#nothing will happen this boy won’t get fired | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonderlandrry · 25 days

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hi, this is my first ever attempt at writing on tumblr!! the story could be more than one part if you like it (maybe three or four parts). this is also my first time not writing in first person pov so hopefully it doesn’t suck complete ass. (not really edited and idk how to format either so GREAT first impression, friends.)

pov: best friend! harry x you (aka i tried my best lmao)

blurb: you and harry have been best friends your whole life and one night changes everything.

contains: friends to lovers, bad girl x good boy if you squint, smoking green 🍃, smut, cussing, oral (giving and receiving for both characters), praise kink, and size kink if you squint really hard again and read between the lines lmao.

word count: 5k

• NOT RAMADAN FRIENDLY •

just friends

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Rylan’s honey eyes flick from your dorm bulging back to yours. The tension from tonight’s argument is fresh in those crinkles next to his eyes that you used to love. Fucking adore.

Parting your lips, you sigh, “See you around.”

“Don’t be like that,” A ringless hand runs through his dark hair. You’re not exactly sure why you’re focusing on that but here we are. “It was a joke, come on.”

Your hand rests on the door handle, silently contemplating on freaking the fuck out again. This isn’t the first time he’s made jokes, very public jokes about your best friend. The very first time you let it slide with a warning because some people don’t understand that you can be just friends with the opposite gender. They can’t wrap their heads around that not every relationship revolves around sex. You understood but tonight? He went too far.

“Saying Harry follows me like a stray dog,” You have to take a deep breath because Rylan doesn’t know what Harry’s been through. That only pisses you off more. “Was too far.”

“He doesn’t have any friends, Lil, just you.”

“Because he’s smart, he doesn’t have friends because he’s fucking brilliant.” It was true, Harry focused more on school and baseball than friendships. He got a full ride to Calloway University reliant on grades and his pure, raw talent. Some would stop there but he took it a step further by studying physics. Now it’s your turn to run a hand through your hair because this is the fourth fight over your best friend. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Do you not see how fucked that is?” He hisses, making your head snap in his direction. “You’re supposed to be dating me, not him.”

You scoff, “So that’s what this is?”

Rylan’s hold tightened on the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles were almost white. “Look, I don’t care that you’re friends with him but you spend too much time-”

That confirmed everything for you. Your long friendship with Harry wasn’t the problem. Rylan knew how much Harry meant to you and how your friendship was all you had sometimes. He knew yet the fact that he didn’t have your full attention every waking moment of the day was the source of cruel jokes.

“You’re threatened, huh?” His knuckles blanched even more as the words left your mouth. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth, Ry. Harry’s been my best friend since I was seven. Nothing has and will never happen between us. I would never sleep with him and ruin our friendship.”

“I see how you guys look at each other.”

Your whole face heats, it’s literally on fire. “You’re seeing things because we’re just friends.”

“You’re in denial.” Fuck. This.

Those three words were enough to push you. Push you to fling open the car door and launch yourself onto the pavement. They were enough to heat your whole body to the point that chilly winter air wasn’t enough to simmer down your anger. You don’t even bother slamming the door shut because that asshole can get out and shut it himself. That’s what he gets for constantly trying to pry a confession out of you. A confession that doesn’t exist but he still won’t accept it. The security guard gives a weary smile as you pass him, an obvious witness of the whole shit show. You look over your shoulder just in time to watch Rylan peel out.

He doesn’t follow you, shocker. Not that you wanted him to but you also didn’t expect him to. He acts like he cares but when push comes to shove, actions don’t match the words constantly flying out of that stupid mouth.

Unlocking and relocking the door with a soft click, your dorm is oddly dark and quiet. It looks like no one has been here all day. This is a possibility since Ellie spends most nights with her boyfriend. You slide off your black vans and place your bag on the hooks by the door. Seniors get a common room and separate bedrooms in student housing and you love the privacy. Honestly? It’s hard as fuck to hook up sharing a room with someone. El never cared who you brought home but felt weird as hell, yano?

From: ball boy (11:35 pm)

you home?

To: ball boy (11:36 pm)

yeah

You loosen your claw clip and honey-blond waves tumble. Walking into your room, you slip out of the cute-ass outfit you spent an hour perfecting and into some random band shirt with no bra and spandex shorts. Such a shame because you looked hot, too bad the night didn’t end with Ry ripping this lacy, black corset off you. Sucks for him.

From: ball boy (11:42 pm)

open the window before Mack catches my ass.

Your eyes snap toward the only windows in your room. The sheer, black curtains were closed but they did a shit job keeping the sunlight out so, honestly, how good were they for privacy? Your heart hammers thinking about Harry seeing you. How he could’ve seen all of you, not just what you choose to show off. The thought made your heart hammer.

From: ball boy (12:46 am)

don’t tell me you’re fucking someone right now

From: ball boy (12:47 am)

fuckin’ sick, lil

Annoyed, you rip open the curtains to find Harry’s cocky expression staring straight at you. It’s too dark to make out his full face but you can tell by the smirk tipping the left side that he’s amused. Making your favorite dimple dent even deeper. In one swift motion, the latch unlocks letting him in. He’s done this a million times, yano? Sneaking in your room for late-night study sessions, movie nights, or sleepovers. You’ve shared a bed countless times but never crossed that line, he’s your best friend. There are rules in place to save your friendship. He means more to you than one night of pleasure. Always has.

“Nice shirt, been looking for that everywhere.” Evergreen eyes bounce across your face, “Thought you had a date.”

You blow out a breath, “Not anymore.”

He smirks, dimple popping, “Obviously.”

“Thought you had plans.” You counter because Harry may not have many friends but that didn’t mean anything when it came to his sex life. He had trouble talking to girls but that didn’t seem to matter because they flocked to him. There was just something about him that drew people in, you included especially you. Maybe it was his ability to make anyone in the room feel special; wanted by having his undivided attention.

His lips purse, “Nah, not tonight.”

“Why?”

He gives you a pointed look giving away that he knows, “You know why.”

Guilt settles into your stomach, that stupid sinking feeling of being caught hit full force. He had the same argument with Grace that you did with Rylan tonight. They seem to argue more though and it kills you seeing him upset. You know he cares about her but he loves you. Maybe not romantically but definitely platonically and that means something to him. Every time they have this conversation, you know you should walk away. It's always your first instinct to protect people you love and you love your best friend. But, you’d rather die than let him go and that’s selfish as fuck but true. You sigh, “Harry-”

“I’m good,” He closes the distance and wraps you into a hug and it feels like home. Your favorite type of hug. “Worried about you.”

You smile against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart hitting your cheek, “Nothing a Star Wars marathon won’t cure, Stud.”

His face lights up, “God, I could kiss you, Lil.”

“Whatever you say, ball boy.” Your heart flutters violently but you ignore the feeling. He always jokes like this in secret and maybe that’s the reason no one believes you’re just friends. But, they’re just jokes, yano.

“Ball boy?” He scoffs, making you tilt your chin to meet his gaze. When your eyes finally focus, Harry’s staring at you with his stupid, dimpled smile. Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean you’re completely immune. He’s handsome and you’d be dumb to deny that because, well, you have eyes. Currently, he looks even better from this angle. His hair’s tousled as neat as those chestnut curls will allow and dimples seem more prominent. Deep, inviting indents. The black, backwards hat only adds to the contrast of those evergreen eyes. Your favorite shade of green. A sliver of metal trapped between perfect teeth as he cocks his head. He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “That’s fucked up.”

Pulling back, you shrug, “You’re the one who plays with them all day.”

His tongue clicks, cheeks hollowing, “Baseball, I play baseball.”

You dismiss him with a wave, walking into the common room. “Whatever helps you hit balls with your bat, Ball boy.”

“Better watch that pretty mouth of yours,” He warns in a low tone, so low that everything tingles. Reaching into his hoodie, he pulls out a bag of weed before plopping on the couch, “because I don’t share with bad girls.”

“Watching Star Wars high?” You grin as he nods. “Man of my dreams.”

Harry smirks, all boyish and full dimples, “Don’t tease.”

After pressing play and settling into the couch, you glance over at him just as the credits begin to roll. He’s lighting a joint, brows set in concentration, pink lips puckered around the paper inhaling slowly before passing it to you.

The next forty minutes fly by in the best, blissfully buzzed way. Time doesn’t have an exact science. We’re happy and having a good time. All the anger from earlier dissipated from you and Harry just being together. His nose found its way under your jaw, right next to your pulse point, some time after fifteen or so minutes. He’s always been affectionate when buzzed but holy fuck, was he toning it down before. You don’t know what changed but his hands haven’t left your waist and he keeps hugging closer to your chest with little sighs and hums of contentment. He smells so fucking good like peppermint, fresh laundry, and smoke.

Your breathing is slow and steady. Completely wrapped in him. Fingers twisting the curls at the nape of his neck until your fingertips tingle to touch him elsewhere. You don’t allow them to go lower than his throat, feeling how harsh each swallow was each time you’d get below the hinge of his jaw. He hums against your neck, nuzzling deeper into the column dangerously like he can’t get enough, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” You breathe as he hugs tighter, not stopping your feather-like movement through his soft curls. “You?”

“Yeah, that feels good.” His words come out sleepy and deep and gravelly. “Your t-touch always feels good.” Warm evergreen holds all your attention as he kisses your cheek, “Thank you for being here with me. You make everything better, always have.”

Your face tilts, noses inches apart, and whisper. “You make everything better for me too.”

Harry’s the type of man that goes from beautiful to devastating with a change of facial expression. Your hazy brain can’t stop taking him in for some reason. It’s involuntary. That beautiful, sculpted face is hidden at nightfall but you allow yourself to appreciate how much time someone put into crafting him. It’s like you spent the last fifteen years with blinders on and can finally see.

Sage burns into evergreen as his lips roll a few times like he’s trying to come up with a safe response. The irrational part of my brain wants to feel his mouth on you again so bad that you almost crave him. Your lips part at the same time waiting for the other to make a move or do something drastic. Three heartbeats of your mouths seconds apart. Three heartbeats in your own hazy, happy world. His nose nudges yours once before dropping back to your throat. His arms wrapped around you tighter and your breathing synced again. Instead of calm and steady, now it’s erratic and fast.

Fuck, you have to be high, right? Best friends don’t look at each other like this. Especially you guys.

He leans closer, left hand planted on your thigh as we just stare at each other. Almost like he feels it too. Your fingertips ache to touch the stubble dusting his jawline so bad they tingle but you can’t seem to move. Completely lost in the hypnotic desire clouding the calm green of his irises.

Not wanting to put pressure on Harry to make the first move, you close the distance. Not sure why you did that but your mouths part at the same time. His in surprise and yours in want, yet in perfect sync. Pressing your lips to his, he immediately kisses back, cupping your jaw. One second everything’s moving slowly and the next, he’s lifting his shirt over your head. Touching every inch of exposed skin like he can’t get enough. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts as yours find his jeans. The kiss breaks as he leans back just enough to look at you. You’re looking at each other in silence but it’s so fucking loud.

“We should-” He swallows harshly, columns of his throat tense, “Don’t wanna finally have you if you’ll regret-”

“Won’t ever regret you, H,” Your voice is hushed yet full of so much want and sincerity. “Don’t stop, we’re okay.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out in relief pressing another kiss to your lips that sends trace currents through your body full force. Finally giving into the sweetest temptation you’ve ever tasted. Forbidden and delicious. This was like an avalanche of feelings and lust in motion, couldn’t stop the cascade if you tried. The aftermath would eventually come but everything would be okay. It had to be.

“Yeah, just friends,” Your lips move with his again but lazier, a slow pace that makes everything come to life. “This doesn’t change anything.”

You lied because this meant everything but you can’t stop.

He blinks like he can see right through your bullshit.

You blink back hoping he doesn’t.

“Just friends.” He repeats only the first half of your lie between kisses, pressing your body further into the couch with his hips.

The words come out breathless.

The words come out easily.

The words come out in cool peppermint.

He starts to drag your shorts off at the same pace the kiss and you lift a little to help. Being this vulnerable, letting the other fully see the other is something you can’t put into words. Your eyes rake his body as his lustful, dark gaze mirrors yours. There aren’t enough fucking words to describe how beautiful he is. Taking in every single detail from his tattoos to his cock pressed between your open thighs. The desperation; everything fucking aches for him. He leans forward, lips parting, eyes darkening by the minute, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jaw until they meet your mouth. The warm metal of his tongue ring claiming every inch of your mouth. He tasted like charged temptation in the best way, like something you didn’t know you craved until now.

Harry whimpers as your legs wrap around his waist. His cock throbs between your thighs and he groans against your lips. The sound vibrating with need; so fucking desperate. Strong hands grip your ass as the kiss deepens. He’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s hungry for air. Almost like he can’t breathe without tasting you. Without having you like this. Staggered, harsh breaths hit the left side of your as his lips descended. Sucking and biting gently at your throat until they reach your chest and wrap around your nipple piercings. Metal clanking salaciously as his tongue swirls, toying with each little bar. His cock throbs again and your head falls back into the throw pillows with a loud moan. The arrogant smirk against your already heated skin only sends fire dancing.

Crackling and humming with each touch. They say fire needs oxygen to grow and Harry was yours. Always has been, he ignites all your fires.

Pulling back slightly, salacious evergreen meets thunderous oceans as he speaks, “So fucking pretty.” His words come out as a rasp, full of raw desperation. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.” Kisses pepper your face, “Wanna make you feel so good, please? ”

“Y-yes,” You breathe, unable to finish the sentence as his kiss-bruised lips meet yours again and again, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of your already open thighs, while yours run through his soft curls. Tangling and twisting as your lips move hungrily, desperately. Your teeth trap his tongue ring gently tasting and the sound that escapes his throat is feral. His body pushes against yours as you devour each other. Urgent, hungry, and like you might run out of time or change your mind. Hot, open-mouth kisses descend from your lips to your jaw then stop at the base of your throat.

“Fuck,” The word’s rushed, nearly a pant, as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The view of his gorgeous, toned body sends a shiver down your spine. The butterfly on his chest fluttered with each rapid breath. His abs jutting and rippling like it took everything in him not to lose it right then and there. Rough yet gentle hands feather your ribs, gliding effortlessly until they pause at your hips, leaving trace currents branding me with each tortuous touch. The rings on his fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your hips despite how gentle he’s being. A surprised gasp leaves my lips in a whimper as his grip tightens holding you into place. Your hips tilt, wanting to feel him and he groans, nostrils flaring like he’s in pain, “Want you so bad,” His nose runs against your jaw, “Not gonna last if you keep moving, Lil.”

“Sorry,” You breathe letting your head fall back as it swims with every effortless emotion you feel for him.

“Shh, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect, look at you.” He whispers, the gravelly tone of his voice sending vibrations between your thighs making you ache. A completely desperate ache for him that would be embarrassing if it was anyone but your Harry. Suddenly, he’s kissing you but lazily this time. His lips moved so painfully slow and tender against yours. Kissing like you have all the time in the world. As soon as you match his pace, he breaks the kiss sighing deeply against your parted lips. He studies your face, evergreen locked on blue, as he slowly drifts between your thighs. His hands follow him, traveling down your inked body with ease, until they lock around your upper legs.

“What’re you doing?” You ask breathlessly, trying to keep up with his pace. He ignores you, placing drawn-out kisses trailing from your left hip to inner thigh. Soft moans leave your parted lips each and every time his mouth touches your skin. His kisses are getting closer and closer, nipping and sucking, teasing and torturing. It’s too fucking much. “Harry-”

“Need something, Lil?” He sucks harder on your hip, leaving a purplish bruise on porcelain skin, tilting his head up to meet your gaze with a lazy smirk. So effortlessly sexy.

“Please-” Desperateness clings to the word as your head falls back, unable to handle seeing him between your legs.

“Please what?” Harry smirks against heated skin as your hips move forward, “Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I want-” The sentence pauses at the tip of your tongue. No one’s ever asked what you wanted before. “I’ve never-” Your brows push together trying to find the right word but he reaches up, fingers smoothing the line between them like he understands.

“It’s okay,” He runs the flat of his tongue against your clit and your knees almost push together from pleasure, the round of his tongue ring hitting perfectly. Like he knows exactly what you need. Burning evergreen disappears into the back of his head as he moans against you, fingernails digging into your skin. “Taste so fucking good, Lil. Knew you would, so fucking sweet.”

“Fuck,” The whimper that comes out of you is pathetic as he lifts your leg, draping your right knee over his shoulder, tongue circling with no mercy. Flicking and sucking and teasing as he changes pace. Your head falls back feeling his piercing tease your entrance with each flick of his perfect tongue. Your fingers laced into his wet curls, tugging as he pulled back, eyes meeting yours. Bringing his left middle and ring fingers to your lips, manually parts them until his fingers push past your bottom teeth. The cold metal of his rings hits your warm mouth. Evergreen dances darkly as they glide across your tongue until you gag around them. He exhales roughly, head cocking, “Mmm, suck. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

Your lips wrap around his fingers as your eyes lock. He moves them in and out a few times before withdrawing. Never breaking eye contact, pink lips puckering around my clit as his fingers tease your entrance. He watches you intensely, so fucking intensely as his fingers match the pace of his tongue. Your eyes flutter in pure fucking bliss as your grip on his hair returns. Pulling and tugging, making him groan so deeply, “Lil.”

Your name came out of his mouth with the same electricity that courses through your veins whenever he’s around. Hot, entrancing, unfuckingdeniable, and your undoing. White, hot pleasure hits so hard that you try to close your legs but his hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them open, easing you through it. Your breathing evens out as Harry watches you between your open thighs. His head tilted upward, lips parted in amazement, evergreen bouncing around your face like he’s committing every muscle movement to memory.

“For fucks sake.” He exhales, blinking in complete astonishment.

“Hmm?” The word comes out lazily, so fucking easy like your smile.

He hovers, face inches from yours, hazy eyes blazing with lust. The end of his cross necklace bounces off your bottom lip a few times. “So pretty when you cum, Angel.”

Fuck, in one swift movement, you push his chest backward completely straddling him as his back hits the couch. Long, ring-clad fingers grip your jaw as he presses his lips to yours, kissing slowly, tongues tangling lazily. He tastes like you and it makes your head spin. His fingers tangle into your hair, blond waves fall, as he collects them wrapping the strands around his wrist. Breaking the kiss, your hands glide across his skin, feeling every harsh breath and ridge before settling between his legs. Every flutter of his butterfly as he breathes, how his abs constrict with each breath like he wants you so badly that it’s painful, and the vein resting next to the perfect v-line of his left hip. Taking a deep breath, your head tilts, meeting his hungry, beautiful gaze as your lips wrap around his head.

He lets out a loud moan, abs jutting, as your tongue twirls and teases. His head lolls back, lips parting while the moans come out so fucking feral; desperate. The grip on your hair loosens as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks with each suck. Honey curls fall you around like a curtain as he cups the back of your head, pushing you to take him deeper, never breaking eye contact. You almost wanna shut yours seeing how much adoration and attention and lust swims in his pretty irises. He starts moving his hips slowly, testing, and relaxing your jaw. His jaw tightens with each thrust, moaning so fucking loud, lips puckering around a needy exhale, “I-fuck-I’m not gonna last.”

Flattening your tongue, a hum in appreciation and that makes him break. The soft green of his eyes darkened as control slips with each thrust. “God, look at how pretty you look wrapped around my cock.” He groans even louder and you gag around him. His hips slow, “You can take it, just like that, so fucking good.”

Your cheeks hollow as his movements grow more frantic. More fucking desperate. Twirling your tongue, he pulls out, cupping your jaw again as he cums. Painting your chest in the most filthy way. Head tilted back, eyes shut, pumping his cock as he whimpers. Blush spreads up his throat, neck vein popping in the sexiest way, and perfect lips parted in pure ecstasy; pure bliss. He’s the most devastating man you’ve ever seen. The minute your gazes meet, your breathing halts. So many emotions battle to come to the surface as lush forests meet raging oceans. The push and pull that is us. This is a moment where you just stare at each other in understanding. Letting your eyes say what you’re afraid to admit out loud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Harry’s voice is gentle and soothing while his fingers trace your jaw before disappearing. You count his footsteps but don’t respond. The weight of what happened crashed into you like a freight train. Your breathing accelerates instead of steading as everything plays out. You don’t want to lose him when this doesn’t work out. The thought comes quickly and like a bucket of ice water. Panic setting in because you can’t lose him. You can’t lose him over one night of weakness. Shit, the uncertainty feels heavy on your chest, heavier than it should because there’s no one you trust more. He’s your best friend.

“Lil?” Hesitantly, your eyes snap to your favorite shade of green. Allowing them to travel his peaceful features, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Everything about him is relaxed and unguarded as he starts cleaning you up with a warm washcloth. The light stubble on his sharp jaw to pink parted lips to the freckles on the bridge of his nose that you wouldn’t see unless you were close enough. Your fingertips ache to trace the path, feel each little freckle and plane of his face, until they’re touching his pink lips. Sometimes, you wish memories worked like photographs or something so you could accurately remember how being in his arms feels. How finally being his feels until unrelenting reality hits. You’re not his, Grace is, and that hurts worse than you thought. His lips tip into a left-sided smile, “There she is.”

“Here I am,” You smile back, cheekbone gently compressed by his long fingers.

Dark curls sticking up in different directions, evergreen eyes following every detail of your face, a red hue dusting across his cheeks, and his once parted lips tugging into a sleepy smirk, “You still with me, Lil?”

“Always.” The word came out fast because you were with him. Maybe too with him. “Gonna get dressed real quick.” A giggle escapes your lips, “Don’t have the money for Ellie’s therapy bill if she walks in.”

“Fuck,” He chuckles, running a hand through long curls, “She’d probably ask to join.”

Your phone buzzes two times and something inside you freezes. You know it’s Rylan, no one else but him and Harry text you this late. The playful expression on Harry’s face slowly drains into something that resembles pain as he hands it to me. The sudden change makes your stomach turn in the worst way.

From: Ry (2:30 am)

Sorry about tonight.

From: Ry (2:31 am)

Can’t lose you over a stupid argument, Lil. I know you and Styles are just friends and you wouldn’t touch him. Sorry for being a jealous prick.

That stomach-sinking guilt comes back full force and causes your mouth to flood with saliva. You pull the Nirvana shirt over your head and turn to explain but he’s already looking at the wall. His jaw tense, so tense that the hinges are bulging, but expression is stoic. He swallows, the columns in his throat tense then relax showing just how hard the salvia was to get down. You linger on his side profile for a second, appreciating the beautiful yet masculine planes of his face, before clearing your throat. He blinks a few times before turning slowly to meet your eyes. The words rush out of your mouth, “Harry-”

Playful evergreen darkened to forest green, “I better go.”

You jump to your feet, following behind him quickly, desperate to explain. His back to you, broad shoulders sagging, as he works to unlatch your window. The glass opens with a thud and you expect him to leave but he doesn’t. Ring-clad fingers grasp the ledge, knuckles blanch, as he just breathes. You count to fifteen waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t. 240 long, excruciating seconds pass. Exhaling harshly, his voice is hoarse, “We need to tal-“

“Friends?” You blurt, not letting him finish. Needing to know you’re okay, eyes volleying between him and the notification on your phone.

He pauses, hand resting on the windowsill, so much pain in those evergreen eyes you love so much. There he was, always taking care of you. Even if it means hurting him.

“Yeah, Lil.”

Your attention stays on the window as he slips out without giving you a chance to respond. Everything smells like him, a mouthwatering mixture of fresh laundry, peppermint, and something earthy like the wind. Even your skin has traces of him that you don’t think you’d be able to wash off. The memory of tonight permanently embedded into you and there is no denying it. How his mouth felt, his hands on you, the sound of his raspy voice slowly ruining you for anyone else.

What the fuck did you just do?

613 notes · View notes

tetsuskei · 2 months

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notes: a repost of my fave fic for my fave freckled faced boy ♡

“stay still.”

you playfully pinch ace’s side before reaching back up to focus on what you are doing.

“ow,” he whines, feigning pain. he tilts his head back, looking up at you with a small pout and puppy eyes, “that hurt.”

you only laugh at his dramatics, grabbing his jaw before tilting his head back to level. “i said stay still. or you’ll end up with a ridiculous bob, dummy.”

the scissors in your hands carefully move through his black locks, snipping away dead ends and restoring health back into his hair.

“you wouldn’t dare.” he warns, glaring at you in the mirror.

a smirk crosses your face, “and maybe i would.”

this is routine for both of you, cutting ace’s hair. you try to keep up with it frequently (he has surprisingly fast growing hair). a lot of times he’d go however, not really caring about it and doing whatever (meaning nothing). but you’re always able to recognize when his locks are getting a little too shaggy.

it never really bothers you to do it. in a way, it’s small intimacy time for the both of you.

it’s a rare sight — ace without his hat on or necklace fresh after a bath as he sits—more so squirms—on a stool. his wavy locks are slightly damp from washing. you get to peak at his broad, tanned shoulders. they’re decorated with all kinds of freckles, like little jewels on his skin.

ace is thankful. never used to having someone care for him in this way. he feels pampered. his brown eyes are always large and filled with admiration when he watches you cut his hair, your face cute in concentration.

he’s never afraid or shy of any physical contact with you, but when you get close up to him, holding his face in your hand to trim his bangs just right, he feels a little skittish in his tummy. he’s already a naturally hot running person, so he feels he must be scalding when this happens.

this game you two play is cunning. you always pretend not to notice his staring, while he is vying for your attention, chasing after your glances when your eyes happen to meet a few times.

if there’s one thing about fire fist, he’s competitive. he won’t stop till he’s won.

“can i kiss you?” he blurts, gaze intense.

a shocked look appears on your face before you laugh, “what’s gotten into you?”

“you just…look so pretty when you’re concentrating…and i can’t help it. not any longer at least.” he admits sheepishly.

you feel heat in your cheeks but recover from his words, “tell you what, if you let me finish what i’m doing, i’ll let you kiss me.” you offer.

“i’m your boyfriend, why do i have to wait?” ace whines and complains, but you only poke his cheeks before smooshing them between your hand.

“listen you stubborn fool, i promise i’m almost done. i think you can manage till then.”

“fyne,” he grumbles, cheeks still puffed.

you resume your work, but it’s not long before his hands dance on your waist, fingers tracing your skin and marveling over the softness of it.

the snipping pauses, “ace, what are you doing?”

“you didn’t say i couldn’t touch you.” he argues, sniffing.

you don’t say anything and just shake your head. he’s lucky he’s really cute.

eventually you find yourself being near wrestled by the commander as he progressively pulls you into his grasp. you’re finishing up his bangs by this point. practically on his lap with a hand on his shoulder as you steady yourself.

ace is glad you don’t tease him for being a blushing mess. but at the same time he feels like he’s going to die. he’s going to implode if he doesn’t get your full attention in the next several seconds.

“…and done.” you say, snipping the last lock.

“finally.” he sighs, crushing you into his arms impossibly closer to him. you yelp when the scissors fall out of your hands.

“a-are you even going to look at my final work?” you huff, feeling him pepper kisses on your cheeks, chin, nose—anywhere he can reach. you can barely move.

“don’t need to. you did wonderful, babe.” he responds, chuckling.

admittedly you did do good. really good. he doesn’t look so boyish now. more grown up. mature. his hair is only a tad bit shorter but shows all his best features that were hidden away. the apples of his cheeks decorated by freckles, his sharp, defined jaw, and his brown eyes you love so much can all be seen with ease.

ace has always been pretty and you don’t know if he’s well aware of that. so you turn his face towards the bathroom mirror.

he protests once his lips miss your cheek, almost looking like a fish with the way they pucker. he doesn’t have a chance to ask anything when your next words stop him.

“look how beautiful you are, ace,” you say, beaming, “you look so handsome.”

the man turns from pink to absolutely beat red, not expecting your words so suddenly. he curses under his breath since he can’t hide behind his hat. “wha—why are you…?”

when his eyes meet yours in the mirror he sees the soft twinkle in your eyes that you give only him, no one else. like he’s put up the stars in the sky for you. like he’s built you an entire empire by hand.

he’s silent, knowing you’re not lying about your words.

“…thank you.” he finally says, burying his face in your neck. his voice is small with vulnerability that only you have seen and heard. there’s a thousand things he wants to say right now, but the words won’t come out.

“you don’t need to thank me for loving you.” you respond, bumping noses with him before finally kissing him on the lips.

and it’s times like these where he figures life is something he’s meant to be living.

#ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace drabble #ace drabble #portgas d. ace fluff #op fluff #one piece drabble

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Note

Hello

I love all your writing you’re just so good and I’m always excited to read anything you write. I was wondering if you would do more for the our boy series with Charles and lando because it’s just so good, one of the best fics I’ve read. Ofc only If you won’t to write more for it up to you. 💕💕

Disappearing Act

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

A/N: We need this after yesterday's race. For the Charles girlies to celebrate and the Lando girlies we got humbled hard

Cécile is 6 years old in this, tamia means chipmunk

Our Boy Masterlist

"Papa?" A tiny tug of his race suit has Charles looking down. He didn't even know she was awake yet, much less she found her way to the garage.

"Cécile? My sweet little tamia. What are you doing here? Where is Grand'Mere?" Charles frantically looking around for his mother. She was the one to watch Cécile, and she was nowhere in sight. "Talking to Uncle Zio." She tugs her bunny close to her chest.

"Talking to Uncle Lorenzo? How did you find me? Mother must be freaking out." Bending down, he lifts her tiny body with ease, instantly she snuggles deeper into her Papa's chest. "Dunno know." She yawns, the last edges of her nap evident.

"Papa? Where's Daddy?" He sighs, she was such a daddy's girl. Elijah was attached to his hip, but Cécile was always attached to Lando's. "I don't know, but let's go find Grand'Mere first yes?" Bouncing her, she lets out her little ring of a giggle.

"Oh! God Charles, you found her!" Pascale and Lorenzo both rushing them, walking up to the Ferrari hospitality. "Fuck, man she was asleep on the couch when we turned she was gone. We're sorry." Lorenzo rapid fires apologies.

Charles doesn't say anything, he wants to be furious at his mother and brother. But, he couldn't really blame them. Cécile was known to wander, but the fact that this happened at a race weekend. Anyone could've taken her.

"Did you tell Lando?" Charles voice soft, refusing to be angry in front of his daughter. "Yeah, we told one of the mechanics who went straight to him." Pascale sighs, knowing Lando must be going crazy.

"Charles! Have you found Cécile? She's missing!" Lando's terrified voice breaks through the crowd people look, but quickly forget about it carrying on with their day. "Daddy!" Cécile squeals, lifting her head hearing her Daddy's voice.

"Cécile! Bunny, are you okay?" Lando hugs both Charles and his daughter, holding them close. When the mechanic told him that his little girl was missing in the Paddock, terror gripped his chest so tight he was forced to sit down to breath.

"She's fine, Lando." Charles freeing an arm, wrapping it around his shaking partner. "Tamia found me, she's okay." Charles whispers trying to calm Lando down. "Scared me." He whispers, so Cécile doesn't hear.

"Daddy, you're squishing me." Cécile whines, moving around so much. Lando pulls away, but still stands very close. "Lando, honey we're so sorry. She just, disappeared." Pascale feeling terrible that this has happened.

"It's okay, Pascale. She's been doing that often. Just at home, first time in public. Nothing is wrong and she doesn't seem hurt." Lando's eyes red, Charles handing over their daughter to him knowing he needed to hold her, to fully calm him down.

"Mama, can you go get her bag that Y/n packed? She's going to join us in the garage." Pascale nods, Lorenzo joining her as they go inside to gather her stuff.

"Daddy?" Cécile, pushes hair out of her face, big eyes looking up at her Daddy's face. "Yes, bunny? Are you hurt? Did someone touch you?" Lando starts to freak out again, Charles laying a hand on his neck rubbing it. "Guess what I saw?" Charles bites his bottom lip watching Lando deflate hearing those words.

"What did you see bunny?" Lando leaning into Charles's hand. "Uncle Lewis." She whispers, a blush gathering on her cheeks. Charles loses it then, Lando's face void of emotion his partner laughing his ass off. "Did you now?" His voice monotone.

His little girl gave him a heart attack, and she's here blushing over Lewis? Yeah, she was going to kill him.

"Oh, tamia that was wonderful." Charles kissing her on the cheeks, she giggles pulling her bunny close. "Papa, I want ice cream." It was these moments they knew she was yours through and through.

Anything she asked for, the two of them are running over their feet trying to get it. "Of course, tamia. We can get ice cream." Lando sets her down, Charles and Lando grabbing her little hands. Charles in charge of carrying Lewlew her bunny.

"Here is her bag." Pascale sliding it onto Charles shoulder, kissing his cheek. "Call Y/n, tell her what happened. She'll want to know, but also she can punish her better than we can." Charles admits, Lorenzo shaking his head at his pathetic brother. "I will."

"Papa! Come on, ice cream." Cécile whining as she stomps her foot. "Cécile Hazel, don't you dare get an attitude." Lando's voice sharp, causing the youngest Norris-Leclerc to apologize. "It's okay, I was taking a while wasn't I?" Charles smiles as the 3 well technically 4 of them walk down the paddock.

Approaching a booth that has ice cream, Cécile asks Charles to lift her up so she can see all her choices. "Papa? I don't know what to get." Her eyes wide with uncertainty. He smiles, for 6 years old he was glad her hardest choice in life was which ice cream she wanted.

"Can we get vanilla, strawberry and cookies?" Lando stepping in, the vendor nods as he makes 3 cones of the ice cream. "Here, bunny." Lando handing her the small cone of cookie ice cream. "Thanks Daddy." Cécile licking her ice cream she looks around the place.

Her eyes widen when she sees a certain someone. "Papa, Papa, Papaaaaa." She whines yanking on the sleeves of his race suit. Charles turns, looking down at his baby. "Look, it's Uncle Bas." Charles's head snaps up seeing Sebastian Vettel.

"It is Uncle Bas, why don't you go say hello." Cécile nods, shoving her ice cream into Lando's hand who almost drops it as a flurry of curls and blue dress goes running. "Uncle Bas!" Sebastian whirls around, immediately dropping down to let the little girl run into his arms.

"Cécile, my little spitfire. Are you causing trouble?" Sebastian laughs, standing up with her in his arms. "Yes." She beams, Sebastian unable to stop the laugh that breaks free at her brutal honesty. "You are causing trouble? You shouldn't do that to your Papa and Daddy." Her face falls, hating whenever the older men in her life told her she wasn't being good.

"She bolted from my mother, missing for about 30 minutes before she found me in the garage." Charles's voice has Sebastian smiling bright at the young man he sees as a son. "Then she's definitely Y/n and your daughter." Sebastian smiles, putting the girl back down.

She holds her hand out, pushing out her bottom lip. Lando hands her, her ice cream bringing back that dazzling smile. "Whipped." Seb whispers nodding to Lando. "I can't say anything, she's got me too." Seb watches the love and pride swell in Charles's eyes and face.

"You listened to my message." Charles turns, confused. "What I wrote on my helmet that I gave you. You listened." Seb patting Charles on the back, pulling him in. "Good." Charles blushes, still always in awe whenever he's around Sebastian.

"Cécile Hazel Norris-Leclerc!" Everyone in the small group freeze hearing the full name of their daughter. "Uhoh. Mama is mad." Cécile whispers, seeing her older brother Elijah and mother make their way towards them. "You ran away from your Grand'Mere and gave your Daddy a scare! Do you have any idea what you have done? And you two reward her with ice cream?" You yell, Elijah snickers slipping over to Sebastians side.

The 10 year old watches on amused that for once his angel baby sister was getting in trouble. "Keep smirking, and I'll tell your mother, papa, and dad about the time you stole my original kart when you visited." Sebastian smirks, seeing the boy go stone face quickly.

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noisilyscreechingsong · 9 months

Text

Baby Formula

Dp x Dc Crossover

Duke was having a slow day when he heard the cry of outrage just across the street. He sees the store owner let go of the little kid he had latched onto and pull his hand close to his chest. The kid picked up the box he dropped and turned quickly to sprint away on tiny legs.

“He bit me!” The man screams as he stares angrily after the boy.

Instead of his training to intercept the thief and return the stolen merchandise, Duke follows his gut feeling and just tails the running boy.

From what he can see, the kid it young, maybe six he guessed (he’s not great with ages that young), with black hair and worn clothes. Homeless most likely, or a run away.

The boy slows down and hides in an alley to check to see if anyone is following. Duke takes this time to jump down in front of him.

Blue, blue eyes snap to him and widen in surprise.

“Hey, kid,” Duke greets casually, still crouched to get closer to his height.

The child shift from foot to foot, obviously debating with himself whether to run or not while eyeing him critically. Not easy to trust. Expected.

“Whatcha got there?”

Little hands grip the box of baby formula closer to his chest reflexively and then hides it behind his back. He shoves the water bottle fuller into the pocket of his too large hoodie.

“Nothin’.”

Duke hums.

“I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” he eases. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need any help,” the boy denies immediately.

“You might not, but what about your baby sibling?”

The boy tenses and his eyes narrow dangerously. So Duke was right.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Why should I tell you?” The boy fires back venomously.

Duke shrugs.

“That’s fair. I’m Signal by the way.” No response, not that he was expecting one. “I do need to know that you guys are staying somewhere safe. You’re a really good brother for looking after your baby…”

The boy frowns. “Sister.”

“Your baby sister and getting her formula, but I’m sure you’d also like to be playing instead of stealing. Am I close?”

“I can help take care of Ellie just fine,” the boy defends hotly.

‘Help’. He’s not the only one.

“You can, but you shouldn’t have to. You’re just a kid too. I wanna help make sure you guys are taken care of. Nothing bad will happen if you show me where you guys are staying,” Duke tried to argue calmly.

He hasn’t had much experience with this kind of situation but he needed to make sure they were in a safe place. Child trafficking had gone down after Red Hood made his displeasure known, but it wasn’t nonexistent.

The kid shifts again.

“They’ll split us up if they throw us in foster care. You can’t call CPS. Promise you won’t.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“I promise I won’t call CPS.”

The boy thrusts his free hand forward with his pinky out.

“Pinky promise,” he insists.

Duke has to lock down the smile that threatens to creep up on him. Professional. He needed to stay professional.

He wraps his gloved pinky around the tiny finger in front of him and reiterates the promise. Greasy, black hair flops as the boy nods sharply in acceptance.

“Okay.”

Duke does smile a bit then. “Okay, lead the way.”

The kid hesitates for a second before shaking his head and huffing. He leads the vigilante through back alleys for quite awhile before they come up to the back of an abandoned building.

The kid turns back to him with his hand on the edge of a piece of plywood blocking the entrance.

Duke couldn’t tell exactly what the boy was thinking, but he knew he was second guessing. However, with the bright glow this kid was giving off that make Duke think he was a meta of some sort, he couldn’t let him walk away.

The boy continues on like he didn’t even pause, pushing the board aside and slipping through the small crack. Duke follows closely behind as they travel through the place that looks like it used to be a restaurant that had burned down. They walk until they make it to the only room with light, a storage room, and find a red headed girl, older than the boy but still young, holding a baby as she boils something on an old burner.

She looks up and freezes when she sees him.

“Don’t freak out,” the boy interrupts.

“Danny,” she says slowly, her teal eyes zeroing in on her little brother. “Why did you bring one of them here?”

‘Danny’ pulls the water and formula forward sheepishly. Her eyes widen.

“Danny,” she says with disapproval.

“Ellie only has one pack left, Jazz, I had to do something.”

“You didn’t have to steal,” Jazz hisses. “Dan will be back with-“

“Yea, well, he forgot last time, so what were we gonna do then, huh?”

Four names. Four kids living in a burned to hell building that he’s surprised is still standing.

The two kids stare each other down until baby Ellie starts squirming and fussing, reaching for Danny. The boy huffs and takes the baby, looking almost comical with how small they both were.

“I wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” Duke said to alleviate the tension in the too small room. “I just want to help.”

“That’s what people say before they call CPS on us and we have to run again,” she glares harshly, standing from the floor. She didn’t even reach his shoulders.

“And I promised I wouldn’t.”

“He pinky promised,” Danny adds in a hushed tone.

Studying the other kids in the room, Duke can see that Ellie was as bright as Danny, just a different color, and Jazz only had a slight glow.

“How old is Dan?” He asks.

Jazz puckers her lips like she sucked on a lemon.

“Old enough,” is her answer.

“Nobody is in trouble,” he reassures.

Neither of the siblings answer for a minute, Danny nervously looking between the vigilante and his sister, and Jazz staring Duke down with narrowed eyes.

“He’s sixteen,” Danny confesses.

Jazz shoots him a scalding look, to which the boy shrugs off with no guilt, but doesn’t deny it.

The oldest isn’t old enough, which was what he was thinking, but it still put him in a weird position. Should he call Bruce? He should definitely call Bruce.

Jason would be so much better at this than Duke. The Alley kids love and trust Red Hood, but this technically wasn’t Crime Alley.

“I want to help,” he says.

Jazz folds her arms over her chest and he doesn’t blame her for her suspicion.

“How?”

Yea, he’s working on that.

“Who the f*ck are you?”

The snarl comes from behind him and he whirls around to see a teen that greatly resembles the boy. This must be Dan, but holy macaroni, he didn’t even hear him come in.

“That’s Signal,” Danny says, passing Ellie back to Jazz who takes her and steps back from the angry teen.

“Yea, I can see that. Why is he here?” Dan growls.

Danny squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.

“I brought him.”

Dan snaps his glare from Duke to the little boy.

“You WHAT?” The shout sounds too large in the small room and Ellie immediately starts crying. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, you little sh*t?”

“Hey,” Duke says firmly, trying to redirect the anger to himself. “I would have followed him anyway, it’s not his fault.”

It doesn’t work because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s rounding on Danny again.

“I told you to stay here,” he points at the small boy who looks equally scared and defiant. “What were you doing out there, idiot?”

“You didn’t get formula last time,” Danny emphasizes the ‘you’ heavily. “So I went out and got some. You’re welcome.”

“You little-“

Duke intercepts the bulky teen when he lunges at Danny trying to grab the front of his shirt. From the way Danny backs up quickly, it’s not the first time.

“Knock it off,” Duke growls at the teen. “He’s a kid.”

“He’s a snot-nosed little brat,” Dan snarls at his brother and then turns his ire onto Duke, pushing the vigilante away with a giant shove. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna turn us over to those corrupt social workers, huh? Well good luck.”

“No,” Duke denies with his hands up. “I don’t want to do that. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“He pinky promised,” Danny insists behind Dan after the teen shifted to stand in front of his siblings.

“Shut up, twerp,” Dan snaps but doesn’t take his eyes off Duke. “Then what do you want, vigilante?”

This situation has escalated.

He lowers his hands to his sides to level with the guy.

“I just want to help,” he states for the umpteenth time calmly.

“Yea? And how you plan to do that?”

Dan has been burned before, Duke could tell. His distrust is valid with what he’s probably experienced in the past, and Duke doesn’t really know how to make the brightly glowing teen calm down and not snap his teeth (fangs? Were those fangs?) at any hand trying to reach out.

“I know a guy,” Duke blurts out. Geez, where was Babs when he needed backup?

“You know a guy,” Dan repeats with healthy doubt.

“He can find you a place to live. A place that isn’t a burnt down pizzeria.”

“You mean a foster home,” Dan glares.

Duke couldn’t really deny that.

“How about I talk to him and maybe we can set up a trial period? How does that sound? He’s got plenty of money and extra rooms to spare. Good food too,” Duke compromises. He hopes it’s enough to sweeten the deal and not set off red flags.

“We have a history with millionaires,” Jazz says with a cautious edge. From the dark look on the boys’ faces he can read it’s not a good kind of history.

“Technically he’s a billionaire,” he couldn’t help but say, “but he’s a good guy. I promise.”

“You’re talking about Bruce Wayne,” the red-head states in realization.

Duke thinks to himself that she would get along great with Barbara and not just because of their similar hair color.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me a little and give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, he’s found homes for other kids before. He’ll make sure you guys stick together. I know how bad the system is, I get it, just… let me help. Please.”

The others look to Dan, the eldest, to make the decision. He glares hard at Duke, and if he hadn’t stared down actual super villains before, the vigilante might actually be scared.

After several long moments, Jazz speaks up in a hushed tone.

“I think we should try.”

Dan raises his lips in a silent snarl, clearly not liking her opinion, but not outright rejecting it. Danny huddles close to Jazz, gripping her shirt tightly, but looking between Dan’s broad back and Duke only a few feet away hopefully.

“One month,” Dan growls lowly and Duke has to keep the sigh of relief from escaping. “We’ll do this trial period for a month and that’s it. If we want to leave, then we leave and nobody calls the police on us. Got it, Yellowjacket?”

“Got it. I’ll talk to him. Just don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Dan huffs and his eyes shift to the door in silent demand to get the hell out. Duke slowly makes his way over.

“Just don’t take it out on the kid. He was just trying to help,” Duke adds, trying to lessen whatever punishment Dan was going to give Danny after he left.

Dan snarls with, yes those were fangs, “Don’t tell me how to raise my brother.”

Duke lifts his hands to back off and then promptly leaves.

He grapples to the nearest roof and immediately calls Bruce.

“Hey, yea, I’ve got four kids you’re about to take in. You’ve agreed to a month trial because the oldest doesn’t trust the system and they all don’t have a good history with rich people. I’ll have Alfred get their rooms set up, but this is me letting you know. Oh, and one’s a baby so you’ll be paying for all the stuff that comes with that. They’ll be at the manor tomorrow so try to show up. Good talk.”

He left the voicemail as the only method of communication like a true Bat. Next was to actually tell Alfred and hope he doesn’t get the disappointed look, though he doubts he’ll get in trouble for helping out some homeless kids. The biggest obstacle will be Damian, but as long as there is some sort of buffer (i.e. Dick or Duke) it should be fine. Probably.

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yellowpsyduck · 3 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐘/𝐍 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

Tommy Shelby x Shelby!Reader Warnings: Incestuous, blowjob, period typical sexism

1913

"What will you be wearing, Ada?” asked the younger Shelby twin as she stood in her lace chemise and bloomers, scanning through her wooden almirah for the right dress.

“I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe I’ll just stick with the yellow voire.” Ada replied as she held up the dress in front of the floor length mirror. “What do you think, Y/N? Does it scream ‘sultry and sophisticated’ or is it more so ‘fuck me like a whore’.”

“Well, you can wear your knitted cape over it, to ward off unwanted suitors, then remove it when you find someone you want to fuck.” The sisters laughed as they continued prepping for the upcoming party; it wasn’t a party per se, just a little get together with people from school.

“Is this okay?” asked Y/N as she settled on wearing a scarlet organdie dress that Tommy had bought her for her birthday. “It’s perfect Y/N. I reckon Matthew Barnaby won’t be able to take his eyes off of you in that dress, really brings out your complexion, it does.”

“Matthew can bugger off to Timbuktu, for all I care. That boy’s getting on my nerves.” she expressed, clearly exasperated with the situation regarding the boy who had been hopelessly pining after her for months. It wasn’t that the Barnaby boy was unattractive, it was more so the opposite, with his caramel eyes and boyish grin, he was quite popular amongst the female population of Small Heath.

And that also included her best friend, Dorothy Smith, and Y/N wouldn’t dare upset her friend by fraternising with him, by virtue of female friendships and their unspoken rules.

“Matthew who?” came the sudden voice from the wooden doorway, startling the pair.

“Jesus, Tommy, don’t you ever knock?” Ada reprimanded, evidently annoyed by her elder brother’s disregard for privacy, as the younger of the two quickly threw a robe over herself.

“What’s this talk of boys and going out, eh?” Tommy asked as he stood leaning against the door frame, with his hands in his trouser pockets, sending his sisters a questioning glare.

“It’s none of your bloody business, is what it is.” Ada retorted as she walked out of the room, wanting nothing but to escape her brother’s questioning, leaving her younger twin to fend for herself.

“It’s just a small get together, Tommy, with people from school.” Y/N answered sweetly. She’d always been the kinder of the two, “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s this gonna be held?”

Y/N wasn’t sure she should answer this. She knew her brother would’ve given her hell if he’d known of the location.

“Y/N darling, I asked you a question." his voice resounded in her ears as he held her chin up to meet his icy gaze.

“By the Cut.” came the meek reply. “Now Tommy before you say anything, please just consider the fact that you never let Ada and I go anywhere. Be it Boris’ birthday last week or Janey’s the month before, or any party, in fact. So please, let us go just this once.” she pleaded with her eyes watering and her lips in a beautiful pout.

“Y/N, you know I’m just trying to keep the both of you safe.” he whispered as he looked into her clear eyes. “Who knows what’s to happen when the men see how devastatingly beautiful you are, eh?”

“But Tommy, the rest of you go out whenever you want and do whatever you please. It's not fair for Ada and I.” she argued, not willing to let go of her grievance.

“It’s because Arthur, John and I know how to hold a gun.”

“Well, Ada chases rats with a revolver, does she not.” came her quick retort, eliciting a chuckle from her brother.

“Rats. Ada chases rats. That’s very different from firing it at a man.” Tommy reasoned with her.

“What if I do something for you?” she asked him, almost purring into his ears.

“Like what, my sweet girl?”

“Like this.” She traced her fingers along his crotch through the fabric of his trousers, looking at him so very innocently. “And this.” she whispered as she undid his leather belt, and pulled his trousers down, hearing the metallic clang as it hit the ground.

“You’re sailing perilously close to the wind, my dear.” He breathed raspily, as he looked down at her kneeling figure. He, however, gave no indication of stopping her as she pulled out his cock and stroked it gently, staring into his eyes, as she did so.

His cock was growing in her hand, giving away his arousal, as it hardened and throbbed with her touch. Y/N would never tire of seeing Tommy’s red cock, it was a beast each time she laid her eyes on his sinful member, and she knew just how to knead it and suck it, to make him succumb to her wishes.

‘Men think with their cocks’ her Aunt Polly had told her once and young Y/N Shelby had etched that saying into her mind, who would’ve known that she’d ever use it against her own brother.

Her actions were sinfully graceful as she stroked his length with her soft hands. She glanced at him naughtily and placed a sweet kiss to his reddish tip and dragged her tongue through the length of his cock, she continued all the way to his balls, cupping them and placing sloppy kisses, prompting soft groans from his mouth.

She spit on his cock, lubricating him as she continued pumping him. The door to the bedroom was wide open and the pair didn’t make an effort to obstruct prying eyes from peering into their lascivious act.

Ada had made a show of closing the door to the house rather resoundingly, hence, she wasn’t to be worried about. Finn would be at school, while Arthur and John were God knows where with God knows who and Polly wouldn’t be back until teatime.

Tommy knew the little girl was only sucking him off so that he’d grant her wish of going out with her friends, but God, did she look good doing it. His fingers tightened around her brown curls as he beckoned her to take his cock in her mouth, and she gladly obliged. Her plump red lips parted and wrapped around his thick, dark cock, earning a satisfactory hum from the man above. She sucked him as best as she could, taking him in with great difficulty, his girth simply too wide for her narrow mouth. Her eyes started watering as he bucked his hips into her mouth, his fingers gripped her soft hair as he set his pace. Y/N made a conscious effort to hold back a gag as Tommy continued his hasty thrusts, clearly lost in the pleasure of his sister's warm and soft mouth.

His sister, his darling sister! God, did she look like a vision.

Kneeling in front of him, with his dick in her mouth, dewy eyed and ruddy cheeked. She was perfect; utterly and devastatingly perfect.

His thrusts got faster as his balls slapped against her chin, she was such a good girl, suppressing her gags as he choked her with his relentless assault of her throat.

He was close, he could feel it. Just a little more.

“You’re doing so good for me, my sweet girl.” he moaned through stifled groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

With a final thrust, he spilled his seed inside her mouth as it dripped down into her cleavage, spoiling her chemise which she so adored.

“Tommy, look what you’ve done, now I’ve got to wash it again.” she grumbled through muffled sounds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Y/N didn’t wait for her brother to gain his composure and sauntered into the lavatory; she didn’t have the time to boil water for a proper bath, hence, she soaked a towel and resigned to rubbing her body clean. It was in times like these that she quite envied Dorothy, for her father was the District Magistrate and they could afford plumbing facilities in their mansion, which meant that they’d have hot water at will, unlike the Shelby’s who weren’t the most well off financially.

She wrapped a spare towel over her body as she made her way to the twin’s shared bedroom to find Tommy leaning against the window with a cigarette between his lips.

“Close the curtains, will you?” she asked him as she dropped the towel to the floor and rummaged through her drawers for her inner garments. Tommy did as asked as he took another puff of the cigarette, his eyes raking over her nude body as he watched her shimmy into a blue chemise with matching bloomers. Her movements were unhurried as she sat on the bed and pulled up the stockings.

Tommy had always enjoyed watching her dress, the way the material of the stockings would dig slightly into her plump thighs, or how divine her legs looked in the garters and she’d always let him tie the corset lace. He'd done it enough times to know just the tightness that she preferred.

“I’m planning on wearing this.” she announced as she held up the scarlet dress, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to deny her a night out now.

“Just be back before dinner and make sure your sister doesn’t make a drunken fool out of herself.” he replied as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“Will you also be going out?” she asked absentmindedly as she tried on the dress, twirling contentedly in front of the mirror.

“I might.” The girl quirked an eyebrow at this, “To meet Greta Jurossi, I presume.”

Tommy hadn’t known that his sister would be privy to his and Greta’s discretions. “And whatever gave you that idea, my sweet girl?”

“Kitty’s been spewing tales of you and her sister. The whole of Birmingham must’ve heard of it by now, heaven knows that girl can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.” she answered nonchalantly and opened the window, spotting her sister playing hopscotch with the younger girls. “Ada!” she yelled at her twin, motioning her to come up to the house.

Tommy took that as his cue to exit and he made his way to the door, “And Tommy, thank you so much.” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and left without a word.

“Well, did he actually agree?” squealed Ada as she darted into the room, “Of course he did.” Y/N assured her.

“Well, fuck me, how on earth did you persuade him?” she asked as she hurriedly combed her hair, not wanting to be late for the event.

“It didn’t take much honestly, and I’ve got a sweet mouth, you know.” Ada nodded, obviously not understanding the innuendo behind her sister’s words.

And she never would, for that was to remain a secret between Tommy and Y/N.

#peaky blinders smut #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x y/n #ada shelby

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spicyyy-muffin · 1 year

Text

protective smartass

ghost x reader

i made up a random ass character just for this. super cheesy but enjoy! this is nothing but fluff.

“who did that to you?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“yes it does y/l/n”

ghost was struggling to keep up with me as i walked as fast as i could in the opposite direction.

“why so you can tell him not to harass other team members and he will just do it again? or so you can make him run 30 laps on the track tomorrow?”

he gripped my wrist pulling me into him.

it looked worst then it really was but then again luke tried to beat the living shit out of me. we were sparring again. and he took it too far. again.

my lip was split open and the black eye he gave me was already starting to swell shut.

“who the fuck did this to you?”

his hands were cold and soft as he traced the end of my bruise.

“you should see the other guy” my lips perked up in a smile but ghosts face remained placent with the mask on.

his other hand slid to the back of my neck examining my jaw. which aparently didn’t look good judging from the look on his face.

his gaze hardened. “luke”

his hands slithered away as he took a step back i grabbed onto him this time. “ghost please just leave it”

my eyes pleaded with him the best i could. “i’ve got it under control.”

he stood silently for a few more seconds before the palms of his hands reappeared on my cheeks faster than i could blink. i cringed in pain as my right jaw screamed from the interaction. he pulled it away. the fire in his eyes only multiplied.

“how many times?”

well only, everytime i trained with him. which was once or twice a week, but when the guys were on missions without us it was a lot more. and those were a lot harder to hide.

“i can’t even believe i’m asking you.” my brows scrunched in confusion.

he shut his eyes one more time, “please just let me take care of him.” we stood in silence for a little while longer before i muttered “okay” and he was gone.

walking into the weights room the next morning there was no sign of ghost or luke. just two newbies who were trying to bulk.

“fuck dude did you see ghost destroy that kid last night?”

my veins ran cold.

“bro that man is goated! Luke is lucky if he ever fucking walks again man!”

i dropped my towel walking straight to his room. my thoughts aided as a distraction on the way. and when he finally opened the door he was in nothing but grey sweats and a mask leaving his freshly showered hair exposed. along with his lean torso covered in tattoos and scars.

and the image was enough to make me forget why i was there in the first place.

“you-“

my words were caught in my throat. jesus christ how long had it been since i got laid?

“my eyes are up here baby”

my cheeks flushed as i looked back up to him.

“i know that smartass i was just- just- coming to say thank you.”

“mmm” he pushed the door open further walking in. an invitation.

my feet hit the solid metal floors as i shut it behind me.

“so is he, gone?”

ghosts back was faced towards me as his shoulders shook in silent laughter.

“what’s so funny?”

he turned around making eye contact with me before sitting on the corner of the bed manspread with his arms resting on his knees and his eyes still on me.

“he’s lucky if he can even talk after what i did”

i stepped closer to him.

“what if something happened to you ghost? what if he got the drop before you did? or-“

he pulled back sitting up straight. “you worried about me baby?”

i ran my hands through my hair tugging at the roots before he gripped my waist pulling me to stand at the edge of the bed.

“what’s the matter with you?”

my hands traced the paint on his mask.

“i just don’t wanna see you hurt.”

his eyes lit up in amusement “and how do you think i felt seeing you get your ass handed to you by a little boy?”

i shoved his shoulder as he pinched my behind gently. “don’t be a prick.”

but the smile on my face told him i didn’t really mean it. “if no one lays there hands on you i won’t have to be.”

“you can’t protect me from everything riley.”

his thumb traced the outline of my lips. “you questioning my skills again y/l/n?” my smile widened before he grabbed my waist pulling me flat on top of the bed with him hovering over me.

“you should put some clothes on it’s distracting.” i traced his tattoos absentmindedly.

“why would i do that when your clearly enjoying yourself.” my hand slapped his stupid abs, as he hid his face in my neck laughing.

his mask lifted up pressing gentle kisses on my neck. “be careful riley, that’s dangerous territory you’re entering. it’s hard to get out of.”

his face hovered over mine his lips still in view before he leaned down and kissed me. his lips were warm in comparison to his cold body as his tongue traced my lower lips. maybe it was the lack of oxygen but the pleasure from just this alone was hard to pull away from.

“it’s a good thing i’m not going anywhere then isn’t it?”

#ghost imagine #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost fanart #ghost imagines #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut

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inthelquvre · 4 months

Note

finnick being protective?

warnings: set in catching fire b4 quarter quell, tiny signs of panic attacks if you squint, mean peacekeeper (nothing new), very short but don’t fear at least one more part will be posted soon!

a/n: thanks for the request anon!! i hope i did this justice, if not lmk and id be happy to rewrite something similar: )

when you were crowned victor of the 67th annual hunger games, the last thing you expected was to be thrown into the quarter quell.

it was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, constantly stuck in a never ending state of fear and anxiety. it was slowly killing you from the inside out.

one thing, one person kept you grounded, though. finnick odair. finnick had been your mentor for your games. he taught you everything you knew about surviving. he taught you how to tie intricate fishing knots, which led you to survive off fishing during your games. every time a fish swam into the fishing net, you smiled up to the sky. and in the other side, finnick smiled back.

though survival wasn’t the only thing finnick taught you.

he taught you how to control your emotions, he taught you how to be strong, and most importantly, how to love.

love was a tough thing in your eyes. you never had any childhood crushes after river, a boy a year older than you, got pulled into the hunger games and died. to you, it felt like the universe was against you, so the idea of love never came easy. though, after finnick was in the picture, he took note of your hesitancy to his flirting and made it his mission to make you feel loved. he ultimately came up with the conclusion that you yourself hadn’t been loved on enough; and no one should live without love.

after you won your games, nightmares and panic attacks came often. but it wasn’t your mother or father you comforted you; it was finnick. he was the one you sat with you on endless nights, cradling you in the protection of his arms.

even now, as the two of you stood on the stage facing your district, you looked to finnick with tears in your eyes. even as ocean formed in your eyes and the crisp air began hard to breathe, finnick remained calm. once the two of you were directed backstage, your first instinct was to go to finnick. luckily, his was too.

“finn,” you sobbed into his shirt. he was quick to wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding you close to him, but not too tight; like you were a porcelain doll. it felt like you were, that a single wrong word would shatter you into a million shards of glass. “i don’t wanna go back.” you let out a long and shaky sigh, tightly shutting your eyes as if the world around you would melt away, leaving just you and finnick.

one of his big hands fell on your back, gently stroking the soft material of your light blue dress your mother made especially for reaping days. the other one cradled your head, holding you close to his chest. every so often he would press his soft lips to the top of your head, murmuring softly. “don’t worry, don’t worry about a thing. i’ll protect you. i won’t let anything happen to you.”

his words paired with his gentle touch almost calmed your nerves. but the immediate though of him flooded your brain. “oh, oh no finnick,” you pulled back, only slightly. finnick arms were still latched onto yours, grounding you to him. “what about you? what about us?” the quiver in your voice made finnick heart sink into his stomach.

while it wasn’t true, he continued to soothe you by whispering “it’ll be okay” and “we’ll be alright” into your ear while rocking your gently. he knew, when it came down to it, it wouldn’t be him walking out of that arena.

the quiet moment shared between you was cut off by a peacekeeper. the man dressed in white didn’t waste anytime, nor give any warnings before he ripped you out of finnick warm grasp. it was only to get you ready for the train, but finnick jaw ticked as your brow furrowed at the man’s tight grip. somehow, you were back in the area. just a teenager again as another tribute tried to pull you to your certain death.

“hey, hey, hey!” the blond boy rushed forward, taking hold on the peacekeepers white jacket and trying his best to keep you away from the government troop. he could see the fear in your eyes, he knew those eyes. the same eyes that he looked into countless nights when either of you had nightmares. “no need for all this, let her go.” it was so sincere, his tone. it was kind of how he talked to you, calm and gentle. but behind the sweetness there was a tang of venom, a underlying sense of tension hung over finnick head as the peacekeeper didn’t move a muscle.

and older woman (you couldn’t remember her name. diamond? sapphire? something stupid like that), another previous victor (and now your mentor) stepped forward. her hand fell of finnicks shoulder, she meant it in a motherly way but the boy in front of you frowned. “oh finnick, darling, don’t worry. he’s just trying to help.”

“she doesn’t need any help.” this time his words came out as rough and full of intention. and yet the peacekeeper didn’t budge. finnick was fed up. he lurched forward to harshly shove the man shoulder, causing him to stumble back and let go of you. “i got her from here.” he grumbled to the man now on the floor before turning to you. “you okay? anything hurt?” you shook your head and he smiled.

“thank you.” you smiled back at him. his efforts to make you feel better certainly went a long way considering the circumstances. “you didn’t have to do that.” you hated to admit, but you could feel a certain pink blush creeping across your cheeks. finnick must have also noticed, seeing he smirked and placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you away from the peacekeeper and mentor.

“i know,” he replied softly. “but they shouldn’t be doing all that to you. you’ve been through enough.” he gently nudged your shoulder. how he could go from being rough with the capitol people do being so very delicate with you was an odd thing, but beautiful nonetheless. “now cmon, let’s get you to bed.” he smiled with a kiss to your head.

#oh man #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #finnick #thg series #finnick odair fanfic #the hunger games

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puckarchives · 4 months

Text

the (infamous) hughes brothers sleepovers: l. hughes

blurb: in which you and luke introduce the daughter the world never even knew you had to the nhl. / word count: 1.8k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

When the tradition originally started, Luke was in his rookie year of playing with Jack for the Devils, and began entirely as an accident. Somehow, Quinn ended up passed asleep in the middle of your living room, flanked by Luke and Jack the weekend that the Canucks played the Devils, too worn out by their hours-long FIFA and Call of Duty battles, and high off of the inordinate amount of snacks the three had consumed.

This, however, quickly evolved into an actual planned sleepover; once a month, one of the boys would host the other two at their home, where they would all act akin to literal children— they would build a fire outside, and once they got inside, would build an actual fort— pillows, couch cushions, and blankets would litter the ground, and by the time you knew it, you would come down to find all three tangled together somehow, with Luke’s arm over Quinn’s face, Jack’s head hanging over the edge of his makeshift bed, and all of them in the same order: Jack on the left, Luke in the middle of his two older brothers, and Quinn on the right.

In short, it was the cutest thing you had ever seen— you got to see the level of adoration and love that each brother had for the other two, and got to see the way they interacted outside of the rink, and outside of the cameras and fame. During the sleepovers, they were just that— three brothers who cared about each other, and who loved each other.

This, however, brought you to your most recent predicament: here you were at 11PM on a Friday night, trying to herd the three Hughes brothers around a 24-hour Target, following behind them with a cart that was quickly growing in the amount of sugar it held. This month was Luke’s— and by extension, yours as well— turn to host, which meant that you had the opportunity to load them all of into your car, drive them to Target, and watch them go crazy trying to grab snacks.

“Well, if you get those, then Jack won’t eat them. You know that, Q” Luke said to his older brother, who was holding a pack of Nutter Butter cookies, while Jack was in the aisle over, stacking his arms with the Smirnoff’s he would later try to ice his brothers with.

“Good, more for me then,” Quinn replied, before dumping said pack into your cart. He laughed as Luke added two more packs of cookies— the chewy and regular Chips Ahoy, before sliding beside you, laying a pack on your forehead, and then following Quinn as he walked into the next aisle in search of their middle brother.

When you followed them, however, literally only seconds later, you were met with an unexpected sight. As you steered your cart, you stopped midway, because there, in the middle of the drink section of a Target in the middle of nowhere New Jersey, stood all three Hughes brothers, with Nerf Guns pointed at each other, resembling that Spider-Man meme where they all stood in a triangle, pointing at one another.

Before you could ask what the hell was going on, they fired— Jack ducking before Luke’s bullet could hit him, but hitting Quinn square in the chest as Luke ran to get behind you, using you as a human shield. After no more shots were fired however, they all stopped where they were, stood up, and continued to act as if nothing had happened. Jack loaded up the two pack of sodas and drinks, Quinn kept walking into the neighboring aisles, and Luke tapped away on his phone, all acting as if they hadn’t just had a full-on Nerf war right in front of you, and as if your boyfriend hadn’t been using you as a human shield from it. God, you were way too old for this, you thought, before sucking it up and laughing to yourself as you traversed the next aisles.

By the time you were checking out of the Target, your bags were packed to the brim with overly-sugary snacks; ranging from the aforementioned cookies, (which Jack refused to even touch because of the vendetta he had against anything peanut butter related, apparently,) to three separate bags of Lime flavored chips that ranged from the original version, to kettle cooked and rice chips, and the three cases of Mountain Dew, Smirnoff Ice, and Vitamin Water— God, these boys bought snacks as if your house was entirely bare, instead of full of perfectly good food. Regardless, however, you watched as they all worked in tandem to scan, bag, and then push the cart back to your car, load everything up in a swift manner, and even get in the car with no complaints. As weird as the Hughes brothers were, they sure knew how to work as a team— to ensure that no single brother carried the load of the work, but instead simply work in what you could only describe as harmony. Each completing their portion fo the task, and doing so without even having to ask; a well-oiled machine you knew was built from their childhoods, and from the years and years of hockey camps, or cheering the others on, and of simply being brothers.

Luke was the beginner of the group; he’d start the task, fall into his role, and wait for the other two to join him. Jack would follow— would see what Luke needed and do whatever he could to ease it, or to make it go faster; to be more efficient. And then Quinn, as older brother, would ensure that the other two were taken care of, before putting himself at the end— tying up their loose ends, making sure what was being done was done in a correct manner, and closing it off. A perfectly coordinated team.

It wasn’t until the four of you got back to your shared home with Luke that all hell seemed to break loose once again. While the car ride back had been relatively tame, you driving because you had decided you were the only one who didn’t love hitting every single curb, and didn’t break like a semi-truck had rolled over right in front of you, Luke had sat in the passenger seat, connecting his phone to the aux and playing the signature Hughes Brothers Playlist— a playlist that seemed to disobey every single law of organization to have ever existed, as it would switch from some country song he liked at the moment, to LMFAO and Lil Jon’s “SHOTS,” until swiftly moving to Adele’s “Hello.” All three brothers sang to every single song, though. All without missing a single beat.

Odd music choices aside, however, when the four of you ended up back at your house, you could hear the three of them yelling and moving around downstairs as you got ready for bed, before tapering off into the sounds of what was unmistakably Call of Duty. Before you went to bed, though, you made your way out of you and Luke’s shared bedroom, standing at the top of the staircase and looking down into the living room. You knew these sleepovers were sacred to them, and you wanted to give all three of them space— you knew, and could see, how much they cared for each other, and at times, these were the only opportunities they had to spend time together during the season, so you opted to spend time with yourself instead— even if that included letting them make a mess out of your living room.

Seemingly in the span of less than five minutes, all three boys had managed to not only push your sectional sofa to the wall, but also bring out all six dining chairs out, and set up the three pairs of sheets you had in the linen closet diagonally— laying them atop of the backs of the chairs, and adding support to their makeshift fort with the otterman, and the two kitchen bar stools. In the middle, however, you could see the three of them sitting side-by-side, all with a controller in their hands, and all trying to beat whatever game they had on— cheering on Quinn and he managed to take down their opponent, and then egging on Jack as he seemingly lost.

As you made your way back to your room, however, the board under your foot creaked, and Luke’s head shot up to look at you— giving you a smile and you looked back down at him. “Going to sleep already, honey?” he asked, still looking up, and ignoring the looks that his brothers shared over his head.

The other two Hughes brothers adored you— although they were a bit apprehensive when Luke first brought you home, only a few weeks after he left Michigan, you had grown to be apart of the family, and they saw you as the little sister, (and nuisance,) that was perfect for their little brother, especially when you joined Luke in egging them on as to why neither elder brother had bothered to find themselves someone yet.

“Yeah, bub. Gonna head to bed. Remember boys, the blankets are in the hallway closet! And your toothbrushes are in the guestroom bath! Goodnight boys!” you said, yelling the last part a bit louder. You were met with a chorus of “Goodnight Y/N!” and “Thank you!” before the sounds of the three arguing won over the game once again, and you retreated back into your bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Later, however, you were woken up by a sweltering heat. You didn’t remember it being so hot when you went to bed, and when you got up to move, you felt the arms wrapped around you— Luke, you thought. He only pulled you to him tighter, and when you turned to meet his face, you whispered his name quietly.

“Luke, sweetheart,” you said, trying to get his attention, and asking why he was with you instead of his brothers. The only response you got from him, however, was a “Hmm?”

“Why are you in bed with me?” you asked quietly, trying to keep your voice down. “Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled back, his eyes still closed. While that didn’t answer your question in the slightest, the next voice that popped up did.

“Can you guys shut up and stop being so coupley? Some of us are trying to sleep here,” he said from beside Luke, and before you could even ask as to why the hell he was in your bed to begin with, you heard Quinn’s voice next— “Lu dragged us in here. Said he didn’t wanna sleep without you” he yawned.

You only stayed quiet, laughing at the situation. Here you were, encompassed by your boyfriend, while his two older brothers were laying on the other side of him, all because they wanted to sleep over with him, and all because he didn’t want to sleep without you. These Hughes Brothers Sleepovers sure were something, you thought, before joining the other three and falling back asleep.

#luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #the hughes brothers #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

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abrunettefangirlnerd · 9 months

Text

If You Love Her

Prompt: You are dating Rafe after JJ cheated on you... but you're still a member of the pogues. A party and the boneyard makes tensions rise between everyone.

Rafe POV

Her head rests against Rafe’s chest as they soak up the last bit of the sun lounging on the Druthers. It has been a rare peaceful day and Rafe is thanking whatever higher power there is that she has become his saving grace. He just hates the way that it happened.

(Y/N) is originally a pogue, but it never mattered to Rafe no matter how hard he tried to deny it. Rafe never picked on her, only her friends. She became close with Sarah after saving whatever the latest sea creature was at the time. So she had been over a few times before Sarah started dating John B. Though it was the moment she stopped hiding behind the boys and found her voice, that Rafe has never stopped listening. He has been in a trance ever since. Her fire is what drew him in, but it is (Y/N)’s heart that melted his core. The only problem, she was JJ Maybank’s girl. “Was” being the operative word.

Rafe will never forget her tear stricken face, red eyes, and piercing sob from that night. It took everything in him to not beat that punk to a pulp. Thinking about it even now gets Rafe all riled up. He hates that she is still around JJ, she never left the group. Rafe understands they are her friends, but he doesn’t like it.

“Come on,” (Y/N) stirs, still half asleep. “You promised we would go to the party.”

“Right, the boneyard party. With the pogues.”

“Hey, I’m a pogue.” (Y/N) angles her face to look up at his with a teasing smile.

“You’re my pogue.” Rafe smiles and leans down to place a kiss on her forehead.

Yeah she is his pogue and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Any other party he would be excited to go. He loves parties with his girl, dancing the night away and playing drinking games. Tonight will be exactly like that, except he will have to see Maybank. I wonder if him and Kie have made it official yet, Rafe wonders to himself.

Your POV

The music can be heard from a mile away in Rafe’s truck. My arm wraps around his as his hand gently squeezes my thigh. I know he doesn’t want to be here. He is doing it for me and I love that he is willing to entertain me for a few hours. I won’t make him stay long. I want him to see that my friends can be cool, and I hope one day they can put away their bad blood and get along.

Years of pent-up anger at both groups has been baking as long as I can remember. If it wasn’t for becoming secret friends with Sarah years before she joined the group, I may have the same outlook on Rafe as the others. Can he be a jerk and annoying as hell? Yes, but he can be sweet and at times my friends can be no better. Things between the kooks and the pogues have been quiet lately, but I know Rafe has it for JJ. I can’t blame him, I did too before I accepted that JJ deciding to cheat had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. If I could have wished for anything that if JJ had to cheat, I would have chosen for him to cheat with anyone else but Kie. It makes the tension in the group that much thicker.

“Relax,” I giggle. “We’ll make an appearance. Stay an hour, two tops. Then we can go off on our own.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything but I can see a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. His thumb lightly brushes against my skin and I sense him starting to relax a bit. I just hope that tonight ends up being drama free.

The truck is parked and Rafe is on my side opening the door. I learned early on that I am not allowed out of the truck unless he opens my door for me. Made that mistake and he wouldn’t move from his spot till I got back in so he could do it properly. I thought it was annoying and egotistical, but now I find it sweet. JJ never did that for me when we were dating.

There are a lot of things that Rafe does that JJ never did. Aside from the whole cheating part, JJ was a fairly good boyfriend. He looked after me, was a good cuddler, made sure I had a good time. Being with Rafe though is so different. Sure he does look after me, kind of always has. We have the best time when together and I feel so safe in his arms. I’m not worried about a pretty blonde catching his eye. He is a complete gentleman making sure I am okay, respecting boundaries, going slow, being open. Something I did not expect is for him to communicate as well as he does. I guess once he knew I wasn’t going anywhere and that his feelings don’t scare me, he trusts me enough to talk about all the crap with his dad and if he is feeling insecure. He never freaks or overreacts when I have an issue with something.

“Hey boys!” I greet John B and Pope at the keg. I notice a small release of air leave Rafe’s chest at the realization JJ isn’t around yet.

“(Y/N) what up! I miss you at the chateau.” John B goes in for a hug and Rafe lets go of my waist to accommodate. The two shake hands after John B releases me. It is a simple gesture to an outsider, but with these two it means everything. John B is practically my brother and with him dating Sarah, and Rafe dating me, they both are trying to put in an effort.

“Here you two go.” Pope hands me and Rafe cups of beer that we gladly take.

A few drinks later, we depart for a dance near the fire. The music pulsates through my veins mixed with the alcohol and a nice buzz fills my senses. Rafe loops his arms around my waist and I pair mine around his neck. We sway to our own beat, not minding the people jumping around us. We are lost in our own world and we are the only two people who exist.

Rafe’s eyes peer into mine as we rest our foreheads against each other. His lids close and I do the same, focusing on his hold on me. Warmth swarms over my body originating from his touch. I can’t wrap it around my head that I am with Rafe Cameron and that he can make me feel like I’m on top of the world. I only hope I can make him feel the same, that is often one of my insecurities. One that Rafe knows about and tries to assure me that I am more than enough for him.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Rafe whispers in my ear and places a kiss on the tip of my nose. I swear he can read my mind.

Before I can say anything Rafe’s touch disappears from my body. I immediately open my eyes and find the back of a blonde standing between me and my boyfriend, JJ. The alcohol has me stumbling against the sand as I land against Rafe’s arm and he steadies me before putting my frame behind his. Always my protector.

Rafe makes his stand but waits to see what JJ plans to do first. He knows that if he threw the first punch I would be mad. All I want is peace. Except I would not ask him to hold back if JJ started it first. He promised me, and so far he has kept his promise.

“You got the money, the job, and now the girl.” JJ’s words spread through the dry air, and people are beginning to take notice of a potential scuffle. Tears sting my eyes. Why is he making it sound like it is my fault I left him?

“Well Rafe if you plan on dating (Y/N) I want to fill you in on a few things.” JJ takes a step forward and I can feel Rafe’s muscles tense beneath my hands. JJ begins to speak but his gaze falls to me. “She always has trouble falling asleep, and she likes to cuddle while under the sheets.” JJ sends a wink my way and whistles from the accumulating audience fill the air. “She loves pop songs and dancing, and bad trash TV. There’s still a few other thin-“

“She loves love notes and babies,” Rafe interrupts. “And likes giving gifts. She has a hard time accepting a good complement. She loves her whole family and all of her friends… not that they deserve it.”

I didn’t think it was possible for the air to get thicker than it has just now. JJ’s drunk eyes danced over me until Rafe unexpectedly interrupted. Both of our eyes cling to Rafe as he spoke but for two different reasons. My heart skips as Rafe reaches to grab my hand and gives it a light squeeze. I had no clue JJ was going to do something like this, but I am even more surprised at the fact Rafe has been paying attention this well. He continues to amaze me and all I want to do is kiss him.

“When she gives me her heart completely, I won’t break it like you did. (Y/N) is safe with me. I’ll stand by her side instead of sneaking off behind her back.” Rafe stares JJ down a few moments more before turning towards me.

His hands cup my cheeks and looks into my eyes silently asking if I’m okay. I nod to answer him and bring my hands up to rest against his wrists. Rafe places a soft but protective kiss against my forehead and whispers for us to go. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, he pulls me in close and nods his head toward a stunned John B.

The walk to the car is silent. Rafe opens my door for me and waits for me to climb in before closing it. He quickly joins me in the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the car. Instead he turns towards me, he eyes furrowed as he contemplates what he is going to say.

“I’m sorry if I over stepped.” Rafe’s voice is a whisper. “I know you can handle yourself, but I couldn’t let him do that. Act like he still has claim over you, that he is the only one who can know you.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You did everything right.” I lean over and let my hand cup his cheek, bringing his gaze back to mine.

“I meant everything I said.” His beautiful orbs pierce mine. “I want you to know that. I’m in it for the long game. I love you (Y/N).”

His voice cracks and I can tell how scared he is to say that last part. We’ve only been dating a month but we have known each other for years. Staying the night with Sarah has usually ended up with late night talks with Rafe after she fell asleep. We are the unlikely duo but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I trust you.” I say and my face heats up with my smile. “I love you, Rafe.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in Rafe’s ears but once they do pure shock and adoration quickly take over his features. He leans in and gifts me with a soft but passionate kiss. All his love and vulnerability is wrapped in every movement he makes with me and I can already tell this is forever.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew stareky x y/n #obx fanfiction #outerbanks fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #jj maybank #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader

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rggie · 2 years

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twst boys as babysitters

characters: leona kingscholar, malleus draconia, vil schoenheit

summary: cheka comes to visit leona! instead of being a responsible adult, leona throws the burden onto you … and the poor unfortunate soul that happened to be with you at the time. tldr; twst boys as babysitters

cw: established relationship, gn!reader, crack & fluff, sfw. not proof read. wc: 1.5k+

leona kingscholar

“oi, herbivore. got you something.” leona calls, dragging his feet into your room, hands hidden behind his back. “early birthday present. keep this one forever.”

oh dear

now you’re no stranger to receiving gifts from your boyfriend (though he won’t admit that he likes to spoil you) but something about his tone makes you worry.

surprise!!!! he raises cheka above his head, who squeals with delight at the motion, making grabby hands when he sees you. you’re his favourite person after his uncle leona, after all!

cue a moment of silence … you’re staring at leona, he’s staring at you … and cheka … is still raised in the air.

“leona, stop dumping things on me all the time.”

“but he likes you. take care of him for me.” which actually means ‘he’s disturbing my sleep and i need to get him off my back.’

you refuse, obviously, and propose that the pair of you babysit together. you’re meeting him halfway.

leona agrees too quickly. perhaps he wants to spend time with you—and okay, maybe he missed cheka too. the little brat.

there is something so endearing about the way leona interacts with his nephew

leona, who has an abundance of smarts and strength, is nothing more but a flickering candlelight when put against the blazing fire that is cheka kingscholar.

his power knows no bounds.

if you’re stuck with these two, expect a lot of play-fights

leona complains and verbalises very often how annoying it is, yet never bothers to physically remove cheka off him. he simply takes the hits, feigning pain afterwards.

“that really hurt. i’m tired now.” leona, be for real. just admit you’re a softie

but beware. if he’s in the mood, he might fight back. and leona shows NO mercy.

it doesn’t matter that cheka is a child! he’s preparing him for the REAL world

oh boy, here come the crocodile tears

when cheka is tired out, it’s time for leona’s favourite time of the day.

no, not lunch time, nap time!!!!

you know the saying two’s company, three’s a crowd? you’re spooning on a bed that’s definitely not made for three.

leona’s arms are strung loosely around your waist, his head in the nook of your neck

cheka is curled up in a little ball against your chest

it’s kind-of a squeeze, but it’s also comforting, their soft snores filling the otherwise quiet room

until cheka wakes up again, and this time he has his eyes on another opponent.

you.

malleus draconia

you’re trying to introduce malleus to your favourite shows, and he’s slowly getting into them as well

in fact, maybe he’s teleported outside your door in order to find out what happens in the next episode of the said show, and not because he wants to be with you.

he rings the door once, then twice, then thrice, but you don’t show up

he knows you’re a busy person, so he tries his hardest to be patient. either way, he’s certain he’d wait eons for you if that’s what you asked him to do.

when you turn up with leona’s nephew in his hands, he …

well, he doesn’t do anything at all, actually

he doesn’t even ask about it. you guys just carry on and sit in ramshackle as if everything is normal.

like hello???? are we going to address the furball other than grim in the room or not?

cheka: *scratching malleus’ horns like they’re ears*

malleus: ???? This Is Fine.

the truth is he’s scared

he’s malleus draconia, a fae feared by all—rendered immobile by a child attempting to swing from his horns.

you’re shocked he’s just letting it happen… he’s just sitting staring at the tv screen as if nothing is bothering him, but his whole body is visibly tense.

cheka is a talkative kid, and malleus is fascinating to him, so he just has so many questions! “why are you so tall?” “are you really a fairy?” “why don’t you look like the ones in storybooks?” “are your horns even real?”

“i don’t know. why don’t you check for me?” it’s an invitation for cheka to go wild, to do as he pleases

except malleus is NOT smiling, so it goes unnoticed

cheka is like :3 and malleus is like : |

malleus doesn’t want to scare the cub away, he wants to chat with him! he wants to play!!!

but he lacks the verbal skills to communicate properly

he thinks back to silver as a young boy and finds a way to keep cheka entertained

“little lion, would you like to spar?”

malleus, no!!!!???

silver may have been training at a young age, but this is different. he was not raised by two fae.

despite your desperate pleas, cheka agrees.

malleus is grinning, a rare sight—its giddy and goofy and so youthful, you don’t have the heart to stop them

they sit crossed-legged on your bed with spoons for swords, violently clashing against each other

malleus is REALLY serious about it, though. he’s smiling, but he’s also teaching cheka at the same time

“good one.” “this is your opponents’ blind spot.” “you should try this on your uncle leona.”

oh.

you’re starting to think he’s doing this purposely.

but this is the most fun you’ve seen him have in a while, so you suppose leona will just have to pay the price of leaving cheka in your care.

vil schoenheit

why on earth is leona’s nephew sitting in pomefiore’s lounge, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?

he has half the mind to curse out leona next time he sees the beastman, but then you appear behind him.

his frown and his thoughts falter a little. (his lips subconsciously pull upwards into a smile whenever he’s around you. it really is a bother that he cannot control his emotions better, considering he’s an actor.)

“did you bring him here?” he points at cheka, tone accusatory, but lacking any real bite.

all he wanted was to spend time with you. now he’s plagued by some child who didn’t even know the basic instruction ‘sit.’

upon closer inspection, he shrieks and moves backwards from cheka quickly.

“prefect, where are his shoes??”

“…”

you’re joking, right? please tell him you’re joking.

“so you’ve been having him walk around OUTSIDE barefoot?”

“he’s just … one with nature!” you laugh lightly to quell his anger.

he is not laughing. not this time.

Mother Nature may be smiling down on Cheka, but Vil Schoenheit is not.

his feet. his feet.

those feet have been walking all over the school, who-knows-where, and now they were padding across his previously immaculate carpet. holy seven, he thinks he sees the shape of a foot-print staining the floor already.

that’s it. it’s bath time, he declares, demanding you to swoop the child into your arms and follow him as fast as you can to the en-suite bathroom in his dorm room.

it’s already a battle alone trying to get cheka into the bathtub. cheka hates water, mewing, thrashing his body about and scrunching his nose like a bratty kitten.

but fear not. you’re lucky your boyfriend vil is an esteemed warrior in the sense that he has had plenty experience getting messy kids to behave (*cough*, epel)

get your tickets for Queen vs. Future King Of Sunset Savanna NOW!!! they’re going at it like it’s wordstar

once he’s in the bathtub, things are a lot more calm.

vil is … surprisingly sweet? his voice is gentle and soothing as he works away humming to a tune you’re unfamiliar with, assuring you that you can sit back and relax.

you’ve never seen him interact with children before, but you realise he acts as he does with everything else he cares about—practical and meticulous—although he can be harsh at times, he has good intent.

perhaps it’s the atmosphere of being around someone so young rubbing off on him, but he’s a tad playful, styling cheka’s hair in funny ways with shampoo. at one point cheka’s hair stands so tall above his head, it may rival malleus’ height. just kidding, but you get the point.

afterwards, he lets cheka use his favourite scented creams, as a reward for being good. the plethora of items displayed on his vanity was more than enough to make anybody with a penchant for self-care jealous.

cheka is overjoyed, his sense of smell heightened compared to you and vil, who were only human. the different scents around him are stimulating; he’s content having vil place pea-sized pumps of cream in the palms of his hand.

“smell.” vil orders. he waits for an opinion: “smells fruity, like oranges!” which is about as much descriptive lingo a five year-old can muster up before repeating the process all over again.

you had to stop cheka from trying to eat vil’s products several times

“yes, it smells like summer fruits with a dash of honey drizzled over and a side of fat-free greek yogurt, but it doesn’t taste like it!”

to anyone else it may have seemed quite strange, but to them, it was exciting.

at the end of the day, vil may not have edible treats to give to cheka, or the will to play-fight, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.

#twst imagines #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingscholar #cheka kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader #vil x reader #🐾・/ rggie twst

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umwillow · 2 months

Text

fated ~ lorenzo berkshire

stuck in a closet with your bestfriend? not awkward at all…

warnings: MDNI 18+, cursing, enzo is a little slow, smut, mutual pining, fluffy ish, switch!enzo, switch!reader, readers assumed gender is female, use of y/n, pussydrunk!enzo, oral fem!receiving, enzo being a slut for reader.

deafening silence spread through the dusty library atmosphere, the air smelling of burning fire wood, ink, mildew, and fresh iris’s.

sighing, y/n stood from her pile of various untouched astronomy books and swung her leather satchel over her shoulder, making quick steps out of the peaceful room. she was supposed to meet her best friend, enzo outside of the potions classroom, as he had sent her a note earlier at dinner explaining how he had to speak with her about something. probably to do with his herbology homework.

as she carries herself through hallways, stairways, arches and lanes, she finally finds herself stepping into the potions hallway. there she sees enzo, leaning up against the wall, one hand on the back of his neck, as if he was thinking hard about something.

“hey! what did you want to talk about?” she asked in a cheerful but questioning tone.

“oh, yes, hi. i just needed to run something by you if that’s okay?” he answers, nervously.

it’s just then that they hear loud footsteps from further down the hall when suddenly enzo grabs her arm and pulls her to the nearest broom closet. he pushes her in first and then follows behind her.

“what do we do if they catch us?! we’re out after curfew!” she worries, eyes wide, anxious about getting busted.

“darling, you’re forgetting, i am the slytherin head boy, they won’t bat an eye.” he soothes with a comforting hand to her shoulder. they soon begin to realize their close proximity and chests pressed almost perfectly together.

“ok…” she whispers, hearing the footsteps get louder and louder.

suddenly, there was a soft clicking sound, and some laughs that sounded like they were failed to stifle.

“oh my god THEO, MATTHEO WHAT THE FUCK!” enzo looked livid, and y/n just stifled her own laugh.

“sorry mate! have to get a move along, been delayed too long!” mattheo snickers from the other side of the door.

“what’s he talking about?” she questions with an arched brow, obviously suspecting it’s about her.

“nothing, darling just help me get this unlocked.” he brushes her off, intent on getting out of that closet.

“no can do, we can only unlock it from the outside! once you two have sorted yourselves out, feel free to give us a shout!” theo explains with malicious intent.

they heard them walking off quickly, as to speed up the process most likely.

“so what was that actually about enz?” she fully turns to him, face to face.

“darling, i really need to get something out.” he desperately breathes out.

“take your time, whatever it is you’re still my best boy.” she reassures him gently, even raising a hand up to caress his shoulder, making him swallow his nervousness.

“i want you to know, i NEED you to know, i’ve, um, i’ve been um…” he pauses, only restarting when she gives him a nod of encouragement, something sparkling in her eyes that tells him it’s okay, “i’ve been deeply, utterly, pathetically, completely, absolutely, paralyzingly, so inlove with you, ever since 1st year. now i know that you might think differently about me, and that’s fine with me, but i just needed to let you know, i will never, ever, expect you to answer to me right away, and if you don’t feel the same i can just go about my days like nothing ever happened, and i just really feel ridiculous now s-“

he gets cut off with a kiss of brute force and a grunt of surprise leaves his throat as he melts, her arms being thrown around his neck, fingers going to playfully tug at his hair, receiving a desperate groan and a pinch at her hip. they pull apart only to reconnect with more passion, his hands going up and down her sides, playing with her blouse.

enzo absentmindedly slips his hands underneath her blouse, rubbing his colder hands against her warm skin, resulting in her letting out a soft sigh into his mouth, still connected to hers. she runs her hands down his neck, to his shoulders and arms, finally down to his hands, still at her sides, picks them up, and placed them on her breasts. at this, he lets out a whine, and she breathily moans in response. his hands explore her chest, squeezing, rubbing, fondling. she finds herself addicted to his touch and sounds immediately, knowing she now needs more.

slowly, she pulls apart for air and he rests his forehead on her shoulder, looking up at her with a dazed look in his eyes.

“i need you enz…now.” she whispers out.

“i’ve got you darling, i’ll take care of you.” he pulls her up by her hips and sets her on the corner table, with her legs around him.

he feverishly kisses her as soon as she gets seated, almost as if she was his only air source. he trailed his kiss down to her jaw, then to her throat, and sucked and licked until he was satisfied with his work. in one movement, his hands left her hips, trailing toward the buttons of her blouse, making quick work of discarding the article of clothing. he slowly trails his hands to her back and caresses the soft warm skin.

“can i take this off love?” he checks in with her state of comfortability.

“yes, please.” she breathes out sharply.

fingers still caressing her back, now moved upward, toward the clasp of her bra.

“and this?” he asks again.

“please just do something” she whines out, desperate now.

“as you wish darling” and with those words, he snaps open the dainty clasp of her bra with his nimble fingers, gently tracing over her shoulders to lower the straps. as he begins lowering the garment, his finders brush softly against her, making her shiver in anticipation.

“please just touch me enz” she politely demands, getting impatient now.

“manners. love.” he shoots back playfully, moving his face down her collarbone, sucking lightly while moving his hands to her now bare breasts. she sucks in a sharp breath when he starts thumbing at her nipples, softly rubbing the sensitive skin between his pointer finger and thumb while his other hand stays at her hip.

she is now desperate for some friction, so, as desperate times call for desperate needs, she brings both of her hands to his hair and tugs him up to her face “i need you, any of you enz, i don’t care i just need you so bad. i want you so bad.”

and with that, he’s folded.

“of course darling, fingers or tongue?” he quips at her with a knowing look.

“what?” she looks confused, mostly when she hooks up with guys, they only want their own pleasure, so hearing him ask her how she wants to be pleasured before him is a bit surprising.

“well, i want to show you how much i worship you, if you’ll allow me to of course?” he tilts his head in question.

“fuck, i guess um, i’ve never even had anyone on their knees for me ever. if you’re sure you want to do it then go for it.” she feels lightheaded almost.

“would you like to try bossing me around? i’ve always gotten really hard when you order me to do my homework and stuff like that, it turns me on.” he cheekily smiles at her reaction.

“i don’t know how that would feel but i guess i can try” she answers him with an equally cheeky look “now come here already, i’m getting more wet by the minute.” he does as she tells him with no hesitation, his pants straining already.

she pulls him down to her face again to give him a hard kiss, when they break apart he kisses down her cheek, to her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, her tits, which he takes extra time admiring and sucking and licking. he’s at her stomach now, where her school skirt is just starting, with a look up at her, he silently asks her with his eyes if he can take it off, as to which she responds by taking his hands in hers and bringing them to the zipper of her skirt. he makes quick work of stripping her of her skirt, now she’s just in her navy blue lace underwear and her black knee socks.

he inhales at the sight of her bare thighs and stomach, the sight just takes his breath away, seriously she is one of the most beautiful humans ever (YOU ARE GORGEOUS)

“you’re so pretty enz” she whispers, gazing fondly at him.

he blushes, shifting in his spot on the floor, holding himself on his knees. she knows what she’s doing to him. he kisses her hip bones one at a time, while keeping his grip on her thighs. keeping eye contact with her, he slides his hands up her thighs and to the waistband of her underwear, hooking his fingers under the material, he looks up at her one last time for confirmation that’s he’s okay to keep going. getting the go ahead nod from her, he gently slides her underwear down her hips and legs until they hit the floor.

if she was wet before, she’s even wetter now. the way he’s looking at her with hooded eyes, already pussydrunk dispite not even tasting her yet.

“you’re so hot, fuck” he pants, trying to keep his composure.

“enough flattery, make me cum please and thank you.” she bluntly orders.

“don’t have to fucking tell me twice” and nothing else was said as he dives his face into her glistening folds, immediately moaning at the taste of her. he glides his tongue over her as she moans at the foreign feeling of his tongue on her pussy.

“oh fuck enz. good fucking boy.” she gasps out, gripping his hair tightly, pulling on the ends.

he groans against her, immensely turned on from the praise. he tongues at her clit repeatedly, in a circular motion, then swiftly switching to up and down motions. she arches her back at the sudden pressure on her clit, and whimpers out nonsense words. his hands have now migrated to her ass, keeping her hips level with his mouth, making it hard for her to buck her hips up into his face, not that he’d mind if she did.

“fuck, feels so good enz, s’good so fucking good.” she chants out, her whimpery moans getting louder.

enzo shoves his face deeper into her cunt (if that’s even possible) trying to savour the atmosphere of the moment, soaking up every moan, every jolt of her hips against his face, every tug on his hair, every praise that falls from her gorgeous mouth.

he wants to stay in this moment forever, on his knees for her, eating her out like he hasn’t eaten in decades. he whimpers against her, sending shivers down her spine at the vibrations of her pussydrunk boy below her. she feels a very distant tug in her abdomen, getting tighter and tighter as enzo’s tongue keeps its rhythm. she knows she’s gonna cum hard.

“enzo, oh fuck i’m gonna cum-i’m gonna” she cries out, feeling so much pleasure she’s about to cry.

he rubs circles on her hips with his fingers, as to let her know it’s okay to let go.

“fuck enz you’re so good, fucking hell i’m gonna-“

and then she’s seeing the fucking heavens, just from some head.

she rolls her eyes back so far into her skull that she gets lightheaded, and her back strains from arching it so hard, while her legs are shaking and trying not to close in on enzos face at the overstimulation of him continuing to ravish her like she was a fucking desert.

“enz it’s too much, fuck i’m gonna cum again if you keep going.” now shaking so hard and violently arching her back, scraping her nails through his hair roughly.

he keeps sucking as to say that he’s not stopping until she gives him another one. sucking ferociously at her clit, determined on getting her to another orgasm.

she feels the tug again, this time it comes quicker and explodes on her, and then she’s squirting on his face.

he moans, so loud. there’s something so fucking hot about the fact that he’s made her squirt just from his tongue, he’s so enamoured with the way that she’s clenching and shaking, all because of him.

“oh my god. fuck.” she breathes deeply and raspy.

“you did so well darling, taste so fucking good.” he kisses his way up her stomach, to her chest and neck and then back up to her lips. she can taste herself on him, it makes her smirk against his lips, running her hands down his chest, to his abdomen, and then back up to his chest to start unbuttoning his shirt.

he’s painfully hard at this point, almost cumming untouched just from pleasuring her.

“it’s ok love, really, i’m just fine with waiting until next time.” he reassures her as she halts her movements on his shirt.

“are you sure, i mean, you’re sure you don’t need to like…yknow?” she isn’t really buying it.

“i’m absolutely sure, let’s get you dressed and then i’m going to get you cleaned up okay?” he’s determined to take care of her, even through the torture of his rock hard boner.

she sighs, sinking into his arms.

“i love you enz”

hey guys

it’s been a hot minute🤞🏻but here you thirsty freaky fucks go!!! (i’m totally one too)

xoxoxoxoxo💋💋💋

#enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x reader #slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire x reader

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gritsgigabits · 1 year

Text

Telling the slashers you're pregnant

Finally got through a massive swamp of irl responsibilities and back to posting fanfiction~

TW: anti-baby attitudes and a crude remark from Bo.

Jason Voorhees

When you tell him you’re pregnant, Jason’s initial reaction is one of confusion. He stands in front of you and tilts his head while pointing a finger at your stomach, as if questioning is he has understood you correctly.

You nod in confirmation to his question, and continue to gauge his reaction. It is difficult to make out how Jason is feeling because all his usual gesturing that he uses to communicate with you has ceased completely. You assume he needs some time to process the information.

Mainly the information that he is able to procreate in the first place.

Once he recovers enough from the shock, Jason slowly turns his gaze towards the lake. You know, the lake that you both live by and in which he nearly drowned as a little boy. You can instantly tell where his mind has wandered to.

‘They won’t get hurt’, you tell Jason. You place your hand on his cheek and gently force his eyes from the water to look at your face. ‘We’ll look after them so that nothing bad will happen to them.’ Jason nods in reply, but uncertainty still lingers in his mind.

Jason is 50 per cent terrified and 50 per cent excited. The thought of becoming a father makes him nervous because he doesn’t think of himself as capable of taking care of a child. What is he fails to protect them from the world or from other people? What if the child is born looking… different, like Jason was?

Jason will want to make sure that if that happens, you’ll still love the child more than anything in the world. He trusts you and knows you’re not shallow or a bad person, but Jason wants to make sure that his offspring is being cared for no matter what they look like.

Bubba Sawyer

Drayton never told Bubba where babies come from, so the connection between sex and getting pregnant is a little bit lost on him. Before you tell him that you’re pregnant, Bubba hasn’t had to think about how babies end up forming inside women.

So instead of talking about how you’re pregnant, you first explain to Bubba how it happened. You tell him that getting pregnant is the actual biological reason to have sex. In the end, Bubba is amazed by how easy it is to make children – just stick it in there and boom! nine months later you have a person. How fascinating!

Overhearing your conversation, Drayton is honestly relieved that nowadays he can force you to fill Bubba in on the details of life instead of him having to do it.

Bubba isn’t mentally adult enough to think about the realitites of having a baby of his own. He gushes on about all the fun things he’s going to do with his child. It makes you a tiny bit concerned because you know that, in reality, the moment you leave Bubba alone with your baby for the first time, he will have lost it in the first five minutes.

You’re likewise worried about what kind of influence Bubba’s brothers will be on your son or daughter. Regardless of how delightfully chaotic your life in the Sawyer household is, you want your child to grow up in a safe environment where nobody smacks it with a broom for making a mess or chases it down the corridor with a fire extinguisher.

Plagued with the stress, you end up telling Bubba that you two have to move. He does his best to calm your fears and assures you that it will be alright – he’ll be the best, most protective dad you ever saw. Despite his irresponsible nature, Bubba is determined to do his absolute best to provide safety for both you and the baby.

Thomas Hewitt

Finding out that he is going to have a child, Thomas is visibly delighted. He isn’t a fan of showing (positive) emotions, so it surprises you to see him smile and laugh so openly upon hearing the news. You had been nervous to tell him about your pregnancy, so seeing his happy reaction is a huge relief.

Thomas prides himself on being responsible, rational and calm – all great qualities in a partner if you ignore the homicidal tendencies – and he has no doubt that he’ll be an excellent father. His certainty about the issue is unnerving, though, as you wonder whether he actually knows anything about bringing up children or if he just thinks it’s easy.

You interrupt his rambling to ask him if he has any hands-on experience about small children. ‘And I mean experience, not just playing with it and handing it to Luda May the moment a diaper needs changing’, you specify, pointing a finger warningly in his general direction.

Turns out Thomas does know how to heat up baby food, test the temperature of a baby’s bath water, and he doesn’t shy away from diaper changing duty. After going over these details with him, you begin to feel nervous about your own parenting skills. What if Thomas leaves the house for a few days and you end up breaking the baby in the meantime because you’re not half as good a parent as he is?

Despite wanting to celebrate the fact that you’re pregnant, Thomas spends the next few hours holding you close and soothing you while you hyperventilate into his chest.

Brahms Heelshire

You being pregnant is not something Brahms wants to hear. He doesn’t want children for several reasons. Mostly it’s because he doesn’t like to share: Brahms doesn’t want your attention to be divided between him and a baby. He has gotten used to a lifestyle where he gets to be as irresponsible as he likes without worrying about the consequences. He doesn’t need something taking that freedom away from him.

Brahms seems almost offended that you would get yourself pregnant, even though you know that he is supposed to be your first and only priority in life. You tell him that it’s his own fault for not agreeing to wear a concom, ever. It was only a matter of time before you would get a positive pregnancy test.

Brahms will walk away from the conversation after you tell him that. He disappears into the walls to pout for a few days and refuses to talk to you. You get worried when he doesn’t come out even when it’s time for his goodnight kiss.

When he finally resurfaces, Brahms acts as if nothing happened. He doesn’t say a word about the pregnancy. His avoidant behaviour prompts you to ask him, in a sarcastic tone, if he’s decided to pretend that the baby doesn’t exist until it goes away. He gives you a confrontational look in response but doesn’t say anything.

In the end, Brahms decides that you can have the baby as long as you remember your priorities: Brahms always comes first. For the time being, you agree to his terms.

Billy Loomis

When you tell him that you’re pregnant, you’re surprised by the look of disgust that overtakes Billy’s features. ‘What?’ you ask him, genuinely unsure about why he reacts in such a way.

Before he has a chance to answer, you continue, ‘I mean, I know it’s kinda bad timing and we’re both still super young and a baby’s huge responsibility, and –‘ Billy lifts up a hand to stop you. ‘Babies are gross. You know, they spit up, they’re not housebroken, and their hands are always coated in saliva or some other goo.’

You stare at him for a moment with your mouth hanging open. ‘You don’t want to have a baby because you think they’re gross?’ you ask, bewildered by his immature argument. You tell Billy that he’s going to have to get over himself. One day he’s going to be coated in spit up and drool and he’s going to embrace it because it’s his baby that’s making the mess.

Billy muses on the thought for a moment before shaking his head and saying that will never happen. You suspect that Billy is in denial about the reality of becoming a father and decide to give him some time to process the news.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is not thrilled when you tell him about your positive pregnancy test. He has told you before that he doesn’t want kinds. Bo feels that they wouldn’t go well with his style of living.

It’s not like Bo often leaves Ambrose, but the thought of a baby tying him down makes him cringe. You counter this by asking him if he even wants to leave the town, what with having stayed there his entire life and all that. Bo blatantly ignores the question.

You tell Bo that because you are already pregnant, there’s no point in him bitching about how he doesn’t want a child. He’s going to have one, whether he wants to or not. Bo calmly suggests that you drive to the nearest health centre and get an abortion.

‘Or, you know, I could just poke around with a wire hanger to save ya the trip’, he says. You give him a firm slap in reply, to which he responds ‘It was just a joke, babe.’ You tell him, ‘You have done enough poking for the time being. And besides, if I were getting an abortion, you would drive me to the clinic.’

Eventually, you decide to walk away from the conversation. It’s no use talking rationally with Bo before he has had some time to calm down and sort out his thoughts.

#slashers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #billy loomis x reader #bo sinclair x reader #slasher headcanons

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anjellaufeyson · 2 months

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Hate with attraction - Bellamy Blake

I hated Bellamy and despised him since the beginning. He always had to counter my arguments and disagree with me on every move I made. Every step I took–he criticized. The feeling of hatred was mutual, I never failed to return the remarks he made.

Bellamy brushed past as if I weren't there, yet he still managed to whisper, “You're falling behind.”

I picked up my pace as we walked through the forest. The whole hunting group was filled with all my friends–besides Bellamy. I shoved him almost into a tree, “Catch up soldier boy.”

My best friend, Octavia turned around while walking, and Bellamy glared at me. “I get Bellamy is an ass but why can't you guys just get along?”

I could feel his stare on me, “Your brother started it on day 1 of coming back to earth. The power must’ve gone to his hollow head, can’t say more than that–” My words were cut off at the sound of arrows flying past us.

“Grounders,” Bellamy yelled.

Clarke and Monty spread out of their spot because that’s where most of the fire was, “Guys we have to split up! We all have intercoms so once it’s safe we’ll come back together.”

Octavia reached for my hand but missed me by a couple of inches, an arrow grazed my palm and cut me, “Just go,” I yelled. She ran away but was hesitant. I was about to reach for my gun before a hand stopped me–Bellamy.

“We have time to run, don’t waste your bullets.”

I crouched down with him so no one gets hurt again, “If you keep ordering me around, I’m about to waste one.”

He groaned as he grabbed me and we both made a run for it, “Keep this shit up and maybe I’ll throw you to the grounders.”

I pushed him off me as we walked into a tiny cave for cover, “I’d rather be with them than you,” I mumbled.

“What was that princess,” he asked knowing he heard every word I said. His anger was pissing me off. He ripped a part of his shirt off and began wrapping it around my cut.

“I hate when you call me that.” He only called me that because my father is Kane and he won’t let go that I’m “privileged” just like Clarke. “I didn’t make the rules on the ship, It’s not my fault that–”

He pulled hard on the tie he was making causing me to wince in pain, “Don’t finish that sentence.” Bellamy glanced up at me then annoyingly back at my cut as he wrapped it to perfection–I hated how good he was at helping when I needed it. “I know it’s not your fault but your father and every privileged person on that ship let her die for what reason? Because she had one more kid?”

“You know the rules,” I spoke lowly. It was a sensitive topic and even though I hated his guts and wouldn’t mind if he got floated, I did sympathize. I never liked what happened and the fact no one could have siblings. “The more space taken by more kids would’ve left us overpopulated Bell–” I paused when talking, his nickname Octavia slipped out so easily.

He looked up at me whilst still holding my hand even though the t-shirt bandage was as good as it was going to get. “I’m sorry she was floated, but it was the rules. And you know the Ark was already overpopulated enough. That’s why they sent us down here in the first place, the stupid 100 who had to risk their criminalistic lives for the others.” This topic always got me upset, not sad but mad. My father, Jaha, and Clarke's mom, Abby, were all willing to risk our lives as if we were all test subjects.

“We mean nothing to them, that’s why I was so hell-bent on making sure all of the 100 could survive.”

I rolled my eyes remembering this wasn’t a friend I was talking to, “No, Bellamy you wanted all of us to remove our locators so that you could make sure they didn’t come down here because your reckless ass shot Jaha. I understand it was for Octavia but don’t act as if you’re some hero.”

He pressed down on my wound before dropping his hand, “I never said I was. You always think you’re better than me.”

I went to punch Bellamy but he moved out of the way, I was always good at hand-to-hand, my father got me a trainer, one of the guards. I knew how to fight, shoot, plant, etc. I was built to survive as if he’s been planning this forever. I smiled as I ducked the attack he threw at me, “You can only stand your ground because of the training you and Lincoln did together.” I went to kick him but he caught my leg, kicks were the one thing I couldn’t get the hang of.

“Learn to be faster, princess,” he had a tiny grin on his face as he twisted my leg so I was hopping.

I’d never give him the satisfaction of beating me, I kicked my leg again and got out of his grip. I elbowed him and punched him. His lip began to bleed, he had a smile on his face as his finger touched his lip. “Better,” he whispered.

I went to hit him again but he blocked it and turned me around and kicked behind my leg causing me to fall onto one knee. He grabbed my hair, not too rough to hurt me but enough to move my head so I’d look up at him. “Train more and maybe you’ll beat me.”

Slowly I rose and hit him at his throat causing him to back up. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough so he’d fuck off. I regained enough strength to cause him to lose his balance, then I got him to hit his back onto the ground. I kept my knee on his chest as I looked down at him, “You’ll never beat me, Bellamy. And I don’t think I’m better than you–” Our breaths filled the cave, “I know I am.”

I stayed with my knee on his chest until he gave me a look that I couldn’t comprehend. His lips parted and he moved in to kiss me. I don’t know why but I didn’t back away, I took my knee off of his chest slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair and he pulled me deeper in. He kissed me roughly and I could taste the hate he held for me. Then he pushed me with a betrayal of a smile, “Never let your guard down, princess.”

I made myself look hurt, he stepped closer and I pulled him in for a kiss. He seemed hesitant but easily fell into it. I bit down on his lip causing him to wince in pain. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, blood was dripping more than before.

I pushed him away from me, I hated him now more than before. But God, I’d kiss him again with hate once more if given the chance. “Never let your guard down, Bell.”

Suddenly Octavia ran into the cave looking frantic, “Jesus, did the grounders attack you guys?”

Bellamy and I shared a glance, I turned back to Octavia and smiled as if I wasn’t in pain. “No, no we made it out. Well not without one price to pay,” I said as I held my hand up.

Octavia looked shocked, she now realized our words were no longer threats, they were promises. “Bellamy,” she said in confusion but also her annoyance was beginning to focus on both of us for being stupid enough to fight each other. “O,” he said while walking past her. I stopped walking so I could talk with Octavia. He turned to me and whispered, “Next time you won’t get off that easily.” I paused, next time?

#bellamy blake #oneshot #enemies to lovers #the 100 #octavia blake #clarke griffin #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake fanfiction #abby griffin #raven reyes #jasper jordan #bellamy blake smut

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bettyfrommars · 6 months

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I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!artist!reader

Part 17: A creature of love, I can't be tamed

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, series typical violence, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex with someone other than Eddie and reader, hate-fucking (consensual), oral (m receiving), sexual harassment, biker!steve, biker!billy, protective!eddie, rocker!nancy

word count: 6.4k

songs: I Hate Myself for Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, Wild Child by W.A.S.P. and Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative

The second half of your first night back at the Velvet Hammer heats up with Eddie on stage, Charlene on the premises with Billy, and Steve working through his emotions in a moment of carnal desire.

authors note: It has felt so good to get back to writing this story, I missed our biker boys so much. It will probably be another week or two until the next part, but you won't have to wait too long. Thank you for your patience, I love you.

There came the sound of shrill feedback from the stage, and the drummer twisted his stick around his fingers before clapping the high hat. You took your break and met Eddie over by the carpeted hallway. The two of you huddled together, out of view from the front half of the bar, including Charlene and Billy.

“What’s Steve going to do?” You hushed, feeling the familiar anxiety rise inside of you that someone might get hurt again.

“Nothing for now,” Eddie exhaled. You put your hand on his chest, and he held it there. “You let me worry about Steve and Charlene, you have enough to do. I won’t let anything go sideways in here tonight.”

You told him about what you’d just learned from Shana, about Charlene being part owner of the Velvet Hammer, and he gave a slow blink, dragging out a long, ragged breath. “Why does that not surprise me,” you could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning. “She can’t have this place, it’s ours,” he growled, walking you down the hall and clanking open the heavy metal back door to the alley.

“But,” you started. Eddie pulled a pack of smokes out of his front pocket and sparked a flame from his zippo to light the end. “Isn’t it too late for that? It sounds like she already took it?”

You held two fingers like you were making a peace sign for Eddie to pass you a smoke and he raised his eyebrow at you curiously. You gave a nod, answering his unspoken question, and he put a second one between his lips to light it for you before passing it over.

You took a tiny drag and coughed smoke out of your nose at first, but then the second inhale was smoother. Thanks to so many nights at the Hammer, your throat and lungs were sufficiently coated with tar and ready for the challenge.

The other owner of the Hammer was a well known real estate investor and builder named Murray Bauman, and he was a friend of the MC. They’d done several “jobs” for him over the years that were clean by MC standards, but dirty enough to ruin his reputation if they came to light. Murray was also notoriously unfriendly with the Gregson’s, and Eddie wondered how much Charlene had paid, and what kind of scandal she’d dug up on Stephen, to make him give up his share like that.

Eddie tilted his head back, exposing his throat, to take a long, thoughtful drag, looking up at the clear sky that was blinking full of stars. “I wish I could go back in time before I ever met Charlene, and avoid her at all costs.”

“I don’t know,” you looked down and kicked the heel of your shoe against your toe. “She’s awfully determined. I think she would’ve found you anyway. Plus, I don’t think it’s you she wants anymore.”

“I feel responsible though,” Eddie muttered, blowing smoke out through tight lips. “For everything that’s happened to the people around me because of her.”

The sound of Nancy saying something into the mic, followed by the crowd cheering, came muffled through the door, and you really wanted to change the subject, to pull him out of his dark thoughts. “I’d love to see you play tonight,” you told him right before both of your cherries glowed orange at the same time in the dark.

“I don’t have my guitar here,” he stated the obvious, sucking his tongue on the roof on a sharp inhale, angling his head back to blow smoke up while keeping his eyes on you. “But I might sing one or two with her. Just for you.”

“You can sing too?” Your eyes got wide like a little kid watching the twinkling lights on a Christmas tree.

“Hi, baby, have we met?” He scoffed, slipping his bottom lip through his teeth to repress a grin, and then he winked at you and smashed his smoke on the brick wall before throwing it in the dumpster. He caught you by the hips and pulled you flush to him. “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

—--------

Back on his stool, Steve rolled a toothpick between his lips while he scanned the crowd, and did his best not to look over at Billy and Charlene. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him more; the fact that she had the nerve to show up after everything, or that she was there with Billy.

The crew from Lucifer’s Own were known for doing the dirty deeds no other MC would touch. They ran a high-end escort service on the outskirts of town, and did a lot of blow and opiate smuggling over the border. It was also a front for an underground fighting ring that was dirty and rigged, and sometimes, the fools who participated ended up with broken bones, or had their lights turned out completely.

Billy Hargrove and Steve went way back, and they’d actually been friendly acquaintances for a while back in high school, until Billy had pursued a girl Steve liked at the time just to piss him off. Also, to prove to Steve that he could take whoever he wanted. “Nothing wrong with a little competition, right, Harrington?” Is that what this was? Was Billy escorting Charlene around just to rub it in Steve’s face?

“Yeah, well, you can have her,” Steve mumbled to himself under his breath, thoughts racing so fast that he was starting to talk to himself, head bent to work the end of the toothpick with his fingers. “Good luck with that one, buddy, you’ll need it.”

There was more feedback from the speakers. “Hey there Hawkins, who is ready to rock?” Nancy purred into the microphone, one hand gripping the fretboard of her guitar before she slung the strap around her body. People shouted and cheered, and there were a few high-pitched whistles of encouragement.

The bassist with the band looked like a younger version of Eddie, but with a mane of black hair that was thick with tight curls, and the drummer had a black goatee and long, straight hair way past his shoulders. The backup guitarist looked like he was cut right out of the James Hetfeild playbook.

“We’re gonna start out with a little something familiar to get y’all warmed up,” Nancy said into the mic. “This one is called I Hate Myself for Loving You.”

The crowd roared, pounding their fists on the tables. Nancy said a countdown before she began a slow clap to the beat and the drums kicked in, deep bass vibrating in the walls.

When Steve looked up, he saw Charlene making her way across the room, either for the payphone or the restrooms, and Steve straightened up, wondering if he should say something to her. He went up to the bar and patted Thumper on his broad back, asking him to watch the door for a few minutes. Thumper was three beers and several shots in, but was not yet showing any signs of inebriation. He fisted a handful of his graying beard and told Steve it was no problem.

“Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?

You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two

I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you…”

He followed but he hung back, hiding in the crowd until he saw her go into one of the bathrooms. When you and Eddie came out from the alley, you found Steve leaning against the wall that was heavily papered in band flyers, next to the payphone.

Eddie was walking behind you,his hands firm on your hips, moving his legs in time with yours. You both came to a halt at the sight of Steve, and you had to shove off, back to work, but Eddie took your hand to kiss your knuckles before you walked away.

“Everything cool?” Eddie asked his friend, checking around to make sure no chaos had ensued while he’d been outside with you. There was a huge crowd there, packed in like sardines. All of the tables and bar stools were occupied, and plenty of people were taking advantage of the standing room only, blocking most of the walkways.

“I’m not sure yet, man,” Steve put his head back against the wall, Adam’s apple jutting out. “But I’ll let you know.”

“I called Van and told him to get over here with Devlin,” Eddie let him know. “Just in case more of Lucifer’s Own try to cause trouble.”

Steve only nodded, absently, his eyes twitching to the bathroom door every so often. Eddie clapped Steve a few times on the arm before turning to watch the band as he pushed his way through the crowd. Nancy made her fingers into devil horns in the air at him and Eddie returned the gesture, raising his arm high.

“I think of you every night and day

You took my heart and you took my pride away…”

The crowd was stomping their feet to the rhythm and belting out the chorus. Nancy detached the mic from the stand to make her way across the stage.

The second Steve saw the door open, he took long strides across the hallway to keep Charlene from exiting, pushing her back inside the single-person bathroom. She did not protest as he braced the door and locked it behind him, turning to face her with a tight jaw.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Char?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” She hushed it, dropping her gaze as if suddenly she was afraid to look at him. “I missed you.”

“Jesus Christ, Charlene, you need to stop.” He rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at the hotel, but this needs to end.”

“But what if I don’t want to stop?” She closed in on him, lifting her hands to hold his face, but he blocked the effort, restraining her at the wrists. “What if I want you so bad, it hurts?”

He met her eyes. “You miss me and you thought fucking Billy would be the answer?”

“We’re not fucking, it’s not like that with him. Not like it was with you.” She struggled a little in his grasp just so he would tighten his grip on her.

Steve scoffed. “You mean, not like it was with me and Eddie and your husband and every other dude you’ve spread your legs for in this town?” Steve wasn’t one to judge, not with the amount of pussy he’d run through over the years, but still, showing up with one of his rivals was a low blow.

Charlene slammed forward so that Steve’s back hit the door, her breath hot and urgent on his neck. “No one fills me up like you do. I need your cock to split me open one last time, Stevie, please.”

She sank to her knees, kissing down his chest as she went, and he let her, releasing her wrists so that she could make quick work of unbuttoning his Levi’s. She licked around his balls and nuzzled her face in the hair at the base of his thick shaft, making hungry gasps of need as she did so.

He hissed when the fat head of his cock sank into her mouth. “Juss…just one more time,” he groaned as she lapped him up. She hummed around his length and nodded, looking up at him, agreeing as her lips strained to take the measure of his girth.

“I know you’re angry, Steve,” she flicked her tongue out over the ridge a few times like a poisonous snake about to strike. “I want you to take it out on me.”

He fisted a handful of her hair, tight, so that he controlled the movements of her head, and it made her whimper with pleasure.

—------

The next song Divine Filth sang was an original, a real headbanger that had Nancy growling into the mic and jabbing her devil horn fingers in the air. The bass guitarist’s fingers strummed the keys while the drummer spun his sticks high in the air and caught them. You noticed that a few of the male patrons were choosing to go outside to take a piss, which meant there was another line at the bathrooms again, but you were too busy to go over and check out why.

While Erika was on her break, it was your responsibility to go over and check on Billy, since Jackie was working the other side of the room. Two more of the Coffin Kings had just arrived and Eddie was out in the parking lot having a talk with them, being that it was hard to have a conversation inside with the band playing.

You made your way over to Billy’s table, noticing that Charlene was nowhere to be found. One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin while he watched you approach, and you wondered if he knew who you were and who you belonged to. You also wondered if he gave a shit.

As you got closer, you noticed that he had a pronounced scar from his eye to his jaw, and he didn’t have a ton of tattoos like the other boys, but there was the word “mother” above a heart with a dagger through it just under the sleeve of his t-shirt on his bicep and a Lucifer’s Own insignia on his opposite forearm.

He was slouched down a bit in his seat, knees spread wide, voice raised to be heard over the music. “You must be War Machine’s old lady,” he gave you a lift of his chin.

“You are correct,” you said with your best customer service smile.

“Damn,” his hand made a cage around the pack of smokes on the table so he could pull it toward him. His eyes locked onto your face, unwavering. “That son of a bitch always had good taste.”

“If you say so,” you checked over your shoulder, expecting to see Eddie charging over with that dangerous scowl on his face, but he wasn’t inside yet. You cleared your throat. “Can I get you anything else?”

He ordered another beer for himself and a tequila for Charlene, even though you knew she was much more of a wine drinker.

“Just put it on Charlene’s tab,” he said with a wink, alluding to the fact that she was practically your boss now. “But this is for you,” and before you could reach for the 20 dollar bill he had in his hand, he was stuffing it into the waistband of your shorts, fingers grazing your bare skin, watching the discomfort wash over your face as he did so.

You turned on your heel without another word, bee-lining back to the bar, when Eddie stepped through the main door so abruptly, you almost crashed into him.

Devlin and Van moved around the two of you while Eddie put one hand on your lower back and the other cupped the back of your neck. “You okay, baby?” He mumbled, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, but then Eddie looked over in the direction you had just come and saw Billy there, flicking the flame on his lighter and watching the interaction between the two of you. You knew what Eddie was looking at by the way his body tensed. “Did Billy say something to you?”

“I had to wait on his table while Erika was on her break,” you were pulling your boyfriend away as you were talking, practically dragging him back to his seat at the bar. “Nothing happened, I’m fine. I just missed you.”

On stage, Nancy lit into a mean guitar solo.

“You sure?” Eddie’s stare was hard.

“Hey,” you grabbed Eddie’s face, making him look at you. “Baby, can’t you see? He wants to start trouble. Just ignore him. Please, for me.”

“Did he touch you?” His jaw muscles bulged and a dark fell over his brown eyes, making them almost black.

“No baby,” you hummed the lie. Eddie had quite a bit of common sense, more so than Steve when it came to affairs of the heart, but you knew that someone would get hurt if you told him about the way Billy had slid that money into your shorts. You had no doubt that Eddie could handle himself, but you didn’t want there to be any more fighting; everyone had already been through enough. Plus, Billy was not the first guy at the Hammer to overstep, and he wouldn’t be the last. Sadly, that was the nature of the work, you’d come to realize.

Eddie took a breath and lowered his forehead to yours, slotting his fingers around your ears so that his thumbs grazed your cheeks. “I’ll be good, sweetheart,” he promised.

Everyone clapped at the end of the song and then you heard Eddie’s name being said over the speakers.

“We’re lucky enough to have the frontman for Corroded Coffin here with us tonight,” Nancy started. “And he said he might get up here for a song or two. What do you say, Munson?”

The crowd went wild at that suggestion, and some even chanted his last name, punching fists into the air. Nancy motioned him on stage with a few scoops of her fingers.

“I guess I’m doing this,” he said, parting your lips with his tongue for a brief but firm kiss before he made his way to the stage. The James Hetfield guy was already taking off his guitar to hand it to Eddie before he could protest, and they clapped hands together in greeting. Your “old man” was adjusting the strap over his shoulder when he looked out over the sea of heads and caught your eye.

“I love you,” Eddie mouthed, taking the pic off of the chain that he had dangling around his neck.

—-------

Five minutes earlier, Steve had Charlene bent over the sink in the bathroom, jeans low on his hips, yanking her head back by the throat as he jackhammered himself inside of her.

“Tighter,” she whined, and his fingers closed in on her windpipe. He’d pushed her thong to the side and was spitting every so often so that he could watch it slide down her slit and mix with the frothing wet mess of her arousal where his cock sank into her. He didn’t need the saliva to lube his brutal pace, but he liked the idea of spitting on her, it helped him work through his hatred.

“God Steve, you’re so fucking good, fuckkk,” she dragged the last word out as hips clapped onto her with rapid, forceful grunts, making her whole body jerk each time he made contact.

He slowed the pace for a few thrusts so that he could spit again, and then he used his thumb to rub the saliva around the pink hole that tightened at his touch. He’d never been with a woman who had every inch of hair removed like her, she looked like some kind of porn star. He wanted to be in her ass one last time, but it felt too tight and warm where he was. He was close.

He let go of her throat and clutched her hips on either side in a way that would bruise, angling to finish himself off.

“You’re such a fucking whore for my cock,” he bit out. He wished she didn’t feel so fucking good. He wished that his disgust for her didn’t also turn him on in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Charlene’s eyes rolled back in her head, orgasm mounting rapidly as he buried himself base deep to a point where the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. She knew this was a farewell reminder, and it made her cry out his name.

“Fuck Steve, I’m cumming,” a few more pumps and she was exploding around his length, legs shaking at the way the wave crashed over her, making her see white.

“Get on your knees,” Steve told her, his hips stuttering. When she was down in front of him, he jerked himself the rest of the way off onto her outstretched tongue, ropes of cum painting her chin and dripping down to her cleavage. He made her lick the rest of him clean, and then she sucked her fingers.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, hold your fucking horses,” Steve shouted, pulling his jeans up. He helped Charlene get her bodysuit back on and zipped up. He almost kissed her, but then he remembered who she was.

He checked himself in the mirror and slicked his hair back before letting her know she should wait a minute until after he was gone before she followed him out. She was cleaning the mascara that had leaked down her cheeks, and was about to apply more lipstick, when she caught his eyes on her in the reflection.

“What if I told you I had a gift for you?” Her expression was coy.

Steve sighed. “I don’t want anything from you, Char. This was it, I’m done, I mean it.”

She rolled the red lipstick out of its gold tube. “What if it was something that would change your life?”

He thought about that, wetting his lips. “Listen, we’re never gonna fuck again. I don’t care if you buy me a Ferrari.”

“Well, it’s better than a car,” she huffed a small laugh. “Let’s just call it a…parting gift. A way for me to say sorry for everything I put you and Eddie through.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and put his back against the door. “Yeah, well, if this is about to be some grande gesture from you, I’d like to know what the catch is.”

She turned to him, fixing the ends of her hair around her face. “No catch, not this time,” she took a step forward, holding her black clutch in one hand. “Listen, I know it sounds childish and stupid, but I think I…I think I fell in love with you.” She furrowed her brow as if the sentiment didn’t make sense to her, as if she’d never grasped the weight of the words before.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he rolled his eyes and barked a laugh, thoroughly amused.

“I can’t change the past,” she tried to push her chest out, to get her statuesque posture back. “But I can try to make it up to you. To both of you.”

“Yeah?” Steve gave her a bored shrug. “Personally, I think you’re way past the point of redemption.”

“Maybe,” she pressed her lips together and took hold of the door handle. “I guess we’ll see.”

—------

All of your attention was eyes front on Eddie as he leaned over to discuss something with Nancy, lengthening the strap on his guitar as he spoke. You barely noticed someone trying to make their way through the crowd until Steve bumped into your shoulder, making you sway on your feet.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he caught you and helped you find your balance. “I didn’t see you there.”

Steve looked…disheveled, and his face was flushed, as if he’d just run around the block. There were lines in his hair from raking his fingers through it so many times.

“You good?” You called after him, but all he offered was a “thumbs up” over his shoulder.

It was barely a minute before you caught sight of Charlene coming out of the hallway, following in his wake. She had a pink flush to the pale skin of her throat, almost a perfect handprint impression, and your brain was busy putting the pieces together when Nancy got back on the mic.

“This one is called Wild Child,” Nancy started on the guitar and people in the crowd got crazy again. The Hell’s Belle next to you whistled so loud, it almost blew your eardrum out. You weren’t too familiar with the band W.A.S.P. before Eddie, but you knew the song, and waited eagerly to hear his voice as he leaned in, moving his fingers along the strings.

“I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain

A creature of love, and I can't be tamed

I want you, 'cause I'm gonna take your love from him

And I'll touch your face and hot burning skin

No, he'll never ever touch you like I do…”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sang the first bit, hair hanging down his shoulders, muscles flexing under the ink that covered his forearms and hands. When his eyes opened, he found you in the crowd, and your heart swelled at the way he cracked a smile around the words at the sight of you.

“So look in my eyes and burn alive, the truth

I'm a wild child, come and love me

I want you…”

God, he was magic up there. He looked like a natural, holding that guitar in his hands, the way his fingers flew deftly to each note.

And he was all yours.

The chorus came and you sang the words, smiling so hard already, your cheeks hurt. You’d never known your eyes to “sparkle” like a cartoon before, but you felt like that’s what they were doing.

“My heart's in exile, I need you to touch me

'Cause I want what you do

I want you”

Someone grabbed your elbow, and you spun around to see who it was.

Jackie had a full tray in her hand, trying to balance it amidst the moving bodies. “Hey, are you on the floor right now? Don’t mean to be a bitch, but I need you. A table full of jarheads just showed up.”

“Oh shit, right,” you’d honestly forgot where you were for a moment, you’d been so caught up in that Munson Magic. You took another glance at the stage, wanting to catch Eddie’s eye, but he was looking down at his hands, concentrating on where they worked the guitar.

The table in your section that Jackie mentioned had seven guys in their mid-twenties sporting that type of “high and tight” haircut that you saw almost exclusively with members of military or law enforcement, and you took a deep breath, because you never knew what the vibe would be for those types of men who visited the Hammer. Either they’d be extremely polite like they just came from church, or they’d be vile and disrespectful.

“What’ll it be tonight, boys?” You asked, sidling up to their table. “Buy one pitcher of draft and get the next half off.”

They all turned to appraise you, not caring that the way their lewd stares locking on your body and tits made you uncomfortable.

“See, I told you,” the dark haired one said to the one in the red and white striped polo shirt. “The bitches here are super hot.”

You gulped, doing your best to restrain from looking as disgusted as you felt while they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“How much for you to sit in my lap?” One of them asked.

“How much for you to suck me off?” One of them whispered, and the whole table guffawed into the type of laughter that was not warranted for something that was so not funny.

You checked over your shoulder for Steve, and he appeared to be escorting someone out who’d just been cut off. There was a bench outside, and he always had them wait there while he called a member of their family or a taxi to come pick them up. The guy was having a hard time getting his legs to work, and Steve had to practically carry him out.

You glanced up at the stage when the other song ended, and you could tell Eddie was searching for you, and so you stuck your hand up in the air to catch his attention.

“This one is for my girl,” he pushed hair out of his face and the sentiment made you freeze. A goofy grin stretched across your face and you let out an actual giggle. You were very familiar with the opening notes of Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative.

“So, a pitcher of beer, then?” You asked, distracted, but in a much better mood than you were a few seconds ago. The guys at the table were too busy being crass to decide what they wanted to drink, so you chose for them. They agreed on the pitcher, and ordered a round of shots.

You kept your attention on Eddie as you made your way across the space, and your heart was in your throat at how proud you were to be his. His voice was deep and powerful, and it seemed like no one could pull their eyes away. The air was a bit humid inside, and you could see a sheen of sweat on his skin already glistening, bangs sticking to his forehead. He’d taken off his Coffin Kings cut and shirt, so he was up there in a ribbed, white tank of the Hanes variety, exposing the wash of dark tattoos over his shoulders and arm muscles that bulged from hours upon hours of manual labor.

“I want to live with a cinnamon girl

I could be happy the rest of my life with her

A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night

You see us together, chase the moonlight…”

At the bar, you considered letting Van and Devlin know that there were some guys there who might start trouble now that Steve was distracted, but then you remembered that you were the bad bitch who stabbed Craig in the balls and brought him to his knees—-you could handle a few young douchebags.

You gave Shana the drink order while Eddie’s deep voice bellowed, “my cinnamon girl, my cinnamon girl…” to the collective swooning of the crowd.

You waited on two other couples, lingering in the middle of the room so that you could see Eddie more clearly, dragging your feet before you had to return to the guys with the matching haircuts.

You took a cleansing breath and squared your shoulders before heading back. You tried not to be bothered by the way the dudes checked you out as you put the drinks down. When you were finished, the guy closest to you, with close-set eyes and a thick neck, ran his hand up the back of your leg.

“Hey,” your stare hardened on him and you stepped away, eyebrows pinching together. “No touching.”

The guys all snickered at that, as if it was so funny that they all knew they weren’t supposed to touch the staff, but they still got away with it.

“No he’s sorry, really,” said the tall, skinny one who hadn’t spoken up yet. His face was unreadable, you couldn’t tell if he was being a shitheel or not. The table fell silent for a beat. “But we would really like to know how much it would cost for handjobs, all around. Is there a group price for you girls?”

More idiotic cackling.

You turned to leave them, to go find Steve, to let him know you needed his assistance, but the one with the blonde hair and Limp Bizkit shirt caught you by the arm, digging his fingers in, and yanked you back so that his other hand could roam the curve of your ass. “Just a little feel, baby, we’ll tip good, I promise.”

You pushed him off and were just about to yell for Steve or Thumper when you saw the guy across the round table get his face smashed into the wood, so hard that blood splattered and you could hear the sick crack of breaking bone.

You were surprised to see Billy there, standing behind the one who was clutching his broken nose and wailing. He was smiling, cigarette bobbing between his lips. “I think you bozo’s should apologize to the lady.”

You hadn’t heard the music stop, didn’t realize that the commotion had drawn most of the attention to you.

In a flash, the guy in the Limp Bizkit shirt was ripped from his seat, and there was Eddie, picking him up by the throat to punch him across the face, sending him flying.

The impact made saliva and possibly a tooth go spitting from his mouth and you screamed at the shock of it.

“Eddie look out!” You shouted. The tall one was about to take a cheap shot at Eddie’s ribs while he sank another punch into the guy’s jaw, but you came down with your serving tray as hard as you could and nailed him.

“Holy shit,” Steve cursed when he stuck his head inside to see what the commotion was. Thumper was nowhere to be found, and Steve figured he was taking a piss. Starting brawls inside the Hammer was not protocol. Bouncers were always encouraged to take everything outside, but now it was too late.

“Get her out of here!” you heard Steve’s voice, he was talking to Devlin, and then you were being pulled back by cautious hands, away from the chaos.

One of the jarheads was just about to break a beer glass over Eddie’s head, but Billy showed up out of nowhere and kicked him in the back, sending the asshole flying right into Steve’s awaiting fist. The guy’s body crashed into a table, shattering glasses, and making the other patrons scatter.

“You better leave this one for me, Harrington,” Billy smiled and wiggled his tongue. “Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Billy was helping them, and that was a twist you hadn’t expected. Perhaps it wasn’t so much for them as for himself, since you could tell Billy had been looking for a fight all night.

Steve got one of the other guys in a choke hold and began to drag him outside. Billy made wide eyes at one of the leftover trouble makers and charged after him, making the guy shriek like he was about to pee his pants before running from the building.

While the one Eddie had been punched was babbling at the foot of unconsciousness on the ground, he took hold of the one with the close-set eyes and the thick neck who had rubbed your leg first.

Eddie had been watching, and quick to cut off before the end of the song to jump down from the stage in a blinding rage.

Devlin held you loosely by the arms, but you shook him off, and stood next to Shana and Erika, continuing to keep your distance for the sake of Eddie and Steve’s peace of mind, and wincing each time one of the other dudes took a hard hit from one of the Coffin Kings.

Eddie took the guy by the shirt and sent a punch into his stomach. Mister Thick Neck doubled over but then Eddie took him by the throat and slammed him into the nearest wall. Eddie had his fist winding back for a punch when Steve shouted his name to get his attention.

The rest of the dickheads had been escorted outside by a few Hell’s Belle’s, while the rest of the crowd kept their distance. You saw Charlene in the far corner, touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror, seemingly unphased by it all.

“Not in here,” Steve pleaded with Eddie, breathlessly. “Like you said.”

Eddie’s eyes were black and cold like that of a shark. His mouth trembled with the urge to actually bite into the guy’s face, to mutilate him with his bare teeth and make him beg for mercy.

Eddie banged the guy's body into the brick wall again, locking him there with his forearm. “Apologize to my girl,” he growled.

The buzz cut guy coughed and struggled, having a hard time breathing. “I don’t know who your girl is, man,” he was only able to squeak out a mild protest under the pressure of Eddie’s grip.

“Your waitress,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth.

The guy against the wall tried to turn his head to look for you, but Eddie squeezed his face. “You don’t get to look at her,” Eddie fumed. “Just say you’re sorry.”

Multiple desperate “sorry’s” followed, and then Eddie told Steve to get the guy’s wallet to take all of the cash out. A quick count said there was about a hundred bucks.

“That’ll be her tip,” Eddie announced, dragging him by the shirt collar to take him outside with the rest.

They were all told to empty their wallets of their cash, and Steve made a scene of noting the addresses on their driver’s licenses.

“I have a memory like a steel trap,” Steve lied, pointing to his temple, grabbing the guy in the red and white polo by the side of his neck, getting up in his face. “If you so much as walk by this place ever again, or tell the cops about this, you’ll see me in your nightmares. Now, get the fuck out of here before I call your mommies.”

You sank in next to Eddie’s side just outside the main entrance, and he put his arm around you. “Will things ever calm down around here?” You asked with a heavy sigh, watching the broken group scurry and limp away down the street.

Eddie gave a low laugh and hugged you a bit tighter. “God, I hope so, baby.”

Divine Filth started another song, to try and get things back to normal, and most of the crowd returned to their drinks as if there had not been actual bloodshed just five minutes ago.

No one but Shana heard the phone next to the cash register ring over the sound of the music, but after a few seconds, she shrugged by you and Eddie to stick her head out and scan the sidewalk.

"Steve?" She craned her neck to look for him.

"Yeah, that's me," he came from around the back side of the door, flicking his cigarette, knuckles split and bloody again.

"Some guy named Dustin called," she said, merely passing on a message. "He said Suzie just went into labor."

-----

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universitypenguin · 6 months

Text

Summary: Lloyd delays telling Princess about her stalker’s identity. Vivian has a medical appointment, which leads to an episode of babysitting where Lloyd bonds with a three-year-old. Meanwhile, an unexpected event kicks the serial killer investigation into high gear.

Masterlist

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Smut, erotica level explicitness, impact play (Lloyd spanks Princess), and semi-rough sex. Criminal activity including stalking, kidnapping, and murder. Mention of child abandonment and dysfunctional family dynamics.

Chapter 22

From your perch on a barstool, you watched Lloyd stir a pot on the stove. He wore a snug pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. You decided this was your favorite look on him. Lloyd glanced over his shoulder and caught you staring. He smirked.

“See something you like, Princess?”

“Mmmhh. You’re like a real life Calvin Klein model, and you’re cooking me dinner.”

Lloyd snorted. “Their current poster boy is what, twenty-one?”

“I don’t know. Calvin Klein models were more of a middle school fantasy for me.”

“Which models, specifically?” he asked.

“The ones featured during the South African World Cup. The internet was plastered with their photos. You don’t remember?”

“Twelve years ago I was in Afghanistan. They don’t allow underwear commercials.”

“Well, I can’t remember his name, but he was a Danish soccer player, who was like three times my age.”

“You were drooling over thirty-six-year-old men when you were twelve?”

“What? He had really great abs.”

Lloyd shook his head, returning his attention to the pot of soup simmering on the stove.

“They were inescapable, and I had a lot of hormones, okay? All those delicious muscles slathered in baby oil was my sexual awakening.”

“Once you hit thirty, you’ll feel more comfortable thinking about sexual awakenings happening around the age of sixteen, or even better, seventeen.”

You laughed. “That’s not reality.”

He flicked off the burner and winked. “Once you eat something, let’s talk about these soccer player fantasies. I want details.”

“Don’t get your hopes up - I wasn’t old enough to fill in the details. Now, my highschool fantasies? Those are worth talking about.”

Lloyd caught you around the waist and pulled you into his lap when you moved to sit down at the dining room table. You giggled when his hands snuck under the hem of the button down dress shirt you wore, exploring the bare skin he found there.

“No panties?”

“Your dress shirt was all I could find. Someone must have stolen my clothes.”

“What a tragedy,” Lloyd murmured, nuzzling your cheek.

You giggled when his mustache tickled your neck. He kissed along your throat and across your jaw and chin, before finding your lips.

“First we eat, then you tell me everything,” he said.

Eating in Lloyd’s lap was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t insist on feeding you and didn’t mind when you stole the spoon for yourself. After consuming half of the bowl, you handed it back to him and curled against him while he finished the dish. You sighed, content.

“See, this is even better than my fantasies. You can actually cook-”

“This hardly counts, it’s just soup.”

You ignored him, continuing, “-and you have chest hair. I didn’t know there was such a thing as a chest hair kink, but I definitely have one.”

Lloyd groaned as you traced the whorl pattern of hair on his right pectoral.

“Plus, you’re warm.”

“You’ll be all over me this winter, won’t you?” he said.

“Arm candy, bed warmer, and he’s smart? You really are the whole package, aren’t you?”

You stroked a zigzag pattern through the dark brown hairs of his happy trail just above the waistband of his boxers.

“Princess… you’re playing with fire.”

You smirked at his gravelly voice. “No, I’m not. You already turned off the stove.”

He grunted when you straddled him. The position put your breasts at the same height as his mouth. Lloyd nuzzled their upper swells as you sank your finger into his hair, petting the short strands at the back of his neck.

Lloyd unbuttoned your dress shirt and examined your breasts.

“Still sore?”

“They’re definitely tender.”

He rubbed one and you hissed.

“Yeah, that’s going to sting for a while,” he said.

“It’s not a bad sore, just kind of… raw?”

“Well, I did promise you raw nipples, didn’t I?”

“And a sore ass.”

Lloyd glanced up through his lashes. “I’m glad you brought that up, Princess. It reminds me… I only delivered on half of my promise.”

“Huh?”

“I gave you instructions, and you disobeyed me. That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”

“Lloyd, I’ve never let anyone paddle my ass, and if you think-”

He moved too fast for you to protest, manhandling you so you lay chest down, spread over his thighs. Your breasts pressed against his leg and you moaned at the pressure on your aching nipples. Tension coiled in your belly as excitement heightened your sensitivity, making the raw flesh sting.

“Lloyd!”

“Scoot up. I suggest you cooperate because if I don’t spank you, I’m going to have to come up with another punishment. I have a few ideas…”

The butt plug and lube in his nightstand drawer flashed through your head. You scooted forward.

“Good girl, so obedient. I think you want to be punished, don’t you?”

You whimpered at his velvety voice. “Y-yes…”

Lloyd ran a calloused hand over the back of your thighs. “I’ve been thinking of smacking this pretty ass for a long time, Princess.”

That piqued your interest. “How long?”

“Too long,” he said, caressing your bottom.

“The first day you met me?”

“The second day. That pencil skirt, the one that goes past your knees? It’s blue and tight.”

You suddenly regretted donating that skirt last year during a closet declutter, even if it was a size too small.

“On the day you gave me your first research file, that’s what you wore. I still can’t forget how good your ass looked as you walked away. Last chance to back out, Princess.”

You squirmed, but didn’t object.

Lloyd grunted. “Princess, use your words.”

“I don’t think you have the guts to-”

His palm cracked on your left ass cheek. You gasped, stunned by the blow. He slapped the other side with the same force and you cried out. He pinched the fleshy part of your inner thighs between his thumb and forefinger, hard, eliciting a yelp.

“Don’t hold your breath. If you do, you’ll pass out,” Lloyd said.

Then his palm cracked against your skin. The sides alternated: left cheek, right, left, left, right…

“Lloyd!”

You surged up, only to have his forearm shoved into the small of your back, pinning you down.

“Arch your back, Princess. Keep your ass in the air, practice makes perfect.”

“Ow, Lloyd! That hurts!”

“It’s supposed to. You can’t follow instructions, then you pay the price, my naughty… little… fucktoy,” he hissed, punctuating the last three words with a smack.

Your back arched.

“Please! Fucking hell, Lloyd! Damn it, oh!”

You struggled to get enough leverage to escape, but he was too strong.

“Next time you’ll arch your back just like this, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl and keep your chest down and your ass up, huh?”

“Gaaahhh!” you screamed when he peppered a series of blows on a spot that was already aching.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…! Lloyd, please!”

He wasn’t holding back and despite the pain, his spanking was having the strangest effect on your body. It was turning you on. Your protests were born from shock and confusion, because you hadn’t expected this to hurt so much. The pain was the shocking part; the confusing part was that you hadn’t dreamed it would feel so good.

Yet, your toes were curling and your legs stiffened with each stinging swat. Every strike aroused you further. The harsher the sting of his hand, the sweeter the pleasure in your pussy. It was like the sting traveled through you, racing through nerves and transferring the heat of burning slaps on your skin to the inferno deep in your core. Your pussy was throbbing with a fire that was more intense than pain. Then his next blow triggered a cry that had nothing to do with discomfort.

Your thighs flexed and your toes curled as your shriek tapered off into a needy, hungry sound.

“Oh, fuck… Lloyd…”

You whimpered and rocked against his thigh, groaning at the overwhelming rush of pleasure, mingled with pain.

Lloyd cooed. “That’s my girl. Your pussy’s dripping down my leg.”

Your nipples tingled, still raw from their earlier treatment. You were panting and shivering, sweat trickling down your neck. He switched hands, and you squealed at the next barrage of unrelenting slaps. The line between what was pleasure and what was pain ceased to exist. You were acutely aware of the pulsating heat in your nipples and the hardness of Lloyd’s cock pressing against your belly.

The feelings his spanking elicited now were sharp and hot, causing your moans to drop into a lower register as you rocked back to meet each blow. Slowly, he eased into a gentler pace, delivering milder smacks.

Your chest was heaving as darkness danced on the edge of your vision.

“Breathe, Princess.”

You gasped.

“That’s it, good girl.”

His fingers brushed your sex, and you wailed, shuddering at the intensity of the sensation. Your back arched when he stroked your abused skin. The gentle caress made you keen.

Lloyd hauled you upright, turning you so your back pressed against his chest. Without his support you’d have slid to the floor. Your body buzzed with an urgent need and you mewled as he gently palmed your breasts.

You moaned, caught in the grip of a sensation somewhere between pain and immense pleasure.

“There, there, Princess. You’re okay. Next time, what are you going to do? Hmm?”

“Keep… my ass… up,” you sniffed, fighting back tears.

He rubbed the backs of his knuckles against the side of your breasts. “You’ll keep your ass up, and?”

“Chest down,” you whispered.

“That’s a good girl. We’ll try again when your nipples aren’t sore and you can show me what an obedient little fucktoy you are.”

You whined, thighs clenching. Tears were falling and your ass stung but you were so turned on that the pleasure was acutely uncomfortable. Lloyd’s hands drifted from your breasts to roam your body, tracing your waist, belly, and hips. He skimmed your thighs, tugging them apart until you spread them wide, giving him unrestricted access. His fingers dipped into your sex.

“Aw, fucking hell. That pussy’s drenched for me. I knew you’d like your spanking, naughty girls always do.”

He pinched your tender nipple, and you keened, tipping into a state of delirium. Your head fell back against his shoulder as your body went lax. Lloyd murmured something approving, but the words were lost in the buzz of euphoria that echoed in your ears. You couldn’t stop trembling.

Lloyd’s fingers breached your cunt, probing your g-spot.

“Yeah, gush all over my fingers. That’s my Princess, so fucking responsive. You’re spent, but this creamy little pussy just can’t get enough, can it? She’s throbbing. I bet it aches worse than your ass.”

He used his free hand to tease your clit, and you bucked, sobbing from the intense pleasure. You grasped his wrist to ease the friction and Lloyd snarled.

“Cut that out, or I’ll put you over my knee again.”

He spread your pussy open and stroked your entrance, collecting juices and swirling them over your clit.

“Come on my fingers, Princess.”

After issuing the command, he worked your clit hard. Within seconds you jackknifed from a lightning flash of pleasure that almost made you surge out of his arms. Lloyd nipped at your neck and the unexpected sensation made you shudder. His teeth sank into your skin as your body rolled with waves of ecstasy.

When you came down from the high, you felt the hardness under your thigh and squirmed. Lloyd allowed you to slide off his lap but caught your hips to steady you when your knees wobbled. After taking a second to get your bearings, you turned to face Lloyd, then sank to your knees between his legs.

Surprise flickered in his eyes but he lifted his hips, cooperating as you pulled down his boxers. The thick, ruddy cock sprang free, and you grasped it by the base, then licked at its weeping head. Lloyd groaned, shoving himself past your lips in a silent demand. You accepted him eagerly, wiggling your tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Yeah, just like that…”

He guided your head, showing you the tempo he preferred, then let go once you’d adopted the pace.

“Harder,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal.

You hollowed your cheeks and gripped him tighter. He hadn’t tried to push into your throat, which only made you more excited to perform the act. Relaxing your jaw, you inhaled through your nose and took him as deep as you could.

Lloyd gasped. His cock twitched in your throat, and you swallowed reflexively, moaning. When you couldn’t hold the position anymore, you pulled back, gagging. After another deep breath, you braced your hands on his thighs and repeated the maneuver. He was restrained, and that emboldened you to swallow harder, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. You kept your hands on his thighs out of caution, aware that his good behavior might end at any moment.

The self-protection didn’t prove necessary. Going down on Lloyd was fun. He wasn’t pushy, and he was vocal about his pleasure. The slurred praise he offered when you took him deep made you quiver with excitement. When your jaw needed a break, you ran your tongue over his balls, laving the swollen sac and basking in the rough, male noises that rewarded your efforts.

You chipped in surprise when Lloyd hauled you to your feet. He jerked you onto his lap, cupping your ass while he aligned your bodies. His thick erection grazed your clit. The sensation was so intense that you jerked away. Lloyd growled, hauling you back down.

“Come on, relax for me, Princess. I know you’re desperate to be filled.”

He was right. Sucking him off had triggered a fresh wave of arousal that had fire licking at your core. Lloyd captured one of your battered nipples in his mouth and sucked, purring when you trembled in response. He released it and caressed your hips, then stroked his palms over the tender skin of your buttocks.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

You pressed your forehead against his and whimpered as his cock probed the entrance to your pussy. “Yes… Please, fuck me.”

He thrust up hard, impaling you with a single stroke. You screamed and dug your nails into his shoulders.

“Ah, fuck! Lloyd!”

“Shh… relax. Let me in. I know, I know. This is a new angle for you, isn’t it?”

He felt huge like this. The girth was too intense and you scrambled to adjust, hooking your ankles over his knees and raising your hips. Lloyd kneaded your ass, causing a rush of pleasure and pain that flooded your pussy with juices and allowed you to sink down a little further.

You groaned, thighs quivering as you struggled to hold yourself up. You were afraid your legs would give out, and you’d be impaled again. Lloyd claimed your mouth and kissed you. HIs mouth was slow and sensual and coaxed you into relaxing. You rolled your hips and whimpered when he slid deep, brushing a spot that made you quiver. He grasped your hips and pushed them back, then drew them forward.

You gasped at the sensation.

Lloyd paused. “Too deep?”

“N-n-no… Oh, fuck…”

You squirmed and tried to mimic the maneuver. Lloyd moaned.

“Atta girl, baby. Get yourself off on my cock.”

Your hips snapped harder at his encouragement. When he sucked delicately on one of your nipples, you keened. You lost your rhythm, but it didn’t matter because Lloyd took control. He used your body’s weight to guide your hips in quick tempo, rooting himself as deep as possible with every stroke. Your legs shook violently and when the orgasm hit, you screamed, unraveling into sobs of overwhelmed pleasure.

Lloyd took advantage of the deep angle. The ripples of your channel seemed to aim his cock right at the sweet spot that made you quiver and turned your muscles to Jell-O. His thrusts became rougher and harder, and your pussy creamed. You cried, disoriented, helpless against the unrestrained response of your body. All you could do was hang on and shudder as your eyes rolled back in your head and Lloyd’s hands guided your hips through the last of the orgasm.

He hissed your name and his seed flooded your womb, triggering another orgasm that wracked your exhausted muscles. After the final burst of ecstasy, your head fell into the crook of Lloyd’s neck and he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight.

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

Lloyd broke from his usual routine and silenced his alarm at 4 a.m.

He nestled against you, grateful that you were sleeping deeply, and therefore accepting of his intrusion into your side of the bed. When you were half-awake and still trying to cling to sleep you were very territorial about your personal space. He relished the victory of getting to hold you like this and pressed his forehead against the back of your neck. You slept soundly in these early hours, which sometimes allowed him to indulge in the affection he craved without disturbing you. Although he’d only intended to cuddle, he succumbed to sleep within minutes.

The buzzing of his phone woke him. Scowling at the time - it was just after six - he answered the unknown number.

“What do you want?”

“Hello, Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s nostrils flared. “Why are you calling me?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“We aren’t friends.”

“Fair point. Wait, don’t hang up. I have a new lead,” Court Gentry said.

Lloyd hesitated, his finger over the end call button.

“Go on.”

“The spy is trying to access files from B&H’s patent department. If they do, it’ll pose a threat to national security - a significant threat.”

“Then call Clayton Bishop, or the FBI - anyone but me,” Lloyd replied.

“Trust me, if I could, I would. You’re the only person I’m sure isn’t involved. The latest efforts to access the files prove this guy has hacking skills. He’s trying to exploit weaknesses in your cyber security and someone’s helping him. I know something is going down this week. I need your help.”

“No. I’m not a spy. Don’t call me again.”

Lloyd tossed the phone on the nightstand and sighed. The Chinese spy wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t even Court’s problem, but Gentry wasn’t the type to keep his nose out of other people’s business.

You murmured and rustled in the blankets, stealing the covers he’d loosened his grip on. Lloyd watched as you coiled yourself into a cocoon of blankets and wondered how you didn’t smother yourself by sleeping like that. His phone buzzed again. The sound made your lashes flutter and Lloyd rubbed your back. He was inordinately pleased when you settled immediately, your breathing evening out again.

Lloyd silenced the phone and checked his text messages.

There were three new messages, all from Jake. One had just arrived. The other two had come in around 5 a.m.

Hey. I need to upgrade the security on your guys laptops - work and personal. The stalker’s been trying to hack them. It’s mainly Princess’ work computer, but I want to cover all the bases just in case.

What time can I come over?

Lloyd? R u awake?

He responded, letting Jake know he could come over after eight, then went downstairs to make coffee.

Between the call from Court and Jake’s texts, the morning had gone sour. His anxiety was flaring back up and he was halfway through his first cup of coffee when it occurred to him that caffeine probably wasn’t the greatest idea right now. He poured the rest of his coffee down the sink and rubbed his jaw, wondering what problem to tackle first. There was the matter of telling you about Nguyen, reviewing your notes from the interview with Aliyah, catching up with Jake about the attacks on your laptops, and… Lloyd frowned.

The conversation with Court was still echoing in his head. Could the cyber attacks on your work computer have something to do with Nguyen? Did that fit the stalker’s profile? Aiden might be behind the latest attack. That would make sense… kind of.

Lloyd leaned against the counter, scowling, and wishing he hadn’t thrown the last of his coffee down the drain. Maybe Nguyen was the serial killer. Bishop still believed he was, and while Lloyd wasn’t keen on his boss’ blind faith in that theory, he suddenly wanted to take another look at Nguyen. His gut said that he’d missed something - something critical.

“Do I smell coffee?”

He turned to see you standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing his robe.

“Yeah, creamer’s in the fridge.”

Lloyd waited while you doctored your coffee and took a few sips. He’d figured out what he needed to say, but instead, he grabbed the files Landon had given him yesterday.

“Princess. We need to talk about your stalker.”

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

You sat at the dining table, reading the files. Each one was labeled with a name: Georgina Rochester, Aiden LeDoux, Shun Nguyen, and finally, Juan Medina.

Picking up Juan’s file, you frowned.

“What’s this?”

Lloyd cleared his throat. “We investigated all potential suspects we could think of.”

“Really? Investigating Juan would’ve involved talking to me. That never happened.”

“Given the circumstances, I can’t expect you to be impartial.”

Your gaze sharpened. “I’ve known Juan for a decade.”

“Princess, you’re too close to him to see him as a threat, and you know it.”

“And maybe you’re too far removed to see that he’s harmless. Everything in here is technically true - Juan got into bar fights and took anger management classes - but there’s more to the story.”

“Then explain it.”

“Juan’s little brother just turned twenty-one. He’s always had a bad temper and alcohol exacerbates it. Juan’s tried to keep him out of trouble but-”

“There’s no arrest record for the brother,” Lloyd interrupted.

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Juan is the complete opposite of his brother and he’d never do anything to harm his family.”

“He’s been charged with multiple misdemeanors.”

“Two nights in jail hardly makes him a hardened criminal.”

“Princess, you’re one of the most loyal people I know. You’d defend someone you love even if they were guilty.”

“Maybe I would, but the idea that Juan would hurt me is ridiculous. He’s not angry or dangerous.”

“We can’t afford to dismiss any leads,” Lloyd said.

“But this lead isn’t significant. You should’ve discussed this with me.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to defend him.”

“The impression you get of Juan from this file is totally wrong and knowing the backstory changes everything. Letting me explain would’ve saved time and resources.”

“No, it wouldn’t have. We’re running down every lead in this case - especially after what happened two weeks ago. I’m not risking your safety on a blind spot.”

“You’re not listening to me. I know Juan and I trust him. I’m absolutely sure he isn’t the stalker.”

“I don’t even trust myself to be objective right now, Princess. Neither of us should try to unravel the stalker’s identity. If Juan made the suspect list, he’s on it until Landon decides he isn’t.”

“Then I need to talk to Landon because investigating Juan is a waste of time.”

“I’m sorry this makes you uncomfortable, but we should turn over every stone.”

“You’re being unreasonable on purpose, aren’t you?”

Lloyd’s expression softened. “I’m sorry I waited to tell you about this, but please, leave the investigating to Landon. He’ll figure it out. If Juan is as squeaky clean as you think, it won’t take long.”

You sighed, rubbing your neck. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. I’m just…”

Suddenly, you were on the verge of tears. Your voice cracked when you tried to speak and you buried your face in your hands.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Lloyd stood up and moved around the table. His arms wrapped around you as he let you bury your head in his chest.

“I’m here, Princess. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this and things will go back to normal. You’re safe.”

“How can I be safe if Nguyen is in the country?”

Lloyd squeezed you. “I won’t let you out of my sight. Also, Jake’s coming over to update the security systems on the house and our computers. We’re taking every precaution and then some, okay?”

You pulled back and looked up at him, lips compressing in a grimace.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something… Vivian has an appointment with her obstetrician. She asked me if I could watch the kids this afternoon.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Lloyd said.

“I agree, but she needs my help. If you came with me, you could search for evidence on Juan. Think of how much time that would save Landon. Can we take evasive measures and sneak over, or is it totally out of the question?”

He hesitated. “It might not be safe.”

“The last thing I want to do is put Vivian’s family at risk, but if there’s a way to make it happen…”

“Have you discussed this with Vivian?” Lloyd asked.

“I can talk to her.”

“Explain the situation and if she’s okay with it, I’ll figure something out. Just don’t say anything about Juan, please.”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

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

Lloyd sat at Juan Medina’s desk in the upstairs master bedroom, preoccupied with Juan’s laptop. He kept an ear out for sounds that would warn him of an approaching toddler or the jangle of tags from the family dog, Chewy. The tan and white Cavalier King Charles spaniel had taken an instant dislike to Lloyd at first sniff, which he considered to be very insightful on the canine’s part.

The house was fairly quiet. The only sounds from downstairs were of you cleaning. He could hear the rumble of the washing machine, along with the frequent buzz of the dryer and the dishwasher. Your efficiency was unrivaled. He’d listened to the sound of you tackling a mountain of household chores while keeping the smaller toddler - the boy, Sam - occupied. Meanwhile, the three-year-old, Alyssa, had escaped to the backyard. From the window over the desk, he could see her playing in the yard.

His thorough search of Juan Medina’s laptop had yielded nothing of value. The man’s internet search history was full of hockey, nerdy online card games, and researching which fantasy novels he wanted to buy next. Judging by the bookcase, your brother-in-law’s primary hobby was reading. His offline commitments included a weekly Dungeons & Dragons meetup at the library, helping his mother with yard work, and taking the kids on monthly field trips with a local father’s group. Juan was probably pretty normal by regular standards, but to Lloyd he was the most boring person on earth. He was also envious of the man and that drove him nuts because he couldn’t pin down a reason why he felt that way.

Lloyd brushed off the feeling and closed Juan’s laptop.

Downstairs, the transformation in the family room startled him. The clutter of kid’s toys, piles of books, jackets, blankets, and empty drinking glasses had vanished. He barely recognized the room. In the kitchen, the countertops gleamed. You’d swept and mopped the floor and conquered the overflowing pile of dishes. The family room, the kitchen, the living room, it was all spotless. Even the sliding glass doors that had been covered in Chewy’s nose prints was now clean.

He noticed the basket of folded laundry by the couch and shook his head. How had you managed all this in just a few hours?

Lloyd walked out onto the deck where Sam was playing with a toy tractor. The little boy was so absorbed in his own world that he didn’t spare the man a glance when he walked by. Lloyd headed down the steps to the yard and headed to where you were crouched in the middle of the yard, looking frustrated.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd asked.

“I’m trying to fix this sprinkler head. Juan left Vivian a note to have Dad take a look, so I read a how-to article, which made it seem easy enough. I think I was lied to.”

Lloyd squatted down. “What step are you on?”

“Taking off the sprinkler head. I’m afraid if I use any more force it’ll break.”

“Do you have a screwdriver with a longer handle? You need more torque.”

You gestured to the tool box beside you. “Take your pick.”

He found the right tool and loosened the troublesome screw. Once it was free, you took over.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

After knowing you for three years, he recognized the look on your face and easily handed over the sprinkler head. It was better to just get out of the way when you were on a mission. Besides, he wasn’t about to get grass stains on his freshly dry cleaned Tom Ford chinos if it wasn’t necessary. He scanned the yard, taking in Sam playing on the deck and then turning to the rock pile where Alyssa seemed to be digging a hole to China.

“What’s your niece doing?” Lloyd asked.

“Digging up rocks. Don’t ask me why, because there’s a perfectly good sandbox on top of the hill. She’s always in that rock pile.”

He left you to the sprinkler repairs and headed toward the rock pile. When he saw who was approaching, Chewy, the cocker spaniel, positioned himself between Alyssa and Lloyd. He gave the suspicious dog plenty of space and crouched down on the other side of the rock pile, leaving a large space between them to appease the dog.

“Hey, Alyssa.”

The three-year-old glanced at him, then stabbed her yellow plastic shovel into the dirt. There was a pile of stones next to her right foot. Lloyd watched as she sorted them, examining each before keeping it or tossing it back into the pit. He spotted one he recognized in front of him and picked it up.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked Alyssa.

She stopped digging and examined the rock he held out for a moment before shaking her head.

“See how smooth it is?” Lloyd scraped his thumb over the surface. “When you can scratch a rock with just your fingernail, that means it’s soft. The color and shape are also big clues.”

The little girl looked at him expectantly.

“It’s slate,” Lloyd said.

She held her hand out, and Lloyd dropped it into her palm. He watched as she searched her red bucket and then handed him two more rocks. Lloyd examined them.

“Yeah, these are slate, too.”

Alyssa dug into the bucket again. She paused, as if something had just occurred to her, and extended her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He passed back the two pieces of slate she’d given him, and the one he’d picked up. She placed them carefully into the red bucket before offering him another rock.

Lloyd studied the specimen, hiding his grin. When he realized what she’d handed him he raised an eyebrow.

“This is agate. Sometimes people make jewelry out of these.”

Alyssa continued to pass him different rocks, though she only allowed him to handle one at a time. She was like a strict librarian who only allowed single book check outs and enforced the return policy with the zeal of a Mutaween. He identified limestone, quartzite, agates, and several pieces of granite for her.

“Which ones are your favorite?” Lloyd asked.

She reached under a dense fern and pulled out an old Folgers coffee container. It surprised him when she took off the lid and handed it over. Lloyd inspected the contents. There was a chip of Mica, easily identifiable by its flakey structure and pearlescent shine. Several of the greenish rocks looked like Sandstone, though one of them had the striations characteristic of Gneiss. Looking at the collection, he realized that Alyssa’s criteria for special rocks focused on color and shininess. At the bottom there was a gray rock with a dusting that looked like blue powder.

He rubbed it with his thumb and inspected it in the light. Chrysocolla or Amazonite?

“This is an impressive collection,” he said.

Alyssa reached under the fern and dug around, searching for something and brushed it off before passing it to him. At first he thought it was just a piece of limestone, but when he flipped it over, there was a clear impression on the other side.

“Wow. This is a cool fossil.”

It looked like a prehistoric crustacean, with lots of ridges and segments in the stone that showed the shape and structure of the animal’s body.

“Is this why you’re digging over here?” Lloyd asked.

The plastic yellow shovel she was using made sense, considering the fossil. He handed it back and watched as she packed the rocks into the Folgers container.

“Why don’t you pick a few rocks to take inside? You could display them on your windowsill or something,” Lloyd said.

Her lips pursed as she considered him, then glanced over her shoulder at you. Lloyd followed her gaze to where you were filling in the hole around the sprinkler head.

“Hey, Princess. Have you seen the fossil Alyssa found?”

At his announcement, Alyssa hissed, shoving the red plastic container underneath the fern. She glared furiously at Lloyd and grabbed the spaniel’s collar. He watched as she stalked across the yard to the deck, dragging Chewy along with her. Lloyd realized he’d committed a betrayal of great magnitude but wasn’t sure how.

When you’d finished with the sprinkler system, he asked.

“Why is Alyssa so protective of her rocks?”

“What rocks?”

“She collects rocks. She’s got a good eye for it too, but I guess she doesn’t like sharing them.”

“Oh, you mean the rocks she smuggles into her bedroom? We try to keep them in the yard because she stashes them in her bookcase and it gets all muddy. Vivian tosses them back in the rock pile when she finds them.”

“That must be frustrating,” Lloyd said.

“Yeah, Vivian can hardly keep up with it.”

“No, I mean that she’s finding interesting stuff. You should have them tumbled. One of her rocks is probably Amazonite or Chrysocolla and she has a really cool fossil, too.”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. She knows what she’s looking for. I think it’s the colors in the rocks that attracts her attention. Blues and reds seem to be her favorite. Does she have any books on rocks?”

“No, she can’t read yet.”

“They have picture books,” Lloyd said.

“Huh. That’d be a great Christmas gift. Do you think I should re-seed the lawn?”

“What?”

“It might be too early, and I don’t know if Juan is planning on aerating,” you mused.

“You already did the dishes, the laundry, cleaned the house, and fixed the sprinklers.”

“Oh, crap! I forgot about the dryer. Sam! Come inside, it’s getting late!”

Sam launched a valiant protest when you tried to herd him inside. You tended to the toddler’s outburst while Lloyd went to find Alyssa. She was upstairs in her room. Chewy was curled into a ball on her bed and when he saw Lloyd, the fluffy spaniel growled. Lloyd stopped short, respecting the warning, and leaned against the doorjamb.

“If you pick out some rocks from your bookcase, I’ll help you polish them,” Lloyd offered.

Thirty minutes later you walked into the kitchen to find Alyssa standing on a stool next to Lloyd at the sink. A paper towel full of wet rocks sat next to a pile of used sandpaper.

“What are you two up to?” you asked.

“We’re polishing Alyssa’s rocks. Look at this one, it’s a carnelian.”

You examined the bright red stone and smiled at your niece.

“That’s beautiful.”

She looked down, shrugging, but smiled. Lloyd picked up another one.

“This is a blue lace agate.”

After he showed it to you, he handed it back to Alyssa, who snuck it into her pocket instead of laying it on the paper towel.

“Did you find these in the backyard?” you asked her.

She didn’t respond, so Lloyd answered for her.

“I think she might have, but I’m not sure. There’s enough variety here that I think she collected some of them from other places.”

“You should put them on display in your room. Your Mom will be home soon and she’d like to see them - especially now that they’re clean.”

Alyssa beamed. “Mine.”

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

The quiet hum of the Mercedes’ engine filled the car as you drove west towards the cabin. Lloyd glanced over and you sensed his scrutiny.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you said, breaking the silence. “Is something on your mind?”

He turned his attention back to the road, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Tonight, at your sister’s place…”

“You really hit it off with Alyssa. I was impressed.”

“She’s a sweet kid, but I was actually wondering about all the housework. You did everything from the laundry to fixing the sprinklers. If your sister had hired a whole cleaning crew, they wouldn’t have done as much as you did.”

You sighed. “Vivian is juggling a lot right now. I was just lending a hand.”

“It’s not just tonight, though. You’ve always helped her out, even before, when you were in college. I’ve never seen her do the same for you, especially not to this extent.”

“She’s my sister, and she needed help. Besides, you never complain when I do things for you.”

“I pay you to help me,” Lloyd pointed out. “She didn’t even say thank you.”

You chuckled. “That’s just what having a sister is like.”

“Well, from my perspective, it seems like she’s taking advantage of you.”

“Lloyd, I can’t explain this to you.”

“What’s to explain?” he growled.

“I’m the oldest, it’s different. You wouldn’t understand, you’re an only child.”

Silence fell and again, the gentle hum of the engine filled the car.

“Actually, I’m not.”

“What?” you stared at him.

“I have two younger sisters.”

“You never mentioned… Lloyd, I didn’t realize… the articles about you never said...”

“I haven’t seen them in thirty years.”

“Why?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. You watched his shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath.

“My mother left when I was eleven. She took my sisters, but left me.”

“She abandoned you…? And left you with your father?”

“Yeah.”

“Lloyd, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“Did you ever reach out to them?”

“No.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

“I wasn’t even sure they were alive until recently. I doubt they’d want to hear from me. They’ve built lives of their own. What would contacting them do except stir up bad memories? If they can forget… that would be better.”

Better for who? You held back the question, unsure if he was ready to answer it.

Lloyd sighed. “I don’t know if they’d want to see me and talking about them isn’t easy. That’s why I’ve never mentioned them before.”

His face was stony but there was a quiet ache in his voice that hinted at the hurt hidden behind the composed mask.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For assuming. For not asking you about your family.”

He shrugged. “Who could blame you? Sharing isn’t exactly in my nature.”

You turned away, gazing out the window. You tried to imagine having your siblings ripped away but couldn’t manage it. What was wrong with Lloyd’s mother? How could she have done such a terrible thing? There were reasons, of course - desperation, fear, psychosis. None of those answers softened the anger you felt toward the faceless woman who’d snatched Lloyd’s siblings. Why would she leave him behind, sentencing him to live with the man she’d chosen to flee?

“You’re wondering why she took them and left me, aren’t you?” Lloyd asked.

“I can’t imagine what kind of a mother would do something like that. It’s awful.”

“She was crazy. That’s a solid reason, but if you ask me, it’s because I looked like him.”

You were confused. “Him?”

“My father.”

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

The cabin’s porch light glowed in a cozy welcome as Lloyd turned into the driveway. You pretended to look out the window to hide the tears in your eyes.

Lloyd’s childhood couldn’t have been easy. You’d known that already, but what he’d revealed tonight was crueler than your imaginings. He parked and shut off the engine, silencing the quiet hum.

The shrill scream of his phone pierced the quiet, making you jump. He frowned at the caller I.D.

“It’s Roth.”

You watched as he answered and lines of concern creased his face. The words on the other end of the line were muffled but the furrow between Lloyd’s brows suggested the news wasn’t good. He listened for a long time before he spoke.

“Alright. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been a disappearance. Another woman was abducted in Harmony.”

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

Next - Chapter XXIII

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Masterlist

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Taglist:

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