#with no license or registration or proof of insurance. like what the fuck do i do

[southislandwren]

today on things im FREAKING THE FUCK OUT about is my car being basically wrecked and now i have a loaner car until monday. and also i didnt have a chance to get any of my stuff out of my car so i dont have my derby stuff or my knife or my protection sigil or my farm boots or my ice scraper etc etc

#a big thing is that my FUCKING drivers license is in my car so like. if i get pulled over in this loaner car #with no license or registration or proof of insurance. like what the fuck do i do #i have my expired license card in my wallet but like. lol thats not good enough for the pigs! #cant wait to go to school on monday and be like not only was the 3 day weekend not relaxing i am actually MORE stressed out than before #well. time to overdose on some benadryl and play skyrim until the shadowman takes me #(thats a joke. im going to take 1 benadryl for my anxiety as recommended by a pharmacist. and then im going to play skyrim.) #oh and i didnt get an estimate for all the work they have to do bc the guy in charge of my case is new and probs forgot #so i have no idea how much this is gonna cost and my parents are going to cover it but like. i will probably start crying if its over 2k #my friends will be like hey hope how was your weekend #and i'll be like guess how much money i spent on my wrecked car. now check out how hard i can cry #oh and i ALSO still have to learn how to make ice cream mix on monday from my prof #who will teach me math and then lecture for 6 hours straight. #mom told me to bring him coffee but i dont have time in the mornings so maybe i'll bake him something idk #diary post

[mrprettywhenhecries]

don't waste your time (on me) [g.t]

01. | Please, Deputy?

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 1.6k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, dubcon/coercion (somewhat, if you squint), pervy!gator, inexperienced virgin!gator ⇾ a/n: Gator's got me in a chokehold, so here we go and I've got plenty more ideas where this came from.

Win gets caught speeding.  One more ticket and her license is suspended, and she can’t have that.  When she offers to do anything to get out of getting a ticket, the good Deputy takes her up on her offer.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

“Shit shit shit,” Win hissed under her breath as blue and reds appeared in her rearview mirror.  By the time she’d flown past the sheriff’s car parked at the corner, she knew it was too late.  “Fuck!” she growled, smacking her hand on the steering wheel as she reluctantly slowed and pulled off the road.  She’d already had three tickets in the past six months, with this one her license would be good as suspended.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she reached in her glove compartment for her registration and insurance card, waiting for the telltale crunch of boots on gravel, signaling the officer’s approach.  

“Goin’ a little fast there, ey Lewis?”

Win winced at the familiar voice.  Of course it had to be Gator Tillman.

“Deputy,” she greeted flatly, staring straight ahead, already holding out her license to him.

“How fast you think you were going there?” he repeated, plucking the card from her fingers, and Win shrugged noncommittally.

“Dunno, maybe sixty, sixty five,” she lied, knowing full well it was far more than that.

“Try close on eighty,” Gator snorted, turning his head and spitting on the ground before leaning against the side of her Chevelle with one arm.  “I’m afraid I’m gunna need to see your registration and proof of insurance,” he prompted, not sounding very sorry at all. “Really?” Win sighed, finally turning to look at him.  “C’mon, Gator, can’t you just let this one slide?  Please?  I can’t afford to lose my license,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.

“I dunno…” Gator mused, peering at her from under the bill of his Stark County Sheriff cap with those big brown eyes of his.  “Seems like you haven’t learned your lesson yet, missy.  I’m just doin’ my job, you know?” he drawled, his lips curling into a smirk.

“C’mon, Gator, don’t make me beg,” Win whined, scowling at the smug look on his face before taking a deep breath, hating how low she was about to stoop.  “Isn’t there anything I can do to change your mind?” she asked pointedly, hoping this was an offer a little perv like him wouldn’t be able to pass up.

Gator wet his lips, the gears turning as he stared at her, her words sinking in.

“Anything?” he asked, a hopeful look flickering in his eyes.  “Just for the record, what exactly are you offerin’, Winnie?”

Win rolled her eyes, ignoring the overly familiar nickname and the way it sounded on his lips.  “Do I gotta spell it out for you, Deputy?  I’ll suck your cock if you forget how fast I was goin',” she huffed impatiently.

“Really?” Gator yelped, hastily clearing his throat and straightening, adjusting his camo cargo pants against the growing bulge beneath the fabric.  “I mean, alright, since you insisted,” he said, rubbing his nose and shrugging, trying not to appear too eager.

“You’re clean, right?” Win asked, looking him up and down doubtfully as she pushed her door open and stepped out onto the pavement.

“Whaddaya mean?  I showered this mornin’,” he answered with a frown, lifting an arm and discreetly smelling himself.

Win rolled her eyes, stepping closer.  “I mean, you don’t have any STI’s or anything like that, right?”

“Oh!  Uh, no,” Gator exclaimed, nervously adjusting his ball cap, as if unsure what exactly to do with his gloved hands.

“You sure?” Win pressed, suspicious of the way he dodged her gaze.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he muttered defensively.  “I’ve never, uh–” his words trailed off as a dark flush rose up his neck.

“Never fucked anyone?” Win snorted and his expression darkened.

“You gunna suck my dick or not?” Gator snapped, palming himself impatiently.

Win glanced toward his cruiser.  “Yeah, just– your dash cam’s not on, right?  I don’t want footage of this floating around,” she murmured and Gator followed her gaze.

“It’s off,” he assured her, a little too quickly.  “I swear,” he insisted when she looked doubtful.  “C’mon, would I lie to you?” he asked, spreading his hands and offering her a lopsided grin that made her pulse quicken traitorously and heat rise to her face, her own body betraying her.

“Probably,” she muttered, but didn’t argue further, pushing him back against the side of her car and holding his gaze as she lowered herself to her knees before him.

“Oh fuck–” Gator breathed, his voice hoarse, and he quickly fumbled at his belt, easing his pants down enough to free his throbbing cock from his boxers.  

When it sprung free, Win unconsciously licked her lips, admiring him discreetly, his mushroom head a pretty pink, pre cum already glistening at his slit.  Closing her eyes, she wrapped a hand around his base, steadying herself as she opened her mouth, her tongue swiping a long slow stripe up the bottom of his length before swirling agilely around his pulsing head.

Gator let out a whimper that melted to a loud groan as his head fell back, resting against the top of the car behind him with a soft thunk, his mouth falling open.  One of his hands slipped behind Win’s head, his gloved fingers tangling in her hair. 

“Shit, your mouth feels so good,” he breathed, his hips bucking involuntarily as she swallowed more of him, gagging as he hit the back of her throat suddenly, her nose buried in his dark thatch of hair at his base.

“Sorry,” he grunted, fighting to still himself as Win’s head began to bob, picking up pace.

“Oh shitshitshit, goddamn baby, your mouth feels so good,” he repeated, Win’s saliva rolling down her chin and his balls.  “God, you’re so good at this,” he hissed, his grip on her head tightening, hips jerking forward again.

Win breathed through her nose, humming in response, her body flushing hotly at his praise despite the disgust that followed.  Opening her jaw wider, she gave in to letting him fuck her face, letting him use her for his pleasure.

The sounds he made were almost sinful and Win squeezed his thigh with her other hand, fighting not to touch herself to relieve the aching heat building between her own thighs and pooling in her panties.

“Shit, I’m close,” Gator whined breathlessly, his cock swelling in her throat.  “Gunna cum all over your pretty mouth, Winnie.  You’re such a good little slut for me,” he babbled, growing more confident as his thrusts turned sloppy.

Tears pricked the corners of Win’s eyes, catching in her lashes as her jaw began to ache and Gator hissed sharply as her teeth grazed him, but he was already cumming, shooting white ropes down her throat, flooding her mouth with his salty essence, a guttural string of curses leaving his lips as he emptied himself, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.

Finally stilling, his cock going soft, the Deputy fought to catch his breath, watching greedily as Win pulled back, some of his seed rolling down her chin and glistening on her pink lips.

“Wait—“ he said, grabbing her by the chin to hold her in place.  “Open,” he instructed, wanting to see the mess he’d made and Win obeyed, opening her mouth for him before swallowing, her eyes flicking up to his.

“Good girl,” he murmured, releasing her, and Win quickly wiped her chin with the back of her hand before getting unsteadily to her feet, Gator tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his pants.

“Careful,” he said, reaching out to steady her and noticing the tears glistening in her lashes.  “You okay?” he asked, suddenly worried he’d hurt her.

“Never better,” Win huffed, her voice dripping sarcasm, but she didn’t pull away from him, trying to ignore the heat pulsing between her legs and the intrusive thought that accompanied it—wondering how pretty Gator’d look between her thighs, those big brown eyes looking up at her eagerly as he made her cum on his mouth.

He probably wouldn’t even be able to find my clit, she reminded herself.  So why was the idea of her helping him learn so appealing?

“You sure you’re good, Win?  Your face is really red,” he pointed out.  “Need me to escort you home, make sure you get there alright?”

Gator’s words pulled her from her thoughts and she cleared her throat, swallowing sorely.

“I’m sure,” she replied quickly and he finally released her arm.  “Wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for you,” she muttered, though she found it strangely sweet of him to offer.

Gator nodded, adjusting his cap.  “Right then, guess I’ll be seein’ ya,” he murmured.  “Oh—your license,” he remembered, handing it back to her. “Night, Lewis,” he said, looping his thumbs in his belt as he ambled back to his cruiser.

“Yeah, night Deputy,” Win murmured, watching him walk away before shaking herself and pulling her car door open.  She had to get home to take care of something, her panties practically soaked through, though the last thing she wanted was for Gator to know that, to know the effect he’d had on her.

“Oh, and take it easy on the road, ey?  Would hate to have to pull you over again,” Gator called, a shit eating grin pulling at his lips.

Win rolled her eyes, sticking her hand out the window to flip him off before driving away.

Back in his cruiser, Gator watched her peel out, chuckling to himself before opening the laptop mounted to his console.  Biting his lip, he checked the dash cam recording, heat flooding him afresh as he watched her get to her knees.  Saving the video, he made a copy, backing it up on a thumb drive he slipped into his pocket before deleting the footage from record and pulling back out onto the road, his stomach growling loudly.  After that, he really needed a snack.

⇾ taglist. @b1tchy3lf @heartbreak-sandwich

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #gator tillman fanfiction #fargo #fargo fx #fargo s5 #oc: win lewis #joz.fic #fic: don’t waste your time on me #otp: wingator

[tyler-lawson]

DUI - 01

Memorial Day weekend always saw a spike in stupid behavior. Which was great for me. The state always had grant money available for paying overtime to volunteers that gave up their holiday to go out and get arrests. And it always helped boost my arrest numbers for the month. Not that I usually was lacking, but always good to throw in a few more to make the numbers look great.

I had a few spots I liked to set up at, and just watch traffic. They had great sight lines and I could see the telltale signs of drunk drivers from quite far away. Tonight I was on the road leading away from downtown, headed to one of the residential areas. A very common route for impaired drivers heading home from a night of drinking.

2 AM rolled around and I saw a set of headlights slowly drifting back and forth in their lanes. I got in my cruiser, and pulled in behind the car as it blew past me at 14 over. The driver probably recognized the light bar on top or the spotlight, as he immediately slammed on the brakes to bring it down under the speed limit. As he did, he swerved out of his lane a little bit.

“17-Charlie. I have a possible DUI. Driver is struggling to maintain his lane and driving erratically. I clocked him at 14 over before he recognized me. I am going to stop him and check it out.” I called over the radio as I hit my lights.

“Copy 17-Charlie. I have you in service.” The dispatcher responded.

The red and blue lights and bright white spotlight suddenly lit up the dark street, playing off the houses on both sides. I blipped the siren twice, trying to not disturb the sleeping civilians around us.

As the lights came in, he again braked hard, swerving more as he struggled to control his vehicle. It seemed like he was maybe contemplating running, but after a few tense seconds he yielded, pulling his car over into the side bike lane along the edge of the road and stopping. Amusingly, the rear passenger-side tire was up on the curb, giving distinctly disheveled look to the scene.

I turned the spotlight to brightly illuminate the cabin, shining through the rear window and letting me quickly see the silhouettes of the occupants. The only occupant was the driver, and he was appearing agitated already, bobbing around in his seat.

I stepped out of the cruiser, pulled out my flashlight, and carefully approached the vehicle. The window was already rolled down as I approached, stopping just behind the A-pillar.

“What the hell do you want?” He yelled as I approached.

“Good evening sir. Where are we headed tonight?” I asked, needing to flip control of the conversation. As I passed the rear doors, I shone my light in, confirming there were no other occupants.

“That is none of your fucking business.” He spit back. “I know my rights.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing the encounter was only going to get better from here. “Sir, I am going to need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance.” Starting to switch from polite to commanding.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He said reaching over to the glove box and shuffling around. As he turned, I bent down and shone my light in the window, keeping an eye on both of his hands as he retrieved his documents. He was blinded by the bright light as he turned back, throwing up a hand to cover his eyes. “You mind getting that thing out of my face?” He whined.

I turned the flashlight slightly, down and to the left. As he dropped his hands, I could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot. He tried to shove the documents at me, managing to drop one into the footwell as he did. He bent down to retrieve his license, and accidentally hit the steering wheel with his head. The manages to trigger to horn, causing him to jolt back in his seat as looked around for what had caused the noise. It took him a couple of clicks before he figured out what had happened. He bent down again more carefully this time, grabbing his license and jamming it out the window to me.

I took his collected documents, starting to glance through them. “Alright Scott.” I said, reading his name and info off his license. “Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?”

“Cause you liked my bumper stickers?” He stated, a smirk on his face.

“No, that is not why I stopped you tonight. Can you tell me what the speed limit is on this road?”

“Yeah, I think it is not quite enough to catch air as you go over the bump back there.” I responded, clearly not interested in cooperating at all.

“Look, Scott. This attitude is not going to get you very far in life. And certainly not with me. Sit tight, I will be back.” I said, straightening up and starting to walk back to the cruiser.

I heard a wolf-whistle as I did. “Ow ow! Nice ass, Officer.” He called after me. “Strut that stuff!”

I sat back in the cruiser, typing in his information and pulling up his record. As the computer processed, I took a look at the bumper stickers on his car.

“No Donuts Are left In This Vehicle Overnight”

“I eat bacon for breakfast.” With a picture of a pig wearing a police hat.

“Master to a public servant.” With a man with a whip and a pair of handcuffs standing over a cop kneeling on all fours.

I chuckled to myself at the performatively belligerent bumper stickers. His record was relatively uninteresting. A handful of traffic tickets, a citation for minor in possession and public intoxication, presumably from college. Enough contact with the police to, I guess, justify his clear disdain, but nothing particularly interesting.

I returned to his window, with my written citations for speeding and unsafe breaking, just in case the next step ended differently than expected, somehow.

“Scott. Where you are coming from tonight?” I asked, leaning back down to his window and sticking my face close to his, smelling for alcohol on his breath.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Anything to drink tonight?”

“Why, you have something for me to slurp, you fucking pig?”

“That’s it. Step out of the vehicle, now!” I ordered, straightening up. The smell of alcohol was unmistakable on his breath, his eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his speech slurred slightly. I had more than enough evidence to warrant road-side sobriety check. But, his attitude was the real reason I was pulling him out of the car now.

“Nah, I’m good.” He said, folding his arms across his chest and turning his head away from me in a childish show of defiance.

I tried the door handle, glad to find that when out the vehicle in park, the car mush have automatically unlocked the doors. I pulled the door open and reached in, grabbing his arms. He was a bit shocked when the door started opening, but he continued to sit there petulantly. I reached across and unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbing his arm and leg and dragging him out of the seat.

His arms and legs flailed as he was suddenly falling toward the ground. He landed on his butt, but his fall was lessened a bit as he grabbed the seatbelt with his right arm and used it to slightly hold himself up. “What the hell was that for?” He asked as he tried to collect himself.

I grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him to his feet and slamming him against the car. He cushioned himself a bit with his arms, but his chest still hit hard. “Oof. Fuck off, man!” He snapped. His arms were bent at the elbow, from cushioning the slam. He turned to look at me over his right shoulder, and slammed his right elbow back, aiming for my head.

I ducked back away from it, and stepped back and to the left. His swing spun him around so he was facing towards me. As I squared up with him, he followed up with a left hook, stumbling forward slightly as he reached for me. I ducked back again, stepping to my right this time, letting the swing pass by me again, guiding it past my head with my left hand.

As I guided, I grabbed onto the wrist. My right hand came in behind the elbow. I pulled with the left and pushed with the right, hyperextending his elbow and pushing his shoulder away from me and towards the ground. He was already off balance from throwing the haymaker, and this just accelerated things as he stumbled trying to catch his balance again. He landed hard on his left knee.

I held onto his outstretched left arm, pulling it hard to the left and spinning him down to the ground. His chest landed hard, sliding against the asphalt. His right arm had helped slightly catch him as he went down, but was now being pulled straight. I landed next to him, kneeling at his side, tucked up against and pointing toward his outstretched left arm. I pulled my knees up, putting them on his wrist and elbow, pinning him down as I fetched the cuffs off my belt.

He struggled, trying to push himself up with his right arm as his left was trapped under me. I grabbed his wrist again, pulling it up away from the pavement again hyperextending his elbow. He collapsed back down, as he cried out in pain. With his wrist elevated, I could snap the cuff around his wrist. I held onto the cuffs as rolled his arm forward toward his head, then used my knee to force his elbow to bend as I started rotating his arm behind his back. He continued crying out, cursing at me between cries of pain.

“Get off me! Let me go you fucking asshole! Ow! Fuck! That hurts!”

I ignored him as I pulled his left arm fully behind his back, using my knee to push it up high behind his back. He tried to flail his right arm a bit then pulled it under his chest.

“Give me your other hand behind your back.” I ordered, holding the cuffed wrist with my hand and knee and pushing it up further.

“Fuck off, get the hell off me. I didn’t fucking do anything. Why are you doing this to me?” He replied back.

I dug my arm in between his right arm and his side, sliding it up into his armpit and forcing his elbow out from underneath him. I slid my arm down along his arm to his elbow, and wrenched it back behind his back. I finally slid down to his wrist, grabbing it and twisting it back behind his back. I slammed it into the remaining cuff, and relaxed slightly.

(Special thanks to @readysetgoworld for the inspiration for this story! Hope you enjoy!)

[purplehelleborewrites]

Excessive Force

The Price of Flesh Fanfic, Jack x trans masc OC

Warnings: Police abuse, deadnaming, bone breaking, beating, groping, noncon, transphobia, humiliation, object insertion, name-calling

Minors absolutely should not read and I will block minor accounts on sight. Please take the warnings seriously, I'm not fucking around with them.

---

Wow, it’s so late. Good party, though. My back and ass were still pleasantly throbbing from the feeling of canes and paddles; the bruises were going to be exciting tomorrow. Yawning, I threw my toy bag in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel, settling in for a familiar hour-long drive home.

As I pulled onto the highway I opened the can of Coke Zero I’d left for myself and turned the heat up a little. I knew I should change my clothes back in case of an emergency, but I was too tired, even on a chilly September evening. Play parties were always hot and I was still sweating when I left. Hopefully, it would just be a nice, decompressing ride until I went home to my cat and slept.

That thought went away as soon as I saw red and blue lights in my rearview mirror, soon to be followed by the dark shape of a State Trooper’s car. Maybe it’s not for me? I’m not speeding, was my hopeful thought, but it was soon followed by, no, there’s no one else on the road. I sighed and pulled over, shutting off the engine. I my overhead light on, and rolled down the window before setting my phone in the cupholder, facing its camera towards the window and pressing “record” on the video function. Once I was finished, I put my hands on the steering wheel.

The cop that appeared at my window was a little taller than me and handsome, with gray hair and a five o’clock shadow, his dark uniform barely visible in the flashing lights. He scrutinized my body, then looked at my face with eyes like sharp chips of peridot. “License, registration, proof of insurance?”

“My license is in my wallet and my registration and proof of insurance are in the glove box. May I get them?” I asked politely, keeping to my mental script for dealing with the police.

“Go ahead. Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No, sir.” I opened my glovebox and handed over what was required, then lifted up on the seat a little for my wallet. I patted the side of my butt where it should be, but only felt shorts. Oh, no. “I’m--I’m sorry, my wallet is in my trunk. I changed clothes earlier and forgot to take it back out.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at my registration with his flashlight. “You don’t look like a ‘Jessica’ to me.”

Cold fear gripped my stomach. “Ah, well, I’m a trans man. I haven’t been able to update my information with my new name and gender marker yet.” Nightmare stories of cops abusing other trans people flashed before my eyes.

“So your license has the same name?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I--”

He shined the flashlight in my eyes. “So you have a cunt?” He asked, weirdly matter-of-fact.

My mouth fell open. “That--that’s an incredibly inappropriate question, officer!” I sputtered and glanced at my phone, hoping it picked up.

His eyes followed mine. “You’re recording this?”

“Yes, for my own safety.”

“And if I told you to turn it off?” The cop asked, his tone a warning.

I set my jaw. “It’s my constitutional right to record this, sir,” I said, politely but firmly. My eyes swiveled to his chest for his name and badge number. A chill ran over me when I realized he had taken his badge off.

He tossed my papers through the window and took a step back. “Out of the car,” he said, a cold order.

Heart pounding, I unbuckled the seatbelt and slowly opened the door, stepping outside. I immediately began to shiver and started crossing my arms to keep warm, but the cop shook his head and gestured for me to put my arms back down.

“What does that mean?” he pointed to my tank top with his flashlight.

My cheeks heated up. I should’ve changed my clothes back! Then I wouldn't be standing here freezing in mesh shorts and a “Bruises Are Beautiful” shirt! I cleared my throat. “I was at a party.”

He smiled; in the flashing red-blue lights, it made him look demonic. “What kind of party?” he pressed.

I took a deep breath. “Adult kinky consensual play with other consenting adults,” I said, reciting what a kink-friendly lawyer had advised me to say to the police.

“Up against the car. Turn around, legs spread, hands on the top of the car.”

I did as I was told, praying that my phone could at least hear what was going in, even if it couldn’t see it. The cold glass of my back window instantly sank through my shirt, making my nipples hard and my face even hotter. It was one thing to have people see me like that at the party, but entirely another thing to have a terrifying cop notice, which I hoped he didn’t.

“Do you have anything on you I should be worried about?” he asked, his hand running over my back. His words were clipped, professional, and I found it more comforting than if he was leering. He lifted the edges of my shirt and shook it out before letting it fall back against my body.

“No, sir.” I barely had any clothing on, honestly.

The cop's hands ran over my ass, and I jumped when I felt his thumbs swiping inside the edges of my shorts. Before I could really register it, he’d already moved on to the outsides of my legs.

Is this standard patdown procedure? I asked myself dubiously, making a mental note to contact that lawyer when I got home.

“Step out of your sandals.”

I did what I was told, hating the height I lost by being flat on the ground.

He lifted my feet and probably found nothing but the dirt I was standing on, then ran his hands up my legs slowly. I could feel him standing as he did so, then pressing closer into me as his touch moved to my inner thighs. He was hard against me when he reached between my legs and closed his hand over my groin, squeezing.

No, no, definitely not standard procedure! I reflexively grabbed the top of the car to keep from shoving him and pulled as far away as I could. His hands continued up my body.

The cop chuckled against my ear, sending a shiver through my body. “What do we have here?” he asked, his palms sliding over my chest. He rounded my nipples with his thumbs. “Are you hiding drugs? Or are you excited that I’m touching you?”

“N-no,” I stammered, squirming under the attention. He pinched both nipples, hard, and I gasped, squeezing my legs together at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “I’m just cold. Please stop.”

“I thought you liked pain,” he taunted, squeezing and rolling between the pads of his thumbs. “Or are you just upset that this is making your cunt wet?” His hard cock ground against my ass and I bit back an involuntary groan.

“Not like this!” I looked around, desperately hoping to see another car passing by, someone who might at least stop and record from their car, but the highway was still empty.

Laughing, he pulled my shirt up with one hand. “For a boy, you have nice big nipples,” he growled against my neck, twisting one of them sharply. “Bet you’d come if I bit them.”

I whimpered, but forced myself to yell, “I don’t consent to this!”, loud enough that hopefully my phone heard me.

The cop yanked my right arm behind my back, snapping handcuffs around my wrist.

“Wait, am I being detained?!” I tried to turn and face him, but he pushed me back around.

His only response was to cuff the left one as well and drag me to his car. He opened the back seat and threw me in, face-down. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

I rolled over onto my back, trying to see what he was doing through the metal and plastic grating that separated the front seats from the back, but I couldn’t see. I tried to sit up or roll onto my stomach again, but found myself slipping against the plastic seats. Panic bloomed in my chest as I struggled to turn, the strain on my shoulders burning.

When the cop returned to the car, he looked down at me and laughed. “Well, looks like you turtled yourself,” he jeered, resting a hand on the top of the car. “What should I do with you?” He smirked, eyes raking over my body.

“You should uncuff me and let me go!” All of my mental scripts for how to deal with the police evaporated. This isn’t how this was supposed to go!

Chuckling, he let his hand slide down and walked around to open the trunk of the car. He returned, twirling a nightstick lazily. “We don’t carry these anymore, but you know, the collapsable batons just aren’t as fun. They break bones too quickly.”

My mouth went dry. I planted my feet against the edge of the doorframe and shoved myself back away from him.

He grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me in closer, forcing my legs apart by pinning one against the back of the seat. He swung the nightstick against my inner thigh. “Is this the kind of pain you like, Jessica?” He asked with a grin that made my stomach sink.

“I am Ellis,” I said, my name turning into a yelp as he hit me again, and again. And again. It was the type of pain I liked, to my dismay--heavy, hard, and so close to my groin, it all went there.

The cop chuckled and rubbed the baton against me through my shorts before bringing it up again.

I wrenched out of his grasp and brought my leg up in front of me to protect me from the next hit.

I was rewarded with blinding pain in my ankle. Even over my own scream, I could hear the crack of the bone breaking, and I trailed off into a deep groan as pain washed over me, my vision going black.

A slap brought me back around. “You’re not going to do that again, are you?” the cop asked, showing his teeth in what could generously be called a smile. “You can still drive home on the other ankle if you keep that leg down.”

“Please stop,” I begged, dazed.

“Yeah?” The nightstick smashed down on my thigh again. This time, it jolted my broken bone and I screamed weakly. “What else do you have to offer me? You didn’t consent to me touching you before. You changed your mind, ‘Ellis’?”

“Just get it over with,” I said, blinking back tears.

Laughing, the cop pushed my shirt up with the end of the nightstick and climbed on top of me. “Let’s see if I was right,” he said, and sucked a nipple back to hardness before biting down. I thrashed and shoved his shoulders, but he was unmovable, tugging with his teeth before letting go, my skin red and glistening with his spit.

“I’m not going to get off no matter what you do to me,” I said, and while I meant because of the broken ankle, there was a rising sense of defiance in me. He couldn’t make my body enjoy this.

“Really. No matter what I do to you?” He gave me that sharp smile again and pulled away from me. He turned me over onto my stomach, but the relief of the weight being off of my aching shoulders was short-lived as he ripped my shorts and boxers down my legs.

“Don’t!”

“You want me to do this here, or on the road where anyone can see how wet you are from me beating you?” He asked, gesturing to the road behind us.

I put my head down and held my breath.

The hard plastic of the nightstick was against my thigh again, but this time he was running it up until it could press between my legs, pressed against my clit. He started agonizingly slow and I bit down into my hand when he sped up. “If you didn’t like this, you wouldn’t be shaking,” he taunted.

I only bit down on my hand harder. The nightstick withdrew and I sighed in relief.

My sigh was cut short by it slamming inside of me.

“What the fuck?!” I tried to pull away from him, but the furthest I could go was into the other door. I kicked at him with my good leg, but all it earned me was having it pinned against the seat. With nowhere left to go, all I could do was take the nightstick thrusting into me.

The cop pulled me back towards him by the leg, letting go of the baton. He grabbed my ass and spread it open, and I jumped at the feel of him spitting in the hole. “You want to be a man? Then I’ll fuck you like one,” he said, and I heard the sound of his zipper.

“No!” I cried as his cock rammed into my ass.

He pounded into me, hard, merciless, grabbing my hips to pull him back into me, forcing himself in as deep as possible.

I choked back tears--I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry--and buried my face in the plastic seat. Just get it over with, just get it over with, I mentally chanted, trying to focus on that and not the pain of him stretching me.

That plan ended when he reached under me and found my clit. He laughed at me when I gasped, rubbing hard with two fingers. “You fucking whore,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re soaked. You love me using you like this.” He shifted the nightstick so the end was against his body, holding it in place and not allowing me to push it out.

My teeth were in the back of my hand again, but it didn’t matter, even when I bit down hard enough to taste blood. He could still hear the sounds of my throat, and feel my hips moving as my body responded to his touch.

“You won’t get off no matter what, huh?” he mocked, his breathing harder. “I know you’re going to come. I can hear it. I can feel it. You want it so badly.” He grabbed my hair and yanked my head up, forcing me to stop biting myself. “Let’s hear you scream.”

I clenched my teeth, but he was right. Being so full, the rough rubbing against my clit, was too much for me. I cried out as I came, clamping down on both the nightstick and his cock so hard that the wave went through me and I came again, thrusting back against him and shaking.

The cop pulled out and aimed at my open mouth. I tried to spit, but he clamped my mouth shut and held my nose. “Swallow,” he ordered. “Swallow or die.”

I held out for as long as I could. I wanted to save some of it and use it to be tested, but in the end, my burning lungs forced me to swallow so I could gasp for air.

“Good.” He pulled the nightstick out and climbed backward out of the car before dragging me out after him.

My knees wobbled and I fell to the ground. “I’m…I’m going to report you,” I said. “You won’t get away with this!”

The cop laughed and undid my cuffs. “Go ahead. Report that a cop with no badge fucked you up when you already had bruises on your ass from someone else beating you. See how far that gets you. I’ll get away with this, trust me.” The cuffs went into the pouch on his belt. “You can go,” he said, as calm and professional as if he’d just done a normal traffic stop.

I wobbled to my feet and pulled up my shorts, limping to my car in a haze. As I opened my driver’s side door, I saw my phone still in the cupholder, and dove for it. The video! I’ll nail you, you bastard!

The recording had stopped, and I searched back through my videos frantically. It wasn’t there. He deleted it! Panicking, I searched through my deleted files, but it was gone from there too.

I had nothing. No video, no physical evidence, no name. He was right--he was going to get away with this.

For the rest of my hour's drive, my eyes burned with tears that wanted to fall, but I refused to let them. He’d already taken too much from me. I wouldn’t let him enjoy me crying too.

#the price of flesh #tpof fanfic #tpof jack #dead dove do not eat #gatobob #dead dove fic

[sewercentipede]

something that’s really bugging me, and I’m not sure what to do or if I have the right to be bothered by it...

the guy I got in a car accident with, was driving w/o license and didn’t have proof of registration and didn’t have car insurance so no proof of car insurance so I could not take pics of any of those things like I normally would. so I had to take a pic of his license plate only. he however, was the one who called the police, so he obviously knew what to do in a car accident. but he did not ask to get pictures of my license or car insurance. I offered him to take a pic of my drivers license. bc i noticed that it didn’t occur to him. he agreed. I shouldn’t have done that, tbh. he didn’t take pictures of any of the damages (I got pics of both cars damage), any of the proof of insurance (my bf’s car insurance), or our license plate. He did not ask me for my contact info, like email or phone number. Lol .... this is the 2nd accident I’ve ever been in and I know this is the minimum ur supposed to do. He told me he’s been in many and “shit happens” so like why didn’t he do what he was supposed to?

I later went to the police department to pick up the police report of the accident. Bc the cop told me I could do that and when it would be ready. As likely he told the other man. Some of my contact info and the other driver’s contact info, and info about the cars, like make model and license plates, is there. great.

my bf’s insurance (since it is his car) has been informed of everything about the accident they are just dragging their feet as fuck for whatever reason on assessing the damages and stuff. his insurance has to pick up all the damages involved obviously bc this man was (illegally) driving without insurance.

I logged into Facebook last night for the first time in years because I had to check to see if jobs I had applied thru Facebook had reached out to me (they didn’t ofc :/), job openings I only knew about bc they were sent to me. Bc I don’t use Facebook. but instead I saw that his daughter had messaged me 3 weeks ago, saying that her dad was trying to file a claim... (but I didn’t open it so I didn’t get to read any further, so I don’t know what kind of claim and with whom). so he got my name from my drivers license, but did not get my contact info, which means he didn’t bother to pick up the police report. Instead he got his daughter to look me up on Facebook and message me there.

I find this to be kind of fucking bullshit, and super negligent on his part. I don’t check Facebook regularly. Normally , I don’t check it EVER. Like I said. I don’t use Facebook. In fact I should’ve deactivated my account years ago.

he should be using other means like mailing me, and he should have gotten my number at the time of incident, to try to get whatever information he needs from me. He should’ve gotten the police report which is publicly available to him this way. He should not be having his daughter try to find me on Facebook. what if my name was common?? He would have been shit out of luck. because of his own negligence in not doing the simplest basic things one should do in a car accident. hes 47. He’s 20 years older than I am lol. he acted like everything was chill at the time of accident , while I was on the verge of panic attack. I still had the wits about me to take pictures. He wasn’t even bothering. just standing around like “whateva.”

So I’m like....... why the fuck should I open this Facebook message? If he is too fucking stupid to get the incident report. To see my phone number there and call me. Then Why am I supposed to entertain this. He’d probably have me send the incident report too and I’d have to go to a library to scan it and email it. adding to the cost of what the incident report was for me to get anyway.

idk but it’s bothering me a lot, and I’m not really sure whether I have the right to be bothered/mad about this or not. Or whether I should open the message to know what its contents are (which would require that I respond) or not. Idk what to do or how to feel ig

Should I message her and say: I don’t check Facebook so I did not see this message until now I’m very sorry. But he should have contacted me by calling me, if he wants information about something To file a claim. because he should have picked up the incident report that had my number on it. He didn’t ask to take pictures of my bf’s car insurance at the time of the incident either. Have him email me at (email) to ask for info that he needs, as I check my email daily, and it will be much easier that way. Or he can call me at (phone number). ?

Tbh I don’t think it’s wise to talk to them at all. I also am not obligated to. Our insurance is taking care of it. They may have already contacted him in fact. Who knows.

[bechloeislegit]

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases

A/N: Sorry for not posting this on Dec. 14 but a family emergency kept me busy the last two days. So, here is Day 14; Day 15 will be posted tomorrow because I still need to edit it and I am too tired to deal with it tonight.

DAY 14 - CHRISTMAS WITH A COP

Prompt from FanFiction User Guest: Chloe is a cop who arrests Beca on Christmas morning. After flirting, Chloe invites Beca back to her house because she feels bad for her. Sparks fly, and they kiss under the mistletoe.

"Dammit!" Beca Mitchell looks again into the rearview mirror and can't believe that she is being pulled over. She lets out a heavy sigh and eases the car over to the side of the road. She sees that the cop car has pulled in behind her.

Beca turns off the engine and gets her wallet out of her bag on the passenger seat. She leans her head back, closes her eyes, and mutters, "Just what I fucking need this morning. Merry Christmas to me."

She jerks her head to the left when there is a tap on her window. She is staring into a pair of the bluest eyes she has ever seen. She sits there, lost in those eyes when she hears a muffled, "Would you put down your window please?"

The voice was soft but commanding. Beca fumbled for the button to lower the window and realized it wouldn't go down with the car turned off. She reached to turn the key so she could lower the window and saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked over to see the barrel of a gun pointed at her. She threw her hands up in the air.

"Get out of the vehicle!"

Beca slowly released her seatbelt and opened the car door, stepping out to face the officer. The officer stepped back and to the side.

"Turn around and take two steps to your right."

Beca did as ordered and kept her hands up.

"I'm sorry," Beca said over her shoulder. "I was just turning the car on so I could lower the window. They're power windows, and without power, they don't work. Kind of funny though, since I was always told that if I was being pulled over to always turn off the vehicle. I guess they should add that you should lower the window, then turn off the vehicle. Am I right?"

"Turn around, please," the officer said.

Beca turned slowly and saw the officer standing there with a small smile on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. Her gun was back in its holster.

Beca looked at the girl and couldn't help but feel like she's met her before. Barden is a small town, so maybe at some point, their paths had crossed.

"Want to tell me why you were speeding through my town at four o'clock on a Christmas morning?"

"Daddy issues," Beca replied.

The officer furrowed her brow and looked at Beca.

"I couldn't stand being around my father and his wife another minute," Beca said. "So, I left and was hoping to find a place to stay until my flight back home in three days. I tried to get an earlier one, but everything was booked."

"May I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please?"

"Oh, right," Beca said and tensed. She did not want to face another gun pointed at her face. "Um, I need to get them out of the car."

The officer nodded, and Beca got the documents the officer requested. She could feel the officer staring at her and swears when she turned around the officer had been checking her out. She gave the officer a smirk when she handed her the requested documents. The officer cleared her throat.

"I'm going to need you to come and stand at the back of your vehicle."

Beca followed the officer and checked her out as she walked the few steps to the back of the car. She had to admit this cop was hot.

The officer turned and pointed to the spot she wanted Beca to stand and Beca complied. She leaned against the trunk of the car and crossed her arms. The officer got back in her patrol car and was doing something on a laptop.

Beca watched her through the windshield; she was still trying to figure out why the thought she'd me this cop before. She chastised herself for forgetting because this woman because she was the total package; beauty, grace, poise. Plus, she looked pretty damned hot in that uniform. Which made Beca wonder, how in the world did this goddess of a woman become a police officer?

Chloe gets out of the patrol car reaching for her handcuffs.

"Oh, are things about to get kinky?," Beca asked with a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Miss Mitchell," the officer said as she reached for Beca. "It's police procedure. I need to search your vehicle."

"Look Officer?" Beca waited for the officer to give her name.

"Beale. Chloe Beale," the Officer responded.

"Office Beale," Beca said looking over her shoulder as she was being handcuffed. "Why exactly do you need the cuffs for me? And why do you need to search my vehicle?"

"Civilians are required to be handcuffed when an officer is alone, and there is a need to search a vehicle," Officer Beale responded. "I need to search your vehicle before I have it impounded."

"Impounded?" Beca turned to look at the officer. "Why is my car being impounded? It's a rental."

"Miss Mitchell, your name is flagged in our database," Officer Beale responded. "You have several outstanding tickets for speeding and running red lights. Until all the fines are paid, I have to impound your vehicle and take you in."

"I haven't driven in Barden in years," Beca said. "This can't be happening."

"You have over three thousand dollars in fines over a period of two years," Officer Beale said. "This information stays on the books for quite some time. Most of the main culprits are the kids who attend Barden Univesity. But, they don't speed if they come back through town, so they don't get caught. You, on the other hand, decided to speed and get caught which means we expect the fines to be paid before you can go on your way."

"Unfuckingbeleivable," Beca mutters.

"I'm sorry, Miss Mitchell," Officer Beale said. "I'm just doing my job."

The officer takes Beca and sits her in the back seat of her patrol car. She leans down to tell Beca that she has already ordered a tow truck. Beca nods and Officer Beale closes the door.

Officer Beale searches the car and returns with Beca's bags, phone, and keys. She puts everything in the back with Beca and gets behind the wheel.

Beca is sitting back with her head against the back of the seat. She looks at the officer's profile and can't help but stare at her.

"I know who you are," Office Beale said as she drove. "I love your music. Your debut album is one of my all-time favorites."

"Thanks," Beca said looking out the window.

They rode along in silence for a few minutes. The officer parks the patrol car in front of the station and removes Beca from the back seat and takes her inside.

"Hey, Red," a heavy-set blond called out as the officer came in with Beca.

"Hey, Fat Amy," the officer said. "I need to put Miss Mitchell in a holding cell."

"Take your pick," Fat Amy said handing Chloe a ring of keys. "They're all empty."

The officer takes Beca over to a cell and uncuffs her. She then opens the cell door, and Beca walks in. Chloe closes and locks the door behind Beca.

"What'd she do?," Fat Amy asked.

"Delinquent fines," Officer Beale states.

"You're holding her for that?," Fat Amy asked. "Come on, Chloe, it's Christmas. Couldn't you just let her go?"

"Yeah, Chloe," Beca calls out from her cell. "It's Christmas. Can't you just let me go?"

"You'll go before the judge," Chloe said. "He might reduce your fines, or you have to pay them fully. In either case, once you pay the fines, you'll be free to go. Not a moment sooner."

"Uh, Chloe," Fat Amy said. "It's Christmas. And it's Friday. No one will be in the Court House until Monday."

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

Chloe sighed as she hung up the phone. "I can't get Judge Banks even to consider hearing your case until Monday. I'm sorry, Be- Miss Mitchell, but we have to keep you until then."

"You can call me Beca if you'd like," Beca said with a small smile. "And don't worry about it. I brought it on myself. I just wanted to get as far away from my father as I could. He'll never think to look for me here."

"Dr. Mitchell seems like a pretty good guy," Chloe said.

"You know my dad?," Beca asked. "Let me guess; you went to Barden University?"

"We both did," Fat Amy said and started gathering her stuff. "My shift is done. Merry Christmas, Red. Merry Christmas, Beca. Guess I'll see you when I come in tomorrow."

"Thanks," Beca said. "I'll be counting the hours until we're together again."

Fat Amy laughed and waved as she left the station. Beca and Chloe were left alone.

"I thought I recognized you but couldn't figure out where," Beca said. "I guess somewhere during my one year at Barden we must have crossed paths."

"You remember meeting me?," Chloe said. "I graduated five years ago."

"Look at you," Beca said waving her hand up and down at Chloe. "You're pretty unforgettable."

Chloe blushed and smiled. "Thanks."

"Do all the officers in Barden look like you?," Beca asked. "Because I may just have to come back more often."

"We only have six active police officers," Chloe said. "There are me and five others; all men. None of whom look as good in their uniforms as I do."

At Beca's raised eyebrow, Chloe said, "I'm pretty confident about all this."

Beca smiled and said, "You should be."

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

"I'm bored," Beca said.

"Let's play twenty questions," Chloe said. "It will help pass the time, and we can get to know each other."

"To tell you how bored I am," Beca said. "I'll play along."

"Okay, I'll go first," Chloe said with a smile. "What's the lamest pickup line someone said to you?"

"Oh, God, there are so many," Beca said. "Um, oh, this one happened when I was at Barden. So, it was my first day interning at the campus radio station. This guy, Jesse, who, by the way, I had just met, said, So what's your deal? Are you one of those girls who's all dark and mysterious until she takes off her glasses and that amazingly scary ear spike and you realize she was beautiful the whole time? And I said I don't wear glasses. Then he said, Then you're halfway there."

"That was kind of lame," Chloe said. "Your turn."

"Okay," Beca said. "I'm going to use the same question."

"Um, let me see," Chloe said thinking. "Oh. This guy walked up to me on the street, while I was in uniform, and said, Please call me an ambulance, because your beauty is killing me."

Beca laughed. "That's lame but not that bad. Okay, your turn."

"What's the lamest pickup line you've ever used?"

"Rude," Beca said. "I'll have you know that my pickup lines are not lame."

"I'll be the judge of that," Chloe said with a laugh. "Hit me with one."

"Your eyes are blue like the ocean," Beca said. "And, baby, I'm lost at sea."

"Not bad," Chloe said. "But, I've heard it before."

"Okay, miss I'm confident about all that," Beca said with a smirk, "hit me with your best pickup line."

Chloe turns her back on Beca and unbuttons two buttons on her shirt and pulls it open slightly. She then walks over and stands in front of Beca's cell and leans in a bit. Beca swallows as she tries not to look down at Chloe's cleavage. Chloe smirks.

"Hi, I'm Ms. Right," Chloe said in a breathy whisper. "Someone said you were looking for me?"

"Take me home," Beca breathes out.

"Maybe later," Chloe said with a laugh and rebuttoned her shirt.

Beca's face reddens when she realizes what she said. "Sorry, but that was, um, actually pretty good. I'm guessing you get quite a lot action from guys with that line."

"Oh," Chloe said. "I don't use that line on guys."

Beca smiled at that. "Good to know," she muttered. "Now, it's your turn to ask a question."

"What's the cheesiest pickup line you've used that actually worked?"

"Once I walked up to a girl in a bar and said, Kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?"

"And you got the girl?"

"Surprisingly, I got the kiss and the girl," Beca said. "She thought I was brave for actually using that line, and also thought I was cute. We went out for about six months."

"Am I going to have to answer the same question?"

"Yep," Bec said. "But, first I have a non-game related question."

"What is it?"

"Do I, um, do I get breakfast? I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

"Unfortunately, the diner that serves the jail is closed this morning," Chloe said. "But, I'll figure something out."

"Okay, thanks," Beca said. "So, um, before we continue, I need to use the bathroom."

"Okay," Chloe said and walked over to get the keys to the cell. She opened the door and motioned Beca out. "Follow me."

"Gladly," Beca said and then blushed. "I, uh, meant because I really need to use the, uh, use the bathroom."

Chloe is wearing a grin when she leads Beca to the restroom; she waits outside the door. Beca comes out and literally runs into Chloe and falls to the floor; Chloe tried to grab her but failed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, let me help you up," Chloe said reaching down to help Beca back to her feet. "You might fall from a mountain, or you might fall from a tree. But the perfect way to fall is to fall in love with me."

"Uh, I'm sorry," Beca said confused. "What was that?"

"The cheesiest pickup line I ever used," Chloe said with a grin.

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

"So, why are you holding down the fort all alone? I mean, Fat Amy wasn't wearing a uniform and left a few hours ago, so I'm guessing she's not a cop."

"She's the Chief's daughter," Chloe explained. "She comes in and helps out with phones and taking reports. She sort of just shows up and leaves when she wants. Anyway, Donald was on duty, but I sent him home. He has a kid and it's Christmas."

"What's going to happen to me when your shift is over?"

"Well, I'm off at eight, and Tom and Theo will come on duty," Chloe said chewing on her bottom lip. "Why don't you come home with me? Tom and Theo won't do anything except hit on your for their eight-hour shift, and I have a feeling you wouldn't like that. It's Christmas and I'll make you breakfast."

"I'd like that," Beca said with a small smile.

Chloe smiled back and got the keys to the cell. She walked over and opened the door.

"I don't think you're a flight risk," Chloe said motioning Beca to come out of the cell.

"Thanks," Beca said and stopped right in front of Chloe. "Um, maybe since I have to be in custody until Monday, I can take you to dinner tomorrow night. If you're not busy."

"I'd love to," Chloe said.

Beca looked down at Chloe's lips and Chloe looked at Beca's. Beca started to lean in but jumped back when she heard someone come into the station. She looked over and saw two men dressed as officers.

Chloe cleared her throat and turned to face the guys. "Hey, Tom. Hey, Theo."

"Hey, Chloe," Tom said and looked toward Beca. "Who's this little hottie?"

"Dibs," Theo said.

"I'm a person," Beca said with a snarl. "And, nobody gets to call 'dibs' on me."

"Feisty and hot," Theo said. "Nice!"

"Knock it off," Chloe said. "She's with me. So, if you gentlemen don't mind, my girlfriend and I have breakfast plans."

"Girlfriend?," Tom asked. "Why haven't we seen her before?"

"Because I live in L.A.," Beca said quickly. "I missed her so I came to Barden to spend Christmas. With her."

"Come on, Beca," Chloe said taking Beca's hand. "Let's go. We don't have to explain anything to them."

Theo and Tom watched the two women walk out together. Chloe led Beca outside to her police car and opened the door.

"Oh, I get to sit in the front this time?"

"Well, since you're my girlfriend now, I think it's appropriate."

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Chloe said. "But we would never have gotten out of there if I hadn't said that."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Beca said. "I've been called worse things than a hot redhead's girlfriend."

~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~ ~25 Days~

Chloe's place was a nice little 2-bedroom cottage about ten minutes from the police station. Beca and Chloe grabbed Beca's stuff from the back of the car and took everything into the house.

"You can put your stuff in the guest room," Chloe said. "It's the second door on the left down the hall there. I'm going to change out of my uniform."

Beca looked to where Chloe was pointing. "Wait. You're actually letting me stay here instead of a cell?"

"I'm off until Monday," Chloe said. "And like I said, the guys would spend most of their shifts hitting on you. I'd feel bad if you had to endure that."

"Thank you, this is really sweet of you," Beca said and followed Chloe down the hallway.

"The bathroom's in here," Chloe said as they passed the bathroom door. "There are clean towels under the sink if you need it."

Beca thanked Chloe and went into the guest room. She put her suitcase on the bed and decided to change into something more comfortable. She put on some sweatpants and a tee shirt.

Chloe was already in the kitchen when Beca came back out. Chloe was getting food out of the refrigerator and Beca stood in the doorway and watched with a smiled on her face. Chloe looked up and saw her.

"I hope you don't mind that I changed," Beca said.

"Not at all," Chloe said. "I want you to be comfortable, too. The coffee's ready, help yourself. I'm going to make scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Is that okay?"

"Sounds perfect," Beca said with a laugh. "Keep this up and I might just have to marry you."

"Oh, so the way to Beca Mitchell's heart is through her stomach," Chloe said with a wink. "Good to know."

Beca hadn't moved from the kitchen entry and Chloe looked back over at Beca. Chloe bit her bottom lip and walked to stand in front of Beca.

"I'm going to do something that I think we both want," Chloe said. "I know I do. But if you don't want me to do, tell me now."

"What are you planning to do?," Beca asked nervously.

Chloe just looked up, so Beca looked up as well. There above Beca's head was a sprig of mistletoe. She had been standing underneath it the entire time she had been talking to Chloe.

"In our family, it is considered bad luck if you don't kiss someone when they're under the mistletoe," Chloe said. "Plus, it's a tradition that goes back centuries."

"Well, I'd hate to have bad luck," Beca said. "Or break any traditions.

Chloe got a big smile on her face and leaned in to kiss Beca. "Well, in that case," Chloe breathed out before their lips touched.

The kiss was brief but they both pulled back smiling. Beca gave Chloe a mischievous grin.

"Well, that was for me standing underneath the mistletoe," Beca said. "How about your kiss for standing under the mistletoe? You don't want to break tradition, do you?"

"Definitely not," Chloe said and they leaned in and kissed again. This time it lasted a bit longer and they wrapped their arms around each other.

Beca pulled back from the kiss with a soft "Wow!" Chloe smiled and bit her bottom lip again.

"Have you ever been to L.A.?" Beca asked.

'Um, no, I haven't," Chloe said.

"Would it be weird if I asked you to come to L.A.?"

"You mean to visit?"

"We can start with that. And I'll come back to Barden to visit you. And after a few visits, maybe you and I really will become girlfriends. What do you say?"

"I'd love to," Chloe said and leaned in for another kiss before pulling back and smiling at Beca.

"Merry Christmas, Chloe," Beca said as she pulled Chloe into a hug.

"Merry Christmas, Beca," Chloe said.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

[nemuus]

“Not saying, in any way, that the officer was justified. However, when you get pulled over turn on your flashers, roll down your window, turn on your dome light (if it’s dark out), position your vehicle so it is easier for the officer to see you from a distance, turn off the radio and out your hands on the steering wheel. Then, DONT MOVE. When it comes time to get your drivers license, registration and proof of insurance tell the officer where everything is and ask permission to retrieve it. If you have to remove your seatbelt ask the officer and wait for an answer prior to doing so. Right or wrong, these officers never know what they will encounter when they walk up to a vehicle. I am sure they are expecting the worst and hoping for the best. If you do these things it will put them at ease. And, using sir or ma’am goes a long way!“ 

like this is a comment someone made on an article about a cop that was shot by another cop and like sure this is good advice but how fucking shitty is it that we have to make the fucking cop feel safe so that we don’t end up 6 feet under

our lives are at the hands of people who are supposed to make us feel safe. They’re the ones who are taking the risk of being an officer, the people should not have to feel like we’re protecting them in exchange for our lives. Those advocating for blue lives need to shut up and realize that enabling the behavior of the “few bad cops” sets us up to believe that this behavior is okay and ITS SHITTY THAT WE ALREADY DO because its NOT

our lives are so fucked up that we could. at any point, die because someone thinks we’re even mildly threatening

#no proofreading we hit post like idiots

[butihavejoy]

38 Barisi

This got stupidly out of hand.

38. Cop/person getting a speeding ticket AU

Barba hated driving.

He had very reluctantly gotten his driver’s license when he was living in Massachusetts, mostly because he wasn’t sure where his law degree would take him and figured he should be prepared just in case. But braving the streets of Cambridge were a whole separate beast than navigating the hell that was Manhattan traffic, so Barba refused to drive unless he absolutely had to.

Like when his idiotic boyfriend pulled a double immediately before they were supposed to leave on their vacation to Montauk and was liable to fall asleep at the wheel if he tried to stay up any longer.

“I can drive,” Carisi protested, trailing after Barba, though his statement would have been more convincing had he not yawned loudly in the middle of it, a yawn so wide Barba could hear his jaw crack. “I just need some coffee.”

“There’s not enough coffee in the world,” Barba said sternly, holding the passenger door open for him. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of driving. My license isn’t even expired.”

(He only knew that because he had surreptitiously checked as he led Carisi downstairs.)

And he forestalled any of Carisi’s further protests by slamming the car door shut.

By the time he crossed around to the driver’s side and slid in, Carisi was already asleep, his head tipped back against the seat, and Barba shook his head fondly. “Told you,” he said to no one in particular and started the car before peering over his shoulder and carefully starting to pull out of the parallel parking spot.

Fifteen minutes later, Barba had successfully navigated the car from the parking spot and had only broken out in a cold sweat twice, which was about as good as he could expect. Still, he didn’t allow himself to relax until he was away from the Manhattan traffic, heading east.

Which was where his trouble began.

Barba had been driving on the Long Island Expressway for all of ten minutes when he saw red and blue lights flashing behind him, and he let out a panicked, “Oh, fuck,” loudly enough to wake Carisi, who blinked and looked around.

“Whuzzat?” he asked sleepily.

“Cop,” Barba said tersely.

“Well, pull over,” Carisi said unhelpfully, already nodding off again, and Barba rolled his eyes but complied.

He drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as the state trooper took his sweet time in getting out of the squad car and meandering over to their car. “Good morning, Officer,” Barba said courteously, smiling in what he hoped was a slightly sincere way. Carisi was better at charming people than he was — Barba was more likely to frighten people than win them over.

“Morning,” the officer said, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. “Do you know how fast you were going?” Barba opened his mouth to reply and instantly closed it again, settling instead for shrugging. The officer frowned, pushing his sunglasses down with one finger. “Is that a no?”

“That is me exercising my right against self-incrimination,” Barba said carefully.

Carisi snuffled in his sleep. “Fifth amendment, bitch,” he murmured, and Barba was sorely tempted to hit his head against the steering wheel. Repeatedly.

He settled for elbowing Carisi sharply, gratified when Carisi woke with a start and let out a muffled groan.

The officer squinted suspiciously at Carisi. “Is your, uh, friend alright, sir?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Barba said, mock-brightly. “So, I assume you need to see my license and registration?”

The officer was still staring suspiciously at Carisi. “Actually, your license and proof of insurance,” he said. “Have you or your friend been drinking, sir?”

Barba stared at him, insulted. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning,” he pointed out, as Carisi reached towards the glove compartment for the insurance card before seeming to think better of it, his hand falling into his lap as he tossed Barba a slightly panicked look.

“You’d be surprised how many people drink during the day,” the officer said seriously as Barba scowled at Carisi and nodded toward the glove compartment as Carisi shook his head. “Is there a, uh, problem, sir?”

“My friend—” Barba pronounced the word like a death sentence as he glared at Carisi. “—seems to be having some difficulty getting my insurance card out of the glove compartment.” Carisi just shook his head minutely, clearly unwilling to explain whatever was going on, and Barba rolled his eyes. “I may have a copy in my wallet along with my license, hold on…”

He reached for his pocket but froze when the officer’s hand instantly moved to his gun. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you stop reaching,” the officer said, his voice low, and Barba slowly raised his hands.

And Carisi snorted.

It was a soft noise, quickly dampened, but Barba still shot him an affronted look because the state trooper had a hand on his gun and his police officer boyfriend seemed to think this situation was funny. “You are not helping,” Barba hissed.

Carisi’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and Barba rolled his eyes up toward the roof of the car. The officer frowned slightly at Carisi. “Seriously, does your friend have a problem?”

“No, but he’s about to,” Barba muttered before fixing his smile back on his face. “Officer, I apologize, I was just going to grab my wallet. I’m going to very slowly reach into my back pocket and take my wallet out, ok?”

The officer nodded and watched carefully as Barba did so, quickly flipping open his wallet to grab his license and hand it to the officer. “And your insurance?” the trooper asked.

Barba glared at Carisi, who was still laughing, but before he could say anything — before he could even begin to think of an excuse — the walkie-talkie on the trooper’s shoulder crackled to life, and the trooper stepped away. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Barba snapped, and Carisi just shook his head mutely.

Before Barba could push any further, the trooper returned and handed Barba his license back. “It’s your lucky day. gentlemen,” the officer said. “I’ve been called away to another scene. Try to drive more slowly, and, uh—” He shot a furtive glance at Carisi, who was still trying to get his laughter under control. “Try to figure out whatever’s going on with your friend.”

“Will do, Officer,” Barba said gratefully, waiting until the state police car had pulled away from behind him before whirling on Carisi. “What is your problem?” he demanded.

Carisi held up his hands innocently. “I’m sorry, Raf,” he started, and he did sound at least slightly sorry, though he ruined it by again laughing. “I, uh, I have a loaded gun in the glove compartment and figured you probably didn’t want to explain that to the state trooper.”

Barba sucked in a deep breath and mentally counted to ten before exhaling in a rush. “You have a gun in the car?”

“I’m a cop,” Carisi pointed out evenly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Of course I have a gun in the car.”

“Yes, you are a cop,” Barba snapped, unwilling to let himself get sidetracked. “Which would have been, I don’t know, the kind of thing you tell the state trooper who pulled over your boyfriend.”

Carisi’s eyes widened with mock-innocence. “Surely ADA Rafael Barba is not suggesting that I use my position as an NYPD detective to get my boyfriend out of a speeding ticket. That’d be unethical.”

Barba ground his teeth together in frustration. “I’m just saying, you could’ve helped at any time.”

Carisi grinned and leaned in to kiss Barba’s cheek, his smile not faltering when Barba pushed him away. “Yeah, but where would be the fun in that?” he asked. “Besides, if ever you do get arrested for reckless driving, I can always represent you in court.”

“I’ll represent myself,” Barba growled through clenched teeth before slowly, carefully pulling back onto the highway, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. “Christ, I already need a vacation from our vacation.”

And Carisi just laughed.

#barisi #rafael barba #sonny carisi #barisi fic #me-ladie #SORRY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND #absurd #established relationship #svu

[a-tired-bitch]

You Should Know Better Pt.6

23 Parts:  I  -  II  -  III  -  IV  -  V  -  VI  -  VII  - VIII  -  IX  -  X  -  XI  -  XII  -  XIII -  XIV  -  XV  -  XVI  -  XVII  -   XVIII  -  XIX  -  XX  -   XXI  -  XXII  -  XXIII

MASTER LIST

YSKB MASTER LIST

Summary: After a night out with Landon, Natalie is on the way home when Officer Merriweather pulls them over. Things begin to get heated in all sorts of ways.

POV: Natalie and Joe

Characters: Natalie Jankoski, Joe Merriweather (Italics), Natalie Jankoski (Italics), Landon (Bold -Indented italics)

Word Count: 3800ish

Author’s Note: The first few paragraphs are flashbacks that transition right into the story. The bold comments are Landon speaking throughout the flashback scenes. 

Warnings: It’s the beginning of smut.

Quote: “I told you the drill before, you move, you fall.” 

“I guess it’s time to serve,” Joe muttered after latching a hand onto Natalie’s neck yet again, his body following behind, closing the space between their two warm bodies. As his lips reclaimed hers, the pressure of his erection pressed against Natalie’s hip, forcing a small moan to escape her lips which was then met with a stern bite on her lower lip: a warning from Joe to stay quiet.  His free hand began to move all over Natalie; warm, rough, and expert all at the same time. Gliding down the length of her back, it making her arch slightly to his touch – wanting deeply to escape into him. Practically high off the dangerous situation, his hand continued to snake across her skin as if he can’t decide which part he craved most. With a curious smirk, Natalie teasingly ran her hand down the length of his button-up until it reached his black dress pants where she gripped at the tent in his pants – oh, how the slightest of touch made Joe tense. As a result of her playful nature, Joe pulled away for a moment, his hand that was once on her neck glided onto her back as the other hooked beneath her, forcing her off the ground and against his chest. It took no more than a few seconds before the warmth of his hand was replaced with the coldness of the desk as he gently placed her down, tossing aside any papers or pencils from the area. Standing tall, Joe quickly fiddled with the buckle of his belt – his eyes never leaving hers as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, soaking in the taste of him, not only was she soaking in the taste of him, but the smell of his cologne and coffee, the rasp of his beard, and the sound of his heavy breaths added to the sensations of the situation.  Finally graced with success, Joe quickly took a knee, his hands running up her sides, dragging her shirt up with them as he pulled her closer to his face. A grin curled at the ends of his lips as he stood up slightly, leaned forward, and left a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone to the center of her chest where her shirt rested. In response, the body who laid beneath him arched forward and a string of sexual sighs escaped her lips. Joe quickly returned to her lips, sternly biting down on her bottom lip once more – a silent warning yet again. Pulling away slowly, his hand snaked its way to the waistband of her jeans and attempted to wiggle into them, but with the clothing being too tight, his hand was too big to slip all the way in. A groan escaped his lips as he ripped his hand out from her clothing and began to fiddle with her own belt and the buttons of her jeans. Throughout the undressing, Natalie rested her eyes on Joe as a hand ran through her hair, a smile on her lips. As for Joe, his fingers worked quickly to remove the annoying clothing, his eyes glancing between her jeans and up to lock eyes with her.

        “Hey.”

Perking up like a hungry dog – his body still over Natalie’s - Joe quickly turned around, facing the door. Listening closely, the sound of muffled voices cut through the heavy breathing of the room.

        “Are you in there?”

Pulling away, Joe quickly buckled his belt, Natalie following in his footsteps and pulling her shirt back down and fixing her jeans. Putting a finger to his lips, he silently told his partner to keep quiet before a knock echoed throughout the room.

        “Is anyone in there?”  Was spoken followed by the sound of snapping fingers.

With a familiar voice forcing Natalie to pull away from her daydreams and succumb to reality once more, she shook her head slightly, focusing her sights on the passing traffic lights that illuminated the darkening sky.  It took a moment, but she finally responded. “Yeah, I’m listening.” She shifted in the passage seat, resting her forearm on the center console, her eyes settling onto Landon who was looking back at her, a look of annoyance claiming his features.

        Nodding, Landon turned to face the road once more, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other reaching for the can that sat in the cup holder. “Fucker kicked me out of his classes. Told me not to attend any further ones or sign up for them, but like I said, that’s mainly what the whole conversation was about.” Bringing the Budweiser to his lips, he took a swig from it. “He’s just a prick with a badge.” Landon shrugged, placing the drink between his legs – the truck pulling forward and down the road. “Oh, well. At least, I have an upper hand when it comes to you.” He chuckled, the smell of alcohol spreading across the cab of the truck. Cocking an eyebrow, Landon chuckled again. “I’ve fucked his favorite student and would you look at that, he hasn’t.”

With wide eyes and an open mouth, Natalie sat there, a single scoff escaping her lips as she shook her head in disbelief. “Landon!” She called out, playfully slapping his chest as he drove. Staring into the side-view mirror, she continued. “Looks like you two are on the same playing field because you won’t be fucking me anymore.” She added, a smile forming on her face at the joke and the thought of what happened within the confines of Joe’s office just a day before.

        “Oh, come on. I take you out to eat and you’re telling me that I can’t at least eat you out?” He asked, stepping on the gas, forcing the truck to exceed the speed limit despite approaching a stop sign.

Focusing on the truck behind them, Natalie squinted her eyes, attempting to figure out of that truck was a regular truck with a light beam on top or if it was a sheriff’s truck.

“You might want to sl–.” Interrupted by the sound of a single siren and the constant blinding motion of the red and blue flashing lights, Natalie turned to face Landon. “Slow down.” She finished, turning around in her seat, she waited to see if the truck would pass on by or continue following them, but considering that these two trucks were practically the only ones on the road, the chance of the sheriff’s truck pulling away was slim to none.

        “Fucking shit.” Landon muttered, glancing into the rearview mirror, tossing the can of beer into the back of the cab. “Just what I need.” He muttered, pulling off onto the side of the road, the accompanying truck following along.

“For God’s sake, Landon, I fucking told you not to have that shit open when you drive and to add to that, your dumbass just had to speed,” Natalie complained, quickly turning to see a familiar man stepping down from the other truck. “No fucking way.” She muttered, watching as the man readied himself before quickly turning and shrinking back into her seat. Despite not even being drunk, Natalie was still nervous about the situation.  That nervousness quickly switched into a higher gear when she realized that it was, in fact, Joe who was the officer who pulled them over.  

Sitting in the cab of his vehicle, Joe stared out the open window for a moment, watching as the sun slowly disappeared beneath the horizon. After rolling up his window, Joe stepped out of the truck, his black boots connecting with the road while his hands gripped his equipment belt, adjusting the heavy weight as he slammed the door shut. With a cool breeze lingering in the air, a black windbreaker jacket emblazoned with the words ‘sheriff’ accompanied by a badge on the front kept the chills at bay as Joe approached the other truck. With the headlights of his truck paired with the lights of the ‘freedom’, Joe looked through the rear windows of the vehicle as he walked beside the truck, noticing only two occupants within.

        “I can’t fucking believe the luck we’re having tonight! Look who it is, my best friend!” Landon called out, laughing as he rolled the window down and dug into his pocket, grabbing his license, then retrieving his proof of insurance and registration.

Joe’s eyes trailed along the side of the white truck until they rested on the window that was being rolled down. Joe removed his black aviators and tucked them into the front pocket of his jacket before quickly placing his sights on the driver. To his amazement, he had managed to pull over Landon – upon that realization, a single chuckle came from Joe’s lips as he glanced into the cab, the smell of alcohol one of the first things he noticed.

A displeased groan came from Natalie as she shrunk even further into the seat – wanting desperately to disappear from the situation. The tension shared between Joe and Landon was already unrepairable, so, this situation would do nothing but increase that tension. There was no way of knowing how the outcome of the situation would be, but the assumption of a bad ending was more than apparent.

“You know the procedure. License and registration, bud.” Joe stated, knowing well enough that calling Landon ‘bud’ or ‘buddy’ would irk him tremendously. Sidestepping, and looking into the dark cab of the truck, Joe rested his eyes on the silhouette. “You know, you were speeding back there and that’s why I initially pulled you over, but the smell of beer is pretty present in here. Tell me, have you been drinking, buddy?” Joe asked, his eyes coming back to focus on Landon. “Better be honest – things will play out far easier if you do,” Joe warned, casting a glance over the objects he grabbed from Landon.

        With a close-lipped smile, Landon hung his head low, nodding slightly in defeat. “Yeah, a couple beers, but I’m not drunk.” He admitted.

Nodding, Joe turned his attention to the passenger for a closer look, his stomach dropping when he realized it was Natalie. Clenching his jaw, Joe took a step back, shaking his head slightly as he looked into the rear end of the truck – attempting to keep his emotions in check. “What were you reaching in the back for?” Joe questioned, taking his flashlight out and beaming in into the truck. “I saw you reaching. You have an open container back there?” Receiving no answer, Joe sighed before stepping back towards his truck. “You two stay here. Especially you, young lady.” Joe pointed his flashlight into the truck, the beam resting on Natalie. “Think about what I told you about drunk driving.”

With her heart pounding out of her chest and with the blinding beam of the flashlight in her face, Natalie turned her head away, shielding herself from the light and attempting to shield herself from a disappointed Joe. 

It didn’t take long, but Joe returned to the truck, the flashlight, and Landon’s papers still in his hand. “Okay, listen here, I’m going to need for you to step out of the vehicle. We’re going to do a sobriety exercise on you.”

        Resting a hand on the steering wheel, Landon cocked his head back and groaned. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now?”  He pleaded, looking at Joe who was nothing but stone-cold at the moment. “Come on, Merriweather, I’m just dropping her off, just let us go. Let’s just talk about it.”

Joe shook his head, a chain of laughter coming from his lips. “Look, I’m trying to be as nice to you as I can, but I can’t just let you go. You’re intoxicated to some level! You’ve already confessed to drinking and there’s no way I can just let that slide. If I do that, I would’nt be acting very professional, so, my hands are tied here.” Flashing his beam into the car once more, he took a quick moment to look around. “No more negotiating. If I have to drag you out of here, you best believe that I will, but let’s not make a scene in front of the lady and let’s not tack on anymore charges.”

Another minute of pleading and negotiations happened before Joe gripped the handle of the truck, pulling open the driver’s door. “Listen, if I have to get hand’s on with you, it’s going to get worse for you and then I’m going to arrest you for resisting an officer, obstruction, and a bundle of other things.” Turning away, Joe spoke into his radio, requesting for a car that had a cage in the back. “And guess what, if you don’t get out now, I will tase you.” Joe stepped away from the truck slightly, allowing for space so Landon could jump down, that is if he decided to follow his orders.

        Raising his hands defensively, Landon shifted in his seat, pretending as if he was going to exit the truck. “Come on, Joe, let’s make a deal, okay?” Landon pleaded yet again, the scent of alcohol pouring out from his mouth with every word spoke. “I’ll just…I’ll just let her drive.” Landon offered, turning in his seat, looking at Natalie who was staring out the window, disregarding the whole situation as if she wasn’t there. “Problem solved if she does that, right?” Resting his hands on his lap, Landon turned to face Joe once more.

“No. It’s too late for it to be solved. Should have been smart and let her drive from the start, but since you are extremely stubborn and disobey laws and my orders.” Joe paused for a moment, a stern and angry expression claiming his features – his response carrying more than one meaning. “Things are about to get very, very bad for you.” Joe shook his head, beaming the light into the car once more. “You might want to tell your friend here to listen to me or I’m dragging him out in about two seconds and if it comes to it, you’re going to watch your friend here get tased and probably piss his pants.” Beaming the light back to Landon, Joe addressed him. “Step out of the car now.” He ordered, motioning with his hand for him to step out.

Pulling her gaze from the flashing lights that she was watching in the side-view mirror, Natalie turned in her seat, resting her eyes on Joe at first.  Looking him over in his black on black on black uniform, her mind traveled back to just two days prior, resulting in a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. Forcing herself out of that trance yet again, she turned to Landon, who’s back was to her.

“He’s got a point, he has been overly nice to you and I suggest you just listen to him. Landon, you’re already in a hole and you’re only digging yourself a deeper one. Just man up and take the punishment and things will be over. Spend a night in jail and you’ll be out by tomorrow.” Natalie explained, trying to convince Landon to cooperate with Joe’s answers.

Joe smirked. “Yeah, listen to her. Be a man.” He said with a nod of his head as Landon finally gave up and stepped out, his posture of a defeated and embarrassed man. “See, bud, that wasn’t that hard, now was it?” Joe asked, lingering beside the door, and motioning for Landon to walk to the back of the truck – which he did or at least attempted to since his balance was completely offset. “As for you, young lady,” Joe muttered, turning back to Natalie, a steely and disappointed look grabbing hold of his features and voice. “You can get out too.” Joe barked, slamming the door shut and walking away.

Returning to Landon’s side, Joe waited for Natalie to appear within his view. With the truck door slamming, Joe pointed to the curb. “Sit.” He ordered to the girl before turning back to Landon and roughly pushing him up against the back of the white truck. “Got anything that will hurt my person?”

        Stretching his hands out to steady himself, Landon nodded in a ‘no’ motion as he rested his eyes on the road below him, stretching his legs out while he was at it. “Is this really necessary?” Landon questioned, turning around slightly, his hands dropping from the bed of the truck.

Gripping the back of his shirt, Joe pushed Landon forward a bit. “What did I say in class that one day?” Joe questioned, positioning his face just a few inches from the incorporative man. “Resist an officer and you will get friendly with the floor.” Backing away, Joe resumed the procedure, taking a step back when he was finished. “Now, tell me, are you going to submit to a field sobriety test or are you going to be bullheaded some more?” The only response Joe received was a wad of snot landing on the floor next to him. Glancing down, Joe stood there silently, cocking his head back and forth before stepping away a bit more. “I take that as a no.” He assumed, turning to look at Natalie and motioning for her to come stand next to him. “You can go have a seat on that curb, but I’m not playing with you, Landon. You move, you get tased and trust me, you’ll get very friendly with the pavement.” Joe watched as Landon wobbled his way to where Natalie was sat.

Shifting on his feet, Joe rested a forearm on his belt before speaking to Natalie. “You know the drill, young lady.” Joe whispered, the once cold and steely expression now a welcoming and somewhat lust filled one. “Against the truck and spread ‘em.” Switching his sights from Natalie to Landon back to Natalie, Joe made sure to keep Landon in his sights, wanting – for some reason – for him to see what was about to happen.

Positioning himself behind her, Joe slid his hands onto her hips as he leaned forward, his face next to hers. “Why are you with him?” He whispered, pulling away, his scruff sliding across her skin as he ran slowly and sensually pulled his hands up her sides, running them along her arms and then back down.

Dropping her head only for it to be cocked back slightly as the warmth of his hands ran across her cold body, Natalie bit down on her lower lip and she dropped her head once more. “He offered me food.” She muttered, tilting her head slightly, feeling the warmth of his body come into the crook of her neck once more. “Who says no to free food?” She asked, getting a scoff in response.

“Food, eh?” Joe asked, resisting the temptation to latch onto her neck with his lips. Turning slightly, Joe eyed Landon who was eyeing him back. Winking at him and smiling, Joe turned to the left, realizing that another cruiser was just up the road. Shifting on his feet behind her again, Joe pressed up slightly against Natalie before running his hand across her waistband, feeling her tense beneath his touch as she did before in class. “Relax. You weren’t this tense just a few days ago.” Joe whispered, losing his restraint, and dipping a hand beneath her fabric of her jeans. “So, you’re telling me if I take you out to get food…” His hand reached her slit, before dipping into it just slightly. “I can get lucky?” He asked as he barely moved his finger across her clit, forcing her to lean forward slightly, resulting in his body moving with hers, and a deep chuckle to escape his lips. 

In the blink of an eye, Joe ripped his hand out of her pants, turned around, and pulled his taser from its holster – the cartridge pointing right at the drunk who was staggering towards them. Honestly, this was the result Joe was hoping for, hence why he dismissed cuffing Landon when he denied the FST.

“Don’t step a foot closer or I will tase you, Landon.” Joe yelled, stretching a hand out and guiding Natalie behind him. “I told you before, you move, you fall.” Joe added, taking a cautious step back, blocking Natalie from Landon if necessary. “You’re already going to jail, don’t make it worse on yourself, pal.” Joe falsely pleaded as the assisting cruiser pulled behind his truck. Watching as Landon stepped forward yet again, Joe warned one last time. “Sit back down or I will tase you.” He said sternly, his trigger finger getting the best of him and firing off the taser prematurely.

Looking out from behind Joe, Natalie watched – almost in slow motion – as the cartridge popped out, the sound of electricity zapping and popping throughout the air filled her ears as the body of her ex-boyfriend hit the ground, an agonizing muffled cry coming from him.

Placing a hand on the back of Joe, she stepped beside him. “Joe, what the fuck?” She asked, looking up at him, his stance still in a shooting position, his eyes focused on the man sprawled out before him. It took only a second before he pulled away from her and rushed to Landon, placing a knee in the center of the man’s back as he retrieved his cuffs, slapping them onto the man and tightening them as the assisting officer came to his aid.

Standing there in awe, any previous sexual desire was thrown out the window as she watched Joe and the other officer drag Landon to his feet, the probes still latched into his chest.

After a few minutes, Landon was successfully tucked away into the back of the caged cruiser, Joe was off to the side discussing the details of the altercation, and Natalie was pacing in front of Joe ’s truck, the side of her thumb in her mouth as she nervously peeled away a piece of skin.

Slapping the back of his colleague’s shoulder, Joe placed a firm grip on his friend before nodding and bidding his farewell to her. Returning to the distraught Natalie, Joe placed a hand out, attempting to calm her in some way. “Come on.” He whispered, crouching slightly to look her in the eyes. “Get in the truck, I’ll take you home.” He said with a warm smile, guiding her to the passenger side of his truck.

#Joe Merriweather #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #Solace #Joe Merriweather fic #Joe Merriweather ff #Joe Merriweather fanfic #Joe Merriweather fan fic #Joe Merriweather fanfiction #Joe Merriweather fan fiction #jdm ff #jdm fanfic #jdm fan fic #jdm fanfiction #jdm fan fiction #negans thirst squad #smut #angst #fluff #romance #humor #teacher x student #professor x student

[mintypothos]

titles escape me but here’s more of that jamilton thing

im too lazy to look up that shrug text emoji. Also, I’ve never been pulled over before, so bear with me here.

“I can't believe this.”

“You made me meet your ex like this, you can meet my best friend like this.” Thomas retorted, hoping to finally shut Hamilton up. He'd been complaining the entire car ride about every detail, to the point where Thomas wasn't even sure what parts of the plan he actually had a problem with, and what parts were just him being contrary. That was even if Hamilton had any problem at all, besides the fact that Thomas came up with it.

“No,” Hamilton griped, “I mean, this has to be illegal, or at the very least unsafe.” He gestured with his free hand at himself. He was leaned uncomfortably, trapped hand lightly gripping Thomas' wrist so that he could operate the car.

Hamilton was probably right. Not that Thomas would tell him that. “Well, you can't expect to ask someone a favour and expect them to come out immediately to some house they've never been to. We need James, and I refuse to make him drive all the way out to your place.”

“Hey, my house is great,” Hamilton snapped. “Nothing wrong with it.”

“It's not about the house, it's that it's your house,” The retort came naturally to Thomas. It was as natural as the way Hamilton fumed beside him, like a kettle with too much pressure inside. “Stop talking, you're making it hard to drive.”

Hamilton huffed loudly. “You're just bad at driving.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes, but focused on the road. His focus came just in time to see flashing colours light up his rear view mirror. The telltale siren of a police vehicle rang loudly behind them. “Shit, fuck,” Thomas swore, not caring if he sounded crude right now.

“What the hell did you do!?” Hamilton's tone was accusatory, but his eyes were blown as wide as Thomas' surely were.

“I don't know- shit!” Thomas' heart started pounding as he signalled and pulled to the shoulder. “Driving like this has to be illegal!” He jerked a thumb at the cuffs. “What do we do now!?” Thomas didn't even care that he was practically begging Hamilton for a solution. He couldn't think. The police officer was stepping out of the cruiser.

“Oh shit,” Hamilton agreed. “Uh, pull your sleeves over!”

Thomas hastily yanked his shirt sleeve over the cuff, watching Hamilton do the same. “They'll still see the chain-” Hamilton's hand grabbed his, pressing the slack of the chain in between them. Combined with the sleeves, the cuffs were actually out of sight.

Thomas had a split second to be grateful for Hamilton's quick thinking, before the officer was at the driver's window. He could do this, he just needed to act natural, like nothing was wrong.

“Hi sir,” The officer smiled pleasantly from the other side of the car door. “Do you know how fast you were driving?” She didn't look particularly angry, that should have been a good sign.

“Uh,” Thomas' brain froze. The icy grip of social anxiety gripped his throat. It would be so easy to panic, something painful working its way up his gut; but no, he could do this. He hadn't put so much effort into counseling those years back just to falter in front of a police officer and his worst enemy. “No, actually,” He said truthfully, taking a breath to calm himself.

“Ah, well, you were driving 16 over the posted speed limit. Can I see your license and registration?”

License and Registration- he could do that. Thomas fumbled for his wallet, pulling the drivers' license out. His vehicle registration was, of course, in the glove box. Thomas leaned forward, then stopped. He'd only be able to reach it with his right hand, which he couldn't because it was holding Hamilton's, hiding the cuff. Right.

Thomas opened his mouth, but Hamilton was already moving, reaching for the glove box with a questioning glance. Thomas nodded, watching as Hamilton quickly pulled out the owner's manual, passing it over. With one hand, it was awkward to flip open, but Thomas grabbed the registration easily enough, in a little plastic case along with proof of insurance.

The police officer watched the exchange with a raised brow, but took the items anyways. Her eyes scanned the information, handing it back. “Is there any particular reason you were speeding, Mr. Jefferson?”

The sound of his surname sent an unexplained surge of strength through his spine. Thomas' back straightened as he worked himself into a better state of mind. If he kept it together, he'd get out of this with nothing more than a simple speeding ticket.  

“I'm really sorry. We were just in a rush to get home, and the road was pretty empty and I wasn't paying as much attention to the speedometer as I should have.”

If anything, her brow raised higher. Her eyes left his, pointedly glancing at his trapped hand, at the way it linked with Hamilton's. Thomas felt panic creeping at the edges of his mind again. She suspected, she was going to ask, and then she was going to find out and they'd get in so much shit. Thomas had to say something else. He thought about their joined hands, of any explanation that wasn't handcuffs, and an idea suddenly sprouted. “Uh, Hamilton just agreed to move in with me! It's really exciting!”

The police officer's eyes snapped back to Thomas, surprised. A smile slowly spread across her lips. “Well, congratulations! Have you been going steady for a while?”

Thomas swallowed, mind racing. “Yes, we've been dating for over a year now. Really, we would have done it earlier, but both of us wanted to keep our apartments. I finally won the battle, though.”

That did the trick, the police officer breaking out into a chuckle. “My husband was the same. In the end, we just got a new place entirely. Lawyers are so stubborn, I swear.”

“Mine was bigger. It's simple logic,” Hamilton complained with good nature from the passenger's. Thomas barely held back a startle, almost forgetting he was there. He spared a brief thankful look at Hamilton for playing along. Hamilton shot him something decidedly unimpressed in return.

The police officer clearly took it as part of the completely fake housing debate and laughed again. “Well, sometimes sacrifices need to be made in the name of love, right?”

Hamilton grinned, so much more natural at on-the-spot smooth talking than Thomas could ever hope to be. “You say it. If I didn't love this idiot so much I'd have left him right there. He doesn't understand that having twice as much space for the same price is better than being in walking distance to all the fancy upscale clothing stores.” He shrugged, a perfectly casual 'what can you do?' gesture. “It makes him happy though, so what can you do?”

“There's such a thing as good location, you know,” Thomas fired back naturally at the apparent insult to his home. It actually was a nice apartment in a good downtown location, and he wouldn't change it for the world. He certainly wouldn't change it to move into Hamilton's suburb home. Honestly. “Besides, it's your home now too, you can stop making fun of it any time.”

The police officer coughed. Thomas flinched, turning his head back to her. Engaging Hamilton was so natural he'd almost forgotten. “Sounds like you two have your plans full for the evening.” Her smile was teasing now, or maybe encouraging. “I suppose I could let you off with a warning.”

“Oh!” Thomas nearly jumped. “Thank you, but you don't need to do that for our sake, we can pay the ticket.” He babbled, stopping himself before he could say anything else stupid.

The police officer merely waved her hand. “Just try not to be too distracted. You can celebrate all you like once you get home safely.” With that piece of advise, she winked, passing the papers back. “Have a good day!”

“Have a good day,” Thomas parroted, feeling out of his element yet again. He rolled the window up silently as the police officer walked away, back to her cruiser.

They stayed silent for a moment. Then, “ I've never even been to your place and I can already tell you I'd never move in there.” Hamilton wrinkled his nose. Thomas sighed, about to explain that it was the only thing he could think of, but then Hamilton interrupted again. “ I would definitely win that argument. My house is awesome.”

“Oh shut up,” Thomas let out a deep breath. “Just be glad she didn't find us out.”

That earned a slow shrug from Hamilton. “Sure, sure. That actually wasn't bad, all things considered. After I got past the immediate urge to hurl at the idea of us actually dating.” The grin he sent Thomas was strained, despite the teasing words. Did he feel weird about what happened?

“Trust me, it wasn't anything personal. It was the first explanation for holding hands that I could think of. And it's not like we'll ever see her again.”

“True,” Hamilton allowed, looking away sharply. It wasn't usual body language for him. “Now let's get going, preferably with less terrible driving.”

Thomas gripped the steering wheel, but didn't respond to the jab. He only had to get home, and James could help him.

His place was totally better than Hamilton's, though.

#matchmaker pip au #fic #rip these 2 dumbasses #jamilton #police mention