolf and the Howlers page, needing to get the terrifying look of the James from your nightmare out of your head. You were able to calm down as you scrolled through the photos of the band and as you got out of bed and went about your day, the nightmare was all but forgotten.

On Monday, Peter Parker picked you up at your usual time. After exchanging the usual formalities, you sat in silence, wondering if you should ask him about Friday. For the sake of professionalism, you decided against it and continued the ride without speaking. When you got off the elevator at your floor, the new front desk person waved you over.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I have a delivery for you.”

“Oh, thanks?” you responded with confusion, taking the box from them.

You walked quickly to your office, keyed in, and set your bag down so you could attend to the box. You opened it and found the signature James white rose inside. Under the rose was a file folder. You opened it and found a handwritten note on top which read:

“(Y/N), my apologies, but I will be traveling this week to check in on the investments you have already established for me and thus will not be able to meet with you in person. I’ve enclosed my itinerary for the week and will be in touch if I deem any of the companies undesirable upon meeting with them in person (of course, I’m sure I won’t as I know how hard you’ve worked on this, but one needs to be sure). Best, James”

Your stomach dropped at the idea that you wouldn’t be seeing James for at least a week and at how formal his note had been. You instantly began to worry again that it was because of something you had done Friday night.

You took the note out and found an iPad inside the folder. You opened it and found James’s itinerary and synced documents with your notes about each company. He was meeting with Oscorps Monday, SHIELD Tuesday and Wednesday, Pym Technologies on Thursday, and the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics on Friday morning. He had all of his arrival times scheduled, and it said he would be back Friday night at 6:00pm. At 9:00pm he had put that he was performing at the club. Your breath fluttered and you took this as a sign that everything was alright.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Do I Wanna Know? Tag List:

@mrooks0205 @shann-the-artist-moon @ashtheteenagewitch @abschaffer2 @nootrishus @brilliantbellesoares @celestialstarshadow @yallneedtrek

Bucky Barnes Tag List:

@basementcafe @ria132love @courtmr @jobean12-blog

Permanent Tag List:

@sophiealiice @mrsdeanwinchester19 @thisismysecrethappyplace @ailynalonso15 @221bshrlocked @hazellnut94 @libbymouse @nerdypinupcrystal @hufflepuffchloe @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @dibsonamericasass

#fan fic #au #mobster au #bucky barnes x reader #white wolf #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes #gangster #mobster bucky #do i wanna know

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bensakindofmagic · 5 years

Text

Chapter Two

A/N: the response to the first chapter has been insane, i’m blown away thank you. no warnings for this one - just enjoy!

w/c: 3.1k+

(gif creds to @.mrbenhardys)

A couple of weeks into the project and you were still in the rehearsal stage for Live Aid. You were grateful for the later mornings, as you didn’t have to make sure the boys were in hair and makeup by 6am just yet. The shoot stared in less than two weeks and everyone felt the pressure ramping up. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Brian May and Roger Taylor were coming to set that day to see how it was all going and offer up a little of their considerable wisdom. It wasn’t the first time they’d been, and you had briefly spoken to them before, but did little more than introduce yourself before they were called away to more important business. It had still given you nervous jitters that morning to think you’d be within a few feet of them.

Rehearsals seemed to be going well; the guys had bonded a lot over the past weeks which filtered into their performance. When they are all jamming together they really felt like a band. You allowed yourself a smug smile, knowing that you had a small hand in that. You’d been hanging out together most evenings since your game, going to a local pub, chilling in someone’s trailer watching Queen documentaries that you’d all seen a hundred times before, or just chatting, getting to know each other better. All four of them were sweet and charming and funny, and you felt yourself getting more and more comfortable around them. You felt relaxed, which in turn led to you opening up to them, perhaps a little too much; you had a tendency to overshare sometimes. But it didn’t seem to bother them much, apart from maybe Ben who seemed to tense up and shift in his seat when you said anything too personal. He’d just have to get used to you.

You contemplated him as he played. You watched the way he frowned when he concentrated, lips silently counting the beats. You watched him bounce on his seat between run throughs, and twirl the drumsticks lazily between his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Brian said with a knowing smile. When he saw confusion flash across your face he clarified, “Ben. He’s very good.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I think so.”

“Attractive, too. I can see why Roger was so chuffed with the casting,” he chuckled.

You surrendered to the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh I’m sure.”

“I heard that,” Roger said little grumpily.

“What, he’s much better looking than you ever were.”

“Unbelievable! Do you agree with this?” Roger asked, turning to you.

“Uh” you said with a giggle, “can I plead the fifth?”

He grumbled and you and Brian laughed. You had to stop and take a breath to make yourself realise that you had just shared a joke with two members of Queen.

Watching everyone work was kind of mind-boggling. Everyone was so focused that they didn’t stop to look at where they were, but the scene in front of you was incredible. People everywhere were fussing over something, making sure every wire and prop was in place. Joe and Gwil were jamming quietly together, probably going over some riff, Ben and Roger were unsurprisingly tinkering with the drum kit as Brian chatted animatedly with one of the ADs. The whole stage seemed to be in motion, oscillating with potential. As you watched it all pass before your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the absolute insanity of your job, a feeling of satisfaction and excitement welled up inside you. You could feel the anticipation of what this job would bring, how it would affect your life and how you would be changed by it. You couldn’t say why, but you knew in your soul how important this job would be.

It went in a blur — the rest of the day, the week, the whole rehearsal period — and before you knew it you were due to start filming. Everyday felt like a joy. It was hard work, and every night you fell into bed, exhausted, but not before spending an hour or two with your favourite boys. You’d all become close, you was starting to feel like a little family. You and Ben in particular were getting close, the constant teasing between you becoming second nature. On this particular evening, just a few days out from starting the shoot, you were all crammed Rami’s trailer (his was the biggest), relaxing after a long day.

“You know I really think we nailed it today guys,” Joe said enthusiastically.

“Yeah except when Gwil tripped over his own guitar cable,” you giggled.

“Oh come on guys,” he groaned, “we all had a big laugh about this earlier, can we move on please?”

“It was look on your face though mate. Priceless.”

“I’ve never seen such raw panic is someone’s eyes,” you teased.

“What about the day you met me?” Ben shot at you, all confidence. “I think I got you pretty flustered.”

“Oh babe, that wasn’t panic in my eyes,” you retorted with a wink, leaving the rest to his imagination. You were disinclined to let on that you had been wandering what he looked like naked the first time you met.

The five of you joked around aimlessly, only interrupted by Gwil’s phone ringing. He explained that it was his girlfriend and stepped outside to take the call. You noticed a sadness flash across Ben’s eyes, one that had infused their bright green with a hint of grey a few times over the last week. You figured it must have made him think of his own girlfriend, and he was probably missing her. You had made the decision weeks ago that you were objectively not allowed to fancy Ben, so any flare of acidic jealousy in your stomach at that thought was steadfastly ignored.

Thinking you’d give him the opportunity to talk about it if he wanted to, you lightly asked, “How’s your girlfriend Ben? Must be tough on you both, doing such long shoots.”

An awkward hush fell over the room, and Joe and Rami looked at you with shock and horror painted across their features. You had clearly said something wrong.

After a long, tense moment, Ben quietly said, “Actually we broke up.”

A longing kind of melancholy set over him; he hunched his shoulders and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He looked wretched and you felt awful.

“Oh my god Ben, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” It dawned on you then that the others clearly knew, and no one had told you.

“It’s okay, it’s for the best, you know. I broke up with her.”

A plethora of questions and concerns raced through your brain. You resolutely battered away the ones that had anything to do with him now being available.

You settled with, “What happened?” quickly mitigated with, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. It’d been coming for a while I think, our lives just didn’t fit together anymore.”

Joe scoffed, “Oh come on, it’s because you have feelings for someone else.”

His eyes instantly Ben wide and you thought you saw him glance at you for a second. He quickly hissed, “What the fuck, Joe?”

Joe looked sheepish and went quiet. You looked back and forth between them, confused and a little hurt. How had they not told you about any of this?

Ben gave a throaty sigh and explained, “Things were falling apart before. We’ve been talking less, we lost the spark. I thought it was just time, you know, we got so used to each other. But then I met this girl…” his voice got so deep his words were half whispered, “I instantly felt it again - that spark. She’s smart and funny and she has such a presence. I just want to watch her, all the time.”

Thinking of Ben feeling that way about someone sent a pang of yearning through you; he looked so soft, all curves. The evening sun cast a glow over him, bathing him in gold. A lone strand of hair fell down over his forehead that you were desperate to push back. The gentle curve of his jaw, soft but defined, was illuminated. His teeth clenched behind pouted lips.

He looked deep into your eyes, so far he could have been looking through you. “It reminded what love should feel like. I guess I realised that it wasn’t right to keep fighting anymore. It was time to move on.”

A heavy silence settled in the room that you couldn’t bring yourself to break. You had to remind yourself that the urge to stroke his cheek and hold him tight to your chest was entirely unprofessional. You opened your mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say. Luckily, Gwil walked back in at that moment.

“Sorry about that, she was just checking i- is everything okay?” he said noticing the tone of the room.

Rami twisted him mouth into an awkward grin, “Ben just told Y/N about the breakup.”

Gwil nodded slowly, “Oh right.” He raised an eyebrow to Ben in a silent question: if he got an answer you weren’t aware of it. “Are you okay Y/N?”

“Me?” The question confused you; what did Ben’s breakup have to do with you? “I’m fine. I guess I’m a little upset that you clearly all knew and I’m only finding out now.”

The guilt in Ben’s eyes tore at your heart. With so much tension in the air you decided that everyone needed to let off some steam.

“Let’s go out,” you said abruptly.

All four pairs of eyes converged on you.

“We have to work tomorrow,” Gwil said, ever the responsible parent.

“Come on,” you sighed, exasperated, “It’s what people do when they’re going through a breakup. Anyway, filming starts soon and then dealing with the hangovers will be even worse. Why not go while we can?”

Joe grinned, “I think it’s a great idea.”

“Of course you do,” Rami muttered. “What do you think, Ben?”

You looked at him hopefully, and when a smile tugged at the corner of his lips you beamed.

“Why not?”

You found a small bar, with a decent crowd for a weeknight, and bagged a booth. You got the first round in, despite the protests from the guys, and gave a sweet smile to the barman who helped you carry five pints to the table. You didn’t notice the glare that Ben shot at him.

“It’s busy for a Thursday, wonder why there so many people here,” Gwil mused.

“Come on, it’s London, it must be busy all the time,” Joe reasoned.

You just shook your head and motioned with your chin to the sign above the bar that read:

 KARAOKE NIGHT, EVERY THURSDAY, FREE DRINKS FOR THE BRAVE

“You feeling brave, Joe?” you smirked. His eyes were wide with glee.

Ben sniggered, “Of course you’re the kind of guy who loves karaoke.”

“Don’t knock it Ben, or I might just dedicate a song to you. There’s no way you’ll pull a girl then.”

“Are you looking to pull tonight?” You asked, just a little too fast.

He simpered, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” It turned the groove at the corner of his mouth into a chasm, and his eyes smouldered a rich emerald green in the dim light. Like he would have any trouble pulling.

“Well I make an excellent wing woman, just to let you know,” you smirked a little sassily and took a sip of your drink.

“Role play,” he responded without missing a beat. You had to concentrate on not choking when your mind wondered to the connotations of those two words.

“I’m not going to give it all away.”

“Signature move, then.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip a little, hiding a smirk, and said, “Well, I’d talk you up to her a bit, then send you off to get us a round, and while you’re gone I’d very subtly allude to some sexual past between us and imply that you were the best I ever had.” You could barely make eye contact with him, but as you spoke those final few words you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his self-satisfied grin. “Works a charm,” you finished.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,’ Joe interrupted before you could fall too deep into that particular rabbit hole, “but I want a free drink.”

“What, now?” you said with incredulity.

“No time like the present,” he said as he downed what was left of his pint.

“Are you seriously going to be the first person to sing?”

“Well someone’s gotta kick this bad boy off,” and with that he was marching over to the DJ.

“God, you’re so bloody American,” you laughed breathily.

Joe proceeded to annihilate a Rick Astley classic. There was a lot of cheesy two-stepping and emphatic pointing (mostly towards Ben), and he was given a loud cheer as he finished. The barman even gave him a free shot on top of his pint, just because he was so enthusiastic.

You greeted him with a chorus of ‘wow’s as he sat back down.

“That was pretty amazing mate,” said Ben.

“I was good, right,” Joe smiled, panting lightly.

“It was engaging, for sure,” you laughed.

Rami piped up, “That’s code for ‘you were horrendous but I couldn’t look away.’ Like seeing a cat in human clothes.”

“Well that’s just rude, and the crowd seemed to like it. Anyway, who’s next?”

“I vote Y/N,” Ben winked and you snorted.

“Um, no thank you. I’m no singer.”

“Well that’s just a dirty lie, isn’t it? I heard you singing from inside your trailer this morning. It was a rather lovely rendition of Crazy Little Thing Called Love, I believe.”

You eyes went wide and you blushed, remembering how you had danced around as you sang, thinking no one else was awake yet. You desperately hoped he hadn’t seen you through the window, but the twinkle in his eye made you suspect otherwise.

“Look, I’m perfectly happy sitting right here with a drink that I paid for.”

“No way,” Gwil beamed, “it was your idea to come out, I think it’s only right that you sing.”

You pursed you lips, “I’m really fine.”

Ben licked the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked with yours, and said, “We won’t force you if you don’t think you can pull it off. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself now, would we?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and ran your tongue over your teeth. He knew exactly what to say to get you riled up. You were desperate to prove yourself to him, but also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you wrapped around his little finger. The tension around the table was palpable as you brooded over what to do. A group of women, far too drunk for the time of the evening, had just finished screeching their way through Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, so it was now or never.

You stood without a word, grabbed a shot from the bar, and went to the microphone. You told the DJ what you were singing — Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin, which you had pre-picked for exactly a situation like this — and waited for the guitar to kick in. You took a steadying breath and stole a glance at the guys. Joe, Gwil, and Rami were smiling encouragingly, but Ben just cocked an eyebrow at you in a silent challenge.

Needless to say, you crushed it.

You let the music fill you up, ignoring the rest of room, and pretended you were in your bedroom singing into a hairbrush. You swayed your hips, just sexily enough to show how comfortable you were up there, and belted out the high notes as best you could. It was liberating, and you felt galvanised by the whoops and cheers coming from your table - Joe’s voice was unmistakable as he cheered you on. You tried to steal a glance at Ben through the lights, but couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

“Dude, you brought this on yourself,” Joe quipped, noticing the awe and the hunger on Ben’s face.

“You were the one that told her I had feelings for someone,” he sassed back.

“I didn’t tell her who!”

“Oh right, ‘cause you’re always Mr Subtle.”

“Well I’m not going to sit around forever and watch you pine over her and do absolutely nothing about it.”

You were making your way back to the table, still followed by the cheers of the crowd, and grinned at the guys, oblivious to the conversation that preceded you. Ben shot Joe a warning glare as you sat down, free drink in hand.

“I think we can safely say I did not embarrass myself,” you said, smug.

“You were amazing up there, Y/N,” Rami smiled kindly.

You looked to Ben, waiting for whatever snarky remark he was bound to make, but nothing came.

“Nothing to say Ben?”

He blinked slowly, and replied with a shrug, “I eat my words.”

You were shocked into silence, and only vaguely aware of Joe rolling his eyes. You would have wondered what it meant had you not been so distracted by the way Ben’s body seemed to clench and sigh. The muscles in his arm rippled as he tightened his fingers around his drink.

You gave your head an indiscernible shake to dislodge the image from your mind and turned to Rami to distract yourself. “It’ll be your turn next Mr Mercury,” you said, raising your eyebrows.

“No no. If this was lip sync then I could crush it, but I’m not singing.”

You spent the rest of the evening chatting, cheering on those who braved the karaoke and trying to ignore the less tuneful among them. Amidst all the joking about and teasing you were completely ignorant to the way Ben looked at you, watching your lips as you talked animatedly and the breadth of emotions dancing in your eyes. He smiled at the annoyance with which you kept tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that kept breaking free to fall across you face. It briefly occurred to him that he was staring, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat and try to focus on other things, but his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you. He contributed little to the conversation, as lost as he was in his pining after you, and it had shocked him when you asked him if any girls had caught his eye. He wasn’t looking at anyone but you.

tags:

@anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax

(let me know if you want to be tagged and i’ll add you!)

#kind of magic series #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fan fiction #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #rami malek #queen #roger taylor

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years

Text

Blackjack (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Warnings: oral (female), vanilla, lovingly looking into eyes, coconut drinks

Word Count: 5,102

Summary: Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

[Master List]

A breeze drifts through the room, carrying with it the scent of sand and the ocean. Waves break on the beach, rolling in crests towards the shore and you lean both arms on the railing, staring out at the sea. A bonfire blazes on the beach, tucked in between sandcastles – you remember seeing a flyer tucked under your door to your suite earlier this week. Jungkook was overly enthusiastic about the idea. He placed it in a position of pride on the end table and insisted you go.

He has never been to a bonfire before – although, come to think of it, neither have you. Smiling, you take a large sip from your drink. Something tropical, mixed in a coconut with a large wedge of lime. As you stare at the ocean, warm arms slip around your waist.

“Hey,” you breathe, turning your head.

Jungkook continues to look at the ocean, hands laced over your front. “It’s beautiful,” he says, eyes bright in the sunset.

He is right about that; the view is beautiful. Sunlight dances over the water in reds, purples and blues sunk towards the horizon. In an hour it will be dark but until then – you turn in his arms.

“Yeah, the view is pretty great.”

A smile tugs at Jungkook’s lips, finally looking at you. “Oh?” he grins, brushing his lips against your forehead. “You’re not even looking at the scenery.”

“No need,” you say, tapping his butt. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. His eyes crinkle, skin tanned and seeing him like this, something inside your chest loosens – it is healing to see him this happy. It is healing to be happy yourself, which is something you never thought you would say. Lowering his head, Jungkook’s smile fades as he – reaching out a finger – gently traces the puckered scar on your shoulder. A reminder of the Man, his knife and the last wound he gave you.

You two have talked about that night often, but not now. Not here. Gently, you lift your hand and cover his own. You open your mouth to ask him a question, but before you can –

“Well, shit,” a male voice says, laughing.

Both of you turn slowly to look.

An unfamiliar face stares back at you – hair dark, eyes light and very obviously drunk from the way he is swaying. “I’m sorry.” The man grins, waving an arm. He is balding, middle-aged with a slight beer belly. “My wife is around here somewhere but shit, if you two aren’t a beautiful couple. I just had to tell you that.”

Jungkook’s arms tighten around you, expression relaxing at the man’s sincere tone. He is not a threat. “Thanks, man,” Jungkook says. “Best wishes to you and the wife.”

Beginning to leave, he steers you towards the beach when the man reaches out, placing a hand on your arm. Jungkook stiffens, zeroing in on the motion. A muscle in his jaw ticks, reaction barely restrained. This is understandable, given everything you have been through, which is why you do not comment, simply reaching out to remove the man’s hand.

“Sorry!” he apologizes, holding them both in the air. “That was rude of me. I didn’t introduce myself – I’m Doug. Doug Louis. Anyways, you two are too young and pretty to be out here alone. Come hang out with us at the bar, have a drink or two!”

Jungkook gaze shifts to the bar, then back you. You shrug, since Doug seems innocent enough – there is a wedding band on his finger and, peering over his shoulder, you spot a few middle-aged people at the bar. Gaze returning to Jungkook, you nod.

He pulls a face – Jungkook really wants to see the bonfire – but sighs, acquiescing. “Sure,” Jungkook agrees, slipping a hand into your dress’ pocket as you turn. “One drink.”

When Doug visibly brightens, you feel a tiny bit bad – not every person is evil, you remind yourself. Some people just want to make drunk friends with strangers on vacation in the Caribbean. Following the man through the lobby of the hotel, Jungkook lowers his lips to your ear.

“Is that a knife on your thigh?” he asks, hand brushing the fabric in your pocket.

Fighting a smile, you tap his butt through his jeans. “Is that a Glock, honey?”

Jungkook grins. “Guilty. We’ll stay just five minutes,” he insists, scanning the bar. “Just one drink with Doug, then we go down to the bonfire – okay?”

You nod, sidling up to the teak wood counter. “Whatever you want, Jungkook. It’s you who wants to see them roast a whole pig, not me.”

“A whole pig, though! How are you not intrigued, Y/N?”

“So.” Interrupting your conversation, Doug waves what looks to be half a coconut. “This is the best drink Lenny can cook up. I swear to god, I’ve tried everything he makes and this – this is the god-send.”

Hiding his smile, Jungkook seriously nods. “I believe you, Doug,” he says, settling onto a stool. Rather than join him, you move to stand in between his legs and the bar.

“Two of those coconut drinks!” you call. The bartender – Lenny, apparently – nods and gets to work.

When you turn, you see Doug has chugged half his cup. Jungkook notices this at the same time you do, chewing the inside of his lip and trying hard not to laugh.

“Ah.” Doug bangs his empty drink on the counter. “That’s the stuff. So, what brings you two to this island?”

Jungkook’s smile is angelic. He only looks like that when he is about to raise hell. “Well,” he says, accepting the drink pushed his way. “We’re actually currently on the run from the mafia.”

Doug freezes, drink halfway to his lips.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods, plunking a straw in the shell. “Crazy, right? So, Y/N’s brother belongs to one mafia and me, to another. We met kind of unconventionally, fell in love and sparked this war between them.” Jungkook pauses to take a sip of his drink. “Anyways, there was this whole stand-off which ended in her brother taking over that mafia, and I,” he frowns. “Wait, no. I’m mixing things up.”

“He always does this,” you say sweetly to Doug.

Doug nods, vaguely horrified. Behind him, Doug’s wife chats loudly to her friends, unable to hear. Doug keeps glancing at her, as though realizing this conversation is an enormous mistake.

“Right.” Jungkook holds up a finger, as though only just remembering. “So, there’s all this confusion, this stand-off and Y/N’s brother is now head of his mafia. There’s a whole, internal power struggle and my mafia – Bangtan – ends up helping Y/N’s brother, yadda yadda. You know. Then Namjoon, the head of my mafia,” Jungkook says, clasping a hand over his heart, “decides to step down. He and Jay – sorry, Y/N’s brother – hatch a plan to combine the two mafias and make one, super-mafia. And...” Jungkook frowns, swirling his drink. “That’s when Namjoon left. Not sure where he is right now, actually.”

“Norway!” you say, sipping your drink. You wince. Too sweet. “He left right after we did and was traveling for a bit – found a girl, actually.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes widen in fake surprise. “Imagine that.”

“Yes. In Italy,” you say. “They were staying at the same hotel, or something. Namjoon fell head over heels and has been holed up with her in an ice hotel in Sweden.”

“Ah, right.” Jungkook grins, snapping his fingers. “Dallon, or Mallon… or something.”

“Fallon. As in, Jimmy.”

Doug lets out a tinny laugh. “Sounds like… uh, quite the adventure you’ve had.” Almost subconsciously, he starts to move sideways. “I really should be…”

“Oh, it really has been,” you say, laying both elbows on the counter. “Even after all that, there are still people who want Jungkook and I dead.” Softly, you pat Jungkook on the arm. “You know, he’s very good at what he does. Makes a lot of enemies.”

“Ah.” Doug’s gaze darts nervously to Jungkook. “I see.”

A long beat passes before Jungkook bursts out into laughter. “Nah, man,” he grins, shoving Doug’s shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. Y/N and I are on our honeymoon. That’s what brings us to the island.”

Jungkook waves a hand, a platinum band catching the light and Doug visibly sags in relief. You tap your own ring to the counter, diamond sparkling.

Instantly, Doug’s expression clears. “Oh!” he laughs, startled. “Oh, wow – you really had me going for a moment. I actually thought…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Wow, wow – another drink, on me!”

He is still chuckling when he returns and Jungkook slides both arms around your waist. “That reminds me,” he whispers, kissing your ear. “We should call Namjoon and check in sometime.”

“Yeah,” you nod, stifling a smile. “And Jimin. Where is he now, graduate school?”

“Yep. Kicking ass, I hear. Top of his class. As long,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “as he refrains from kicking other people’s asses in the process.”

A twinge of worry enters your thoughts. “The underground exists out there, does it?”

Jungkook nods, nose brushing your shoulder.

“Hm,” you hum, turning around. The thought of Jimin continuing to fight is worrisome, but not a problem to solve tonight. “You promised to bring him back a souvenir – or did you forget?”

Jungkook winces. “I didn’t forget,” he says. “Volcanic clay mask for Seokjin, a luggage bag for Jimin, coffee beans for Yoongi, local weaponry for Hoseok.” Jungkook sighs. “Typical. Dude wouldn’t know a gift if it smacked him in the face. And for Namjoon, I don’t know.. condoms, probably.”

You snort, about to contradict him, when –

“What about Taehyung? Are you not getting him a gift?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as your head whips sideways. Behind the bar, where Lenny stood a few seconds prior is Taehyung. He wipes the glass in his hands, inspecting each side for spots. “Ah,” he exhales, perturbed. “No matter what I do, these age spots won’t go away.”

You blink once, then twice but the mirage refuses to change. “Taehyung,” you say, scanning the rest of the bar. No one else seems to have noticed a mafia member serving them drinks. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Jungkook lowers his feet from the stool. “This is our honeymoon,” he says, the threat in his voice barely concealed. “Did we crash yours and Lena’s, when you two disappeared for three months to Nepal?”

Taehyung waves a hand. “Well, we didn’t tell people where we were going, did we? You couldn’t have found us even if you wanted to. This is your own fault, really, for putting your hotel in the group thread.”

Appalled, you whirl to face Jungkook. “You put our honeymoon destination on the Bangtan group thread? Jungkook!”

“For emergencies,” Jungkook says, glaring daggers at Taehyung. “It was just for emergencies. Which, it seems as though this isn’t.”

“It is an emergency.” Taehyung shrugs. “You weren’t picking up my calls.”

“That was on purpose, you slug bucket!”

“Taehyung!” Doug turns around, releasing a cheer. “Hey man, how’s it going?” The tourist grins, leaning across the wood of the bar.

Jungkook stares in horror while the two men exchange a rather complicated high five. “Hey,” he mumbles, lower lip protruding. “That’s our thing.”

Trying not to laugh, you rub a circle on his wrist. “Alright. Taehyung,” you say, when Taehyung finally pulls away from Doug. “We – hang on. How long have you been here, exactly?”

Grinning, Taehyung waves Doug aside and slides closer. “Few nights,” he confesses. “Been working at the bar most of that – Lena is down at the beach, pretending to be a life guard.”

“Well, that sounds... safe.”

“Right, I know. Anyways – Jungkook.” Taehyung pretends to be serious. “You wouldn’t pick up my calls, so I had to come here in person.”

“Had to?” Jungkook glowers. “Someone better be dead, Kim.”

Despite his tone, you can tell Jungkook is worried. Ever since Jay took over both Bangtan and the Vine, Jungkook has been working to step away from the spotlight. Jimin chose to do the same, as did Namjoon. Taehyung, Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin remained in Bangtan, to… well, help is what they claim to be doing. What they are actually doing is driving your brother up the wall. A smile flickers over your face, having heard this – and often – from Jay.

For Taehyung to come all the way to the Caribbean does not bode well.

“Well.” Taehyung pushes another glass forward. “Does it count as an emergency if my personal timeline is tight?”

Jungkook looks at the ceiling. “We’re done, Tae,” he complains, turning around. “We can talk when Y/N and I are back in the country.”

“Wait! Don’t you want to make a shit ton of money?”

Jungkook’s footsteps falter, as do yours. When you both turn, you see Doug is suitably distracted by his third coconut drink of the night. So are his friends.

“What are you talking about, Taehyung?” you ask, returning to the counter.

Seeing he has your attention, Taehyung smirks. “I’m talking about Vegas,” he declares, lifting both arms overhead so his shirt bunches under the shoulders. The name tag on his uniform has been scribbled out and replaced with Kim Taehyung. “The Megalo Casino, to be exact.”

Jungkook’s teeth grind. “Taehyung.” His expression darkens, displaying a flash of the shadow you know still lurks within. “We can talk about a heist when Y/N and I are back. From. Our. Honeymoon.”

Each sentence is punctuated by a shake of his drink.

Taehyung lays a cup on the counter. “Spoilsport,” he says. “But fine. Admittedly, half of this trip was to ask for your help – and half was because you picked such a fucking amazing resort. Lena and I are having a great time.”

Heaving a sigh, Jungkook places one arm over your shoulder. “Goodnight, Taehyung,” he says, already walking away.

“You look ridiculous, too!” Taehyung calls out. “Just as an FYI!”

Grabbing Jungkook by the hand, you yank him towards the steps.

“With the hat,” Taehyung continues to yell, circling his head with one hand. “And the Hawaiian-print shirt. But hey, you do you, man!”

To your surprise, Jungkook lets the insult go and chuckles, flipping Taehyung the bird while you walk to the beach. Sand squishes between your toes, cooled from the heat. Wrapping an arm around Jungkook, you lean your head to his shoulder. The resort is peaceful this time of day, not that it is overly busy anytime else.

“So,” you say, walking towards the bonfire. Light dances over the sand, casting strange shapes and shadows. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that Lena and Taehyung are here?”

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts. “Let them stew for another day,” he shrugs. “We can talk about making it big in Vegas tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You grin, continuing to walk. “He’s also wrong, by the way.”

“About?”

“You look dead sexy in that hat and shirt.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling. He has adapted remarkably well to island life, with a straw hat slung around his neck and printed shirt on his back. He looks, well, not like a fearsome member of the mafia, that is for sure – especially not with the puka shell necklace he wears.

You have never loved him more, if you are being honest.

Jungkook’s fingers bunch your dress, holding you close and when you arrive at the bonfire, he stops. The band plays on a raised platform, gentle song drifting over the waves. Already, the sun sinks towards the horizon, the air full of salt, sea, flowers and sand.

Snuggling into Jungkook, you exhale. “You’re thinking about what Taehyung said, aren’t you?”

Jungkook arches a brow. “I don’t know to what you’re referring. I’m just an incredibly happy man on his honeymoon.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re a criminal with a strong ethical conscience – and those casinos take advantage of everyone. You want to join Taehyung, you want to rob them,” you say, glancing sideways.

The corner of Jungkook’s lip twitches. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I hope you also hear the fact that I’m not saying no…”

Slowly, Jungkook looks at you. “Okay, I want to rob them,” he admits, breaking out in a smile. “But not,” he growls, dropping a kiss to your neck, “if it interrupts my honeymoon with my amazing,” he kisses that same spot again, “beautiful,” he sighs, “hot-as-hell, wife.”

Your grip tightens, thighs pressing together. “When we go back, then,” you murmur, breathless.

He nods in affirmation. “When we go back,” Jungkook says, hands sliding up your body. He nudges your nose, hovering over your lips. Gently, his thumbs massage your neck. “But until then…”

He does not kiss you. Instead, Jungkook allows the tension to grow, hands drifting from your neck to your torso. Breath quickening, you shut your eyes and feel, rather than see him take a careful step forward.

Jungkook’s hands find your ass, settling onto the curve of your hips. He pulls you in between his legs and you barely restrain the moan from your lips. The fabric of his jeans is rough; you can feel it through the thin material of your dress and Jungkook hums, low in his throat. His lips brush your shoulder, pressing you to him.

“On second thought,” Jungkook murmurs. “Maybe I don’t care about this bonfire.”

You begin to laugh, until Jungkook moves and his cock brushes your center. Breath catching, your eyes open and Jungkook smirks, no longer attempting to be careful. Kissing up your neck, he comes to a stop just below your ear.

“Our room?” he whispers.

You nod, eager.

Hand slipping into his, you turn quickly and tug him back up the stairs. The bungalow you have is in the rose gardens, a five minute walk from the lodge with a view of the ocean. You didn’t ask Jungkook how much it cost when you entered. Honestly, you don’t want to know. You figure you deserve it, after all that you’ve been through.

It has taken a while, to get used to life after. Life after Jay and the Man and the tumultuous events which occurred. No longer, do you expect to live a normal life. Not after all that you’ve seen, done and experienced – but then, you suppose normal is a relative concept. No two people walk the same path, or have the same mindset and likewise, you and Jungkook will never have the same relationship as anyone else. What you do have is important, though; you choose each other, every time you wake up.

In the morning, seeing him there in the bed right beside you – the choice is always an easy one. You want him. He wants you.

With a grin, Jungkook follows you down the path to your room. He keeps his hat in place with one hand and when you reach the doorway, he stops, grabbing your wrists and spinning you around. Pressing your back to the wood, he hovers before you; needy and aching, for the touch of your body. Bending his head, Jungkook’s nose traces your temple, jawline, lips ghosting over yours – until you inhale, licking your lips and tasting the rum, salt and smell of him.

Unable to take it any longer, you lift yourself higher. Jungkook’s lips touch yours, your back hitting the wall to arch lazily against him. He moves leisurely, letting your fingers rake through the wilds of his hair. You push the hat from his head as he grunts, pressing one hand to the door.

“I liked that hat,” Jungkook complains, sucking a hickey into the skin of your neck. “I wanted to fuck you in it.”

“Tomorrow night,” you promise, curling his hair with your fingers. “Tonight, I want you entirely naked.”

Jungkook’s breath stutters, before nodding. “Fine.” Reaching beyond, he unlocks the door. “By all means, wife.”

Cheeks heated, you duck under his arm and pass through. It has been over a month since your wedding and still, it is strange to hear such words from his lips. Not because the sound of them is disingenuous, no. It’s just that you never pictured yourself as anyone’s wife, let alone his.

Jungkook’s hands don’t leave your waist, burying his face in your neck from behind. The door falls shut behind you, a heavy thud in the dark. The longer you stand there, the more the room illuminates to reveal stars and the ocean through double glass doors. Beyond, there is sand and the ocean. Laying your head to his chest, it is easy to forget that troubles exist in this world.

“Where do you want me,” Jungkook whispers, his hands tightening on your waist.

Fighting back a shiver, your gaze searches the room. Quickly, you pass over the couch and infinity pool on the deck. You had sex there last week, despite your specific declaration such a thing would not and could not happen. It was all Jungkook’s fault, really. He looked so good in those tight, red swim trunks with his dripping wet hair. A girl couldn’t be expected not to climb in his lap when he looked like that, could they?

Things escalated quickly after that, with Jungkook reaching down to tug your swimsuit aside and – remembering just what happened next – you exhale. “The bed,” you whisper, grinding your ass into his crotch. “I want you to eat me out, Jungkook. Bad.”

He groans, quietly squeezing your waist. “Yeah?” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your neck. “Want me to lick that beautiful pussy or yours? Want to be dripping wet on my face? Is that,” he exhales, hands sliding under your dress, “what you want?”

“Yes,” you moan, relaxing against him. Jungkook’s fingers slide to the front of your body, teasing the damp material of your panties. “I want,” you pant out, struggling to remain still, “you to throw me on the bed and bury your face in my legs.”

Jungkook growls, hands gripping your ass – before he changes his mind, grabbing your dress to yank the fabric overhead. You laugh at his eagerness, momentarily blinded when your dress hits the floor. There was no bra worn underneath, so your breasts bounce freely falling out of their confines. Jungkook’s hands snake around, cupping them soft with his palms.

“These,” he groans, kissing your neck and flicking his thumbs upwards. “Are some of my favorite things in the world.”

A groan escapes when he pinches, tugging your nipples downward. Jungkook releases you then, hands sliding down your body and grinding your ass on his dick.

“Bed,” you gasp, still not moving. “The bed, Jungkook.”

He abruptly lets go. “Right.” Quickly undoing his belt, Jungkook reaches behind him and takes off his shirt. You gape at the muscles, the smooth ridges of abdominals he displays. “Go and sit on the bed, like a good girl,” he orders.

Baring your teeth at his command, you walk to the mattress – a beautiful, canopied thing, completely covered in gauze. Casually, you drop one knee to the mattress, turning to face him. Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver, walking across the length of the room. His jeans lie pooled on the floor, beside his shirt and the shoes he kicked off.

Jungkook comes to a stop at the bed, cock hard at his waist. The tip of him is red, swollen with pre-cum and you badly want to lick him, but Jungkook curls his finger upwards. “There,” he demands, jerking his chin towards the headboard. “Scoot up there and spread yourself for me.”

Unable to stop, you move eagerly upwards and lower both elbows beside you. Jungkook kneels casually onto the bed, laying both palms on your ankles. “Good girl,” he murmurs, eyes on your center. “Let me see how wet you are for me.”

He moves your knees apart, keeping them spread when you reach down your body. The material of your panties is flimsy, soaked with arousal as you pull this aside. Jungkook groans, seeing your cunt already dripping for him. Lowering himself on his stomach, his thumbs trace your body.

“That’s it,” he whispers, replacing your hands on your panties. Jungkook toys with you carefully, tugging the material between the slick of your folds. “Fuck.”

You whimper, eyes locked on his as Jungkook lowers his head to your clit. “Shit,” you hiss, when he presses a kiss to your body. Jungkook doesn’t stay there for long, pulling away swiftly to rub his thumb to your clit. He spreads your wetness higher, leaving your panties tugged hastily aside in his grasp.

Without warning, he shoves your knees apart and lowers his head to your core. You cry out at his ruthlessness; Jungkook’s mouth an unfeeling, unrelenting thing as he eats you out. He sucks on your clit, giving more than you think you can handle until he shoves a finger inside, arching your back on the bed.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, hands curling into his hair.

His tongue licks quickly; curling, tracing and teasing your body. Jungkook makes love to you eagerly, bringing you again and again to the edge. Your cunt is soaked by this point, dripping down his fingers to make a mess of the sheets. Jungkook just chuckles at the sight, pulling away long enough to lick this as well. You stare, pupils blown out when you see Jungkook in between your legs, licking the goddamn mattress because he can’t get enough of your cunt.

It’s enough that you reach for him, returning his face to your legs and thrusting against him. “Please,” you gasp, half-broken. “Please, please, please, make me come.”

Jungkook chuckles, spreading you further to flick over the swollen mound of your clit. He moves faster as you gasp, incoherent and writhing beneath him. It’s hard to control yourself on his tongue and Jungkook holds you to the bed, relentless and calm. He seems to be getting off just like this, rutting against the mattress as you moan out his name. When you come, shattered and broken, he shudders in tandem, with barely held restraint.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasp, fingers shaking in the strands of his hair. Collapsed to the sheets – you weren’t aware you had risen – you’re left spent and panting beneath him. Jungkook just chuckles, propping himself up on an elbow. He drops a kiss to your knee, then your hip as you groan, curling inward at the sensitive sensation.

“Y/N,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your chest. Teasing over a nipple, Jungkook finds the curve of your throat.

“Mm, yes?” you mumble, using your thighs to keep his body to yours.

Jungkook pouts, nipping your collarbone. “Y/N,” he exhales, reaching down and holding his still-hard cock. Slowly, he drags this up the edge of your slit. “Please, can I fuck you?”

You almost smile, pushing your hips upwards to meet him. Everything is still so sensitive, almost painful. You shudder when Jungkook lets go of his cock and slowly massages your clit. “Oh,” you groan, your fingers trailing the bulge of his biceps.

Jungkook exhales, determinedly continuing to tease. His fingers slip back to your entrance, getting them wet before resuming his motion. Gripping his arms, a whine escapes you as your body awakens. Moving slowly against him, you gyrate your hips and urge him to go faster.

“Okay,” you breathe, nodding into the crook of his neck. “Okay, okay, yes – please, fuck me.”

He smiles into your skin, withdrawing and propping himself up over your body. Jungkook doesn’t enter you quickly, instead he thrusts his cock between your legs, slipping into your folds. He does this over and over until you’re gasping and needy.

“Please,” you groan, fingers digging into his back.

Jungkook finally acquiesces, adjusting your hips higher on the mattress. His gaze is dark, uncontrolled and you know he must be close when he thrusts halfway inside. It’s enough that you groan, head falling back to the pillows as, with slow, agonizing thrusts, Jungkook eases himself in. When he finally bottoms out, you clench tightly around him.

“Just,” you whisper, holding him to you, “there.”

Jungkook nods, nose brushing your jaw. He kisses your throat, then your chest, taking a nipple between his lips while his cock throbs inside you. Jungkook can’t help but push into you then, filling your warm, wet pussy.

A groan escapes, as he moves. “Shit,” you whisper, lifting your lips to find his.

Your mouths open, needy and wanton while Jungkook grabs for your hands and pulls them high overhead. He thrusts deeply inside you, rolling his hips as you let out a moan. Jungkook’s chuckle quickly dies, when you tighten around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, head bent in contrition. Holding himself up, he begins picking up the rhythm. His lips trail your collarbone, sucking hickies as you gasp, fingers scrambling for purchase against the rough pound of his hips.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, fucking into you roughly. “You’re so tight… so wet… I’m gonna come, baby.”

“Then do it,” you gasp, arching your back. “Come for me, baby. Fill me up.”

He groans, moving faster – Jungkook’s lips find yours in a wild, desperate kiss, his hips hard and messy against you. Lifting your pelvis, you force him in deeper and begin to lose yourself in the motion when he starts hitting your g-spot. His hips rock forward, filling you deeply as you wrap your arms tighter, needing him harder.

“Fuck,” you gasp, stars pricking the back of your eyelids. “Jungkook!”

He clutches you closer, entire body taut as he thrusts into yours. Everything draws to a point, coming together as Jungkook’s hips tease your clit, pushing you over the edge. “Fuck,” you gasp, curling upwards. You teeter dangerously for a moment before shuddering apart; coming back together, only to breathe into his skin.

Jungkook chokes out a groan, releasing inside you. You exhale at his cum, warm and wet as he fills you. Jungkook keeps moving, gradually thrusting as he lowers his body to yours. He sighs, lips brushing your forehead before he reaches down and slowly pulls free from your body. Jungkook cups you with one hand as you giggle, wriggling upward.

“Hey!” he grins, grabbing your hip with the other hand. “Stop that, let me clean you.”

“It’s your cum,” you tease, wriggling again. “What, are you scared you’ll make a mess?”

Jungkook grabs a towel and, swiping it from a chair, quickly cleans over your center. “I know,” he growls, “it’s my cum, which is how I know it’s a mess. Okay, all done. Come here.”

You obey happily, rolling into his arms. Jungkook laughs, lips brushing your cheek as his hands find your body. His fingers move quickly, interlacing with yours. On your left hand, on the pillow, your ring glints in the moonlight.

He smiles at the sight. “I still can’t believe,” Jungkook exhales.

“What?” you whisper, reaching up to brush your lips to his. “What can’t you believe?”

His other hand finds your arm, tracing the thin film of scars. Jungkook’s gaze lightens, rising to yours. “That we’re here,” he confesses, nearly inaudible. “That we’re here, whole and alive.”

Something warm rises in your chest. It is hard to believe. It’s hard to believe that, after everything that’s happened, the pain and darkness you’ve survived, there exists this light. There exists this happiness and, curling around him, you press your lips to his chest.

“I love you,” you remind, finding his fingers again. “Just a reminder.”

He nods. “I know. Almost as much as I love you.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

“Liar,” you tease.

“Mhm. And a thief.”

“My thief,” you proclaim, kissing his nose.

He laughs, thumb stroking your palm. “What if we’re thieves and liars and overall, horrible beings – together?”

“Together, then.”

[Master List]

Author’s Note: thank you so much, for reading! I hope you enjoy the ending of Blackjack. © kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#jungkook smut #noonanet #kwriterskollection #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts writing #jungkook writing #jungkook fanfic #jungkook mafia au #bangtan mafia au #bts mafia au

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primal-screamer-blog1 · 5 years

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Ruby loved being under the red lights. She was Mexican and Japanese, a tiny, bronzed, energetic spitfire with wide hips and impossibly long legs. Legs that drove men from all over California to see in the flesh. And after hours on the 405 for a long L.A. weekend, flesh was exactly what they wanted. They’d line up and lay down hundreds for her to crawl into their laps, wrap her long athletic legs around their necks and writhe on top of them. And Ruby wasn’t the only one drawing a crowd; Seventh Veil was home to some of the most sought after women in Los Angeles. Between Ruby, Roxanne, Alexis, Lola, Kenzie and Jade, the headlining girls of Seventh Veil were just as well known, if not moreso, than the boys in the bands that they all dated. In their big cars, with their big hair, they commanded the strip, bringing in money, men and any excess they could ever want. Naturally there was a cover charge. “C’mon, what about $10? I got a 10.” Nikki pleaded with the bouncer, a tall, muscular man named Rob who wore all black and had a tattoo of a shark on his neck. “How you gonna afford to tip these girls if you can’t even get in the door, kid?” If it were anyone else, Rob would’ve had Nikki out on his ass for talking him down to half price. But Nikki had been coming around for as long as Ruby had been working there; all the boys in Motley Crue had. The rock n’ roll of the strip had quickly become the lifeblood of the clubs. He knew Nikki was trouble, but not the kind of trouble he would ever have to worry about. “I’m gonna tip, I’m just not gonna be here for too long is all. One dance and I’m out, I swear.” “Nikki! Please. Spare me the sob story. You could have any of these girls all over you for free anytime you want. Why are you trying to pay for a lap dance?” Nikki sighed and tried to look inside over Rob’s shoulder. He couldn’t see past the obnoxious fake smoke that fogged up the entryway. “I just gotta talk to Ruby.” “Yeah?” Rob laughed. “You and ‘bout every other red blooded male in California. She making you pay for it all of a sudden?”“I don’t pay for shit, man. Look, this is the only place I can talk to her without her trying to fucking kill me. I got a show tonight anyway, I swear I'm in and I’m out.” Nikki held two fingers up. Rob shrugged and lifted the red velvet rope separating the two of them. “You got an hour.” “You fucking rock, man.” Through the plaster Arabian palace archway and neon signage, Nikki made for the bar. If this conversation were going to go the way he wanted it to, he’d need their tallest, cheapest shot. Leaned against the bar top, Roxanne was on her break, sipping a diet coke and flipping through a copy of Cosmopolitan. “Nikki?” Her melodic voice called over to him. She smiled and waved him over with a manicured hand. Roxanne was a tall, slim strawberry blonde with big blue eyes and big tits. She wore white cowboy boots and a red one piece with blue and white fringe, a costume she’d come up with for her “American Woman” number that Tommy really loved. He also loved her freckles. Nikki wrapped her in a short hug and let his hand rest on her hip. “Hey Roxanne.” “You haven’t been here in a while , Nikki! Where’ve you been? Making Tommy wander out all on his own!” She had a sweet, southern accent that always made him smile. “I’m sure Tommy’s doing just fine without me.” “We make sure he has fun out here.” She giggled and sucked down nearly half her diet coke, letting out a tiny burp. It made sense that her and Tommy got on as well as they did. “Does Ruby know you’re here?” “Not yet. Was hoping to chill out a little bit before talking to her.” “You comin’ to apologize?” “Apologize for what?” He gave her a shy grin. “Oh c’mon, Nikki. You’re on the shit list and you know it. She told us all about what you did.” “She did?” He winced.“Been talkin about it since she got here.” She went behind the bar and poured him a tall glass of Jack and Coke. “On the house. You’re gonna need it.” “Is she that mad?” He took the mixing straw and tossed it in the trash, taking a big swing instead. “Boot in the head didn’t let you know?” “Okay. Point taken. I’m an asshole.” “Just say you’re sorry, Nikki. It’s not a big word. She’ll forgive you.” “Where’s she at?” “On stage, dummy.” Roxanne giggled and pointed behind him. Ruby was crawling down the catwalk towards the tip bar where a cute blonde boy held two twenties in the air. The room was full, men talking and laughing, pinching Alexis or Lola on their asses as they worked the room while Ruby danced. She wore a studded red leather harness on top of a black g-string pulled high up above her ass and a black satin bra. Her strappy black stilettos brought her tiny 5’3 frame to 5’7 and her long black ponytail, teased up high made her look even taller. Up in lights, she unfolded herself into a split to “Slave” by the Rolling Stones. She tucked the boys money into her g-string and fell back into him, laughing and wriggling in his lap. Next to him, his drunk friend howled and threw a handful of ten dollar bills on her chest. She pulled herself up on stage and spun around on the pole before pulling her bra down to reveal a set of black sequined pasties. She fell down into another split, tossing her bra at the high tippers. Nikki stood back and watched her. He’d seen her dance plenty of times before; they met outside three years ago trying to buy drugs from each other. Nikki always loved seeing a hot woman dance, but something about watching Ruby specifically was fun for him. She danced the same way she played music. When she took the stage, she showed something vulnerable and something wild that he’d never seen in a woman. Raised to adhere to strict social conservatism, Ruby was brought up in the elite high society of Manhattan. It was a complete accident that, while attending an all girls boarding school, she was introduced to Black Sabbath and AC/DC records. Every Tuesday after her SAT prep, Ruby’s mom paid a 19 year old college student to teach Ruby classical piano. In reality, she was learning to play ‘Crocodile Rock’ and memorizing the names of singers in metal bands. In no time, she was sneaking out to meet punk boys at hip, underground parties in Brooklyn where she saw bands like the Stooges and the Ramones. It was when the Germs toured through the city that a young Lorna Doom handed off a copy of California punk zine Flipside to Ruby. After that, she became obsessed with maps of Los Angeles and would harass the local record store to bring in X tapes every time she went in. When she turned 17, a boy she was dating put on a copy of a barely formed Black Flag’s single Nervous Breakdown. “Holy shit.” They were angry, they were weird and they were unlike anything she’d heard before. She packed her bags and sold her bike to buy a Greyhound ticket across the country. Seventh Veil was the first place that would take in a skinny 18 year old with no home, no references and no clue. After being at an all girls school for so long, she took to the locker room camaraderie immediately. She went from timid and awkward to bold and brash, someone unafraid who knew how to make space and make noise. Spinning around the pole or swinging a microphone, whenever Ruby was on the stage, she gave her all to stake her claim in what she’d built for herself. When she danced, Nikki could see all that liberation in the smile on her face. So it was a little disappointing to see that smile falter as she caught sight of him. She staggered a bit as they locked eyes and awkwardly moved to the other side of the stage, regaining composure away from his glance. When she came back around, Nikki had grabbed a seat up front next to the blonde and his friend. Ruby flipped her ponytail to hide her eye roll and crawled over to him. “What do you want?” She said just loud enough for him to hear, sliding down onto her elbows and pushing her ass in the air for the rest of the audience. “I wanna talk to you.” “No way. Go home, Nikki.” “How about a private dance then?” “Fuck you!” She pulled herself up onto her knees and tugged the straps of her leather harness down. Nikki placed a hundred dollar bill on stage. “Come talk to me.” Nikki didn’t seem to understand what he was asking. She stood up and threw one long leg over his shoulder and dragged his seat in closer. She slid down into his lap so that she straddled him, one thigh pressed up against his arm in a flexible fold. Her nipples, covered up with pasties, pressed against his chest. The guys next to them whooped and tossed stacks of dollar bills into Nikki’s lap as she wrapped her other leg around his waist. He was instantly hard. She tangled her fingers into his knotted black hair and purred into his ear. “Are you really trying make a scene, Sixx?” She pulled back and looked up into his eyes. His expression had a slight glaze, his mouth dropped open. His hands rested nervously on her hips. The answer, she could see from his hesitation, was no. Nikki was known for his impulse - it’s what they bonded over. They spent their nights buried in drugs and living out their highs with fireworks, bar fights and loud music, bringing them to early mornings of come downs, shivers and heightened emotions. Cocaine addled conversations birthed ideas for Motley Crue and eventually led to Ruby forming her own band, The Plastix. They talked books and broken homes, b movies and beat poets, deep dark fears and depraved, debased perversions. But whenever they would come too close, whenever things got too heavy, Nikki would pull away. He would tug up his sleeves and show his scars, recount memories to the point of tears, but if she ever moved to soothe him, he flinched. Nikki was always unknowingly crying out for help, but his problem was he never knew what to do once he got it. It was why she stopped giving him so many chances; she knew he would never take them. She felt bad for him. “Fine. Let’s talk.” She pressed her forehead to his and pulled away. She finished her number with a final upside down spin down the pole and motioned for Jade - a vampy brunette - to take her spot on stage. Ruby stepped behind the zebra print curtain backstage and emerged a few minutes later in a black sweatshirt and leg warmers with a drink in each hand. She led Nikki to the VIP lounge - a purple velvet couch and a clear lucite table tucked in a corner behind a velvet rope. Under the black light, she sipped on her vodka cranberry and pushed a refreshed Jack and Coke into his hand. “Got ya a bunch of cherries.” She commented, snatching one out of his drink and sucking the whiskey off it. “Thanks. I never wanna ask for them.” He pulled his black fringe over his eyes before doing the same. “You’ll empty half a bottle of hairspray onto yourself but you won’t ask for cherries?” “I don’t care if people wanna call me a chick. I just don’t want them thinking I’m a kid.” Ruby pulled his hundred dollar bill from her bra and slid it across the table. “Where’d you get the money?” Nikki made a face and quickly shoved it into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Tommy let me pawn his stereo.” He mumbled. “Nikki!” “I know.” “C’mon, you can’t do that! You don’t gotta….throw money at me anyway. I would’ve just talked to you afterwards.” “Without trying to punch me in the head?” “Okay. I get your approach.” She shrugged and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But all I’ve wanted lately is to just talk to you. I really wish you would’ve just tried that. I don’t want your money.” He crunched up the bill in his fist. “I thought maybe I could just buy back what I stole from you.” He sighed. She wanted to yell at him more; tell him that she didn’t care about the drugs. She cared that he lied to her and used her. She’d seen him do it to enough people to feel stupid that she let it happen to her. She wanted to tell him how he made her rush to work even more hectic than L.A. traffic normally made it. She wanted to tell him about dancing with aching joints and having to wear a smile when you can’t feel the muscles in your face. She wanted to tell him that just because he wanted her attention, that didn’t mean he could fuck her over. But she didn’t. He already knew all of that. He was trying. “Why have you been so shitty to me lately?” He went quiet. There was hardly a time she caught him off guard that he couldn’t immediately divert his attention to scribbling in his notebook. He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped himself before chugging his drink. He was the one who wanted to talk, after all. “It’s weird for me that you’re dating Vince.” Ruby lifted an eyebrow at him before letting out a confused laugh.“What?” She snickered. “I’m not dating Vince.” “What are you talking about? Yes you are.” He knitted his brows together. She stopped laughing when she saw that he wasn’t. “I’m fucking Vince. First of all,” She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice, taking on a more serious tone. “I don’t wanna date anyone. I deal with enough men here. I don’t-” She held up a hand and cut herself off before getting carried away. “Second of all, what does it matter? You fuck my friends all the time!” “Yeah! But-” “You were just fucking Jade in your freaky sex closet two weeks ago! She said it smelled like gouda cheese. I thought that was part of why we were friends, we hook each other up!” “I know. I know .” He fell back in his seat. “It’s just uncomfortable to me. I mean, it’s Vince . He’s so skeezy.” “You think I don’t know that? Look I told you, I’m not trying to marry the guy. We’re just having fun together. Nikki, why are you so concerned?” “I dunno, you’re not stupid, Ruby, why do you think?” For a moment, they just looked at each other and waited for the other to say something. When she didn’t, he sipped his drink and looked away. It wasn’t the first time since she’d known him that he looked so sad she wanted to kiss him. If only let him know that his feelings weren’t completely displaced. Instead, she leaned back with him and watched the spinning disco ball above them sparkle. Another thought in a long line of the same, she thought about a future with him and what that might be like. “You know you and me aren’t ready for this, right?” “Yeah.” He popped another wet cherry in his mouth. Something in his expression lifted when he looked back at her. He leaned into her shoulder, his teased up hair brushing into her face. “What do you mean?” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” He smiled at her. He pulled a knotted cherry stem out of his mouth and placed it in her hand. “I just wanna hear you say it.” “Please don’t make me.” She groaned to keep herself from laughing, not wanting to encourage him. She stuck his cherry stem in her mouth and swallowed it. He grinned at her. “I’m gonna make you.” She sighed and her smile dropped. She pushed the melting ice in her drink around with her straw. “Things are changing so quickly.” She let out a sarcastic laugh before nudging him off of her. “You don’t want a girlfriend anymore than I want a boyfriend, Nikki. Think about it. You wanna be a rockstar. You’re gonna go on tour and meet girls and make money. You’re not gonna have time to be with someone and you’re not gonna wanna be.” “That’s bullshit, though. You’re gonna do all the same stuff.” “Yeah, maybe. I want to. And I wanna do it without having to worry about when I’m gonna see you next or who you’re hanging out with or if you care who I’m hanging out with….I just don’t want it. I don’t want to do that to you.” “Well then, I don’t get why you’re doing it with someone else.” “I’m not. I don’t care about him the way I care about you. If we ever got close like that, I’d need it to be serious with you. And I’m not ready for that. You’re not ready for that.” He wanted to argue. Not because he had anything much left to say, but because he was still frustrated. He yanked his last cherry off its stem and sucked on it before swallowing it down. He wasn’t sure if he regretted coming here or if what she said made him feel any better. She wasn’t wrong and in a way, she told him exactly what he wanted to hear. That night, Nikki went back to the Whiskey-a-Go Go to play a show with his band. They went on 45 minutes later than they were supposed to, something Mick was sure to thoroughly blame him for. “Where the fuck have you been?” “Don’t worry about it, old man.” “Oh, I’m real fucking worried.” The crowd didn’t care. They came out for Motley Crue and stayed out with them long into the night, far past their last song. Particularly, a buxom redhead who reminded Nikki of his first girlfriend had stuck around the club long enough to come back with them for their nightly afterparty. She stayed tangled up in him all night. And when he went to bed with her, pounding her into the mattress, he heard Ruby moaning louder than she ever had in the room across the hall. Working his conquest harder than he normally cared to, he waited until he was sure he heard Ruby cum before unloading himself down the new girls back. He left her sticky and sweaty in the sheets to smoke a cigarette in the cool night air. Ruby was already out there. He thought she might be. His pressed his bare back to the brick wall next to her and pulled his pack out of his low slung leather pants. She was wearing one of Vince’s vintage car t shirts and a pair of black denim shorts she arrived in, her feet shoved into Tommy’s oversized sneakers. “You staying over tonight?” He asked her. She shook her head and handed him a lighter. “Nah. I’m almost on my way out. Just gotta find my shoes.” She watched him light up and made sure to grab it back before he could stick it in his own pocket. He pushed his hair out of his face and quietly exhaled, both of them choosing to listen to the Alice Cooper playing from a car down the street rather than speak. She watched the smoke dissipate in the air, the sounds of laughter carrying over from the strip just a block away. They both smelled of boozey sweet summer air. It was peaceful. For the second time tonight, Nikki felt like being honest. “You know, I can hear you and Vince. In my room. Mostly you.” He told her. Before she could say anything, he stumbled over an explanation. “It’s not a big deal. I just thought you’d wanna know, it makes it kind of difficult for me to uh...not think of you. In that way.” He stammered and immediately felt stupid. “Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow at him. She put out her cigarette on the concrete and exhaled her last hit. “Same.” She gave him a sly grin and slipped back inside. “Goodnight, Nikki.” Nikki went to bed happy that night. She was thinking of him too. ***fan fiction writers are creators too! we work really hard and put a lot of time into our stories. if you enjoy someone’s content, please consider leaving them a comment. it’s really helpful! thank you. Taglist: @triplehaitches

#motley crue #the dirt #nikki sixx #douglas booth #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #motley crue fan fiction #motley crue fan fic #motley crue fanfic #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars

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thedemonshavemisplacedtheirgod · 5 years

Text

The Demons Have Misplaced Their God - Part 2

“Get us out, get us out, get us out!” Harley’s screeching was not, in fact, helping, but he seemed to think it was.

Brian grabbed half of a porcelain plate from a dumpster knocked sideways onto the ground as they ran, and smashed it over Harley’s head. It only made him more hysterical.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOU COULD HAVE KNOCKED ME OUT! THEY WOULD CATCH ME! I WOULD DIE! WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?”

“Because you won’t SHUT! UP!” Brian looked like he was about to continue when Nate grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him into an open doorway, covering his mouth with his hand. Remy grabbed Harley in a similar fashion, but Harley seemed to get over his need to destroy his own vocal chords and did not need to be smothered. The four slowed their breaths and listened to the sounds of footsteps--multiple people running after where they’d been shouting.

The hunters almost ran right past their admittedly rather terrible hiding place, but pivoted on their feet to face them. Time slowed around them and instead of whipping out their weapons and killing them instantly, they sluggishly reached for their knives and guns.

Nate released Brian and sauntered over, reaching into their pockets and removing anything of interest, either breaking it or keeping it, tossing the broken, useless remains onto the ground. The hunters’ faces moved achingly slowly in reaction--horror, annoyance, the like. A few of the group had the audacity to look afraid.

“It’s almost like they’ve never fought a demon before,” Remy noted, chuckling. With a wave of his hands they all fell asleep, oh-so-slowly falling to the ground in varying levels of discomfort. They would awake once the demons were good and far away.

“Why don’t we just kill them?” Brian whined.

“Do you want a whole pack of hunters after us, instead of a few strays?” Remy asked. Brian backed down, but grumbled under his breath.

“We can’t feed from them anyways,” Nate muttered. “They’ve poisoned themselves. Drank holy water.”

Remy let out a string of curses that would singe any self-respecting angel’s ears. “What the hell else are we supposed to eat? The people here are too damn paranoid to go out at night. And unless you wanna get maced, I don’t think we should try any of the dealers around here.”

Harley huffed. “Can’t even try a decent prostitute. Stupid city council cracking down on it being illegal, and all.”

“I mean, there’s that homeless shelter downtown,” Brian said. “We could try breaking in. They’re probably all asleep anyway.”

“I actually looked into that the other day,” Nate spoke. “They’ve got a silent alarm. We wouldn’t even know it before the cops were on us. And these days, they’re worse than the hunters.”

The rest muttered sounds of agreement as an uneasy silence settled on them like a sticky child’s blanket. As in, they really would rather be doing anything than continue to be touching such a silence.

“So…” Brian bounced on his heels. “What are we gonna eat?”

Nate and Remy met at the turn of the century, at a millennium new year’s party. There were a few raised eyebrows exchanged, at first. After all, they both wore the same sunglasses indoors, and both wore leather jackets--although Nate kept his sleeves rolled up to his elbows at all times. Aesthetic was and is a crucial part of both of their lives, so the fact that they matched was an unpleasant revelation. And as they met in the corner of the room to discuss such pleasantries as who would be leaving and coming back in another outfit, they both recognized the indisputable, if hidden via powerful glamour, aura of a demon.

As the ball dropped in Times Square and on the TV, the humans around them cheered and drank and Nate and Remy removed their sunglasses for the first time that evening and made out until the last of the human partiers vomited onto the couch and resolved to fix her alcohol problem this year. (She didn’t, but it’s the thought that counts, and at least she got the two weirdos in the back to stop snogging each other and leave.)

Their apartment didn’t have a lock, but it did exude residual demonic energy, and that worked well enough to ward off potential burglars. Not that they had much worthy of pilfering. Harley jiggled the door handle and slammed his full body weight into the door in an attempt to budge the stubborn thing. Remy leaned against the doorframe and ‘helped’ until it actually opened, and the four went in.

Inside, a dented old red boombox played ‘Best of Queen’, and a pair of identical young boys played Mario Kart on the stolen TV. They didn’t bother to look up at the adults as they wandered in. Nate sat on the couch next to them, humming in mild amusement as one boy blue-shelled the other.

“Not sure how you can win or lose this one, Jobe,” Nate ruffled one boy’s hair, laughing as he was swatted away.

The game ended and the duo turned to their brother in the same kind of unison one would expect of twins in a horror movie, but not in real life.

“Did you bring food?” The image of two boys blurred until it seemed as though there may not have been any boys on the ratty old couch at all, and maybe it was just a smudge on your glasses? Only for the smudge to reform itself into one singular boy in-between where the separate boys sat, holding both controllers.

“No luck,” Nate admitted. From somewhere in the barren kitchen, (for though food was a luxury, it was not one they could afford) he heard a frustrated huff that could have been from any of the other three housemates.

Jobe frowned, then tried to hide it, then decided it wasn’t worth it and just frowned. “We’re all gonna to starve at this rate!”

“Nah,” Nate reached out and took one of the controllers from the younger’s hand. “Ain’t gonna happen. Wanna play against someone who isn’t you?”

“Finally. Do you know how hard it is to beat myself?!”

“You’re such a braggart.”

Jobe was a surprise. But he was Nate’s baby brother, and while it may be the norm for humans, siblings are spectacularly rare among demonkind. (This is for various reasons, including but not limited to: demonkind’s lack of loyalty to former partners, often betraying each other before the opportunity to reproduce presents itself a second time, as well as their general dislike of children, particularly demonic ones.) So Remy accepted that as long as he and Nate were… whatever they were, he’d have to be around Jobe.

It turned out to be easier than he thought.

“I didn’t picture you as good with kids,” Nate had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping from his shower. Remy looked up from the carpet, where he and Jobe had taken toothpicks and rubber bands to set up a witchburning with Barbie as the accused. As it was, Elmo the witch hunter had already burned such known witchcraft practitioners as Potato Head Man, all three of the minions, and a particularly feisty Beanie Baby who had laid a curse upon all of Elmo’s descendants that probably wouldn’t come into play until after Jobe had taken a bath. However, the townsfolk were starting to get suspicious of Elmo’s credibility, as Barbie is a well-respected figure across all cultures. (That part had been Jobe’s idea, and Remy had wholeheartedly agreed. Elmo was getting greedy, and greedy humans--or muppets--had to pay eventually.)

“Sorry, we borrowed your cigarette lighter,” Remy handed back the object in question, gesturing to the melted remnants of one of Potato Head Man’s arms. “We’re having a witch hunt.”

Nate nodded solemnly, handing the lighter back to the closest of his five brothers, two of whom decided to reform one, bringing the count back down to four Jobe. (The plural of Jobe, of course, is Jobe. This is because no matter how many of him there is, at the end of the day Nate only has one brother, even if there are several of him.)

“I always knew the minions were something unholy,” he commented, heading back to his room to get into his pajamas.

After some cajoling, Jobe eventually went to bed, leaving the four adults to ponder their tragically familiar situation over the kitchen countertop.

“I’ve heard LA’s got a pretty good food chain system going,” Harley suggested.

“Big cities, easy no-go. Besides, I heard that’s a rumor the local hunting family there’s been spreading,” Brian rested his head in his hands, staring down at the fake marble as if it had snatched away his only birthday present.

“Ontario’s been quiet lately,” Remy mused dryly.

Harley shivered. “Canada’s too cold for me.”

“You don’t have to come,” Brian rolled his eyes.

“Please. What would you do without me?”

“Sleep, maybe.”

“Shut up,” Remy took off his sunglasses, rubbing his forehead to stave off a headache. “Nate? Anything?”

“...Orlando?”

“Big city, same problems,” Brian repeated.

“Florida’s not too bad, though. Not a lot of hunting.” Remy considered it. It could be nice. Maybe they could take Jobe to Disney. He’d be ecstatic.

“That’s because all the humans down there are old,” Brian huffed. “It’d be so… boring.”

“Boring is good, though.” Nate spoke to Harley and Brian, but he’d moved his sunglasses onto his head, and his eyes were having a silent conversation with the other leather-clad demon. “Boring is safe.”

Harley and Brian shared their own look: one of mutual distaste for the inherently romantic route this conversation had involuntarily taken.

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rogermeddowstayl0r · 5 years

Text

soulmates : Keep Yourself Alive | r.t.

Part 1

Summary: Roger attends his local pub for a drink or two, one late night a few months after Queen’s first album was released. What he doesn’t expect to find is a talented Scottish drummer, who catches his eye and intrigues him into a wild night of getting to know her crazy life.

(70s Roger but could be Ben!Roger too if ya like.)

A/N: okay i apologise for the time taken to write this second part i have no excuse i’m just lazy. This chapter is quite slow but it’s mostly just building characters/relationships but it does get a bit dramatic. I will post another part soon to make up for the slowness in this one :)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: swearing, fluff

August 24th 1973

The golden morning sun lit the hotel room, littered with evidence of the night before. Clothes strewn across the floor, disregard in a hurry of last nights events. Mandy stirred in her sleep and awoke because of the bright sun shining in the windows, the blinds had certainly not been shut last night before she feel asleep in Roger’s arms.

Speaking of Roger, he lay next to her, laying on his stomach with his head turned to face her and one arm draped over her stomach, holding her waist. His long hair was very disheveled and she ran her hands threw it, pushing it out of his face. She smiled, he really did look beautiful and a part of her didn’t want to say goodbye to him. She had practice with her band at around 12, a quick glance at the clock in her room told her she had 3 hours until then. She sighed and turned on her side to fully face Roger, watching his face as he slept. He looked so peaceful, his facial expressions changing slightly every so often, he would frown and then smile.

After a while, he also began to wake up. She ran her hand threw his golden hair again and smiled sweetly.

“Good morning sleepy head.” She said softly.

He smiled as he opened his eyes lazily. “Morning love.”

He turned on his side to face her too. He looked at her intensely, taking in every feature of her face. Her eyebrows were full, dark like her hair and arched. Her bright green eyes looked back at him intently. Her eyeshadow from last night was faded but evidence of it still remained. Her lips were pump. They formed into a smile as she laughed and said,

“What are you starin’ at me like that for?”

“You’re beautiful.” He blurted it out without thinking. But a blush formed on her cheeks. She shoved his shoulder playfully.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” She replied cheekily. From the short time he had known her, he had quickly realised she always had a smart or cheeky remark and he found it incredibly interesting. She was so different from any other girl he had met.

“I hate to ruin this moment.” She looked at his threw her eyelashes innocently. “But I need to get ready, I have some utterly stupid band practice at 12 and I would hate to disappoint them more than I already have.” She pressed her hand against his bare chest. She really didn’t want him to leave.

“I understand.” He tried not to sound sad about the thought of leaving her and never seeing her again. “Also...Disappoint them?”

She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. “They’ve had this stupid rule while we’ve been on tour.” She began. “That we can’t go home with other people without telling each other, they said it’s so they know I’ve got home safe or some shite.”

“Oh.” Roger replied dumbly. “I’m sure they do care about you though? I mean they’re your bandmates!”

“Nope, they’re just nosey as fuck. I mean, I’m 23 for fuck sake, I’m not 18 anymore and they’re not my parents. They can’t control who I go away with. God, I sound like an annoying teenager.” She laughed at herself and Roger chuckled too.

“Anyway, I never informed them of my departure with you last night so they’ll be pissed.” She concluded, the sarcasm and anger for the coming argument was clear in her voice.

“Well then you definitely shouldn’t be late and annoy them more.” Roger said, smirking, as he rolled on top of her suggesting something. She pushed his shoulder lightly and laughed.

“If you think you’re getting a round two, you’re going to be very disappointed Mr. Taylor.” She slipped out from underneath him and strolled into the bathroom of the hotel room, grabbing a change of clothes as she went. He collapsed onto the mattress and groaned loudly.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth quickly and emerged again to find Roger putting on his boxers and a T-shirt.

“Leaving so soon?” She tried not to seem needy by trying to be flirty.

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one kicking me out, love.” He walked over to her, standing in front of her and looking at her. She just smiled.

“We could get breakfast, you know if you’re not too busy being a big rockstar?” She said sheepishly, the first time since meeting her, Roger saw her confidence shaking. She was nervous. A loud knock at the door made her jump.

“Sorry.” She mumbled to Roger.

Walking to the door and opening it she was greeted with her bandmate, Beth. She looked surprised but then her expression changed to anger.

“Mandy.” She looked her up and down. “We’re having lunch as a band at 11 so ya know be there.”

“O-okay.” Mandy stuttered.

“Thank god you were here, didn’t exactly want to look all over London for you.” She spat and then she walked away.

Mandy closed the door softly, turning to Roger and laughing nervously.

“It’s okay.” Roger walked towards her, he had heard what Beth had said. He ran his hands up the back of her arms. “Here.” He handed her a piece of paper with his number scribbled on it. “Incase you want to get that breakfast one day.” He winked at her and she laughed. He kissed her forehead softly and retreated to gather his things, then he was gone.

Lunch with Annie and Beth has been utterly insufferable for Mandy. They went on and on about how happy they were that their short “tour” was coming to an end, throwing jabs at Mandy when they could.

It was only later on when they were in the studio where Mandy’s temper got the best of her. Annie was complaining about the way she was speeding up one of their songs.

“What’s the bloody point? Not like we’re actually recording any of this!” Mandy jumped up from the stool behind the drum kit.

“Mandy we’ve been over this, it’s just for fun, nothing serious!” Beth chimed in.

“We just had a tour! With no album! No bloody wonder everyone in the crowd looks bored as shit! You can’t even play right so I don’t get why you’re butting in!” Mandy shouted back, growing angrier.

“Mandy we get it, you think you’re something now you fucked Roger Taylor but we agreed months ago that we were doing this tour for some extra money and some fun!” Annie said. Her mentioning Roger made Mandy blood boil. She had no right to say those things.

“Fuck you Annie.” She growled at the smug looking singer.

“Come on Mands, don’t be dumb.” Annie replies faking sympathy. “The man is a notorious player. You didn’t think he was the one, did you?”

Rage was all Mandy could feel, she was gripping her drum stick so hard she feared they may just snap in her grip, her jaw was clutched so tight her teeth nearly shattered.

“Fuck you and fuck this bullshit band. I’m not wasting anymore of my time with you.” Mandy spat back at the two girls. She walked towards Annie, rage written all over her face as she tucked the drumsticks in her back pocket. She reached Annie and instantly trapped her shirt pulling her close to her.

“If you think for even a second, that I need you then you are severely wrong. Watch me.” She growled at her, Annie shaking at this side of Mandy which she had never seen before. She let her go, she dropped out of Mandy’s grip dramatically.

Mandy headed straight for the doors out of the recording studio.

“Wait!” Beth shouted after her. She stuck up both her fingers, flipping the girls off in response.

She turned a sharp corner as soon as she walked out the doors, putting a cigarette between her teeth. Her anger and hatred of those two girls clouded her senses, she didn’t see the person coming until she collided with them.

“Ooft.” She fell backwards as a stack of papers fell around her to the ground. “Sorry.” She muttered picking up her cigarette.

“‘S okay love.” A familiar voice said. She looked up in shock.

“Roger?!” He smiled at her, offering his hand to help her off the ground, which she took.

“What are you doing here, huh? Stalking me?” She joked.

“Don’t flatter yourself love. I work here.” He laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I was at practice with my band, but I quit so I don’t really have a band now.” Mandy explained. Roger looked confused.

“They’re that bad, huh?” He laughed lightly. She smiled back at him.

“Yeah, I guess.” She shuffled awkwardly. “I should get out of here before they come after me with pitchforks.”

“Let’s go then!” Roger smile brightly.

“I thought you were working? Or was that just an excuse ‘cause you were actually stalking me?” She raised her eyebrows at him playfully.

He laughed. “I swear I wasn’t stalking you! We’re just recording, Queen I mean, you could come sit with us, meet the rest of the guys?” He suggested hopefully.

She didn’t want to seem too desperate and give in easily, put she also didn’t want to put up so much of a fight he would think she didn’t like him. Her mind debated back and fourth.

“Fuck it, sure!” She smiled. It would be nice to meet the other members of queen, she did really like their album.

“Great! I have to hand these papers to Reid first, but you can join. I’ll introduce you to the man in charge!” He smiled and gestured down the hall to where she assumed Reid’s office was.

“Sure.” She followed behind him watching him.

“So you going to look for a new band?” He asked.

“Hmm maybe, know anyone looking for a mediocre drummer?” She laughed. He stopped abruptly.

“You are not mediocre love, you’re fucking fantastic. That old lot just held you back. You’re perfect.” The last part was almost a whisper but Mandy still heard. She blushed, smiling softly.

“Thank you Roger.” Her heart flipped in her chest, no one ever really commented on her drumming, just the regular, “you were good”. No one had ever complimented her the way Roger had, it meant a lot, especially coming from Roger fucking Taylor!

The two began walking again and Roger then knocked on the door of Reid’s office. He went inside while Mandy hung around the door.

“Who’s your friend Rog?” John Reid asked curiously looking at Mandy.

“Oh, this is Mandy, we met the other night and she’s a drummer too, she bloody brilliant.” Roger smiled at her.

“Mandy McClain.” She formally introduced herself to Reid, extending her hand to him. He shook her hand.

“I’ll keep you in mind if I’m looking for a drummer.” He said smiling.

Roger and Mandy then left and went to Queen’s recording studio and Mandy would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. She fidgeted with her fingers as they walked to the studio.

“Hey don’t be nervous,” Roger said placing his arm round her shoulder. “They’ll love you.”

The whole scene felt old to Mandy, he was acting weird? Was she just overthink cause she was nervous?

“Hey Roger, I just realised I have some stuff to do, so um maybe another time yeah?” Her words were fast and her voice was shaking but before Roger could say anything she had ran away, out of the building. He chased after her.

Tag list: @rogerseyeliner @xgoingdownx @writingfortoomanyfandoms @onlyangelii @rogers-rhapsody @discodeakyy @the-killer-queenie @rogers-flowered-blazer

#ahhh part 2 enjoy :)#roger taylor x oc #raoger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor writing #queen x reader #writing #fanfic #queen #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #brain may #bohrap #70s #ben hardy #bohemian rhapsody #becki writes

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lord-explosion-baku · 6 years

Text

Like Ghosts In Snow

While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.

Vampire AU, Villain AU,

Warnings: EVERYONES NAMES ARE SAID BACKWARDS LIKE THE AMERICAN WAY AND I HATE MYSELF FOR IT TOO. LONG. Eventual yandere villainous bois, eventual noncon, eventual major character death

A/n: My ode to the 1987 cheesy vampire thriller, The Lost Boys. I made this to be based in the same fake California town as the movie which I feel like maybe that could be disrespectful, making these Japanese characters American but it was a lot easier writing for a fake town rather than Okinawa where I had originally tried to set this in. And I’m from California and I might be lazy, sticking to scenes that I know but what can you do? It starts off slow. I’m impatient so I’m sorry if you are too. Vampire boys will COME. LIES, DECEIPT, BETRAYEL, LOVE, AND DEATH WILL COME. Also, I don’t know how to pair this because pretty much everyone wants to bone has a thing for the reader?? The guilty pleasures are real in this fic. I mean, not in this chapter (that I’m still really excited for) but like....?!!!!? Also, Aizawa has poor parenting skills for a reason. Like, he’s not dumb. I could never make him dumb. ALSO I posted this on AO3 but I do not know how to work that site and I’m AFRAID of it. I talk too much. So here it is now. Huzzah.

Chapter 1: Margarita Night

You hummed along to the song that was playing on the stereo while Shouta Aizawa, your legal guardian, drove fast and precise up the coast highway in his red Jeep. Long black locks were flying wildly in the wind, like tendrils searching to grasp on to something. His tired eyes were hard and focused on the road but you smiled at him as he zoomed and weaved through different cars. He got a thrill from the speed.

You were moving, for the third time this year, which was saying something because it was only mid July. It was for Aizawa’s job. The two of you would travel across the country when something new, or rather, old, like relics from a different time would surface and he would start examining, dating, and researching what exactly the piece that was found was so they could be auctioned out or put in a secure location depending on how valuable the relic was. Or whatever. He didn’t go into details as to what exactly he did but when he did you never failed to zone out and start to daydream about something else. He didn’t mind. And you didn’t mind moving. You and Aizawa shared the spirit of adventure. He loved his work and you loved the rush of blood you got when you found yourself trying new things.

You scanned over one of the many articles for Santa Carla California, your new destination, that Aizawa has cut out for you to read up on. You’ve already read up the town history and now you had different clippings of local hang outs, the what to do and what not to do in Santa Carla. You took note of a pretty popular comic book store and the summer sports competitions but it was the night life that seemed to call to you on a specific page. There was a fair in town all summer long, love music, games, dancing, and other festivities. Aizawa didn’t let you out much when the sun was down but you both had agreed that that would change since you were now eighteen. You were excited to say the least.

Finally arriving to your destination, Aizawa drove through a dirt path to get to Tudor style house that sat about a hundred yards away from a cliff over looking the Pacific Ocean. The garden was hardly tended to, vines grew high over the fragmented stone wall that surrounded the house, the ground was covered in bursting star flowers, sagebrush, and ferns.

Aizawa parked the Jeep behind a dusted over yellow VW Bus. Stickers from covered the back of the bus. Some represented different cities across the country some that you’ve been to and some you have not, while most of them were stickers from different radio festivals you have heard about but never attended.

Grabbing your backpack from the backseat you hopped out of the seat and stretched your legs. You were sore from hours of sitting. You slung your pack over your shoulder and walked to the trunk where Aizawa was grabbing your and his suitcases that sat in front of Aizawa’s chest. You made a motion to grab the chest and Aizawa swatted your hand away.

“That’s gonna be too heavy for you,” he said. “I’ll get Mr. Yamada to help me with this. You go ahead and bring in the other luggage.”

You rolled your eyes. Aizawa didn’t ever want you looking into his chest but the fact that you couldn’t even touch it was a bit ridiculous. Still, you walked up the steps to the front door, backpack on, dragging both suitcases behind you, a petty attempt to show Aizawa you weren’t weak, you used your head to ring the doorbell.

Thunderous barking immediately answered the call of the doorbell. Frightened you dropped the luggage and took a step away from the door. You hadn’t known you’d be living with a dog. You were heard some yelling and and rustling on the other end of the door and the barking was muted.

The door opened revealing a very tall man with thick blonde hair in a bun. He wore a blue tank top that showed off his tan muscular arms and warm colored board shorts. His green eyes peaked over his reading glasses at you and smiled revealing dazzling white teeth.

“Wow,” was what he said. “F/N L/N. Aizawa told me about you. He told me his kid was brilliant, too smart for her own good, tough, and charming, but he never told me how much of a stunner you are!”

Your mouth fell open, unable to know how to respond to that. He grin grew wider as a blush dusted your cheeks. You hadn’t expected him to be so friendly.

Aizawa was to your side instantly.

“Shouta!” The man exclaimed clasping his hand to Aizawa’s a pulling him into an embrace. “It’s been far too long!”

“Y/N, this is Hizashi Yamada, or you may know him as Present Mic. He’s a radio host for the local Santa Clara station and a very old friend of mine.”

You gave him a slight smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yamada,” you said offering him your hand.

He took your hand and turned it over kissing the back of it and looking up into your eyes he said, “Call me, Hizashi. And the pleasure is all mine, little one,” with a wink.

Aizawa cleared his throat and Hizashi let out a chuckle. “Let me help you with your bags,” he said picking up your suitcase from the ground and offered to take your backpack, letting his hand travel to the strap on your shoulder. Bashfully you shook your head, excusing his hand, and you made a mental note of the man’s lack of personal space. You were taught to be kind but not stupid. You didn’t think Aizawa would let you live with a man that could be dangerous though.

You followed Hizashi up the stairs and to your new room. The room was larger than what you were used to. The ceiling was tall though it slopes d downwards with the roof, a stream of lights hung around the room, and posters from old bands you didn’t know were plastered against the walls. A queen sized bed with a beautiful wooden headboard sat in the middle of the room. The bedspread was a royal purple with purple and black shiny pillows. It was a tad much but you didn’t mind having a lot of space for you to sleep.

“The sheets are Egyptian cotton,” Hizashi said placing your suitcase down by your closet doors. “It gets pretty hot up here and I’d want for you to be as comfortable as possible while you stay here. If you need, I could bring a fan up later. The window opens but just slightly. It’s been weathered down from the pacific breeze.”

“It’s nice,” you said walking around the room. “I’m not used to having this much space.”

Hizashi smiled gleefully at your approval. “Well, I’ll be down in the kitchen with Aizawa talking old man business type stuff and my,” he paused for a split second, “intern should be here shortly and I’d like for you to meet him. You’re about his age so I’m hoping the two of you will get along.” The way he said that made you doubt that you would in fact get along. “The bathroom is down the hall to the right. It takes a while for the shower is get warm. Old heater. But the pressure is nice!” You nodded at him and he excused himself.

Immediately you started to unpack your clothes into the spacious drawers of the dresser that sat across from your bed, trying to figure out what to wear. You had on sweat shorts and t-shirt, so you’d be comfortable driving for hours on end by you wanted to be at least slightly presentable for meeting someone, a boy, your age, even if you might not get along. You settled on a white tank top and a black skater skirt with black tights. It was too hot to really care for looking pretty anyways.

You trotted down the stairs and slipped into the kitchen. The kitchen was fairly modern styled with an island in the middle. Hizashi has his back turned to you while he sliced limes. He hadn’t heard you come in but someone else had.

“WOOF!” You heard causing you and Hizashi to jump. You turned to the noise and saw a giant red husky running your ear. Before you could react the husky jumped at you causing you to fall back onto the kitchen tiles. He husky had you down with his paws on his chest and he examined your face giving you many sniffs. You kept your hands to your side and avoided looking into its eyes so it wouldn’t see you as a threat.

“Eijirou!” Hizashi yelled across from the kitchen.

The husky took a moment to look away from you and at Hizashi and back at you, giving your face a long lick. When you didn’t push him away he continued to lick your face to your dismay.

“Awwww he likes you!” Hizashi said.

“I-“ you started but Eijirou kicked your mouth when you opened it causing you to finally push him away, “gah! I guess!”

Hizashi pulled the husky away by his collar allowing you to stand back up. “This is Eijirou! I found him a couple months ago! He’s my most bravest boy and he’s very protective of this house! I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about him but I am surprised that he didn’t growl at you! It took him awhile to get used to my intern!”

Eijirou woofed at you again but this time his tail was wagging. You went to let him behind his pointed ears and he leaned in to your touch.

You heard the front door open and Aizawa came in carrying his trunk with a spiky haired blonde boy. “To the left,” Aizawa said and they scooted there way with the chest towards the door towards what you assumed to be Aizawa’s bedroom. “Alright we can put it down here. I can take it from here,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. You couldn’t even touch the trunk but some boy you didn’t know could help Aizawa carry it? Whatever.

“Bakugou!” Hizashi called to the kid. “Come meet Aizawa’s daughter!”

Instinctively, you moved towards Hizashi and away from the door frame. You didn’t know why you were nervous but you were.

The boy, sporting a black tank top and black sweats made his way over towards the kitchen, wiping away the sweat from his forehead with his arm that was bandaged up. He stopped at the doorway leaning against it.

“Hello,” You said quietly giving a slight wave. He just scowled at you. Yikes.

“Y/N, this is Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been helping me with some projects for about two months now! He’s been a ton of help!”

“Hello,” You said Again, this time with a little more confidence.

He looked you up and down, almost as if he were sizing you up, as if you could be a threat to him. You crossed your arms, out of discomfort but also trying to make you look a little more tough. It was pointless. Bakugou turned his attention to Hizashi. “Did you get my text?” His voice was low and rough. It annoyed you that you thought it was a little attractive. You didn’t like this guy one bit.

Hizashi was surprised. “I- yes! Of course I did!”

“You didn’t respond,” Bakugou said walking passed you and Eijirou towards the fridge.

“I didn’t. It’s not important right now. I had to deal with something a little more important.”

“And that would be?” Bakugou asked into the refrigerator.

Hizashi dropped the lime slices into four classes filled with a frothy green liquid. “I made margaritas!” He beamed.

Bakugou came up from the fridge with a beer in hand. He used his keys to open the bottle. He stared at Hizashi as he took a sip from the bottle. Yikes.

Hizashi sighed. “Y/N, I already asked Shouta if this would be okay. You’ll have a margarita, won’t you?” He said, extending a beverage towards you.

How could you say no when you were a guest in his house and he had already made one? You couldn’t. You smiled sweetly at him and took the margarita in your hand sipping on it. You tried not to scrunch your face up at the strong taste. Hizashi returned your smile.

Aizawa trudged into the kitchen.

“Hey, were having it’s margarita night, grab a glass!” Hizashi commanded Aizawa. Aizawa gave him a dry look but still accepted his beverage. Eijirou began to growl at Aizawa when he got too close to Hizashi. Hizashi patted his head to calm him down.

Aizawa took a sip of Hizashi’s creation. “Christ, did you pour the entire bottle into this?!” He said putting the glass down. Bakugou offered him a beer which he gladly took.

“Wha- no!!” Hizashi said now slightly annoyed. “The kids in Santa Clara like ‘em strong these days!” He said throwing his hands up spilling some of his drink to the floor. Eijirou moves to lap up the liquid but recoiled after giving it a curious sniff. “Well Y/N likes my drink, don’t you?”

You were already halfway done with your drink. You had to hold you breath to drink it down. You didn’t want to be rude but you also wanted it to be over. Hizashi poured Aizawa’s drink into his now empty glass and poured what would have been Bakugou’s into yours. Okay so maybe sometimes you were too kind and that was stupid. And a little dizzy. You hiccuped a response.

You could almost make out a smirk on Bakugou’s face.

“We need to talk about the email from Fulukado.” Aizawa said to Hizashi.

“But it’s... margarita night,” Hizashi nearly pouted holding his glass in both hands like a child with a toy.

“Hizashi, this is important.” Aizawa glared at him and Hizashi shrugged defeated.

“All work and no play makes Shouta a dull boy,” Hizashi drains his drink and made his way out of the kitchen. “Bakugou, why don’t you take Y/N into town. Show her a good time. I’m sure she’s dying to explore.”

You were on the floor playing with Eijirou. You let him like your red face and you giggled at the goofy dog.

“I can’t take her anywhere! She’s drunk!” Bakugou called back.

“Am not!” You crossed your arms like a child. Eijirou woofed at Bakugou as if agreeing with you.

Hizashi came back, holding a key in his hand. “This is for the house. I keep it locked up at night. You can’t be too careful.” He studied you on the floor, wide eyed, running your hands through the dog’s soft fur. “Aizawa, are you okay with her going to town right now? I know Bakugou is responsible enough. He wouldn’t let anything to happen to her.”

Aizawa sighed and looked at you. You gave him a pleading look. He knew you craved independence. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Absolutely!” You said standing up. “I could totally say my ABC’s backwards, walk in a straight line, whatever. The articles you gave me were interesting! I’m dying to see the fair!”

“The fair isn’t open on weekdays,” Bakugou said dryly.

“Well there’s a comic book store in town, right? I’d love to check it out.” You took the key from Hizashi. “I’m fine! I swear!”

Aizawa considered you. You put your finger to your nose and started walking heel to toe. “Z Y X W V U T-“

“Alright. Go. Have fun.” You were elated.

“Go ahead and take Eijirou too!” Hizashi chimed in as the dog started wagging his tail.

“Seriously?” Bakugou was not happy.

“Go have fun.” It wasn’t an invitation from Hizashi. It was a command.

Bakugou scoffed and made his way out the door, not waiting for you to understand that was your cue to follow.

“Be safe,” Aizawa said as you walked through the door, Eijirou on your heels.

You waved him off. “I always am.”

@yandere-inamorata

Chapter 2

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sushigirlali · 6 years

Text

Lollipop (Reylo Fanfic)

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything that relates to Star Wars.

Rating: E

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: This one-shot is dedicated to @saturnine-stardust for her adorable take on the Aria Grande lollipop meme! She’s a great artist and you guys should definitely check out her work! Somehow this fic ended up being super dirty, so mind the rating! 😀 Enjoy!

Master list –> sushigirlali’s Reylo fanfiction

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Lollipop By: sushigirlali

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“I can’t believe you made me leave the house like this,” Ben grumbled, automatically holding the door open for his girlfriend as they exited the local corner store. “I can barely walk straight!”

“You promised me breakfast,” Rey reminded him as she stepped onto the sidewalk, absently tugging down the hem of her oversized baby blue sweatshirt.

Ben eyed the black logo emblazoned across her left shoulder with a wry smile. Although they hadn’t attended school at the same time, their respective colleges held a long-standing rivalry that went back to their founding over a hundred years ago.

Having thrown on his favorite collegiate shirt after getting out of the shower this morning, he was pretty sure she’d worn the old hoodie just to annoy him. Among the many things Rey and Ben had in common, ribbing each other about their choice of university was a favorite pastime of the longtime couple.

“And you promised to protect me from those hooligans you call friends!” he shot back playfully, yanking the hood of his jacket over his baseball cap to block out the early morning sun.

“Hey, blame your own competitive streak, not me,” she replied dryly, pressing the crosswalk call button. “You didn’t have to play fifteen rounds of beer pong with them.”

“How are they so good at handling their alcohol anyway? Do they both share the same hallow leg?” Ben chuckled at his own joke, taking a swig from his water bottle while they waited to cross. After the ridiculous amount of beer he’d imbibed the night before, hydration was key to a swift recovery.

“Finn and Poe were in the same frat, so they’re total pros at the whole drinking game thing,” Rey reminded him. “So, maybe don’t challenge them next time?”

“That’s probably wise,” Ben sighed. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope!” she sang, reaching into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. “Here, this will make you feel better!”

Ben watched as she unwrapped a lime green lollipop.

“Go on, take it,” she cajoled, holding up the brightly colored candy. “It’s green apple, your favorite.”

“I’m not really in the mood for—mmph!” he broke off as Rey shoved the round ball of sugar between his lips.

Giggling at his miffed look, Rey popped a cherry red lollipop into her own mouth. “Well?”

“It’s good, I guess,” Ben mumbled around the sucker, the crisp apple flavor making his taste buds sing.

“Just good?”

“Okay, better than good,” he grudgingly admitted. If nothing else, he was honest to a fault. “How’d you know green apple is my favorite, anyway?”

“I’m a mind reader,” Rey teased, smiling when his fingers slid through hers despite his harried tone.

“Yeah, yeah, but—”

“No buts!” she interrupted, tugging him into the road as the little walking man signaled it was safe to cross. “I’m starving!”

Allowing his lady to pull him along to the public parking lot across the street, Ben helped her into his huge black Suburban before coming around to the driver’s side and climbing behind the wheel.

“Since I’m not getting out of breakfast and back into bed,” Ben bantered, holding the paper stem of his lollipop between his fingers like a cigarette as he started the engine, “where would you like to go?”

“Maz’s, of course,” Rey said, idly crunching on her cherry treat as she buckled her seatbelt.

“But that’s all the way out in Takodana!” he complained, smoothly backing out of the parking lot and into traffic.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised.

“Oh, yeah?” Ben raised an inquisitive brow, already turning down a side street that led to the road out of town.

Teasing aside, they both knew that Ben would give Rey anything she asked for, especially when it came to food. He was forever trying to make up for her desolate childhood in the foster care system, even taking up cooking lessons and buying a subscription to Blue Apron just to make homemade meals for her, much to Rey’s amusement and not-so-secret pleasure.

“Yeah,” Rey smirked, prying the long fingers of his right hand off the steering wheel and bringing them to her breast. “It’s a thirty-minute ride to Takodana, so I thought we could have a little fun.”

“What are you—?” Ben stuttered, dropping the sticky lollipop onto the black floor mat in surprise. “Rey, where’s your bra?!”

“On our bedroom floor where you tossed it last night,” she purred. “We were too drunk to do much more than undress at the time, but I’ve been thinking about fucking you since I woke up naked in your arms this morning.”

“Jesus, Rey,” he breathed, instantly hardening at her whispered words; he loved it when she talked dirty to him. Fingers contracting around her soft mound, Ben zeroed in on her hard-tipped nipple, rolling and pinching it between his thumb and index finger until she was squirming in her seat.

Sighing prettily, Rey stretched like a cat under the tantalizing pressure. “I love the feel of your hands on me.” She waited a beat, savoring his touch, before dragging his hand down her body. “Would you like to see how much?”

“Did you…did you leave your panties at home too?” he said in a strangled voice.

“Hmm…I don’t remember,” Rey said coyly. “Can you check for me?”

“Rey, we shouldn’t…”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re in a moving vehicle?” Ben said gruffly, trying to fight against his baser urges. “We could crash.”

“No, we won’t. I trust you,” she assured him.

“Rey…”

“Please touch me, Ben,” she tempted, caressing the back of his hand. “I know you won’t let anything happen to us.”

“Dammit, Rey, this is so dangerous…” Ben said roughly, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from slipping his hand between her smooth thighs; that pleading look on her face was just too enticing.

Glancing nervously at the road every few moments, Ben sucked in a harsh breath as he delved under her sweatshirt. Finding her bare beneath the garment, Ben tunneled his fingers through her neatly trimmed thatch of curls, tracing the seam of her pussy with calculated restraint.

“Oh!” Rey gasped in response, spreading her legs wider as he toyed with her. “Ben!”

Separating her tender folds, he massaged her tight opening lightly. “Is this what you want? Or do you want my fingers inside you?”

“Yes! Please!”

“Yes to the first question or…?”

“Ben Solo, I swear to god!” she growled threateningly.

Grinning at her heated reply, Ben gently penetrated her slick entrance, groaning as her wet flesh parted for his thick middle finger. “You’re so wet!” he said appreciatively, twisting his wrist as he pushed deeper.

“I can’t help it!” Rey confessed, clutching at his sleeve. “We haven’t been able to make love in days and I’ve been going crazy!”

Maintaining a death grip on the steering wheel with his free hand, Ben added a second finger, curling them in a come-hither motion while his thumb found her pulsing clitoris. “Did you touch yourself last night? Wishing I was coherent enough to satisfy you?”

“Yes!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ben said sincerely, gliding in and out of her with practiced skill, “but I’m here now.”

Traffic was thinning out as they neared the exit to the expressway, so Ben chanced a longer glance at his lover. Body tense, head thrown back, eyes shut firmly against the blinding pleasure he was giving her…damn, she was beautiful. She was everything he could ever ask for in a partner and more, and somehow, she loved him. Sometimes he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

“Ben! I’m so close!” Rey said excitedly, sitting up straighter as he continued to finger her, bending her knees and lifting her feet to rest on the edge of the seat.

The position opened her up to him ever more as the sweater fell away from her thighs, and Ben was suddenly, exceptionally glad for the illegal tint on his windows. He’d been working on his possessive tendencies over the last few months, but the thought of anyone else seeing Rey in such a vulnerable state was disturbing.

“Baby, please,” Rey begged, lifting her hips in time with the motion of his hand.

“What do you need?” he rasped.

“Harder! Faster!”

Ben redoubled his efforts, vigorously rubbing her clit as he thrust a third digit into her honeyed depths, enjoying the way her voice cracked as he filled her. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, “fall over the cliff; I’ll catch you.”

Rey began to shake as she neared completion, tossing her head from side to side against the headrest, simultaneously trying to pull away and get closer to his searching fingers. And then she was tipping over the precipice, screaming his name in a riot of pleasure before collapsing against his side.

——————

Ben curved his arm around her shoulders as she came down, pulling her closer. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” she whispered, nuzzling against his bicep. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ben said. “Now that you’re—ah—Rey?”

“Yes?” she said innocently.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing…” Rey said, skating her fingertips up his broad thigh to the tie of his gray sweatpants.

“Rey.”

“Hmm?” she murmured, already sliding her hand into his pants and under the band of his black silk boxers.

Ben managed not to jerk the wheel as she grasped his hard member, but only just. “Fuck!”

“Oh, baby, you must be in so much pain,” she baited, gently stroking him from tip to hilt.

“You have no idea,” he gritted out.

“No?” Rey pulled back, hooking her fingers in his waistband. “Let’s see what we can do about that then. Lift your hips.”

After a brief hesitation, Ben carefully took his foot off the gas and lifted away from the driver’s seat, allowing Rey to tug his pants down far enough to free his arousal. He was too far gone to deny her at this point, regardless off his misgivings, and they both knew it.

“Good boy,” she said approvingly, wrapping both hands around him this time. Rey let out an appreciative whistle as he grew impossibly harder in her grasp, adrenaline mixing with their natural chemistry to create a perfect storm of love and lust. “Damn.”

“Like what you see?” Ben murmured.

“You know I do.” Rey licked her lips, stealing his focus away from the road again.

Hell, who are you kidding? Ben thought fondly. She’s been districting me since day one.

Having grown up as the son of a prominent politician, Ben was used to minding his manners in public. But the more he made love with Rey, the more he wanted her; regardless of the appropriateness of time or location. If fanciful things like soulmates and kindred spirits really existed, Rey was definitely his.

“Don’t miss the entrance,” she reminded him wryly when he continued to stare at her.

“Shit!” Snapping back to attention, Ben quickly boarded the on-ramp and merged onto the empty freeway. “Wow, that was a close—oof!” he grunted as Rey suddenly unbuckled her seatbelt and scrambled over the middle console to straddle his lap.

“Rey!” he protested, caging her in as he grabbed the steering wheel with both hands to avoid running off the road.

“Keep driving,” she said huskily, lifting up to align their bodies. “I’ll do all the work.”

“Rey, I don’t think—oh, fuck!” Ben rumbled as she impaled herself on his thick erection.

“Ben!” she whimpered, rocking back and forth until he was fully seated inside her sticky heat.

Knuckles turning white on the controls, Ben barely resisted the urge to close his eyes as Rey made love to him. “You feel so good!” he choked.

“So do you!” Rey bit her lip, shifting so slowly that Ben could only classify her movements as sensual torture. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too!” Ben palmed her left buttock, needing to touch her despite the risk.

Rey moaned as he kneaded her supple skin, bracing her knees on the seat and her hands on his broad shoulders so that she could rise up and down more quickly.

“Do you know why green apple is my favorite flavor?” Ben asked, recalling the lollipop now taking up residence on the floorboard.

“No!” Rey panted, grinding down against him.

“It’s because you tasted like green apple the first time we kissed,” he said hoarsely, shockwaves rocketing up his spine as she twisted her hips. “You had just downed an appletini at—”

“Mos Eisley Cantina,” Rey supplied, looping her arms around his neck. “Wow, I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ben said tenderly. “You mean everything to me.”

Rey froze for space of seconds, staring at him with her heart in her eyes, and then she was kissing the breath out of him, melding their lips and bodies and souls together with a fervor that scorched him. Pulling over before he lost his mind altogether, Ben quickly threw the car into park and discarded his seatbelt.

“Baby, baby, I need you to—ah!” Rey gasped as he dragged her sweatshirt over her head and half-swallowed her right breast.

Suckling her plump nipples in turn, Ben circled her waist, matching Rey’s rhythm and driving her toward a second climax with every powerful thrust of his hips.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, starting to lose his grip as her sheath clamped down on his cock so tightly he thought he might faint from the pleasure of it.

“I’m almost—I—”

As Rey’s exquisite body danced before him, it finally dawned on Ben that he was still mostly clothed while she was completely nude. Enthralled by the dichotomy, he reached between their bodies to caress Rey’s sopping core, strumming her clit and sucking her nipples until her back arched and she was crying out in supplication.

“Ben!” she whined. “I’m—I’m coming! Oh, god! I’m—Ben!”

Her release triggering his own, Ben crushed her against him, burying his face in her sweetly scented hair as he floated on a cloud of physical and emotional satisfaction. There was no one else like her in all the world, no one else who could match him. After years of fending off debutants and gold-diggers, Ben knew that he had finally found the one.

Damn, he was lucky.

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“Are you okay?” Rey queried, running her fingers through his hair in the aftermath. “Still feeling hungover?”

“Between you and the car horn I’m a little deaf now, but other than that…” he teased, trailing his fingers up and down her smooth back. “I feel right as rain, sunshine.”

“Oh my god! I didn’t even realize I was pressing against it!” Rey laughed, impishly pecking him on the lips. “I guess things got a little out of hand.”

“A little?” Ben said sardonically, indicating their state of undress. “The party last night was a little out of hand. What we just shared was out of this world.”

“Cosmic,” she agreed happily, snuggling against his firm chest. “And you know what I want now?”

“More?” he leered.

“Breakfast!”

“You’re still thinking about food?” Ben said in mock indignation, leaning down to pry the dirty green lollipop off his pristine floor mat and pointing it at her accusingly. “I give you all I have to give while trying not to crash the car and—”

Rey silenced him with a kiss, taking the sucker out of his hand and tossing it into an empty cup holder. “Feed me and we can spend the rest of the day in bed.”

“Well, if that isn’t the best deal I’ve heard all day,” Ben grinned, helping her back into her own seat before setting their clothing to rights. “It’s a shame you have to put that old hoodie back on though, you look so much better without it.”

“I’m sure,” Rey retorted, rolling her eyes. “Now, let’s eat!”

Later, when they were finally seated at Maz’s diner and Rey was diving into a mountain of pancakes and bacon, Ben couldn’t help but think that burnt toast and runny eggs had never tasted so good.

-FIN-

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A/N: First of all: don’t have sex and drive, friends! Cause you will crash and you will die! Second of all: thanks for indulging me and reading my little smutty fic! I have a tone of other Reylo fics, so please check them out as well!

#reylo #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #reylo fanfic #rated e #saturnine-stardust #inspiration #my fanfiction #lollipop #sushigirlali

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