#feels good to go back to motley fic man
Text
we, the psychos
ch. 4
Word count: 2253
Warnings: -
A/N: i always knew this fic is destined to be continued. the only question was when.
“You are a fool, Sixx,” Mick said tiredly as he sat down onto the bed where Nikki lay. “Plain and simple.”
“I know,” Nikki sighed, looking down at his bandaged legs and his right hand that had acquired three brand new stitches. It won’t be soon until he can squeeze his fist properly. “I just… you know how it goes. The first cut, you get scared. And then it’s down the emotional rollercoaster. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster, Mick?”
“Barely heard about it,” Mick said. “Is that something Russian-related?”
“Me neither. I’d like to take a ride on there. You’re up in the air – and then you’re falling, but it’s safe falling, it won’t hurt you. Because every time I fall, I end up in the med wing.” He waved at his bandaged legs. “And yeah, I think it’s something Russian-related. Not sure how. Could you get me a book here, Mick?”
“You know Dr. Duren won’t allow that,” Mick shook his head. “He’s already mad at you, I think. It’s been weeks since your last relapse – you made progress, and now this.”
“Oh, don’t you chastise me too!” Nikki rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t. I was thinking. And it always ends bad.”
“About what?”
Nikki turned away from him and said nothing.
“About what, Nikki?” Mick stretched out his hand, gripped Nikki’s chin and turned his face towards himself to look him in the eyes. Then realization dawned on him.
”Don’t say it’s that Wharton bastard!” he groaned. “You said it was over! You were done! What did he do to you? What did he say?”
Nikki looked away, lips sealed tight, afraid Mick will feel the bitterness filling his mouth.
“You quarreled?” Mick insisted, putting one hand on Nikki’s thigh and squeezing it slightly, making him wince. “What else that was now?”
Nikki swallowed forcefully. He wished nothing of his affair with Vince leaked to the rest of the asylum, but Wharton liked to brag, sometimes overlooking basic safety measures. He could be sure Mick wouldn’t tell anyone, but how long will it be before other patients or, God forbid, nurses suspect something?
“What was that, Nikki?” Mick shook his leg. “You wanna stay silent and keep wallowing in your misery or figure out what to do together?”
“Definitely the second,” Nikki curved his mouth into a bitter smile. “My, well, situation with Vin- with Wharton is none of your business. I appreciate the concern, though.”
“Oh no, that’s where you’re wrong,” Mick looked so indignant Nikki had to hold back a laugh. He’d never seen old man redden as much. “It is exactly my business, and you know why? Because I don’t wanna go to your funeral, and don’t you even hope I waste my money on a wreath for you. You get me?”
“Yeah, yeah. The usual threats.”
“You damn better believe them!” Mick rose from his chair and crossed the room, standing in front of a barred window. “You don’t wanna tell me anything – fine. I’ll find out myself. I heard Wharton is in a padded cell now, but once he’s out you bet I’m gonna ask him. And he ain’t gonna get rid of me that easy.”
Oh god. Mick considered it above himself to speak to Vince, but once he set up on something he was unstoppable. Nikki couldn’t allow him to intervene in their relationship.
“I’ll speak to him myself,” Nikki said hurriedly. “We have some things to resolve. And them I’m gonna be good. I promise.”
Mick smiled. “Now you’re talking different.” Damn manipulator. He knew how to force Nikki to do what he didn’t want to do, and used it constantly. For Nikki’s sake, of course, but what Nikki needed and what Mick thought Nikki needed were vastly different things. “You do that right when he gets out, and tell me how it went later.”
“Sure, sure.” Whatever Vince was gonna say was definitely not what Mick would wanna hear. Nikki needed to invent some palatable lie after their talk.
“Alright.” Mick turned to Nikki. “I’m gonna work the med wing for one more week. You need to come for bandaging again in two days, then in a week we’ll be removing stitches if everything goes well. After that you won’t have any allies here anymore, and the local nurses don’t really bother caring for self-harmers like you. So you better keep your hands to yourself. Got me?”
“I appreciate everything you did for me, Mick.”
“Sure you do! Now, I’ve still got a couple patients to attend. Off you go.”
“Thanks again.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it.”
Walking was painful – the bandages grinded on stitches and irritated them. Maybe it would be better to take them off altogether – when the wounds would close enough to not bleed through his pants randomly. Which they yet haven’t.
A nurse escorted Nikki to his ward. He used to share it, but his cellmates didn’t like his pacing and talking when manic, so he was transferred. Now he almost missed those manic spells – at least he was feeling great about himself during them. But the last one was seven months ago, and since then it’s only been deeper and deeper into the darkness.
On the other hand, he was manic when he and Vince decided to hook up the first time. Weren’t for that, he’d never approach the sex-obsessed narcissistic ticking bomb that Vince was. Nikki knew him better now, and that description fit even more.
He stayed in his cell until lunch, when Dr. Duren was to see him. It was boring inside, and the stitches began to itch underneath the bandages. Nikki knew better than to scratch them with his nails, but it was extremely hard to keep his hands away. The couple hours he had to wait seemed an eternity.
Hudson came to escort him.
“Yeah, man, you’re in deep,” he told Nikki right off the bat. “Dr. Duren is very disappointed.”
“Thanks, that’s very encouraging,” Nikki muttered. “What’s it gonna be?”
“No idea.” Hudson shrugged. “C’mon. He’s already pissed today. Heard what Wharton did?”
God, what was it again?
“No, I wasn’t at breakfast, remember?”
“Oh, if I’m gonna remember where all of you bastards were and when I’ll have no memory left for my stuff.” Hudson waited until Nikki shuffled out of his ward and closed the door. Together they headed down the hall. “He got in a fight! Again! And that’s right after being released from the padded cell! The fucking audacity!”
Nikki’s heart skipped a bit. “He sure has enough of that. Who was the sorry fellow?”
“The newbie. You probably haven’t seen him yet. Looked feeble, but did pack Wharton a punch.”
Was that the laughing guy? Nikki didn’t dwell on it much, though. Vince’s fate was much more interesting to him.
“And what of him?”
“He’s back to his ward. Duff said it’s real fancy, with curtains and carpet and all. Who even is that guy?”
“No, I mean Wharton.”
“Oh, him? Probably back to the padded cell. Simmons talked some about a cold shower too. Maybe that will bring him back to his senses.”
Vince underwent such “therapy” at least on a monthly basis, and it kept him relatively docile for a couple weeks after. So docile that he didn’t even want to fuck, which was always alarming. Nikki didn’t like him docile. That wasn’t what he liked him for.
“Don’t you think it just makes him worse? Being treated like that?”
Hudson looked at Nikki like he was cra- oh, right.
“C’mon, Feranna. You’re a smart guy. You should understand that some patients simply do not understand humane approach. It’s the nature of their illness. They only respect those that can show who calls the shots here. And people who treat them well – they just use them.”
Nikki knew that, yes. But Vince wasn’t like that. Or rather, he was, usually. But not with Nikki.
Or maybe Nikki was just fooling himself as usual, and Wharton just used him like Hudson said. Who knows.
Nikki pushed the thought in the back of his mind. He had other problems now. They stood in front of Dr. Duren’s door.
“I’m fucked?” Nikki half-asked Hudson.
“Thoroughly,” the nurse said honestly. “Well, in you go. I’ll wait here to escort you to the canteen afterwards.”
Nikki nodded and knocked on the door. His hand slightly shook, and he clenched it into a fist.
“Come in,” he heard. Nikki inhaled and walked in.
***
It had rained, and the garden looked especially unappealing this cold autumn day. What month was it, October? It hadn’t snowed yet, but it was already getting dark before dinner. Yeah, probably mid-October.
Mick had lost count of days long ago. It was all approximate now: snow fell first in mid-November and melted in April, the first birdsong came in March (Mick could hear it because he usually wasn’t sleeping in early morning), the sun rose before breakfast starting early May. His whole world was based on the asylum routine. It was not bad, really. Brought predictability into life. And Mick preferred to know what would happen in the foreseeable future.
Except sometimes it was disrupted. A patient would leave – some were cured and discharged, some died. The first case, those didn’t usually stay long at the asylum anyway so Mick didn’t really care. The core of the asylum population remained relatively the same for the last couple years – the sickest of the sickest, those that wouldn’t survive on their own or those that would make it hard for everyone else in the outside world. Some of them spent years in the asylum. For them, cure was considered unattainable and the only way out was death.
Mick was one of them – not the worst, though. Staff knew he was one of the calmest, most reasonable ones and were rather lax with him. Doesn’t hurt himself or others? Doesn’t shit his pants or throws plates at others in the canteen? Great patient, no special attention needed.
That’s why no one bat an eye when he wandered away from the main group that was cleaning up the yard from the fallen leaves. Nurse McKagan cast an occasional look in his direction, but that was it.
Now nurse McKagan was occupied talking with a patient. Mick hadn’t seen him here before; more than that, he wasn’t wearing an asylum robe, but rather fancy though simple trousers, an unbuttoned coat hanging loosely off his bony shoulders and a shirt with puffy sleeves underneath it. The sleeves looked ridiculous, but the guy managed to pull it off. He was young, way too young to be here, though Wharton was probably his age. He belonged here as much as a flower belonged on a heap of cow shit.
He was probably the one that arrived in a carriage at night. Mick hadn’t been at breakfast, but he heard the new guy already got into a fight with Wharton. While Wharton deserved that, it didn’t instill much hope in the new guy. He seemed to have gotten off the hook this time – though not without a bruise on his swelled cheekbone.
Well, he beat Wharton’s ass at least, and the bastard truly needed it.
Mick plucked a lone brown leaf off a branch in front of his face. It was always harder in autumn and winter – now everyone could see through the trees circling the asylum territory, and the feeling of an intent gaze on Mick’s skin intensified when outside. He rubbed the spot, but it didn’t go away. It never went away.
Mick tore the leaf into tiny pieces and watched them float to the ground. When he turned around, he saw McKagan right in front of him. He realised it was McKagan a couple moments later, after he already swung a punch.
McKagan yelped indignantly. He dodged at the last moment, and the fist barely grazed him, but it was probably unpleasant anyway.
“Deal! The fuck you doing!”
“Don’t sneak up on me! You know I can’t handle it!” Mick yelled back and breathed in deep to calm his racing heart.
“Alright, fair. I should’ve called you.” McKagan was the only nurse who could ever admit he was wrong, and patients appreciated him for that. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been at the asylum long – a couple of months at this point. He was too kind for this place. Psychos couldn’t handle kindness.
“What do you want?” Mick tried to sound friendly, to make up for his bout of aggression, but didn’t succeed much. McKagan didn’t take it too close to heart, though.
“I wanted to show Tommy,” – he pointed at the new guy standing a bit aside, eyeing Mick carefully, - “the grounds, but Stanley is sick today, and we don’t have enough staff to look after the main bunch. You’re a rather reasonable fellow, and you know everything here, so I thought you could show him around.”
“Me?” Of course, Mick was on good terms with most of the stuff, but McKagan definitely had too much confidence in him. Mick was a patient for a reason, after all.
“Yes, you.” The nurse smiled. “I’ll tell him not to sneak up on you.”
Well, that could be interesting. The new guy had hardly talked with anyone so far. Everyone must be dying of curiosity. And Mick here got a chance to learn as much about him as possible.
“Alright,” he said. “Will you introduce us?”
#asylum au#motley crue#we the psychos#motley crue fanfiction#motley crue au#nikki sixx#tommy lee#mick mars#duff mckagan#slash#feels good to go back to motley fic man#it's my comfort zone#and while dabbling in original fic is also fun#motley fic just feels so familiar. this is probably the only thing i know how to do well#anyway please tell me if you like this your comments are literally my fuel
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Short-term Guests, Long Term Consequences
Fandom: Good Day For It
Pairing: Wayne Jackson x Reader, Norman Tyrus & Reader (platonic)
Word count: 3,415
Warnings: Cursing, Wayne being grabby without permission
Author's Note: Well, I just had to do something for Wayne after doing something for Norman, right? This one was written with @slashingdisneypasta mind, especially after wonderful content has been shared as the gif belong and her own fics! Hope you enjoy.
Norman couldn't say he was entirely thrilled about the prospect; after all, you were supposed to be separate from the Tyrus gang for safety reasons in his mind, and lord only knew how Dale and Wayne were going to react to you. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was one of the last tricks in the book he had to play. On the run, with the two thugs in tow, Norman knew if this didn't pan out, they would all be spending quite a long time in jail. A prospect that didn't leave the warm fuzzies for any of them. Lyle might just have all their heads, which was a far less appealing prospect than even prison.
So here he was, driving Wayne and Dale to the one place that he hadn’t ever wanted to bring them, ignoring all the questions that were coming his way.
“Just….shut it. For a few minutes. You wanted a safe house that they didn't know about, and that's where I'm bringing us all.” The edge to his voice was far more firm than usual.
You hadn't been expecting any company. A nice quiet afternoon, spending reading and cleaning up the house a bit since it was your day off. It came as a surprise when the back door rattled. It had been locked, and there wasn't any sound of glass breaking before the familiar thud of the door hitting the wall could be heard.
There were only two people that had keys to your house, and you didn't think that you would be seeing either of them any time soon.
“Well, shit, you been holding out on us, Norman?”
“Nice place. Doesn't seem like a safe house.”
The two voices were unfamiliar, but the name uttered by the first was. Setting aside the book that you had been planning on starting, deciding to investigate what was going on. Did Norman bring people here if he thought that you weren't home? Your gut feeling told you that wasn't it, but anything with the Tyrus brothers was possible.
“Norman?” You had just caught sight of the familiar blonde head of hair and lanky frame through the doorway that led to the kitchen and the backdoor. A heavy sigh could be heard even from where you stood.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted as he made himself appear back in your line of vision. He looked tired, a little haggard. Oh, something was most definitely wrong.
“Sweetheart?” Your eyes jumped to the others in the room as you inched forward. A rowdy, motley looking duo of guys. But they were hanging back, respecyfully, even if the younger man was poking around in one of the drawers beside him. These weren't two that you had ever met. You could see the tension filling Norman's form and decided that perhaps it was best to try and defuse the situation. As quickly as possible. A brawl in the middle of your kitchen was not something that you wanted.
“Well, you're all here now, and I figure I'll know why soon enough. Come on and make yourselves at home. Anyone hungry?”
“Oh, I could eat!” The enthusiasm brought a smile to your face in spite of the circumstances that you had a feeling you wouldn't particularly like.
“All right. Living room is that way. Feel free to turn whatever you want to watch. I'll whip something up real quick.” You moved further into the kitchen. The men shifted, followed by the sound of a smack echoing out.
“Fuck! All right.” Norman was glowering at the man in the denim jacket. You had most certainly missed something but the two wandered off towards the living room while Norman hung back.
“Gonna cue me into what's going on?” You asked, tone light but demanding an answer from the man that you had known for the better part of half of your life. He leaned against the counter beside you, causing you to absently reach into the fridge and hand off a beer.
“We need a place to lay low for a few days, possibly two weeks…” He opened the beer and took a long pull. Two weeks. It must be bad if this was where he ended up. You wanted to press for more information, but another part of you didn't want to know what the hell it was that had them needing to hunker down like this. Norman had always been careful to try to keep that part of his life away from you and yours. Something that you appreciated.
“Okay. Guess that means I'm gonna have to do a bit of shopping. You guys need anything specific? And any food restrictions I gotta know about?” The itch on the back of your neck was intense as you grabbed out some ingredients to throw together a quick meal for the men. Norman was staring at you. You could tell from the feeling without having to look at him.
“No, think we're good. Got some bags in the car with clothes. I'll give ya some money so you can get groceries.” At that moment, you knew better than to argue. Besides, it would help given how tight money has been for you over the last few weeks. Cut hours at work due to slow business were finally starting to catch up. “You know I wouldn't have brought this to your door if I coulda helped it.”
“I know, Norman. It's okay.” As much worry as it caused, you knew better than to let that on, and honestly, you would prefer not to see him locked away. So, if staying at your place with his crew for however long this would take was what was needed, then so be it.
“Dale and Wayne are harmless. Mostly. They’ll behave as long as they are here. They give you any trouble, you let me know. Okay?” You nodded absently as you chopped some veggies.
“Got it.” Pausing long enough to look up, you gave him a smile. “I'm sure everything will be fine, Norman. Don't worry. Any issues, I'll come to you right away.” That seemed to ease the concern as he relaxed further and took another pull from his beer. After a second, he nodded and headed off to the living room, leaving you alone to cook and process everything that had happened.
*********
A few days in, and things were actually going far more smoothly than you have imagined. Sure, having three men in your house created a sort of chaos that you weren't used to, but there was an odd routine to fall into among them. With Norman there, you were less worried about leaving them alone in your home when you headed out for your scheduled shifts. Dale and Wayne were nosy at best. Especially since it seemed that Norman hadn't let anyone know about you. Which, made sense and didn't bother you the way that they seemed to think it would have. It was an extra protection.
Dale was easy enough to keep occupied. Food, movies, some sort of distraction, and he was less destructive. Not entirely so, as could be seen in the broken lamp, chair, and picture frame but less than what he could have been. At the same time, he was willing to help around the house, surprisingly easy to direct. And the job was done about ninety-five percent correctly. The tasks were mainly things that you hadn't had a chance to get to and ones that he couldn't mess up too badly. Dale seemed to be happy to do something and receive praise.
Norman did what he always did when he was around. Genuinely relax to some degree. He refused to let you spend money on groceries and had given enough money to replace what Dale had broken with something that was actually nicer than what had been destroyed in the first place. No matter what you had to say about it. He did his best to keep the other two in line and from crawling up the walls. You had serious doubts that they stuck in one place, inside, for this long and they had a while still to go. There was only so much to do in your home. The rest of the time? He actually would read with you. Quiet shared moments that reminded you of when you were much younger and he snuck away from his older brother for so much needed peace.
Wayne? Now, he was a bit of a different story. Wayne was pretty much always around unless Norman was spending time with you. A near constant presence that was admittedly a little difficult to adjust to since you were so used to being on your own. Not in the shared space sense but more in the sense of a constant presence around you. And oddly enough, as difficult as it was to adjust to, it wasn't something that bothered you. Once or twice, you had caught Norman telling him off. Thought wasn't really given to those instances. Wayne liked to talk, and he was far more handsy than just about anyone you had ever dealt with in life. Something that occurred more and more after the first two days, and mainly when he knew Norman wasn't around to catch him. It was almost as if it was a game. Were you encouraging it? Maybe a little since, after the first few times, you stopped slapping his hands away and almost leaned into the touches.
A war raged within you, trying to make the determination if letting him continue to pursue something was smart or not. The answer really was no. It wasn't like he would be the sort to come home every night and sit at a table with you. They were out days at a time, various acts of violence and illegal activities filling his day. It just complicated life for you more if you let that in further than what you already had with Norman. And what would he think? Besides being none too happy.
You couldn't remember the last time that you had made a bad decision in life. Everything was so carefully thought and planned out. With the exception of the occasional blip in the radar, thanks to Norman. There was probably more harm in good with the choice of letting go and seeing where things took you, but for once, that was exactly what you wanted. It was going to be able keeping it hidden from Norman for the time being simply to avoid the hassle and headache.
Wayne had taken the lack of resistance as a green light to ramp things up. Murmured teasing seemed to be one of his favorite things to do. Not only would he get handsy when he could, but now there were dirty little comments for your ears only. Careful utterances of just what had entered his mind that day, devolving into less wholesome territory the longer you allowed it to happen.
Norman had been called up by Lyle and needed to handle something for his older brother. He had decided to take Dale before something else in your house broke and had tried to get Wayne to come as well but the argument had been made that it would be better for less people to go, since they were laying low. In case they did end up pulled over or in trouble. A sound argument and one that he couldn't really fight against.
The door had barely closed, and Wayne was right at your side. There was no doubt that he had been lurking in anticipation of the very moment. Biding time until he had you all to himself. Now, there wasn't any hiding, any need for whispered words. Who knew how long you had but whatever it was, to him it was enough to at least progress what had been flirted with the past few days. All secrets could be out in the open. Freedom often brought a further sense of daring, and Wayne seemed to be no exception to that rule. Act first, think later. Consequences be damned.
“Seems we got the place to ourselves.” He didn't waste any time. His arm was almost instantly around your waist, tugging you close to his side. The soft, worn fabric of the t-shirt still held strong to whatever cologne he had bothered with that morning. The grin could practically be heard in the words. All the confidence in the world that you weren't about to turn him down. And you weren't. But did he need to know that right now? Not a chance.
“Brilliant powers of observation. I thought I might just take a nap since I might get lucky and have a little peace and quiet.” Playfully, you pulled away, though it seemed even the slightest hint had the man on edge and his arm tightened further.
“Just where do you think you're going, huh?” The chuckle that reverberated in your ear was low, and before you knew it, Wayne was nearly pinning you to the doorway. The position put him just slightly behind you. There wasn't a chance that you were going to escape the grasp that he had on you. A dangerous position, and your eyes strayed to the door for just a moment, almost as if anticipating Norman and Dale walking right back in. But they didn't. You two were truly on your own. Just a hint of nerves hit right then. “Aww, don't go tensing on me now, sweetheart.” You took a second to breathe before relaxing, turning and tipping your head just a bit to try and see him.
“Well, I guess I could be persuaded to change my afternoon plans.” The grin that spread across his features happened in a flash. His eyes dipped lower before finding yours once more.
“Yeah? And what will make you change your mind?” There was both an underlying promise there if you wanted to look at it deep enough. With a smile, you shifted just enough to turn towards him. While you were ready for some risk, it had to be tampered just a little bit here. Because clearly, the man was thinking with a one track mind. Were you looking for any commitment? No. Even you knew that was likely a terrible idea until proven otherwise. But a hit and quit was definitely not what you were looking for either and giving in so easily? It would probably make that door far too easy to walk through.
“Slow your roll a bit there, Wayne.” The pinch of his brow was rather adorable, a thought that you were not going to say to his face. Not yet. Besides, you didn't think he would appreciate the term adorable just yet. The change in position allowed you to settle your hands against his chest, trying to ease the disgruntled reaction that was surely coming. “I'm not saying no. Just….not yet, okay? Why don't you go get settled on the couch? I'll grab us some beers, and we can go from there.” For a moment, it seemed like he might just protest before his body relaxed and the smile eased.
“All right.” The hold relented after another moment, and he finally stepped back. “Don't keep me waiting, sweetheart.”
“Don't plan on it.” You only slipped away to grab the promised beers after planting a quick kiss to his cheek. The small laugh that came from him made you smile. If his life was anything like Norman's, well, you knew that he probably didn't get a load of comfort or time to properly relax. What better place to start?
Finding him sprawled out on the couch, you were the one giving a soft chuckle this time. He gave a look as if to say what.
“Ya told me to settle down.”
“I did.” Before anything else could be said, he was yanking you down into his lap. It was a good thing that the beers were closed or they would have been all over the place.
“There, that's better.” Both arms were tightly wrapped around your waist, once again leaving you with little chance to get out of his grasp. The position was more than anticipated, but you decided to settle and not think too much. You held up the beer that you had grabbed for him, a silent question of if he wanted it or not. Instead of grabbing the beer, his fingers brushed over your cheek before grasping your chin to turn your head. The kiss should have been anticipated but still caught you off guard. Unsurprisingly demanding, but there was a hint of softness. Like he could drag this out for as long as he wanted. Frankly, he could if you were honest. And he probably knew that by the way that you responded.
Like a couple of teenagers, you were content to hang out on the couch and make out. At some point, his hands had made their way under your shirt and slid up under your back and chesf. Calloused and warm. Perhaps you should have stopped their exploration, but really, you were enjoying the attention and the touch a little too much. A couple of movies passed without all that much attention paid to them before the sounds of a car door slamming and the rattle of the backdoor sounded out. It shook you out of the little world you were in, and almost immediately, like a guilty party, you slipped from the man's lap and settled onto the couch. The disgruntled sound that came from Wayne let you know his displeasure. But he had been just as quick to get hands off when Norman had been around before now. So why would that change? It didn't bother you in the least. The last thing that was needed was Norman getting on your case about something or tension caused in the house. The men still had to be here for who knew how long. Fighting was not something that you wanted to do or have to deal with between them. Norman was protective, a track record proven a few times over the last several years, so it wasn't worth testing the limit. Just in line with the thoughts that you had when debating if it was worth it or not in the first place.
Norman and Dale appeared from around the corner. Dale looked a little roughed up, a split lip new compared to when they had left. Your head cocked and eyes jumped to Norman, a silent question that likely would go unanswered but worth asking all the same. He subtly shook his head. Right. He glanced between the two of you, which you ignored to the best of your ability and instead took a sip of the second beer that you had grabbed not too long ago. Thankfully. It would be hard to play it off as nothing happening between you if the beers are warm and untouched. Wayne was far less subtle than you were.
“You get your ass handed to you, Dale?” Norman rolled his eyes and flopped down into the chair with a groan while Dale settled his ass right between you and Wayne. Chuckling softly, unable to help the amusement, you decided that getting beer for the other two was probably a smart idea. So, you got yourself up and headed to the kitchen, just as Dale was beginning to mutter and bemoan whatever it was that caused the split lip. You could feel Wayne's eyes on you as you walked to the kitchen, causing you to shake your head to yourself. Before grabbing the beers, you decided to order a few pizzas for dinner for you all. Might as well since you didn't feel like cooking.
“Enough.” Norman's voice was loud enough to carry. Then again, it often was when he decided that he wanted the others to shut up or there was something that you weren't meant to hear being discussed. You weren't stupid after all. Funny how it felt almost routine now, having all the men in the house and how the thought that they would eventually leave left you feeling a bit sad over it all. That was not something to focus on right now. Instead, it was better to just enjoy the moment, the odd group that was practically calling your home their own, and whatever it was that was happening between you and Wayne.
#villian writing#wayne jackson x reader#wayne anthony jackson x reader#wayne jackson#robert englund characters#a good day for it#good day for it#good day for it fic#richard brake characters
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emotional Motion Sickness | A Rickyl ficlet | Part 6
rick x daryl
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9
AO3
Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.
Chapter Summary: The group finally arrive at the house. Daryl can't control his nose in danger and danger happens. They go into the house and find it's booby-trapped by a serial prepper/conspiracy theorist. They break off into twos. This chapter follows Rick and Carl.
AU: This fic has some timeline and plot-point changes. They are still in the prison and the second Governor fight never happened. He died in the first one and the last few months have been them adjusting to all the new Woodbury inhabitants. Rick and Lori broke up when Shane was killed, but Rick still lost his mind when she died. Daryl and Rick have just recently gotten together. Farmer Rick era is lot shorter than in the show. An original character is introduced for plot furthering purposes.
Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character
Word count: 4.5k +
My Daryl Dixon playlist
Ty to @dumbslxtclub for being my grammar kween and hype girl
Chapter 6: Welcome to the house of fun
The muddy path up to the old brick mansion was longer than any of them had expected. But they travelled as Rick instructed. Fast. Silent. Lethal. Only stopping to take out the stray walkers who had ventured into their orbit. Never breaking ranks, they were an insuppressible quartet. God, Rick missed this. The thrill of the chase, the weapons on his person. It’d been a long time since Rick had been out on the road, really long, actually. Following the advice of Herschel Greene, The Deputy had focused most of his attention on farming, trying to set a good example for his tweenaged son, who showed an uncanny apt for necessary violence. Trying to preserve Carl’s innocence was hard, as Rick lust after the battle just as much as he did. He had also appointed a council to make decisions with him, so he wasn’t solely to blame for shit ones. Stll, he had longed for this exhilaration. Thinking back, Rick hadn’t been out on a run since he and Daryl had confessed their feelings for each other. Shaking his head, he pushed aside harmful thoughts about their ability to work together. Today was just an exception. However credit where credit was due, since his tantrum in the woods, Daryl had managed to keep his shit together. Maybe the sick man had come to his senses. Rick wasn’t particularly hopeful, but he hadn’t heard a single cough or sneeze or sniffle for well over forty-five minutes. So maybe?
Coming to the end of the overgrown trail, the group emerged in front of an expansive clearing of wild uncut grass, and a motley of wandering walkers. The red-brick beauty seemingly towered above them, set high atop vintage foundations. It called to them teasingly. Rick subconsciously gestured with his hand, immediately feeling the presence of his partner at his side. Just as it should be. They glanced up to each other simultaneously, their telepathy unmatched, unwavering. Spotting an old rusty truck peeping out of the untamed garden, the pair gestured together, calling the whole group to the visual blockade.
Rick knelt down to oversee the expanse of danger that lay ahead, Daryl squatting down lower beside him. The younger two fell into formation next to the hunter. They needed a distraction to draw the walkers to one spot. Glancing at his immediate surroundings, Rick spotted a stray tennis ball under the dilapidated vehicle. He picked it up and tapped Daryl on the shoulder. The other man immediately withdrew his lighter and handed it over. It was an intimate dance of knowing. Bringing flame to fibres, Rick stared at the orange glow for a moment before launching it well out of sight. The group watched the swarm of hungry walkers meander to the distraction. Rick was satisfied, maybe the risk would be worth it. A knowing, sharp intake of breath to the right of him dismantled the confidence he had felt momentarily. With heaving shoulders, Daryl launched forward with ticklish explosion.
“H’AATChoO…Hh’EsTCHUU…ugh.”
The irritated blasts echoed through the nature around them, igniting furious shushes from three separate generations of frustration. Before anyone could vocalise a thought, Rick clamped his hand hard around Daryl’s nose, desperately trying to control the situation.
“Theheh fu-hehgk?” Daryl’s voice was barely audible, but was filled with consternation and confusion.
Without a thought and running on pure instinct, Rick whipped the other man’s face into his abdomen, attempting to muffle the volley of sneezes that sought to exacerbate the danger surrounding them.
“H’mmpht…mMPHht!” The fittish sneezes ripped through the thin layer of fabric separating nose from naval. Rick could feel every muscle convulsing from Daryl’s weak yet powerful body. A calloused hand grabbed The Deputy’s waist to steady the vessel behind it.
“You done?”
A swift yet subtle shake of the head tightened Rick’s grip as they both embraced for another onslaught.
“Hah’mmphst…nggmmpht…heh…h’MMPHTchuh…” The weakening of the frame pressed against him indicated that the fit was over. The leader of the group continued to hold the sick man hard against him, a sickly nose crushed hard above his pant line. The hand of support continued to linger at the small of The Deputy’s back, sending a rapid shiver through his extremities. An exhaustive wetness spread from the mouth of his beloved, permeating through flannel and cotton, settling on the fine hair that peaked out from his waistband. They breathed heavily together, one consideringly more congested than the other. Rick was not oblivious to his sudden arousal, but with danger so imminent he refused to bask in it, hoping that Daryl couldn't sense the blood rushing to his crotch.
He could. Daryl momentarily dipped into a state of deja vu, head being thrust into his partner's crotch, wild hair clasped tight in a fist of unwavering strength. The archer relished a peculiar kink, and briefly whisked his mind away to a comfortable place of safety and sexual longing. However the snot bubbling out of his nose brought him immediately back to disgusting reality. The vice around his face was suffocating, taking him back to the choke hold Shane had inflicted on him, way back in Atlanta. Anxiety surged and ferocity grew. Daryl abhorred being manhandled in such a weakened state, even by Rick. Especially by Rick. He gathered his strength and shoved the man away from him, a line of mucus breaking the last of the intense contact.
Rick fell back to the ground, staring back at icy blue eyes that wore the same bewilderment and anger that he too felt in this confusing moment. Before anyone in the group could cast an opinion on the matter, the sounds of bodies slamming into the other side of the vehicle broke them all out of their otherworldly stupor. Shit.
Scrambling to their feet, the four initiated their premature attack. Daryl snatched his trusty crossbow from beside him and launched a bolt into the walker closest to his partner. Rick immediately pushed forward. Knives to hilt driven forcefully into brain matter. The thin whistle of flying daggers rose above the hungry growling. Peri seized a rusty pipe from a pile of debris, plunging it hard into the skull of the walker she had just kicked down. Blow after blow, Carl annihilated them, sizable blades in both hands. Suddenly two sets of rotting hands grabbed him from behind. An arrow came hissing past his head, breaking him out of the undead vice. Daryl was perched atop the ancient truck, taking out the animated corpses at long range. Rick was tackled to the ground by two of them, only able to coordinate the execution of one. He struggled against the weight of them on his torso. A spatter of blood over his face. Forceful blade plunged deep into the cranium. Daryl kicked the limp bodies off his partner, and pulled him up by the hand. A bloodied knife in the other. The team continued to fight ferociously, until the final walker dropped to the ground.
The familiar stench of rotten flesh drifted up from the ground, mixing with a steady downpour of rain. The group stood where they stopped, catching their breath indefinitely. The thrill of the battle had them all running on unadulterated adrenaline, always taking a minute post for reality to catch up to them. Daryl braced himself hard against the old truck, desperately trying to replenish his drowning lungs of oxygen. A wet cough snuck out, drawing a vexing glare from Rick who stood nearby.
Rick watched the other man trying to collect himself, a flicker of immense sympathy emerging briefly before being crushed by irate exasperation. Logically, Rick realised that Daryl couldn’t control his bothersome nose, but the entire series of irresponsible decisions and willfulness had led to the culmination of everything going to shit. Rick tried to recall a time where his partner had been this fucking difficult but came up immensely short. He poorly convinced himself that Daryl would be fine, persevering on muscle memory and customary instinct.
“Rick, you good?” Peri’s voice broke him out of his maladaptive ruminations. A woman he hardly knew, but sadly trusted more than the love of his life at this moment.
A simple nod from their leader was enough for them to advance towards the expansive building. Approaching the door, Rick held up his hand stopping everyone. He pressed a keen ear up to the ornate door, rapping hard against it with his hand. The others followed suit, banging on the external windows in a bid to draw waiting walkers out. They paused, listening intently. Not a sound from within. Strange.
Rick turned the doorknob slowly. It was unlocked. As he pushed the heavy door inwards, a sudden alarm sounded, making the group jump in terror.
“The fuck is that?”
“What the hell happened?”
“Someone turn the damn thing off.”
Voices shouted against the ear piercing reverberations. Daryl aimed his bow at the speaker above their heads, silencing it with one swell draw.
They looked at each other with panic surging. What the fuck was going on? Rick opened the door a fraction again, stopping when a rugged hand met his shoulder.
“Ya sure ‘bout this?”
“No,” Rick responded, opening it anyway. They needed this.
The door opened to a widespread foyer, a thin layer of sunlight streaming in through the barricaded front windows. A grand staircase rose from the middle of the room. As the group entered the architecture, several strange additives came to life. The high ceilings were decorated with a multitude of silver coat hangers. Cardboard and newspaper clippings painted the towering walls, concealing a once decorated paper print. A thick coating of dust sat settled on any flat surface it could. The party moved slowly, attempting to make sense of their bizarre surroundings. Carl inched backwards, head tilted back, gazing curiously at the ceiling. A force stopped the boy at his ankles and the next thing everyone knew he was on his back in an instant. The blaring of heavy metal music deafened their eyes beyond the point of thought.
“Someone turn it off!”
“WHAT?”
“TURN THE DAMN MUSIC OFF!”
Daryl focused his bleary eyes toward the ceiling, flicking between two enormous speakers. He trailed a cluster of wires down through the corner of the room to a small radio, hidden on a table between piles of manila envelopes. The roar of music stopped in a fizzling instant, a sharp bolt shattering the threatening technology.
“Shit.” Rick swore to himself, a dull ringing still throbbing in his ears. They all waited on baited breath, convinced of being live bait to an immense walker horde. Yet nothing came. Again.
Peri walked around the sizable table in the centre of the room, holding a hand out to help Carl from the ground. Daryl squatted down to where the boy had tripped from, delicately running his finger across a strand of fishing wire, pulled taut.
“Damnd psycho got the whole place fuckging tripped!” Daryl arose with fretful pace, taking a few steps towards his partner, a pleading look in his eyes. “Rick, I gott’a bad feeling ‘bout this.” His tone was rushed. Urgent. Revealing the same trepidations that the man in front of him felt.
“Daryl…you were right before, man, we need this. S’fine, we got this far.” Rick attempted to keep a level head against all the mounting evidence that they should book it and run. He inhaled deeply, turning to include the younger members of their team. “Okay, this is fine. I dealt with a guy like this before the turn. Serial prepper, illegal booby traps and sound complaints. But he never rigged anything to hurt anyone, s’all for themselves. Sounds trigger to alert intruders. By th’looks of this place, no ones lived here for a while.” He ran a single finger though the dense dust layer to prove his point. “Walkers are our only threat, so we stay vigilant, on high alert, and we move slow. Y’all got that?” They all nodded tentatively.
“Al’right. Carl, you’re with me down stairs. Daryl, you take Peri up, find as much as you can.”
“Combon’ Rick-”
“-Daryl, shut up.” He sensed an almost audible eye roll emitting from beside him. He didn’t know what Daryl had against Peri, but he didn’t care enough right now to find out. “The sooner we get this done the better.”
Carl made a point to step over the fishing line that had foiled him earlier, whether it was attached to anything or not. Rick ran a hand through his son’s hair as he approached. Daryl huffed, snorted loudly and made his way up the steep staircase without another word. Peri made to leave but the Deputy called her attention with a quiet psst.
“Hey would you uh…keep a…y’know, keep an eye on him?” Rick asked sheepishly. He didn’t love the idea of having someone spy on his sick partner, but Peri was as close to a doctor as they were getting today. As shitty as Rick was with him, he feared Daryl succumbing to his sickness. She dipped her head in a show of solidarity and understanding.
He responded with a silent ‘thank you’ and watched her skip up the stairs to join the man responsible for all his consternation and woe. ‘Out of sight out of mind’ he thought, before bringing his hands down to his son’s shoulders affectionately.
“Let’s find the kitchen eh?”
“Pretty sure it’s through here, dad.” Carl moved to the left of the foyer, standing in front of a mahogany wooden door.
“How’dya figure that, Carl?”
“Just a hunch, I guess.” Carl went to turn the knob with haste, forcing Rick to step in.
“Hey! What’d I just say? We gotta be careful, Carl. Open it slowly.” Carl took heed and opened the door a crack. His father was glued to his back as the kitchen became visible, frame by frame. Much to their shock and relief, there was no trip wire, nothing to make them question their decisions. They laughed together in solace.
“Told ya I knew where it was!”
“Yeah, yeah, com’on let’s see what this guy has.”
“Who says it’s a guy?”
“A house like this? S’always a guy, Carl. A weird guy” He ran a hand through his son’s hair again, relishing their time together in such an awful context.
Rick watched Carl slide past the kitchen counter and squat down to some lower-level cupboards. The Deputy turned to his left and cast his eyes upon an open shelving rack of odd bits of gold. Cumin, tarragon, mustard seeds, paprika aplenty. Carol would absolutely love this. He stuffed as much as he thought necessary into the bag, beaming at the possibility of flavourful meals. Searching below he found bags of flour, sugar. Even chocolate bars. He quickly pocketed the latter, making sure his chocoholic son didn’t see the aforementioned items. ‘Fuck, Daryl was right, this is a goldmine.’
“Man whoever was here friggen’ loved pea and ham soup.” The juvenile piped up from behind Rick, staring mouth agape at an entire cupboard's worth. “How much should I take, Dad?”
“Um…” Rick didn’t know how to answer, truth be told he’d never seen so much of one thing before. “Er… take a lot but maybe not all of it.”
Carl filled his duffle bag with just enough so that’d had room for other things. They could always come back. He went to open a higher cupboard, excited to see what other items he could call his own.
“Carl, be careful!”
“It’s fine, Dad.” As the boy opened the cupboard a cruel twist of fate welcomed him, as copious amounts of porcelain fell from the flimsy shelving. Whether it was a trap or not, Carl ducked for cover as soon as the cascade started. The boy wasn’t quite quick enough- a broken plate hitting his head sending him to the ground once again. He had the foresight to move away from the attack but felt a stinging in his temple that he hoped he could wish away.
Rick viewed the whole scene in slow motion, springing into action when the broken vessel made contact with his son’s head.
“Carl!” He made his way around to him, avoiding the avalanche of broken china. “Carl, hey, you okay?” He knelt down to his boy, checking his face for broken skin, flinching in panic as blood made contact with his thumb.
“I’m good dad, it's fine, see?” He wiped the trickle of blood from his face, revealing the tiniest of lacerations near his temple.
Rick couldn’t put into words how relieved he was that Carl was okay. Part of him wanted to wrap the boy up in cotton wool and walk him straight out the front door and back to the car. Safe forever. The other part of him recognised the maturity that had grown from a once terrified child, ready to prove itself. Logically he knew he had to let Carl blossom into the inevitable eventually. But it was his boy, his life, his purpose. The best thing he and Lori ever did. It was all too tricky and Rick just wanted a vacation.
“I’ll go check the other cupboards Dad. you should go and see what's in the other rooms”
“Yeh, sure.” Rick said from his place on the cool floorboards, watching his son bound his way over to another cupboard. “Carl, just…just open it slower this time ‘kay?” Carl nodded and followed instruction. His eyes shone back at the bounty within.
“Whoooaahh.”
Sizeable cans of baby formula became visible to the pair. There were empty bottles, bibs, tiny jars of assorted puree. Judith would be set for the remainder of her first year, and then some. The boy plundered happily. Rick continued to watch him for a moment, a tender happiness swelling in his chest. Despite the possibility of sibling resentment, Carl had fallen in love with his baby sister almost instantly, becoming the best older brother a little girl in an apocalypse could ask for.
Rick stood and made his way over to the door they had previously entered from.
“Hey Carl, just be-
“-be careful! Yeah, I know dad.” The boy parroted gentle. “M’good here, run along now.”
“Smartass.” Rick said with a playful shove towards his son. They grinned at each other before Rick turned and made his way back through the expansive foyer. Several closed doors called out to the man. He reached deep in gut instinct and made a path to the one directly opposite to the kitchen.
Rick pressed an ear to the closed wooden frame and rapped on it lightly. Satisfied with the lack of undead shuffling behind it, he turned the knob. The heavy door opened with a distinct creaking of age and rust. The room was much darker than he had expected, only tiny slivers of fading daylight peeping through the boarded up windows. Rick peered into the blackness, an intense trepidation pooling in his throat. From the darkness a tiny flickering orange glow seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Before the man could decipher what was happening, the shadows erupted with light. Firecrackers were igniting left, right, and centre, the flames from one setting off another in quick succession. And the sound. A tiny war was happening before his eyes and ears, drowning out any chance of individual thought. He moved away from the strobing room, attempting to collect himself. Just as the false gunshots ceased, three sets of hurried footsteps made their way into the vicinity.
“Dad!”
“Rick! The hell happened?” Daryl’s concern drifted down from a high bannister.
“S’fine…” Rick replied, feeling slightly winded from the event. “Damn idiot rigged a bunch-a firecrackers to go off!”
“Shit.”
“Rick, the winds are really picking up out there, maybe we should just call it quits before the storm hits?”
“No! We’ve already gotten great stuff down here. We got time before the storm, jus’ get back to it yeah?”
The leader spoke and overhead footsteps withdrew. A coughing fit fading into the distance did not go unnoticed by Rick, who felt his polarising frustration and worry return. The man did not have the time for such thoughts right now. Peri was with Daryl. Rick didn’t have to deal with Daryl. Daryl could be as fucking Daryl as he wanted with her. ‘Come on, focus!”
“Hey dad.” A small hand grabbing the side of his arm broke Rick out of his cascading stream of thoughts. “We should, uh…we should stick together.��� Carl’s voice tinged with echoes of nervousness.
“Yeah, good plan.” The father gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze of solidarity. A squeeze that attempted to quell the small man of his sudden worry. “Com’on, come help me get some light in this place.”
Together the pair managed to free some of the wooden planks that decorated the inner sides of the windows. As the room lit up with dreary afternoon light, the belongings in front of them became apparent. A huge space, once a grand dream of a library now reduced to a nightmare of conspiracy theory and paranoia. A residual smell of smoke rose up from a burnt out pile of firecrackers on a small desk in the corner of the room. It was a good time for smoke detectors to be obsolete. Rick made his way over to the towering book cases and started rifling through. Carl explored more thoroughly around the space, poking through dusty boxes and peering at bizarre items on shelves.
“Hey, Dad!” Carl stopped at one of the old cardboard boxes and held up two large bottles of honey-colored liquid. “Y’think anyone wants, like, twelve bottles of whiskey?”
“Carl, just put-” Rick paused himself. Yes, people would very much like twelve bottles of whiskey. “Just put a few in yer bag and come help me sort through these books.”
Rick turned his attention back to the pile of books in his hand. Shakespeare, Aristotle, Tennessee Williams, Wordsworth. A stack of wonders from the old world, seemingly pointless for the new one. He threw them to the wayside and kept browsing the immense collection. Short Plays for Kids. Carol might enjoy letting the kids put on some silly pantomimes, so in the bag it went. He came to another heap of books, a collection of children's stories. Picking one up for a flip, the bearded man beamed.
“Hey, Carl. Carl!”
“Yeah?”
“Look! It’s the entire collection of The Large Family.”
“So?”
“This was your favourite series when you were little!”
“And?”
“Here, it's the one where Mrs Large just wants a night to herself and everyone keeps pestering her and -”
“-Dad! M’not a kid anymore!” Rick stopped his pressing, a melancholic aura coming from his slightly hunched shoulders. Carl sensed this. “Hey, I’m sure they were great. You should take them, I’m sure Judy will love it too.” Rick smiled back at his son, putting the collection into a side pocket of his duffle bag.
“Hey Dad?” Carl leant against the bookcase, putting no real effort into filing the assortment of literature. “How worried should we be about Daryl?” This caught Rick’s attention, forcing an exasperated sign from his lips.
“Ah, I really don't know Carl. I ain’t ever seen ‘im quite like this. Well-I have, but not for a long while.”
“He just really doesn’t seem okay.”
“Why? What happened out there in the woods?” Rick asked, realising he hadn’t bothered to gain such information before now.
“I kinda said I wouldn’t say anything…-”
“-Carl.”
“Okay well, I was able to track him like he taught me and then there were these two walkers. I killed ‘em before they could get to him, but Dad, he looked awful. And I could’ve sworn he was talking to himself before I got there…”
Shit. Daryl had been through several bouts of hallucinatory conversation in the time Rick had known him. Almost always with his brother Merle. These out of body experiences never came from a good place and always ended in a worse one. Daryl was in a terrible place, disgustingly physically, and even worse mentally. The sick man wasn’t particularly apt in communicating his grievances, even with Rick. There was still so much about the Hunter’s childhood that eluded him and made his heart ache with fury. The scars. The dreams. The hallucinations. The self-worth. Missing puzzle pieces that The Deputy desperately wanted to find. Daryl Dixon was a wounded wild animal, one misstep and he might run away for good. Snotty and wounded. Rick loved Daryl, fractures and all and wished the stubborn man could just accept the comfort he deserved. But with a hideous storm on the way, and a volatile house at their fingertips, Rick didn’t have the luxury of fretting. There’d be time to fix everything when they got home. Just focus.
“Hell be fine Carl.” Rick lied. “He’s tough, probably tougher than you and me put together. And he’s with Peri, she’s basically a doctor. He’ll be fine.” He patted Carl on the head, running a reassuring finger through the boy’s hair and was met with an accepting nod.
“Peri’s like, really cool. I’m glad you invited her to stay, Dad.” A sheepish smile creeping across the boy’s face.
“Carl, she’s like twice your age…”
“Ye..yeah…I know! I just mean she’s like, super funny and really good with knives and stuff…” Carl trailed off, a noticeable blush growing in his cheeks. He racked his mind for something to change the topic. Thinking on his feet fast.
“Hey, Dad, don’t people like this usually have like, a bunker somewhere? I bet he’s got a basement full of guns…”
“Now that, Carl, is some adult thinkin’. Let’s finish in here and then suss it out.”
The pair went back to their task of sorting through the books, finding just what they needed for their very own prison library. Carl was obviously growing bored, and started sighing subconsciously. That was until he came across one little read that made him giggle like a schoolgirl.
“Look what I found!” Carl exulted in a sing-songy voice. Rick looked down at the literature being flipped open in his son’s hand. Lewd images flashed by and the man immediately snatched it from Carl’s excited fingers. The fucking Kama Sutra.
“Not for you.”
“But I found i-”
“-Not. For you!” Rick huffed a sigh at his son’s over-the-top eye roll. “Look, I’ll finish up in here, why-dontcha wait out there for me and then we can look for that basement?”
“Fiiiiine…”
Rick listened to Carl stomp his way out of the room. He brought his gaze down to the well worn paperback and gulped a flushed swallow. Flipping through the pages and images brought a certain heat to the back of the man’s neck. A handy little read indeed. Lucky Maggie and Glenn. Lucky him. Just as he was about to read into a specifically flexible position, a loud commotion came from the foyer.
“Dad!” Carl’s panicked scream jolted Rick out of horniness and into fearful father-mode. He shoved the book into the top of the duffle bag and sprinted out of the library with breakneck speed. The room had changed colour since he was last in there, the rapidly dimming daylight fading the intricacies of the home. Rick’s eyes darted around. And there he saw Carl. Strung up by an ankle, several feet off the ground. It would be the simple case of cutting him down and blaming another silly trip wire. But an eerie energy was running rampant through the air. Inhumane screaming, gurgling and hissing filled the room. Rick scanned the place frantically, eyes eventually settling on a sizeable open trapdoor on the other side of the stairs. Before he could even reach for his Python, countless pairs of undead hands reached out of the abyss. They were very much not alone anymore.
“CARL!”
#rickyl#rickyl fanfiction#fanfiction#twd#the walking dead#rick grimes#daryl dixon#twd daryl#hurt/comfort#sickfic#sneezing#rick x daryl#cannon adjacent#zombies#walkers#recent couple#angst#norman reedus#andrew lincoln#rick grimes x daryl dixon#dickfics69#ficlet#rick/daryl#someone give daryl a hug#angst with a happy ending#sick daryl#rickyl writers group#sneeze kink
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Piece of Your Action
lol yes it's a Motley Crue song
@mystargirl-interlude
Ok, so some babes were talking about writing a Billy Hargrove fic where y/n is quote, " batshit crazy" and from what I can tell it's a majority opinion that Billy is the only one that could handle such a bad ass B. Sooo I offered to write one.
Ok so personally I feel like y/n is batshit crazy but she's nice to good people, they are the kind of person who has been around the block a few times and takes innocent people under her wings. But if they don't fuck with you, they'll make it obvious. if that makes sense.
As always my characters are consciously aware, consenting adults
Warnings: Lots and lots of cussing, drinking, mentions of drugs, innuendo, daddy issues, fighting, slight bullying.
Summary: Lmao idk (At this point billy's been in Hawkins a while.)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Live wire, night prowler
Lay back and take me inside
You need me now, I'll teach you how
Come on, let's go all the way
Get a piece of your action
Get a piece of your action!"
The guitar could be heard a block away as you blew into the parking lot with all your friends, windows down, radio all the way up. You stood up from the back seat through the roof window flashing your under tit, throwing a smoldering cigarette butt at Jason Carver. He dodged it, flipped you off and walked noticeably faster into the building.. mission accomplished. You laughed as the car came to a screeching halt basically throwing you from the roof, crawling out the top leaning in to grab your bag and sliding down the side until your feet hit the floor. "Now that's how it's done." you low-five your friend Ricky. Leaning down you shook out your long hair, flipping it as you snapped upright; fixing your lipstick in the car window before catching up to walk in with your friends. Billy Hargrove was watching the whole time, from the other side of the parking lot with a group of guys he met at a party the weekend before. " What's her name?" he asked.
"Who.. that chick.. it' y/n it's not worth it man, she's out of her mind."
"How do you mean?" he said blowing out a stream of smoke.
"I heard she took her top off during a concert at the Hideout for backstage passes."
"That's nothing compared to what I heard she did over the summer, "She apparently got caught selling pot and banged a cop to avoid being arrested."
Billy just nodded and took another drag, but in his head, he felt something brewing. His eyes followed you all the way into the school watching your leather pants move perfectly with your body like a second skin, and your matching jacket and heavy boots creating an air of sexy dominance around you. In Billy's mind, he'd already had all the girls who were worth a damn in the first few weeks of being in Hawkins, they were just too easy. Don't get him wrong he loves a quick fuck just like anyone else... but if anything Billy loves a challenge.. and you were just the thing to scratch that itch.
______________________________________________________________
6th period rolled around and Billy was uncharacteristically sitting in his seat on time, "Do my eyes deceive me, the elusive Mr.Hargrove decided to come to class today." the teacher theatrically presses a hand to his chest. Your seat, right next to his, was empty; that was until about 15 minutes into the teacher's lecture. Bursting into the room with a walkman on, the menacing sound of your boots echoed on the walls as you weaved through the desks to get to the back of the room. "Public enemy number one Oh, yeah I'm public enemy number one Oh, yeah!" you sang at the top of your lungs, the teacher stopping mid-sentence. Tossing your bag you, head-banged a few times before shrugging off your cropped leather jacket and hanging it on the back of your chair. "Mrs. Y/L/N, nice of you to join us. Hell must've frozen over." He says glaring in your direction.
"And what makes you say that?" you leaned back in your seat crossing your arms, spread eagle across the aisle.
"You and Mr. Hargrove in my class, almost on time, on the same day. Now if you please, put the walkman away and keep your outbursts to a minimum."
You shot Billy a glance, a devilish smirk plastered on your face, bite me, you mouthed turning your head back to the front of the room. Billy laughed to himself dropping his head, shaking out his curls, yeah this is gonna be fun, he thought. A spitfire with, a bad attitude and undeniable daddy issues, he hit the fucking jackpot.
When the bell rang you were up and out before Billy could even register you were gone, he walked after you, not wanting to seem desperate.
"Hey," he called, "where you headed babe?" you turned to meet his eyes, "what's it to you, screw boy?" you huff turning to continue untangling your headphone wire.
"Why so cagey? Do I make you nervous?"
"Nervous?" you stop in your tracks laughing, "What? Did you think your tough guy costume was intimidating?" you start walking again.
"Listen, I think you and I are more similar than you think."
"Okay yeah, sure, in what way Hargrove?" you inquire still entirely more focused on your walkman.
"I think you're tired of the same old push-overs in this town, and even if the rumors about you may or may not be true, you're in need of someone who can show you a good time."
"Oh wow, that's bold."
"Care to prove me wrong."
"You know wh-" something catches your eye behind Billy's shoulder. Carol. Fucking. Perkins, spilling a coke over a freshman girl's art project.
"What was that babe?"
"Shut up."
Billy watched as you stormed off throwing your bag at his feet.
"HEY!" everyone turned to look at you, "What the fuck was that for?"
Carol only laughed, "Oh my, I forgot the raging bitch was on patrol."
"You're damn right!"
"You think you're so great y/n, everyone knows you're just overcompensating since your dad left."
There it is, Billy thought.
You were an arms distance away from her now, "You know, I've just been waiting for you to give me a reason to beat the living hell out of you."
"Oh right, like your gonna touch me with all these people arou-."
SMACK, one backhand to her left cheek and she was on the floor. The crowded hallway split making room for people to see the action.
Giggling maniacally, you stood over her, as she crawled backwards into the wall, "Stop acting so high and mighty, you've done worse than that y/n! she yelled holding her cheek.
"Your right Carol I have," you leaned down and grabbed her by the hair, "too assholes like you who deserve it, because UNLIKE you I don't take cheap shots or prey on the weak. You're just a fucking cunt with nothing better to do." you threw her down into the puddle of soda beside her on the floor, "I dare you to let me catch you doing some shit like that again, and you can bring whoever you want to try and protect you but I promise it will never be enough." Leaving her to attend to her bruises, and ruined sweater. The freshman with the soiled project waved at you before scampering off herself. Just as Moses parted the sea so did you, people stayed close to the edges of the hall as you gracefully walked back to grab your stuff off the floor, like you didn't just kick the crap out of someone.
You stopped to give Billy a once over, "What was it you said, about showing me a good time." your Cheshire grin mirrored on Billy's lips.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SOO instead of starting a new one I just revised and built off yesterday's writing. A real SMUTTY part 2 coming soon. <3
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Boy's Night
Gotta love being in denial amirite boys? Absbsbsbsb First PoeHaitham fIc WAHOO
When Poe entered Lambad’s Tavern and caught sight of the motley crew seated at the wooden table in the corner, she almost denied the fact that they were the ones who invited her. But once she sat down, beckoned over by the blonde at the table she felt undeniably welcomed among the group. It reminded her of when she would go on “quests” in her youth with Diluc and Kaeya. The three often pretended to be Favonian Knights like they saw in the city, rescuing each other from unseen dangers in the fields of Springvale.
Those joyful days seemed so distant to her now.
“Poe? Are you listening? It's your turn.”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
The quintet had been playing a low stakes card game for the past 30 minutes or so and to this point Cyno had been demolishing them all. That is, until Poe drew a card from the deck in the middle of the table and grinned.
“Well boys, I think that's game~”
She laid her hand on the table revealing the winning cards and awarding herself with groans of frustration from Tighnari and Kaveh. The wide smirk on her face was quickly wiped away as she felt a firm hand ruffle her hair.
“Good job.”
They were but two simple words but coming from a man such as AlHaitham? Poe could feel her chest swell with pride. She beamed at him before taking another sip of her drink. She then pushed her chair away from the table.
“I'll be back shortly. Heading to the little Anemo users room.”
Cyno let out a snort at her small comment before beginning to shuffle the deck of cards. The second Poe was clearly out of earshot, everyone's attention turned to the scribe currently sipping his beverage.
Kaveh was the first to break the silence.
“Care to explain what that was?”
The quirk of a smokey eyebrow was the only response the architect received. A frown appeared on Kaveh’s face at AlHaitham’s lack of reaction.
“C’mon! I'm not the only one who noticed right?”
Tighnari’s smooth voice interjected in the conversation. “Oh no we all noticed. I think you're the only one perturbed by it.”
Kaveh suddenly looked incensed. “You can't be serious right now!?”
AlHaitham sighed. “Lower your voice. You'll make a scene.”
Like a petulant child, Kaveh folded his arms across his chest. AlHaitham was silently relieved the topic was dropped only to be proven wrong by Cyno speaking up.
“You have to admit… It is rather odd though.”
AlHaitham let out a sigh before turning to look at the Matra idly shuffling the deck of cards.
“What is?”
“That it seems even roses can bloom in a desert.”
Tighnari scoffed. “If that was another attempt at humor please remember Sumeru is known for its wild roses.”
Cyno only looked down to hide the smirk on his face.
“True. But where AlHaitham is concerned feelings have never a-rose.”
Ear folded flat against his head, Tighnari’s face quickly created an expression of disgust. “There it is.”
Kaveh, however, suddenly seemed pleased to have some support on the matter.
“Precisely! So spit it out! Why are you being so nice to Poe?”
Another sigh left the scribe's lungs. “Kaveh you act as though I'm a cruel person.”
“YOU LOCKED ME OUT IN THE RAIN!”
“You needed a lesson in remembering to bring your keys with you.”
“I had to climb in through a window!!!”
“And I was the one who cracked the window.”
The blonde haired man clutched his head and let out a long groan. Tighnari took the opportunity and looked over at AlHaitham, curiosity clear on his face.
“Even I'm a bit curious though. At what point were you going to tell us?”
AlHaitham silently began reconsidering his choice of ‘friends’ before replying. “About what?”
“About your feelings. I, for one, support you. If she feels similarly I see no reason for you to not pursue your interest.”
“There are no feelings. She and I interact regularly because of our shared field of study. That's all.”
“You invited her to come tonight.” Cyno chimed in.
Kaveh nodded eagerly, finally having recovered from the psychic damage the scribe so willing inflicted upon him.
“Let's use your beloved logic against you, shall we?”
AlHaitham simply stared at his roommate blankly, waiting for him to spout whatever nonsense he needed to get off his chest.
“First, you start staying at the Akademiya later than usual. At first there's no reason to assume it was anything more than you getting lost in some thought but then I happened to catch you walking away from Avidya forest. I try to justify it but then- THEN I come home and there she is. A “colleague” as you introduced her. So why did you, the most reclusive man I have ever known, invite her over to our home?”
AlHaitham was utterly unfazed by Kaveh’s emphatic accusations. “Are you upset that I did so without your permission?”
“That has nothing to do with it and you know it!” The look on poor Kaveh’s face proved how desperate he was to cling to his sanity. Tighnari, taking pity on the poor man, spoke once more.
“I think Kaveh is trying to point out the fact that you seem to go out of your way to include her in your daily comings and goings.”
“Who? Does AlHaitham have a little crush on someone?”
A sudden feminine voice chiming into the conversation caused the three conversing males to suddenly clam up. Poe once again took her seat between AlHaitham and Tighnari before smirking at the scribe.
“You could tell me who it is. I'll put in a good word for you.”
“I have no ‘crush’ on anyone. These three are simply trying to make a mockery of me.”
Poe chuckled, turning back to the table as Cyno began dealing cards to everyone again.
“As any good group of friends would~ My friends and I would banter back and forth all the time back home.”
A sudden, bitter taste rose in AlHaitham's throat. Ah yes. Her so-called “friends” she was dearly fond of. He couldn't place the source of the sour feeling surrounding the man he'd likely never meet but as far as the scribe was concerned it was best left alone. Feelings made people vulnerable and illogical, two things he was above being. His grandmother had raised him to be kind to women. That was the single reason he was so charitable in regards to Poe.
Anything else…. He'd rather not think over to any great extent, lest he prove his own theories faulty.
#hes so down bad it makes him look stupid ahsbshahssh#writing! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚#poe fic! ₊˚⊹♡#genshin alhaitham#alhaitham x oc#genshin x oc#genshin impact
1 note
·
View note
Text
little drummer girl ~ rook
word count: 1082
request?: yes!
“do you think you could do a fic where reader is tommy lee's daughter and she like meets rook and falls head over heels for him? like she also plays the drums? and they start out as friends but then it escalates to more than that?”
description: in which she’s the daughter of his hero, and she has a massive crush on him
pairing: rook x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two)
It was one thing to have the opportunity to meet a living legend, but it was an added bonus to meet his beautiful daughter, too.
Rook was beyond excited as he followed Colson on set of The Dirt. All four members of Motley Crue were there, which had Rook feeling like a nervous kid. Tommy Lee was one of Rook’s idols. The fact that his friend was playing his idol was amazing, and Colson giving him the opportunity to meet his idol meant the world to him.
It was a long day on set and Rook was nearly ready to leave when the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on walked onto set. All eyes were on her as she walked up to the legendary band and greeted them.
“Oh hey, everyone meet my daughter, (Y/N),” Tommy said.
(Y/N) smiled at the people giving her attention. “Hi! Nice to meet you guys. I’m sorry if I interrupted filming.”
“It’s a well needed interruption I think,” Douglas said. “We’ve been shooting this scene for hours now. I think we’re all getting a bit loopy.”
The cast and crew took a quick five minute break before going back to finishing the scene. As they filmed, Rook kept sneaking glances at (Y/N). She was focused on the scene so she never noticed him.
Man, he thought, she’s absolutely gorgeous.
When they finally wrapped for the day and the cast went to get out of costume, Rook decided to make his move to talk to her. Luckily, she was alone so he didn’t have the extra nervousness of her fathering looming around.
(Y/N) was distracted on her phone when he walked up. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. He cleared his throat, drawing (Y/N)’s attention to him.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Rook, I’m friends with Colson. The, uh, the one playing your dad.”
“Yeah, I know Colson. Dad won’t shut up about him,” (Y/N) said. Her tone was light, so Rook figured it was okay to laugh at the joke. “It’s nice to meet you, Rook.”
They shook hands and just like that, any talking points Rook had were out the window. he tried to think of something - anything - to say, but he was just coming up blank.
“Whatever you wanna say or ask about my dad you can,” (Y/N) said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’ve heard it all, I don’t mind answering anything.”
“I don’t really want to talk about your dad,” Rook said. “I mean, he’s an idol to me and I think he’s great, but I’d like to talk to you about you.”
(Y/N) raised her eyebrows at him. “I don’t hear that often. What do you want to know about me?”
Everything, he wanted to say. I want to know everything about you.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.
(Y/N) chuckled. “It really depends on my mood. Today I think I’m yellow.”
“Why yellow?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think cause it’s sunny.”
Rook laughed. “Okay, good answer. Uh...what was your dream job as a kid?”
“It’s super cliché, but I wanted to be a drummer like my dad. I went to so many of his shows and I just really wanted to be like him. He taught me how to drum and everything.”
“Do you still play?”
“Still? Oh honey, I never stopped.” She looked over at the drum set that had been left on set once they wrapped. She nodded towards it and said, “Come listen.”
Rook wasn’t sure if they were allowed to touch the prop drums, but (Y/N) was already on her way towards them. He looked around to see if any crew members were still lingering around before following her.
She sat down and picked up the discarded drumsticks. She twirled one drumstick around her finger, a mirror image of her dad for a split second.
She began hitting on the drums, playing whatever came to her head and letting it flow through the drumsticks. Rook was impressed, but he didn’t know why. Of course she was great, she was the daughter of a drumming legend.
When she finished, she looked up at Rook with a smile.
“That was amazing,” Rook said.
“Thanks,” she said. “You play? Wait, don’t answer that. You said dad is your idol, obviously you play.”
Rook chuckled. “Yeah, I’m Colson’s drummer actually. I have been since he started basically.”
“Dope!” She stood from the drum set and held out the drumsticks to Rook. “Show me what you got.”
“No, I don’t think I should - ”
“Come on! Don’t be chicken!”
Rook sighed. He wanted to impress (Y/N), so he took the drumsticks and took his place behind the drums. It felt so natural to him to be there that he forgot the concerns about whether or not he should be playing the set drums.
He played one of his prolonged sets like he did on stage. He could see (Y/N)’s smile as she listened to him play, which just made him want to play even longer for her.
(Y/N) started to clap for him after he had finished, only to be interrupted by Colson, now out of his costume, and Tommy.
“Stop fucking with my drums, dog!” Colson called, racing up to Rook and starting to rough house with him. Rook tried to get him to stop without actually saying to stop since he wasn’t about to admit to having a thing on Tommy’s daughter in front of him.
Luckily, the two Lees were still stood there when Colson finally put Rook down.
“I’ll see you tomorrow man,” Tommy said to Colson. “Great work today. Nice to meet you, Rook.”
“You too,” Rook said. “And you, (Y/N).”
(Y/N) smiled at him and turned to her dad. “Hey, you have a pen?”
Without asking any questions, Tommy pulled a pen from his pocket and passed it to (Y/N). She grabbed Rook’s hand and pulled him close. He looked at her in confusion as she started to write something on his palm.
When she pulled away, he saw it was a phone number.
“Call me sometime,” she said and winked.
As (Y/N) and Tommy walked away, Colson threw an arm over his shoulder and said, “Dude!”
Rook was shocked into silence, but he knew he couldn’t wait to get alone so he could call her.
#rook#rook imagine#rook x reader#jp cappelletty#jp cappelletty imagine#jp cappelletty x reader#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
Home Sweet Home
You bring Colson to your hometown for the first time.
Request: “Can you write a Colson imagine where you take him back to your hometown to meet your family and friends and he’s nervous everyone will hate him but everyone ends up loving him? And maybe include a run in with some girls from high school that are jealous 🤔🤷🏻♀️”
Colson Baker x Reader
Warnings: Cursing
A/N: I try to be as inclusive as possible in my fics but its hard when writing about families in this capacity, so I just went with the most generic family model possible. Also, my family is very unusual so I don’t really know how families interact… oop
Word Count: 2979
“Will you stop freaking out, you’re making me nervous.” You placed a soft hand on the shaking leg of your boyfriend. “And they’re my family.”
He let out a sigh, the shaking stopping momentarily as he pulled you as close to him as possible in the back of your Uber. “What if your parents hate me?”
Taking a deep breath, you assured him again, “my parents are not going to hate you. We’ve been over this; they’re going to love you.”
“Your dad is going to take one look at me and punch me in the face.” Colson said, a pout on his face.
You let out a chuckle, “he is not. And even if he does, you can take a punch.”
Despite your laughter, Colson remained stoic, “I’m serious Y/N, dads hate me. I look like everything you’d want your daughter to avoid.”
A sigh left your lips at his admittance of insecurity. “Babe listen to me, please. My parents are going to love you because I love you. And if they don’t then tough shit because you’re not going anywhere.”
He nodded, but you could still see the worry behind his eyes. “I just really want them to like me. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”
You smiled at the comment, heart fluttering. “I’m in love with you.”
He looked at you deeply, a smile falling onto his lips, “and I’m in love with you, princess.” His lips pressed a small kiss against the crown of your head and rested there until the car pulled up to your childhood home. You felt your boyfriend tense up beside you, so you reached for his arm that was around your middle, rubbing soft shapes through the sleeves.
“I’m gonna be right next to you the whole night.” You told him as you moved to open the door, breathing in the refreshing air. LA was lovely, but it was nice to be able to breathe properly in your hometown.
Colson grabbed your bags out of the trunk, even though you insisted you could help. “Go say hi to your family, babe. I got it.”
You pressed a small kiss to his cheek, whispering a small “see you inside” before rushing to the familiar front door. Years of memories lie beyond its wood, memories you were excited to relive.
Knowing your family would keep it unlocked for you, you turned the knob and pushed the door open. The smell of your family’s cooking filled your nose, and immediately members of your family found you.
“Y/N!” Your younger cousins screamed, racing over to you to hug you. The last time you’d seen them they were 5 and 7, now they were 8 and 10.
“You guys have gotten so big! Did you drink some sort of magic potion or something?” You asked, a smile on your face.
Your mom had told you that she and your father would be cooking, but you didn’t think they’d invited your entire family. Although, you should have assumed they would given how close your family was.
Once your cousins let go of you, you turned around to see Colson waving off the Uber driver and making his way to the door. You turned to your younger cousins once he got close enough for them to see him. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Colson.” They gave small waves as you introduced them to Colson, who gave them a big smile.
“C’mon, babe. I’ll show you to our room.” You grabbed one of the bags from his hand, much to his dismay, and led him through the house. After you had moved to LA, your parents had turned your bedroom into the guest room, but some of the decorations from your younger years had remained on the walls.
Colson looked around the room, smiling as he thought of younger you growing up in here. “Is this a Bowie vinyl?” He asked, motioning to the vinyl record on the wall as he set your bags onto the bed.
You nodded, smiling wide. “Yep, got it for my 15th birthday. Signed and everything.” Your boyfriend nodded in appreciation as his eyes moved around the room. You wrapped your arms around his middle, cuddling into his chest. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest from how nervous he was. “You’re not gonna freak out and run off on me, are you?” You asked, a light humor in your voice.
Colson let out a dry chuckle, “no, I’ll be okay.” He mumbled, squeezing you closer to him. “But what if we just stayed in here forever?”
You slapped his chest playfully, “c’mon loser, you’re coming to meet my family whether you like it or not.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the door.
“Yes ma’am.” He saluted with his free hand, making you giggle.
You made your way into the kitchen where your mom was standing with your aunts and sister. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, “you made it!” She came over and gave you a tight hug, “How was the flight?” She asked.
“It was fine, we slept most of the way.” You smiled before turning to Colson. “Mom, this is Colson, you’ve met him over facetime a couple times now, remember?”
She smiled moving to pull him into a hug. He had a shocked look on his face but reciprocated the hug. You mouthed “sorry” to him, giggling silently. He just smiled and shook his head, letting you know he was okay.
“Of course, I remember! She talks about you all the time.” You blushed as Colson smiled proudly. “You’re much taller in person.” Your mom noted, making you and Colson chuckle.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Your sister cleared her throat, grabbing your attention, “right! Colson, this is my sister and my aunts.”
They each introduced themselves politely. You told them you were going to go outside to find your dad and brothers. Before you left your sister pulled you to the side and whispered in your ear, “okay, I knew LA was full of hot guys, but how’d you manage to pull that?”
You laughed out loud, “Y/S/N! That’s so mean!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” She laughed, but then whispered again, “but seriously, god damn.”
You rolled your eyes, “next time I’ll bring you one back.” She giggled, nodding in encouragement.
You took Colson’s hand, ignoring his quizzical look, and led him to your backyard. “That wasn’t too bad, right?” You checked in on him.
He sighed, “no, but moms are never bad. If moms don’t like you, they’ll say it in secret. Dads will say it to your face.”
“My mom loved you, and so will my dad. Just trust me.” You smiled, squeezing his hand.
You found your dad sitting on a lawn chair with your grandparents. Your brothers were throwing a football around with some of your older cousins and uncles. You greeted the three in lawn chairs, your dad standing up to give you a hug.
“Hey, Y/N/N. How are you?” Your dad asked.
“I’m good! Glad to be home!” You smiled.
Your grandpa grunted, “you should never leave, then.”
You chuckled, leaning down to give both him and your grandma hugs. “You’ll be so sick of me in three days, you’ll be begging me to leave.”
Once you stood up straight, you motioned to Colson, “This is my boyfriend, Colson. You’ve kind of met him before, Dad.”
Your dad reached out his arm for Colson to shake, earning him a strong nod. “Strong grip. I like him.” Your dad looked towards you. You could tell he didn’t remember meeting Colson on facetime, but you hadn’t expected him to.
“Grandpa, you’ll like this. Colson knows all four members of Motley Crue.” You smiled, winking at your boyfriend.
The older man looked impressed, “really? I was a roadie on the Theatre of Pain tour.”
Colson nodded, a smile on his face. “I played Tommy Lee in their biopic and then, uh, we recorded a song together.” You grinned proudly as the two talked about their experiences with the band.
Your dad put a hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly, “You happy?” He whispered.
You turned to look at him, “yeah. He’s a good guy, trust me.”
Your dad nodded, “oh, I can tell. Just wanted to make sure.” You thanked him, watching your boyfriend interact with your family. “Now you gotta introduce him to your brothers.” He chuckled at your sigh.
“Do I have permission to punch them if they act like assholes?” You asked, only kind of joking.
Your dad pushed you towards the lawn, “I see nothing.” You smile, grabbing Colson’s hand and leading him away from your grandpa once they’d finished their conversation.
“Okay, so I knew you were freaking out about my parents, so I didn’t want to freak you out even more.” You started, causing a panic look to cross Colson’s face. “My brothers are…” you searched for the words, “assholes. But like, loveable assholes. But they’re probably gonna give you shit, but it’s out of love. But I have no problem hitting them if you want me to.” You smiled.
He raised an eyebrow, “normally I’d say that’s my job but I feel like it’d be easier for your family to forgive you than me.” You laughed, pulling him to the guys and introducing him.
It turns out, your brothers actually really liked Colson, which was somehow worse than them hating him. Because it meant that they stole him from you. When you went back inside to talk more with your mom, your brothers demanded Colson stay outside with them. He seemed happy, so you let him stay, excited that your family was taking to him so well.
An hour later, dinner was almost ready, so your brothers started to set up the folding tables outside, which Colson gladly helped with. You were helping your mom finish up the last of the food, watching your best friend and soulmate through the window with adoration. He was helping your younger cousin put the tablecloth on the table, the scene reminding you of the time Casie and him took you out for a picnic on your birthday. You couldn’t wait to bring her here.
“You chose a good one.” Your grandma commented from behind you, making you jump a little bit. Once you registered her words, you blushed, mumbling out a thank you. “I can tell he really loves you. A granny can always tell.”
You smiled, “I really love him, too.” You turned back to check on him, catching his eye. He sent you a bright grin, making your grandma pat you on the shoulder before walking back to your mom to help her.
The rest of the night was magical, Colson by your side the entire time. Eventually most of your family left, leaving you and Colson to go to bed. You cuddled into his side, a smile on both of your faces. “They all love you, y’know?”
He hummed in response, squeezing your waist. “I love you.”
You chuckled, “you’re so fucking cheesy.”
The next day you were determined to take Colson on a tour of your town, starting with the skate park you spent almost every day at in high school. “We would’ve been best friends when we were kids.” He said as you dragged him through the park.
“We’re best friends now.” You chuckled, pausing to press a kiss to his lips.
He hummed, “I think we’re a little more than best friends but okay.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him further into the park until you spotted a familiar face.
“Little Benny?” You asked, your face lighting up. The younger guy’s eyes widened, running up to you.
“Y/N?” he asked, pulling you in for a hug.
You chuckled, “You were like, 12 the last time I saw you, what the hell?”
The man laughed along with you, “well you were the one who ran off to LA miss big-time producer.”
You smiled, realizing he had probably checked up on you. Benny was about 7 years younger than you and had looked up to you almost his whole life. Seeing him so grown up was a strange experience for you.
You noticed him glancing to Colson, his eyes going wide. “You’re-“
You laughed, “Benny this is Colson, my boyfriend. Also known as-“
“Machine Gun Kelly!” The younger boy exclaimed, making Colson chuckle.
He reached out his hand, which Benny gladly shook, “nice to meet you, man.”
“Kells, this is Benny, my friend from high school. I taught him how to skate.”
“More like your protégé.” A female voice said. Behind Benny came Deanie, another girl his age you had taught. Benny’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.
You smiled at the two, knowing Benny had liked her since he was in middle school. “Hi Deanie.” You said, the girl smiling back at you. “This is Colson, my boyfriend.”
“Are you gonna skate?” She asked, eyes going wide.
You sighed, shaking your head, “sorry, guys. Maybe later, I’m just showing Colson around the town right now.”
Deanie and Benny both pouted, “damn, she goes off to Hollywood and forgets all about us.” Benny joked, making you all laugh.
You grabbed Colson’s hand, “We’ll see you guys later!” You waved, pulling the man away from the couple.
“It was nice to meet you!” He said, making you smile. “You seriously taught him how to skate?”
You nodded as you continued your trek to the diner you used to work at. “Yep, I taught most of the kids how to skate, although I guess they’re all his age now.”
Colson grinned, “so you’re, like, a legend here.” He commented, but you shook your head, laughing.
“No, I was a loser.”
“Not to those two, you’re not.” He said, swinging your intertwined hands. You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything further.
You finally arrived at the small diner you used to work at. About 50 feet away from the door, Colson’s phone buzzed. “Shit, Slim’s calling.”
“Take it, I’ll grab a table and you can meet me inside.” He smiled thankfully, answering the call as you walked inside.
You immediately spotted Wesley, the cook you’d known since you were 16, through the order window. The smell of the diner was familiar, and for a moment you felt like you were walking in for a shift. You leaned against the bar, “Hey, Wes!” You called, drawing the cook’s eye.
“Little miss Y/N! Is that really you?” You smiled at the old man.
“It sure is! How’s the diner?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” You giggled at his response. Wes had opened the diner in the 90’s and swore he’d burn with the building.
You grabbed a booth in the corner, just in case there happened to be any peering eyes in your small town.
Unfortunately, your table was in Liza’s section, a girl who’d hated you since you were kids. You found it quite funny that she was still working at the diner after all this time, silently thankful that you’d gotten out of the town.
She scowled when she saw you but walked over anyways. “What happened? Strike out in Hollywood and now you’re back here trying to get your job back?”
Her voice was just as annoying as it had always been. “Or did your rich sugar daddy dump your ass and now you’re home begging for money?”
You wanted nothing more than to slap the smirk off her face, but you refrained. “Actually-“ You started, but you got cut off by your boyfriend.
“You have a sugar daddy and didn’t tell me about it? Babe I would’ve helped you scam him for so much more.” He smiled, sitting across from you, and grabbing your hand that was resting on the table.
Upon realizing who was sitting across from you, Liza stiffened. “You’re-“
“Y/N’s boyfriend, nice to meet you.” He smiled, an evil glint in his eyes.
“Machine Gun Kelly!” Liza said, her squeaky voice making you cringe.
“I prefer Colson, but yeah.” He sighed, looking back over to see your annoyed expression.
Liza looked between the two of you, a look at disgust on her face. “Seriously? Why the hell are you going out with her? You could do so much better.”
Your mouth dropped open in shock at her blunt rudeness. Colson’s jaw clenched as he spoke, “what, like you?”
The girl shrugged, not catching the sarcasm that dripped from his voice. “I’m just saying, I don’t know what she’s told you but she’s a talentless bitch whose probably only dating you for money or fame, or both.”
Luckily, Wes came out to the front of the house to greet Colson, stopping him from punching a girl in the middle of the restaurant. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Wes, owner, cook, and the best boss Y/N has ever had.” Colson shook his hand, still glaring at Liza.
“Yep.” You agreed with the man. Your voice was soft to calm Colson down, which worked a little bit.
Colson shot the man a grin, “nice to meet you, Wes. Y/N talks about this place all the time.”
The look of pride on Wes’s face was unforgettable. “Well, if you two need anything, just let me know.”
Colson looked towards Liza, annoyance returning to his features, “do you think we could get a new waiter?”
You almost laughed seeing the look of shock on her features, but Wes happily obliged, handing your table over to a newer waitress. Liza had steam coming out of her ears, but you ignored her.
“Thank you.” You muttered. “She’s hated me since we were kids.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I could tell. Couldn’t have her talking shit like that.” He squeezed your hand, “now, what’s good here?”
#mgk#mgk imagine#mgk angst#mgk fluff#machine gun kelly#machine gun kelly imagine#Colson baker#colson x reader#colson baker imagine#colson baker fluff#colson baker angst#colson imagine#colson baker x reader
435 notes
·
View notes
Text
Masked Windfall
Pairing— Park Jimin x reader x Jeon Jungkook
Genre— SMUT, strangers to lovers au
Warnings— Switch!Jimin, Dom!Jungkook, Switch!reader, threesome, explicit unprotected and somewhat rough sex (stay safe my friends), double penetration (but like a bj and in your business at the same time? I’m bad with terminology I’m sorry), brief handjob, fingering, multiple orgasms, a booty slap, praise kink, slight derogatory kink, brief guy on guy action, nipple play, hair pulling, lots of kissing, teasing, swearing, PHEW I think that’s all? Please let me know if I forgot something
Word Count— 6k
Win(d)fôl: a piece of unexpected good fortune || After a bad breakup, you’ve given up on the prospect of a relationship, and on romance in general. Things take a turn once you get dragged to a mysterious party an encounter an alluring stranger.
A/N— Happy 2021~ I hope you guys enjoy this sinful fic! This was the first fic I ever wrote a threesome scene for and I was quite happy with how it turned out. Reviews and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
Ever since your breakup, it was as if love was in the air for everyone but you. Seeing happy couples everywhere served as a constant reminder of your bitter split with your longtime boyfriend. Your jerk ex-boyfriend dumped you right before the holiday season, even after you had planned to spend Christmas and New Years’ with him. Left dejected and inconsolable, you gave up on the idea of romance.
“You gotta stop moping around,” your friend, Chungha, tried to cheer you up.
Chungha was single too, but by choice. Boys (and girls) were constantly flinging themselves at her. She didn’t care for a relationship at this time, and would rather opt for meaningless one night stands.
“Come with me tonight!” she excitedly shoved a flyer in your face.
“Love is Out, Lust is In! An exciting one night event dedicated to adventurous singles who just want to have fun…” you read the flyer aloud, “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
“Girl, you gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself! It’s not your fault that that idiot dumped you. To be honest, I always thought you could do so much better,” Chungha rubbed your back, “I’m not gonna force you to meet anyone new, but one night out can’t hurt. You might even have a serendipitous encounter!”
“Fine, I’ll go. But just to watch over you, I don’t want some creep to follow you around all night,” you caved in.
“I love my little knight in shining armor! This’ll be so fun,” she excitedly clung onto your arm, “I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something sexy! I think the motif is black? Something appropriate for an anti-lovey dovey stuff.”
It was nearly time for Chungha to pick you up. You concluded that dressing up for the first time in ages was the right move. Maybe it was about damn time to move on from your past.
“Ohhh girl you look amazing!” Chungha praised as you stepped outside, “There’s no way you WON’T be getting dicked down tonight.”
“Oh hush, before I change my mind. I haven’t worn anything this revealing in forever,” you tried to hide your embarrassment.
You were wearing a black mesh top that revealed your bra (the one that makes your boobs look the best of course) paired with a flattering skirt. You felt sexy, but you didn’t have the confidence that you used to. Chungha also looked amazing, but that was a given.
“Where did you learn about this event?” you asked as she drove.
“My friends in the cabaret club told me about it,” she answered.
“You have friends who work in a cabaret club? That’s cool,” you mused as you gazed out the window.
“Not exactly. It’s just called that; it’s really just a group of girls who like to brunch on the weekends. The place we’re going to is known for being a bit secretive,” she smiled.
“What does that mean?” you start to get anxious.
“You’ll see!” she said gleefully.
The venue looked more like some millionaire’s mansion. The property was stowed away at the end of a sketchy road that was more akin to a beaten up dirt path. However, you saw that the lot in front of the house was littered with fancy cars; from G Wagons to Bugattis. The guests emerging from the vehicles all looked like celebrities.
“Where the hell are we?” you asked Chungha.
“Not quite sure, but I can’t wait to find out,” she was also awestruck.
Upon arrival, a gentleman stationed at the entrance requested for your invitation. Chungha pulled out a fancy envelope and casually handed it to him. It looked far more formal than the flyer she showed you earlier.
“Is this your plus one?” he gruffly asked.
“Yep,” Chungha linked her arm in yours.
“Very well. Here are your masks. Enjoy your stay,” he responded curtly.
“Masks? Chungha, seriously. Where the hell are we? I was picturing some dingy club based off of the flyer you showed me. Not to mention that I am drastically underdressed,” you admitted as you helped her put on her mask.
Chungha took the sparkly white mask that was adorned with feathers, which was fitting since it made her look even more angelic. Your mask was matte black accented with gold trimmings. It was far more elegant than the outfit you were wearing.
“Okay, I confess. I made the flyer. I knew you’d decline if I told you it was actually a swanky invite only shindig. I’m sorry for lying! I just really wanted to take you out,” she pouted.
Her puppy dog eyes worked on you every time.
“I forgive you. I don’t know if I’d ever get to experience something like this without you anyway,” you pulled her in for a hug.
“Aw yay! Alright, we’re gonna have a bunch of fun tonight! Also, you look hot. Don’t worry about what you look like. Plus, I have a feeling that people aren’t gonna care,” she says as soon as you both enter the foyer.
Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the most sumptuous house imaginable. The foyer opened the house up to two grand staircases. The baroque decor screamed nothing but lavish expectations for the rest of the house. Chungha led the way into the large room past the staircases. The room was even more magnificent than the entrance, with white marble pillars creating the doorways.
The place was bustling with activity. Once you finished admiring the place, your attention turned to the guests. Some women were wearing seductive gowns, while others were only wearing beautiful (and probably extremely expensive) lingerie. All of the men were wearing suits or tuxedos. With the motley of outfits you observed, you figured what you were wearing really wasn’t that strange.
“Drinks ladies?” a waitress materialized from thin air.
“Yes please! Thanks,” Chungha quickly grabbed two glasses.
Your eyes widened as the waitress walked away. She was wearing a thin white sheet that was completely see through, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
You realized that this must have been their uniform, as the rest of the servers were dressed the same way. Both males and females.
“CHUNGHA!” a shrill voice cut through the air.
“Ah hey! Thank you so much for inviting me!” Chungha greeted the girl who called out to her.
“Of course! I live for these parties! I’ve never seen hotter men anywhere else,” the girl winked, “My uncle wants the guests to know that all of the servers are available. All the rooms upstairs are unlocked, unless they’re being used of course. I hope you ladies get a good catch tonight!” the girl quickly hugged both of you before scampering away.
“The servers are all available…? For what?” you shot a confused look to Chungha.
“I think you can figure that out,” she smiled sheepishly.
“Chungha, did you invite me to a freaking orgy!?” you cried out.
“You said you wanted to watch over me!” she playfully argued, “You’re already here, ___. You might as well try to enjoy yourself.”
“I guess I’ll settle for people watching,” you sighed.
“Oh! I see someone I know, I’ll be right back,” Chungha squeezed your arm before disappearing into the crowd.
After snatching another drink from a scandalously clad waiter, you retreated to an empty corner. You hoped to observe the guests unnoticed and unbothered. After about half an hour, you noticed an odd pattern. People would woo their target, disappear for a bit, and then return to continue the hunt. Their clothing was often disheveled once they resurfaced, but it didn’t really matter when they were bound to be torn off again.
“Bored?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“I’m thoroughly entertained,” you answered without taking your eyes off of the party.
“I think I could bring you more entertainment,” the man suggested as he gripped your hips.
“Get your hands off of me!” you push him off.
The assailant was an older man, at least 30 years older than you, and he seemed bewildered that you turned him down. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the dilation of his eyes alluded to his other indulgences of the night.
“I was promised that everyone at this party wanted to have some fun,” he angrily grasped your arm.
You cried out in pain. You were about to punch him in the face until someone else beat you to it. The man crumpled to the ground clutching his bloody nose.
“You little shit! I’ll find out who you are and ruin your life!” the man threatened.
“Mind your tone, worm. Or do I need to beat you senseless to remind you of your place?” your savior shot a baleful glare at the pathetic man who now cowered in fear.
“Are you okay?” your rescuer asked in a soft tone after the man was out of sight.
“Much better now, thank you. That guy was crazy. I’m ___,” you raised your hand for a handshake.
“I’m Jimin. Pleasure to meet you,” he delicately kissed your hand.
His intricate silver mask matched his hair. Even with his face half covered, you could tell that he was remarkably handsome. His dark suit made him look professional yet charming. You felt out of place standing beside him.
“Have you found a partner yet?” he asked bluntly.
“I’m not looking for one; I’m just here to take care of my friend. I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.
“Why not? I know half of your face is hidden, but I’m willing to bet that you’re more gorgeous than half the people here. I like your style, it shows that you don’t really care for the norm,” Jimin gave you a thumbs up.
Even though it was meant as a compliment, it was off putting to know that you really did stick out like a sore thumb.
“Thanks,” you replied softly, “Have you found yours?”
“Nah, I hate big parties like this. Especially this one,” he shrugged.
“Then why are you here?” you figured that he’d have a line of women begging to sleep with him.
“Much like you, I’m watching over a friend. However, I have lost track of him. Where’s your friend?”
“I lost track of her too,” you laughed.
“If you don’t mind, could we go somewhere quieter? I’d love to get to know you better. Wait, not like that. I genuinely mean I’d like to have a conversation with you,” his flushed cheeks made him even cuter.
“Sure, lead the way, my noble hero,” you took his hand in yours.
It was a bold move, and you usually preferred to play it safe. Tonight was different. You’ll probably never see this guy again. Where’s the harm in flirting a little?
“Of course, my lady,” he played along.
He led you outside to the gardens. Fairy lights were strung up everywhere, giving the gardens an inviting aura. Tall shrubbery caught your eye. Jimin’s eyes followed your gaze.
“It’s a maze,” he said, observing your curiosity.
“This place has an actual labyrinth?” your eyes widened in disbelief.
“Wanna go explore it? I can’t guarantee you that we won’t get lost,” he offered.
“Yes please!” your eyes lit up.
Jimin couldn’t help but smile at your ebullience. How did someone so sweet end up in a twisted place like this?
“Can we take off these silly masks now? I hate wearing mine,” Jimin squeezed your hand.
“Sure, I don’t care. I apologize in advance if you go blind after seeing my face,” you jested.
You both took a moment to soak in each other’s true appearances. Jimin was more handsome than you could’ve dreamt. His individually delicate features attributed to an overall godly image that you had a hard time believing was real.
“Even more beautiful than I imagined,” Jimin acknowledged you with an approving smile, “Let’s ditch this stupid soiree,” he held out his arm for you.
Abandoning the masks on the ground, you practically dragged Jimin into the labyrinth. Corn mazes at Fall Festivals were fun, but this was the real deal. The hedges were at least 3 meters tall. No one would be able to find you if you actually got lost here.
“I think I heard that the trick is to keep to the right wall,” Jimin explained.
“Why don’t we take turns choosing which way to go? Unless you’re scared of getting lost,” you teased.
“Don’t get mad at me when we’ve been stuck in here for days,” he laughed.
You traversed the maze hand in hand with Jimin. The conversation began to flow naturally. Jimin listened to you intently and replied thoughtfully.
The night darkened as the party was left further behind. Normally, this eerie setting would frighten you, but your company made it bearable. Nothing but the moonlight lit your path now. You were too busy enjoying yourself to realize that you both were hopelessly lost.
“I hope you don’t mind me pointing out that this is the third dead end we’ve encountered in the past two minutes,” Jimin elucidated once you found yourselves staring at a green barrier yet again.
“Do you think someone will come to rescue us?” you started to panic.
“Definitely not tonight. Probably not tomorrow either,” Jimin answered brusquely.
“Let’s retrace our steps again. I might end up eating you if we really do get stuck out here,” you tried to joke.
“Eat me?” Jimin chuckled, “My dear, what if I end up eating you?”
“Sorry pretty boy, but I feel like I could easily beat your ass in hand to hand combat,” you laugh as you turn to leave.
Suddenly, your back was being pinned against a hedge. Jimin placed one of his hands on your shoulder and the other one on your waist.
“Let me rephrase that. What if I end up eating you out?” he raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“I might enjoy that. However,” you quickly hook your leg around his knee to dead leg him.
Jimin’s surprise gave you the opportunity to knock him to the ground. You wrapped your right arm around his left arm, effectively pinning him down. You firmly gripped his left wrist with the same arm, rendering both of his arms useless.
“I don’t think you’re capable of doing that right now,” you fake a pout as your free hand wanders from his chest down to his crotch.
He was already somewhat hard when you began to palm him through his pants. You planted a soft kiss on his neck, sucking slightly before breaking contact. Jimin moaned at the sensation, his hips bucking up into your hand.
“What do you want, pretty boy?” you whispered in his ear as you cupped his length in your hand.
“Oh my god I want to fuck you,” he pleaded.
“You’re in no position to fuck anyone,” you reminded him, tightening your grip on his arms.
“I want you to fuck me, ___,” Jimin’s whines grew desperate.
“Is that so?” you say as you unzip his pants, “Here outside? On the ground? That’s a bit improper for a prince like you, don’t you think?”
His erection was fully exposed now. You slowly pumped him, pleased with his length. It took every bit of self-control to not immediately pounce on his dick. You traced your thumb around the soft tip, causing him to moan again.
“I don’t care. I just need my cock buried in you,” Jimin replied between moans.
“You’re so needy. I guess I could help you out,” you release him from your clutches.
Jimin instantly knocked you onto your back as soon as he was freed. He pinned you the same way you pinned him. You were both impressed and shocked that he learned how to do it already.
“That was a cheeky display. Very hot. I admit that I’ve never begged for pussy before, so props to you,” Jimin awarded you plaudits.
His free hand snaked its way down to your clothed pussy, pleased to find that you were already wet. He toyed with your clit through the fabric of your panties. He relished watching your squirm beneath him.
“It’s not so fun being pinned down, huh?” he kissed your neck in a similar fashion, except he ended his kiss with forceful suckling that was sure to leave a mark.
“I don’t know, it’s kind of fun,” you tried to keep your cool, but were failing miserably.
“Do you want me to touch you, my dear ___?” Jimin asked sweetly.
“Please do,” you exhaled with exasperation.
“You can beg better than that,” he admonished.
“Jimin, fuck me until I forget my own name,” you begged.
“You’ll only know my name by the end of tonight,” Jimin promised as he pulled your panties aside.
He slid in a finger to test how wet you were. You squealed with delight as he easily stuck in two fingers. He expertly curled them in you, grazing your g-spot. Your body tried to move to cope with the pleasure, but Jimin refused to let you go.
“You’re staying right here until I say so. I enjoyed going along with your power play, but you have to learn that I’m the one in charge,” he smirked.
His thumb circled your clit as he mercilessly fingered you. Your legs spasmed as your orgasm led a wave of euphoria across your body.
“Jimin, I’m--oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you cried out.
Jimin helped you ride it out, not slowing down his pace. However, he still didn’t slow down afterward. Your clit was oversensitive and tears began to well in your eyes.
“You’re beautiful when you cum, I want to see it again,” he praised as his pace quickened yet again.
It wasn’t long before your second orgasm hit. The bliss was more intense this time, causing you to cry out even louder. Jimin finally pulled his fingers out of you, then promptly popped them into his mouth.
“You taste like a delicacy,” he said after licking his lips, “You ready to take this cock?”
You nodded silently, as you were attempting to catch your breath.
Jimin aligned his hips with yours. He tantalizingly ran his dick along your wet folds. His tip eventually teased your entrance by barely entering before he took it out again. He loved watching your body beg to be fucked; your hips seemed to move by themselves as they tried to buck into him.
“Jimin, I can’t take this anymore. Stick it in already!” you yelled.
“So impatient,” Jimin chuckled, “Ready?”
“Yes!”
Jimin slowly inserted himself in you. You groaned at the feeling of finally being stretched out by his cock. His tip was fully inside you when a commotion interrupted him.
“We’re fucking lost bro,” a guy said.
“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you listened to me in the first place!” his companion retorted.
Jimin immediately pulled out and helped you up. He shoved his erection into his pants before leaning against a hedge to blend into the shadow.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to go in!” the first man bickered back.
“I said ‘I bet no one else is in there, let’s check it out’”, his companion explained.
“Okay, well now we’re lost. We haven’t even seen a single person since we’ve entered.”
Jimin took you by the hand and quietly led you out of the dead end. He didn’t know where the interrupters were, but he simply went in the opposite direction of their voices.
“We’re all alone now. Pull down your pants, Hobi,” you heard one of the guys say.
“Make me, Yoongi,” the other guy challenged.
“You won’t be so cheeky when my balls are in your mouth,” Yoongi replied, his voice suddenly lower and domineering.
The sound of clothes being ripped off mixed with passionate groans and wet noises grew further away as Jimin navigated through the maze.
“They sound like they’re having fun,” you broke the silence.
“That should have been us,” Jimin was obviously annoyed, “I’m gonna get us the fuck out of this goddamn maze. I swear to god, I’m going to dick you down properly tonight.”
You didn’t know which was more impressive: sheer luck or Jimin’s determination. Either way, one of those things (or maybe some of both) allowed both of you to finally emerge from the maze’s clutches.
Jimin dragged you back to the mansion while completely ignoring everyone who called out to him. You’re not surprised by his popularity; this man looks like he was carved by God himself.
The party had only escalated inside the mansion. Guests had started to forgo public decency altogether. You saw at least three explicit acts of fornication on your way up to the private rooms.
Once upstairs, you heard nothing but people deep in the throes of passion on the other side of just about every door. Jimin led you past them all, not even stopping in front of the ones indicated as ‘vacant’. At the end of the neverending hall was a large ornate wooden door. Its style clashed with the sleek marble that decorated the rest of the mansion.
Jimin whipped out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. You weren’t prepared for what was on the other side. Unlike the modern style that fitted the rest of the house, this room was decorated with wood.
The carved wooden furniture gleamed brightly due to their polish. The room itself was huge. A king sized bed awaited you at the opposite wall. Elegant curtains draped around the bed, reminding you of the beds royalty would use in movies. Even though the room gave off a cozy aura, it still boasted opulence.
“You like it?” Jimin asked once he saw you gazing around the room in awe.
“It’s beautiful. It feels like I’m in some Elvish Woodland King’s room or something,” you spoke honestly.
“That’s high praise,” he chuckled, “C’mon. I believe we have some unfinished business,” he pulled you onto the bed.
Jimin kissed your neck, peppering in nibbles that made you shudder. You slipped off your skirt and panties as he fondled your breasts. You helped him undress as you threw off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. You held back a gasp when his abs and toned chest were revealed. You figured he was fit, but you didn’t realize how fit.
His fingers found their way back into your pussy. Jimin sucked on your neck as his nimble fingers made you wetter by the second. Your back arched as your moaned in pleasure when his thumb played with your clit.
“I’m so fucking wet, Jimin,” you breathed into his ear.
“All for me, baby?” he cooed.
“Who else? Honestly, I’ve never been this aroused in my life,” you admitted.
“I’m happy I could change that for you. If you liked my fingers that much, let’s see what my cock can do for you,” he winked as he tugged off his pants.
Jimin spread your legs open as far as they could go. He didn’t have the patience to tease you this time. He filled your pussy up with the entirety of his cock. You relished the stretch; you’ve been waiting all night for this the moment you laid eyes on him.
Jimin began vigorously thrusting into you. The sound of his hips slamming into you coupled with the wet noises of your sopping pussy were drowned out by moans from both parties. Hearing Jimin’s grunts only turned you on more, and the same could be said whenever Jimin heard your melodic moans.
Jimin leaned over to makeout with you, his tongue dipping between your parted lips. You clawed at his back while you kissed him back with ferocious reciprocity. You were getting close to climaxing yet again.
“Jimin, I’m so--”
“Missionary? I know you can do better than that,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted you.
“Fuck off, can’t you see that I’m busy?” Jimin replied angrily, yet he never stopped fucking you.
You were so embarrassed that you grabbed a pillow to hide your face. One person seeing you like this was already flustering enough, but two? Although your mind immediately went to shaming you for being in such a compromising position, it was also kind of a turn on.
“Aw, is she shy? That’s cute,” the unfamiliar boy said.
“What do you want?” Jimin finally pulled out to actually hold a conversation with the intruder.
“I got bored. I figured I’d come in here and jack off or something. I didn’t think you’d be using it,” the voice got closer.
“Well, I am. So get lost,” Jimin growled.
Suddenly, the pillow that covered your face was yanked off. Looking down at you was a man whose beauty rivaled Jimin’s (though you didn’t think that was possible). The man had more of a boyish devil-may-care look. His long dark hair framed his face perfectly, as it showed off his sharp jawline. He traced a finger from your cheek down to your chin.
“She’s cute,” he gave Jimin an approving nod.
“Yeah, and she’s mine. Go away, Jungkook,” Jimin was getting more frustrated by the second.
“Yours? Are you guys dating already?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amusement.
“No, but--”
“Then it should be fine if I did this,” Jungkook cupped your face with one hand as he bent down to kiss you.
“Jungkook!” Jimin threw a pillow at him.
Jungkook chuckled as the pillow harmlessly bounced off of him. He deepened the kiss, and soon your tongues were swirling over each other. One of his hands wandered over to your breasts. He pinched your nipple, causing you to gasp into his mouth.
“Oh, she’s so sensitive,” Jungkook smirked, “Let me play with her after you.”
“She’s not a toy,” Jimin defended you.
“It’s okay,” you said softly.
“What?” both of the boys asked in unison.
“You can both use me...however you like,” you looked away shyly, bewildered at what you had just said.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jungkook grinned.
“You’re too sweet for your own good, ___. Are you sure?” Jimin asked.
You simply nodded, not able to make eye contact with either of them.
“Alright, baby. Let me take care of you first. Jungkook, you can watch how a man properly fucks a lady,” Jimin glared at Jungkook.
Jungkook stripped down to his underwear as Jimin flipped you onto your knees. You moaned loudly as he started hitting it from the back. This position allowed him to penetrate you even deeper. You buried your face in the sheets in an attempt to muffle your whines.
“Nuh uh,” Jimin tsked as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.
He pulled your head up, exposing your lustful moans. He thrusted harder when he heard you. You opened your eyes to find Jungkook intently staring at you. Feeling cheeky, you made a ‘come here’ motion with one of your pointer fingers.
Jungkook happily obliged. Instead of directly kissing you, he licked up your neck, causing you to shudder. He sucked lightly on your neck as he once again played with your boobs.
“You’re not mad, Jimin?” he was surprised.
“She got wetter. Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” Jimin was lost in pure bliss.
Jungkook pulled you into another heated makeout session. You periodically moaned into his mouth whenever he tugged at your nipples. You whined as he broke the kiss.
“Such a good girl,” Jungkook stroked your cheek, “Wanna try something?” he asked.
You eagerly nodded. It was hard to think when one gorgeous man was making out with you and pinching your nipples, while another gorgeous man was roughly fucking you from behind.
“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” Jungkook ordered.
You complied, opening as wide as you could. You watched Jungkook reveal his hard cock, which made your mouth water. His dick was bigger than Jimin’s, but less girthy. It had a little curve that made it look prettier for some reason.
“Want me to put it in? I’d love to see how deep you can take it,” Jungkook stroked his cock.
“I’ll take it all,” you said confidently.
Jungkook smiled at your determination. He lightly placed the tip onto your tongue. You twirled your tongue around it, making Jungkook moan with surprise.
“Maybe she’s not as shy as I thought,” he said to Jimin.
Jimin harshly spanked your ass, causing you to jerk forward. You heard him chuckle behind you.
“I love it when good girls go bad. They’re always the most fun,” Jimin reached his hand around you to play with your clit.
You almost lost control in your arms and fell forward when Jungkook grabbed you.
“You have to be a good girl and hold yourself up. We can fuck you from both sides if you do that, babygirl,” Jungkook ran his thumb along your drooly lips.
You propped yourself back up on your arms and opened your mouth again for Jungkook. He patted your head in approval before placing his dick back onto your tongue. He began pushing himself into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Blink twice if it’s too much,” Jungkook instructed.
To his surprise, you managed to take in his full length. You kept gagging since Jimin was thrusting you forward, but that just made it feel better for Jungkook. Jungkook let you know that he was going to start face fucking you, to which you nodded in response. Well, as much as you could nod while his penis was in your mouth.
It didn’t take long for both of the both to boys to fuck you in unison. They rhythmically pulled out and thrusted into you at the exact same time. The intensity of everything turned you on so much, you could feel your juices running down your legs.
Your climax hit you like a truck. Your legs spasmed under you as you cried and gagged on Jungkook’s dick. The feeling of you cumming on Jimin’s cock brought him to the edge. Almost immediately after, Jimin pulled out and came all over your ass.
“Switch places with me,” Jungkook instructed Jimin, “You didn’t think you were done yet, did you?” he winked at you before pulling his dick out of your mouth.
Your sensitivity was through the roof. Jungkook didn’t give you any warning before he inserted himself in you. Jungkook went even deeper than Jimin, and your legs were on the verge of giving out.
“It looks like she can’t hold herself anymore,” Jimin observed with a sly smile.
“I guess I have to do all the work. Stupid slut,” Jungkook groaned, abruptly snatching your arms.
He chuckled when you momentarily fell forward onto your face, but he easily lifted you back up by pulling back on your wrists. You’ve never been roughly restrained like that before, but you wouldn’t complain. Jungkook’s powerful thighs slammed into you repeatedly.
You couldn’t begin to comprehend how sinful you looked: titties bouncing, messy hair, and a lustful expression that rivaled that of succubi themselves. Not to mention you were practically glowing from the film of sweat that developed over the night.
“I’m jealous that he’s kissed you more than I have,” Jimin pouted before he cupped your face.
Wriggling underneath you, Jimin made it easier for you to kiss him. His pillowy lips felt heavenly as he playfully fondled your breasts. He didn’t twist or pinch your nipples like Jungkook did. Instead, he massaged them in a way that still felt delightful.
“Dude, your junk is really close to mine,” Jungkook complained.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Jimin responded between your kisses.
Jungkook’s pace started getting sloppy. You could tell he was close just by his irregular breaths. The room was filled with lewd sounds. Jungkook’s grunts, Jimin’s moans, and your mewls all blended into a chorus of carnal pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook stuttered before pulling out.
You felt his hot juices splatter across your backside. You toppled onto Jimin when Jungkook let go of your wrists. Jimin just chuckled and held you in a warm embrace.
“You did so well, ___,” he praised before kissing your forehead.
“Was that your first threesome? If so, I’m impressed,” Jungkook cleaned you up with a warm washcloth.
“Mhm,” was all you could muster up to answer his question.
“She’s pretty out of it. Should she stay here for the night?” Jimin asked Jungkook.
“You’re offering to house her? You must have really loved her pussy,” Jungkook laughed.
“Shut up, I’m being serious. I don’t want to let her go back out there to those animals,” Jimin disclosed.
“Did she come alone?” Jungkook sat at the foot of the bed.
“She said she was watching a friend...I don’t think she mentioned who though. Hey, ___, darling, who did you come with?” Jimin gently questioned.
“Chungha,” you said meekly.
“Holy shit. Everyone has been trying to get with her all night,” Jungkook was shocked, “Yeah, I think her friend will be fine on her own. I can watch after her if you want.”
“By watch you mean fuck?” Jimin rolled his eyes.
“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” Jungkook replied cheekily, “You’ve been the most fun I’ve had in a while though,” Jungkook affectionately began scratching your back.
Your eyelids were getting heavier with each passing moment. You instinctively clutched onto Jimin tighter. You’ve always been a cuddler when it was time to sleep.
“I’m gonna go, want me to lock the door?” you heard Jungkook say.
“Yes please. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jimin sent him off.
“Are you sleepy?” he asked while stroking your hair.
“Mhm. And hungry,” you said half asleep.
“What would you like to eat?” Jimin inquired.
“Grilled cheese,” you said without skipping a beat.
“Just grilled cheese? I could get you anything you want. Lobster, caviar, takoyaki, or maybe even steak?” Jimin was eager to take care of you.
“What time is it?” you asked groggily.
“Uh, a little past 1am.”
“It’s time for a midnight snack. And grilled cheese is the perfect midnight snack,” you nodded your head to confirm your reasoning.
“God, you’re adorable. Alright, a grilled cheese will be here soon,” he kissed your forehead again.
“You go make it?” you pouted, not wanting him to leave your side.
“No, I just texted one of the chefs,” he answered.
“Oh, you’re friends with a chef? That’s nice.”
“Somewhat? They work for my father.”
“Is your father the head chef?”
“No, he’s a businessman,” Jimin chuckled.
“Do you like business? Like your father?”
“No, I actually detest it. My father’s riches mean nothing if he can’t even love his family. He does ridiculous things to showcase his ‘love’ but I don’t buy it. Like this stupid fucking party that he throws every year. His excuse is that he’s providing any luxury money can buy. It’s all just bullshit,” Jimin sounded upset.
“This party? Your dad hosted it?” intrigue stirred you from your sleepy state.
“Yeah, this is the house I grew up in. This is my room,” Jimin admitted.
You were silent for a bit before responding, “I’m sorry your dad is a dick.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. At least one good thing came out of tonight,” he squeezed you tighter.
A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Jimin retrieved the delivery. Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d be eating grilled cheese off of a silver platter. Jimin ate quietly beside you.
“I don’t know if this is too forward, but would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” he finally piped up.
“I literally can’t think of anyone that has seen me more intimately than you. Well, besides Jungkook. Of course, I’ll go on a date with you,” you leaned over to kiss Jimin’s nose.
“I guess the dating timeline is a little off since you’re spending the night here too,” Jimin laughed before stopping himself, “Wait, you are spending the night, right?”
“I have no idea where Chungha is, and she’s my ride,” you shrugged.
“You’re welcome to say here if you’d like,” he offered.
“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you teased.
With a tummy full of grilled cheese, it didn’t take long for you to fall sound asleep in Jimin’s arms.
[9:24am from Chungha] BITCH! I heard rumors you slept with THE Park Jimin?! A different rumor said you slept with Jeon Jungkook??? Explain please???
[10:19am] What if I slept with both?
[10:20am from Chungha] NO WAY! Tell me all about it asap
“You good?” Jimin nuzzled your neck.
“Never better,” you smiled.
Published January 7, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020-2021 Baepsaesbae
#bts smut#jeon jungkook smut#park jimin smut#bangtanarmynet#btswritingcafe#bts fluff#park jimin fluff#bts fanfic#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#clubjimin#ksmutclub#jimin smut#jungkook smut#jimin fanfic#jungkook fanfic#jimin x reader#jungkook x reader#jimin fic#jungkook fic
388 notes
·
View notes
Text
Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 2)
A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge.
I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3.
P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.
Summary: Nikki visits Mick to give him a very important task.
Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.
Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee
Chapter 1
Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead @i-dont-like-rice @nikki-sexx @smokeandmirrorz
Mick was supposed to not give a shit about Nikki. He and the stupid drummer had tormented him and his wife for months on ends, making the whole tour a living hell and he didn’t need to have even more things to worry about. So what if his bassist decided to get addicted to heroin? He was a fucking dumbass but it wasn’t his problem. He would end up killing himself and it wasn’t like Mick could have done something, not when his whole body was torturing him.
The only problem was that he cared, deep down. He cared about the fucker and hearing the news that he was gone forever hit him. He lost one of his friends and the band all together in a day, what would have happened? He hated to admit he was scared about the future, it was hard to imagine Motley Crue without Nikki.
He sighed, turning off yet another discussion about his death. They didn’t call him yet but something was telling him that they had to release a statement soon. Doc was probably freaking out somewhere crying for all his millions of dollars lost.
“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”
“Yeah… sorry about that, man” A voice incredibly similar to Nikki said, making Mick jump up.
Nikki didn’t feel anything, one moment they were in the ambulance and the other they were on the beach. He was confused for a moment before he remembered that Mick had a beach house, and stared at it for a bit. He didn’t know much about the guitarist, maybe almost nothing but he respected him so much. He was one of the strongest dudes he had ever met.
The weirdest thing about all of this was probably how he was only able to feel certain things, no cravings or sand under his feet as he was walking, yet he would still feel guilt, fear, love, worry… it didn’t make sense but he wasn’t in the mood to question the universe’s rules.
People can’t see you until you decide to show yourself. You have to remember or otherwise they can’t hear or see you.
The voice still freaked him out, but at the same time he was grateful for it to be there… it made him feel less alone, which was great considering how he felt lonely for his entire life.
“You’re not alone Nikki, I’ll always be there with you, through highs and lows”
“God it sounds like a marriage vow, T-Bone”
“Well if I could I’d marry now…”
He shook his head, trying to get the memory out. It wasn’t the time to be sentimental and risk fucking everything up, so he walked ( more like flew) through the front door and found Mick sitting on the couch.
“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”
“Yeah… sorry about that, man”. The bassist hoped that he was heard, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing.
Mick visibly jumped at hearing Nikki’s voice and quickly turned around to look at him. From his widened eyes and confused expression, he knew he probably looked fucking transparent.
“Okay first of all why the hell are you here talking to me if you’re dead? Then why the fuck can I see myself through you ?”
The black haired man just realized that he had no idea how to explain everything and be believed, he just went along with whatever the voice in his head was saying, but now it was different. He fumbled with his hand and realized he couldn’t feel them, while he tried to come up with the best way to explain to his friend how he was a ghost and why he was there.
“I died… I have no idea how I came back but I have unfinished business and I need to talk to you!”
The guitarist looked at him up and down, clearly skeptical. However, there wasn’t much arguing… Nikki’s ghost was literally standing in front of him.
“Okay I have no idea if this is a dream, I’m dead or in a coma, or simply I drank too much but now I’ll grab some vodka and you’ll spill your little secrets as you like”.
Nikki smiled a bit… He honestly felt normal for the first time since he was brought back. Having Mick joking was so familiar, usually Tommy was the aim of his jokes and they all laughed because they were all so unexpected…
Tommy. Thinking about him still hurt, again he wondered if he was okay and how much he missed him… but it wasn’t his time now. He had other things to talk about as Mick came back into the living room with his glass.
“Mick… you gotta promise me that you won’t let Motley Crue die, that you will fight to keep the band’s legacy.”
The older man looked at him surprised, rolling his eyes.
“Well that’s a bit hard when our bassist and songwriter died!”
Rage and resentment were heavy in his voice but there was more : fear and sadness. Nikki felt guilty and he fucking hated it, it was so unlike him but he couldn’t help it… Mick cared about the band as much as he did. He always said the band was his life, before heroin came into the picture, but it was also Mick’s and he probably destroyed everything.
“You will find another one, another bassist who is also a songwriter…” The words felt so foreign coming from his mouth. They even hurt a bit but they were necessary.
“I know you care about this band as much as I do, Mick. I know how much you’ve worked your ass off in shitty bands, trying to find the one that was going to break… I might be dead but Crue can’t have the same fate”.
Mick scoffed, taking a long sip of his vodka.
“It’s not easy, it’s not like we can find the perfect match like we did. Plus, everyone will probably hate him for replacing you!”
The frustration was almost tangible, but there was something else… Mick was scared, he knew everything was about to fade away because of Nikki’s actions, he was already looking at the boat sinking. Nikki started to panic because his band had to live, even in his death! It was pointless and selfish but that was the only thing people could remind him of.
“If you give up, then Vince and Tommy will do the same! I know that you think no one will take you, but the truth is they will. Crue is what it is because of our vision, you are part of it and I’m asking you to keep it going. Think of this as my dying man’s wish… even if I’m already dead”
The older man’s grip on his glass got tighter, his eyes lost in thought as he was pondering Nikki’s words. It was hard to take in, hell that was an understatement, it was fucking insane and probably wouldn’t work but the bassist needed to have this false hope.
“It’s so fucking weird, you know? To realize you’re fucking dead yet here talking to me.”
He was deflecting, Nikki knew it, but didn’t want to push it too far. He learned to know Mick, he kept his promises and he was a hard worker and with a good dose of luck and jokes, you got him to your side.
“Yeah, do you remember how I said you weren’t going to make it in that interview? Well, karma hits like a bitch!”
“Mick might not make it , he drinks a little too much and it looks rough” Mick quoted, trying to imitate Nikki’s voice.
“Yeah and then you said something like I heard what you said and you’re dead, fuck I guess you were right” He laughed but Mick didn’t.
Oh c’mon so what if he was joking about his death? It’s not like anyone really cared about him. They just saw him as a burden, which he was. Not his mom, nor his band or his Tommy would have really missed him… they would eventually move on.
“You’re a fucking idiot.” He said annoyed but his lips formed a small smile.
“I know, I know. Mick… please promise me that. If Crue is going to end, then my whole life didn’t mean anything! Ple…” He stopped himself, he was so fucking close to begging but he couldn’t. Nikki Sixx didn’t fucking beg, not in life or death.
“I’m thinking about it!”
He really meant the first part. He spent all his teenage and adult years creating the band of his dreams and making sure they conquered the world. This band was his escape; his attempt at redemption after his shitty childhood. Nobody loved Frank Feranna but he didn’t care, he would become Nikki Sixx and be super fucking famous!
He didn’t need anyone’s love, except that he did.
“ I love you, Nikki.”
“ No you don’t, nobody does, T-Bone”
“Well I fucking do. You gotta pass on my dead body before you’ll hear me not saying it over and over”
His heart might have stopped, but he still felt the big wave of nostalgia hitting him. He couldn’t do it, he would have never been ready to see him again.
“Okay, I will. But listen to me, it won’t be easy and I’m an old man with a fucked up back, so don’t send demons against me if I fail!” The little spark of determination in his eyes relaxed Nikki, he was on board.
“I fucking knew you were the best, Mars! If I wasn’t dead I’d probably tattoo your face on me as a thank you!”
“Oh gross, never say that again!” He pretended to be disgusted but his eyes betrayed him, the small softness in them told Nikki he felt touched.
“Who knows, maybe in hell they have tattoos for the ghosts. God we used to hate each other and now we are two peas in a pod.”
“I still hate you.”
“Ugh, you crushed my heart Mick”
The guitarist flipped him off, rolling his eyes. Nikki desperately wanted to keep talking, if he did then he could have pretended nothing changed, right? He didn’t have to face Vince and Tommy and go through the light… everything would have stayed the same or he could fool himself that it would.
I think it’s time to go to the next person.
The voice was demanding yet still calm. Nikki knew that he couldn’t stay forever, they had to prevent spirits from just lingering into the real world like that, it made him a bit angry but he understood it. It wasn’t like he could have done much anyway…He was just a shell of what he used to be.
“I gotta go Mick…” He wanted to punch himself because he sounded so fucking pathetic, but the other man gave him a compassionate smile.
What he fuck are you, a little small puppy? Oh look Frankie is scared to leave his illusion of a family.
Mick walked him to the other without saying anything, but before turning the handle, which was pointless because Nikki could have just passed through the door, he broke the silence.
“Try to give us some signs, okay? Show us that you’re there… but don’t you fucking dare spill my vodka or I’ll make you two times dead!”
“Oh that’s exactly what I’ll do, thanks for the suggestion!”
He stepped outside and looked at Mick one last time.
“You promised, alien. You gotta do it!”
“Yeah yeah, you better repay me when I come to join you there…” And with one last look, Mick closed the door.
Nikki felt all of the weight crushing down on his body, even if it was made of air. He simply stood still, his mind racing like a freight train, trying to take everything in but also getting ready for his next move… being overwhelmed was an understatement, he felt peeled down like an orange and this was only the beginning. He felt like a fucking coward but he just wanted to get over it, was it that bad to accept his fate and disappear without facing anyone?
You are going to abandon him again? You know why you need to talk to Vince, and you know this will be your last chance to see him, asshole!
He went to kick the sand, but he couldn’t touch it. God, how frustrating was that!
So where are we going next?
Nikki would have wanted to scream at him, give him the middle finger and just run away but it wouldn’t have been helpful, would it? So he forced himself to be as neutral as possible.
“Vince Neil. Take me to his house.”
#nikki sixx#Tommy Lee#mick mard#vince neil#motley crue#motley crue fanfiction#80sRock#80s rock band#fanfiction#my writing#tommy lee x nikki sixx
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bitter They Kiss: A Paul x Reader x Marko fic
Warnings: double penetration,oral, dirty talk, ouid and wine, threesome, what do you expect from me
“Stay inside, y/n, just until you learn how to control yourself.”
“Marko, Paul, Stay with y/n tonight.”
Figures you’d be fuckin stuck with the terror twins tonight. No, not that you didn’t love them; these two stirred up a lot of trouble with you. They were a great time, but this was about how David still didn’t trust you not to make too big a mess.
Did he have somewhat of a good point? Okay, sure, maybe you’d killed someone in the tunnel of love on the boardwalk in front of witnesses in the car behind you and hadn’t tried to hide it. That was just one time. You were starving, and all of the newfound power is fun. There’s no reason not to use it.
But David saw this as some kind of issue, so you’re stuck being baby sat while David and Dwayne hunt for you until you ‘learn your lesson’ or some stupid shit.
You pick at the flaking black nail polish on your ringed fingers, foot propped up in the lawn chair you were sitting on, trying to bide your time with the cold feeling of hunger settling in your frame
“What's with that sour face, baby?”
It’s Paul’s voice coming from somewhere up in the rafters, before he drops himself down next to you. You sigh more than dramatically before letting your head loll to the side to meet his gaze.
“Whats up, Harpo? Zeppo stop kissing your ass so now you gotta come bug me for attention?” you quip, the Santa Carla coven really feeling more like a vaudeville troupe when hunting wasn’t on the mind.
“Oh it was more than kissing,” Marko’s laughing voice comes from behind you, earning a fake grossed out look from you thrown at Paul. Marko drops beside you opposite of Paul, with a case of beer in one of his hands.
“Do you even know who the Marx brothers are, y/n?” Paul sneers, “That's a pretty tall reference you just made.”
“Yeah, y/n, aren’t they your grandparents' humor?” Marko adds.
“The Marx brothers are all younger than you, old man,” you throw right back at them.
“At least we look better.” A pout forms on Marko’s angelic features, while a goofy grin seems permanently plastered on Paul’s.
“You seemed bored all cooped up in here,” Paul starts, “So we wanted to know if you wanted to party with us?”
Did he even have to ask? You roll your eyes and motion for Marko to give you one of the beers, and the boys high five. You and the boys crack open the cold cans in unison, taking big gulps before setting them down.
Quiet sets in among the three of you, unsure what to do. Usually, the cave is more crowded, all of you sticking close to one another, but still intermingling. It felt empty and tense without the others.
“Should I go turn on some tunes?” Paul asks, already moving to stand, when you reach behind him and pull him down by his jacket.
“If I have to hear another Motley Crue record this week, I’m going to scream,” you mutter, urging him to take another sip with you. They’ve heard you scream, and they don’t want to hear it again.
“Let’s play a game with the kid!” Marko suggests, and just by Paul’s expression you can tell there are a million evil thoughts in his head. Here we go. You roll your eyes as they start going through their usual game repertoire.
“Truth or dare?”
“You’re just gonna dare me to take my top off.”
“Seven minutes in heaven?”
“Do you guys think you could last seven minutes?”
“I can last seven minutes. Paul, can you last seven minutes?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Y/n wants to know!”
“Knock it off!”
“What about never have I ever, babe?” Paul suggests, taking a lock of your hair and twirling his finger around it.
And you actually don’t have shit to say against that game. It was the least pervy or dangerous of all of the games these two liked to play. If Dwayne were here, he’d suggest cards or something normal.
“Alright fine, lets play never have I ever you fucking children,” you huff, as you motion for Marko to pass you another beer, his cold fingers lingering on yours for a moment too long. As careless as Marko seems, he doesn’t act without intention. The guys are up to something.
It's a game you know well, one played often and usually used to humiliate each other, and tonight will be no different. If you’ve done the thing, you drink, if you haven’t, you don’t. It starts off slow, with lame things like, ‘never have I ever eaten an avocado’ or ‘ never have I ever been traveling’ but then quickly descends into madness.
That’s why you know you’re playing with fire when you utter the following phrase:
“Never have I ever kissed Paul.”
And something absolutely evil flashes in Marko’s eyes as he meets your gaze over the rim of the beer can when he takes a long drink, like a challenge.
“Well, sweetheart, never have I ever been caught staring at any of us like you wanna eat us,” he counters.
“Excuse me? I’ve never-“
Paul cuts you off.
“No, no babe you don’t get to say shit. I’ve seen the way you stare at us. It’s pretty hot.”
“Well, maybe I have checked you out…. once or twice,” you allow yourself to admit. A few beers and hunger for something has loosened your tongue as your leather shorts start to feel a little uncomfortable.
“More than a little,” Paul shoots back, “But don’t worry.”
Paul's bright eyes have mischief in them as you scoot a little closer to him.
“Why not?” you whisper, not missing the way he’s leaning in as well. That's when you feel Marko against your back.
“Because we look at you like that too,” and he closes the gap, kissing you roughly on the mouth. His stubble scratches against you slightly, knowing if this keeps happening your skin will be rubbed raw by the time you have to sleep. But you pull away, regaining your senses momentarily.
“Wait… Wait, are we doing this for real?” You watch Paul’s mouth melt into a lopsided grin as he nods eagerly, then look to Marko behind you, who has something intense in his eyes, a single nod.
“Alright,” you concede, grabbing your beer from the floor between your feet and chugging the rest of it, throwing the can whoever knows where, “Let's do this boys.”
They descend upon you, not unlike a fresh kill. Paul’s hands fly up to your face, first cupping your cheeks before tangling themselves in your hair, Marko groping at you before unbuttoning the flannel you were wearing and ripping it off of your body to discard it. Neither of them are gentle, but they don’t have to be. As a member of their coven they know they won’t break you. Paul’s tongue delves into your mouth, leaving no single tooth or gum unexplored, he kisses like unwrapping a present, holding you in place like if he doesn’t you’ll slip away from him. Marko on the other hand attaches himself to your shoulder and neck, mouthing at you before biting down.
You almost yelp before it melts into a moan, quickly swallowed by Paul and his roaming tongue. Paul continues, gently pulling at your hair as your hands roam his chest, while Marko’s hands paw at your chest.
“Think you want some more of us?” Marko asks, his voice a low growl, the sound muffled as he’s attached to the bite he’s made. You’ve been told that vampire’s feeding on each other is the most powerful aphrodisiac on earth, and you have a feeling you’ll discover the effects of it tonight. You nod, and Paul pulls his mouth from yours.
“Stand up sweetheart,” Paul tells you, and you obey without even wanting to ask why he wants you to. He leads you over to the couch, and he himself lays down on it, facing the ceiling with a wide grin.
“Climb aboard!” he shouts, driving the point home by slapping the sides of his face with both hands. Marko is behind you again, unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down to the ground before you can do it for yourself. You lean into his touch, letting his hands roam your body, a moan leaving your lips as his fingers reach your cunt, teasingly rubbing against you, but not delving into you the way you want.
“She’s wet for us, Paul!” he calls, as if you’re not even standing there. It feels like you’re a plaything for them, but thats not true. They can’t mistreat you, because they’ve got you with them for eternity. You whimper into his touch, and he kisses you sweetly.
“I’m gonna treat you real good, y/n, and so is Paul. But if you don’t like anything, say so. You’re one of us, and we don’t wanna make you sad.”
Its like he knew everything you were just feeling, and pushed it all away gently. You whisper “okay” and a contract is sealed.
Marko guides you over to Paul, who has shed nothing but his jacket. You raise one leg, carefully straddling his face. Paul wants none of that, quickly grabbing your hips and pulling him right down onto his mouth. On first contact, his mouth is already open, tongue seeking to split you open immediately. His tongue seeks out your clit first, flicking the bundle of nerves making you almost jolt forward, but Marko is there to hold you in place. Paul licks and sucks at you like a man starved, moaning into you and making you shake above him. His arms hold you firmly, any of your squirming and bucking no use against his mouth. It feels amazing, all of your nerves feeling like static on edge as you feel your release embarrassingly near already. Paul moves from your clit to your wet cunt, and back again.
Your hands shake as you grab onto Marko for some form of stability, sliding down to his belt and gasping as you undo it. He carelessly lets his jeans fall once you get them past his hips, letting you paw at his cock greedily while he smiles down at you.
“How’s she taste, Paul?”
Paul speaks, muffled by you and sending shockwaves up your core.
“Alright!” Marko exclaims, and his hand catches your jaw, first slowly prying it open, then moving to press his thumb down against your tongue. His eyebrow quirks in a silent question, and you answer by closing your lips around him and sucking on the digit. He steps forward and removes his thumb so he can replace it with himself. He’s hard as a rock, and thick, with precum already leaking from the tip, which you greedily lick as he sighs. What a beautiful noise, you think as your lips wrap around the head of his cock and you sink down as far as you can. Never being one to back down, you try to take him as far back into your throat as you can, head bobbing as he moans and talks.
“Oh fuck, baby, just like that.” You swallow around him and he moans.
“Who taught you how to blow like that? Holy shit,” as his hand wraps around your hair.
All of his moaning and praising spurring you on as Paul abandons his ministrations and switches to fucking you with his tongue. What a fucking relief it feels to have something inside you, and you instinctively clench down on him, chasing any sensation you can. He doesn’t let up, tongue moving at an unmerciful speed as you-
Shockwaves hit your system as your body spasms, orgasm overtaking you by surprise, your scream muffled by Marko’s cock at the back of your throat, and he laughs. You almost gag as he pulls out of you, Paul not trying to be gentle as his tongue fucks you through your high.
“That was so fucking sexy, oh I wish you could see your face right now. Paul, I wish you could see her too! She’s wrecked.”
He’s probably right, you can feel the tears wet on your cheeks, your mascara probably running. You caught a glimpse of the line of drool from your lips as his cock left your mouth.
Paul finally slows down as your shaking dies down into tiny shivers, Marko holding you firmly by the shoulders, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Let me in?” he whispers, and you nod, not yet over your first orgasm but already wanting to feel that again. He lifts you up slightly, and Pauls big hands finally release your thighs to let you move. He slides out from under you, slapping your ass playfully as he stands up to take Marko’s original spot in front of you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks again as he kisses you, slowly this time to let you savor the taste of yourself on your own tongue. You inhale sharply against his mouth as Marko’s fingers enter you without warning. Just as soon as they enter, they’re gone. Then you hear him.
“You’re right, Paul, delicious.”
Paul hums against your lips, then releases you. You can hear Marko undressing as Paul asks,
“You wanna bite?” To feed from him, another vampire. You nod, again never being one to back down, and he pushes his hair aside to offer you his neck. Your arms come up around him as you get a good angle, kissing him a few times open mouthed and sloppy before you sink your teeth in.
t’s divine. Heat you almost forgot existed flows through your veins renewed, and your skin feels so aware of everything. The cool wind of the cave, the worn mesh of his tank top, the rough material of the couch that would have given you rug burn if you had a pulse. Just as you fully start to feel the effects of Paul’s blood, you feel Marko line himself up with your entrance, again entering you without warning. This time you feel him stretch you, his thickness deliciously painful. You scream against Paul’s skin, but it quickly turns into a low growl. You feel animalistic, wanting to push back against Marko’s hips as you take Paul in your mouth. Want to fully give yourself over to this and to them.
Marko feels your ass pushing back against him, and squeezes it playfully, before his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you back down against the arm of the couch.
It’s only when you start to undo Paul’s pants that Marko starts to fuck you, he starts out slow, then abandons his initial pace for a much more vigorous one.
He fucks you harshly, pulling almost all the way out before slamming himself back in as you take Paul deep into your throat like you did Marko. Paul isn’t as thick as Marko, but just as long. As you swallow around him, tongue massaging the underside of his cock, you wonder what it would be like to feel both of them in you at the same time. One hand reaches up to massage his balls and he keens at your touch, begging quietly for more. You’d experimented a lot, but never with two people at once. The thought was overwhelming, almost as overwhelming as Marko pistoning behind you. It's when his hand reaches beneath your legs that you can't control the wanton moans escaping your throat.
“She’s close,” Marko tells Paul, “This tight little pussy keeps squeezing me.”
Paul laughs, and then looks down at you,
“Can I get some too, pretty?”
You nod enthusiastically before pulling off of Paul’s cock with a pop of your lips. Not missing how you whine when Marko pulls out of you, Paul discards his clothes quickly before rushing to return his attention to you. He rubs your clit with his fingers while he asks,
“So how do you want us now?” You have the control, now you’re certain of it. At first you weren’t sure, the way they passed you around, the way they talked around you. But it’s all for you. You feel comfortable asking.
“Can I-“ Your voice comes out more watery and lost than you expected, “Can I have you both? Marko where he was and you in my ass?”
The men share a glance, eyes wide. Apparently they hadn’t expected that from you, but nonetheless they eagerly agree, grinning ear to ear as they kiss up and down your chest and face while they reposition. Marko lays down on the couch where Paul was, and you quickly position yourself to sink down onto his cock, moaning all the while. You stay there, still and waiting for Paul as he climbs up behind you. A strong arm pulls you down to rest against Marko’s chest as Paul preps your ass. You can’t help but whine as he inserts a finger, and then two into the second hole and starts scissoring his fingers. The added pressure against Marko’s cock inside you is already almost too much to bear, and you might finish before they even get a chance to get started in this position. You can feel Marko groping at your chest with the arm not around you, pinching your nipple before rolling it between his fingers.
“Paul, please,” you pant, begging to bite off more than you can chew from this. And he obliges, very slowly removing his fingers and pressing the head of his cock against your ass, sinking in slowly, inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter until he bottoms out. You have to concentrate not to scream and come right then and there. All of it, the sensation is so much, but still somehow you crave more.
“You good, babe?” Paul asks.
“She feels fucking good,” Marko responds, and you nod, worried that words will fail you. The both move slowly within you. Both of them panting and moaning as much as you, your muscles squeezing them as all three of you try to hold out and savor the moment. Two sets of lips attach themselves to your neck, one on both sides, and they both find purchase biting down on the skin there and lapping at the blood they draw, moaning in ecstasy at the taste. They work up a rhythm, moving in tandem against you, and you lose it first, orgasm crashing against you like the waves against Hudson’s bluff. You scream both of their names, begging for something unknown as they work you through your high, both of them reaching their’s almost right after you.
Spent and overstimulated, you fall limp against Marko, and he very gently pulls out of you, Paul follows suit much more slowly, careful not to hurt you. They move only to let you rest and lay down on the couch while they clean you and themselves up, finding some semblance of their clothes and blanket.
You’re breathless as they both finally come back to lay down with you, sandwiching you between the two of them, both of them pressing their chests against you. Paul wipes your hair from your sweaty forehead as Marko rests his cheek against your shoulder-blade.
“Did you like that, baby?” Paul asks, voice quiet and almost shaky.
You nod gingerly, bites against your neck sore.
“Good, because we definitely wanna do that with you again,” Marko mumbles, himself spent as well.
You like the sound of that, you think, as you pull them both closer.
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ginger Snap, Chapter 5
A/N Know what this fic needs? More Geillis. No really, I think you guys are going to like where I’m going with this. Just bear with me. Only one more chapter to go after this one, plus an epilogue. Thanks for coming on the journey with me! With due credit to Sia, this chapter’s title is Fire, Meet Gasoline.
Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.
Geillis Duncan drove much the way she approached life, which was to say without much regard for rules and at white-knuckle speed. I gripped her Range Rover’s leather cushion and swallowed any exclamations of dismay as we ricocheted through Edinburgh’s late afternoon traffic. When we finally slid into an underground parking spot and emerged into the bustling festivity of the Princes Street Christmas Market, I felt the tension of imminent disaster abandon my shoulders.
“Where to first, then?” Geillis asked, looking far too animated by the prospect of accompanying someone while they did their Christmas shopping.
Geillis and I had kept in touch and met for coffee a few times over the past months. When I explained that I wouldn’t be taking any more cooking classes at Ginger Snap because Jamie was giving me at-home lessons, her reaction was a moonbeam grin.
“Look at ye, wee vixen! I ne’er wouldha thought ye had it in ya, Claire. Tho I canna say as I blame ye.”
No matter how much I protested that I was together with Frank and that my relationship with Jamie was purely professional, she refused to believe me. The ongoing absence of a ring from my left hand didn’t help.
“Now,” Geillis exclaimed once we’d taken in the sights and sounds of the market, “let’s have a keek at yer list. Where should we start?”
I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app. As she read, my friend’s nose wrinkled in confusion.
“Trouser socks, shoe stays, Moleskine notebook, Rive Gauche... who are ye shopping for, yer grandparents?”
“No,” I protested. “The first three are for Frank. The perfume is for me.”
When I explained that Frank had made a list of the items he would like to give me for Christmas, Geillis grew incensed.
“Ye mean he has ye doin’ his gift buying fer him? Tha’s the least romantic thing I’ve e’er heard. Do ye even like Rive Gauche, Claire? And dinna lie tae me, fer I can read yer feelings all o’er yer face.”
Truthfully, I didn’t much care for the flowery scent. My personal taste ran more towards woodsy or herbaceous aromas. But it was Frank’s favourite, and it pleased me to please him. Or it had. I was beginning to wonder when it would be my turn to please myself.
“Right,” Geillis interrupted my thoughts. “Marks and Sparks will do jes fine for yer wee granny list. And then you and I are going shopping fer yer real gift.”
Geillis was a force to be reckoned with in a retail environment. She navigated like a guided missile from one department to the next. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the pavement, which glistened with the colourful reflections of decorations strung above.
“Your car is the other way,” I explained as Geillis turned left.
“Aye, tis, but our destination is right o’er here. House of Fraser. See? Tis practically calling yer name, Claire.”
Inside the venerable old building was an astonishing multi-tiered arcade reaching over five stories to a massive skylit ceiling. The central space was dominated by a fifteen metre-high Christmas tree (a Fraser fir, of course) and every archway of every arcade was dripping with lights. The impression was like stepping into a Fabergé egg.
Geillis dragged me, slack-jawed, towards the ladies’ wear section. Circling the racks like a hawk on the wind, she eyed my body, sizing me up quite literally, then thrust several pieces into my hands.
“Geillis,” I hissed, wary of the sales staff hovering nearby, no doubt smelling an excessive commission in the offing. “I don’t need a new outfit. And I certainly don’t need,” I shook the garments in question, “something like this. Wherever would I wear it?”
“Well, fer starters, ye’d wear it tae dinner t’night. I dinna wish tae offend ye, Claire, but I canna in good conscience allow ye tae set foot in the Timberyard dressed fer a job interview as a primary school teacher.”
With that she shoved me in the direction of the changing rooms. Deciding to humour her, I was unbuttoning my top when two lacy bits of nothing came flying over the door.
“Start wi’ these. And dinna think I willna notice if ye’re no’ wearing them!”
I stripped down to my panties, bemusedly wondering how she knew my exact bra size.
Upon seeing me exit the dressing room in her choice of clothing, Geillis let out a squeal of delight. She insisted I rip out the tags and leave the store wearing my new outfit, declaring it was her Christmas gift to me.
I felt tremendously self-conscious as we walked towards the restaurant. The aubergine velvet jeans clung to my legs in an unfamiliar way and the black turtleneck, while technically not revealing, hinted at kink with its many heavy zippers and fastenings. Together with my unruly hair, unstraightened for once, I felt like another woman entirely. I didn’t recognize her, but I felt like she might be someone I’d like to get to know.
The Timberyard was a modern restaurant in a rugged old warehouse, not far from the farmer’s market I’d visited with Jamie. We were joined there by several of Geillis’ friends, and we ate, drank and laughed until my sides were sore.
As I wobbled to the loo, I noticed the bartender following me with an appreciative gaze. It had been a long time since a man had looked at me that way, and it gave me a guilty thrill.
We left the restaurant just before midnight. I pulled Geillis into an impulsive hug.
“Wha’ was that for, hen?” she asked.
“Nothing. Everything. Just, thank you for being you, Geil.”
“Och, tis my pleasure, lass. I only want tae see ye happy. Now, what do ye say to a digestif?”
After only a slight protest on my part, the two of us piled into an Uber. Our destination was another restaurant, this time in a converted whisky warehouse by the harbour in Leith. It was well past last sitting, but when I mentioned this to Geillis she explained away my concern.
“I ken the owner, who’s also the chef. Tis a popular spot fer locals in the restaurant scene tae meet after they close up fer a few drinks afore heading home tae their beds.”
Inside, the walls were rough stone, supported in places by industrial metal beams. The kitchen was open to the main dining area, and I grinned as I thought of Frank’s strong opinion on the matter. Near the back of the room, lit by dim naked bulbs and the glow from several open fireplaces, was a huge square table surrounded by nearly twenty chairs upholstered in bright yellow plaid. Around the table was gathered a motley assortment of men and women, all talking and laughing and sipping on a variety of drinks. And in their midst, his copper hair shining in the firelight, sat Jamie.
A shout went up from the table as Geillis approached. I hung back, tugging at the hem of my new turtleneck as though I could stretch it to cover my arse. Besides Jamie, I recognized Jenny, Angus and Murtagh, but I only had eyes for the big ginger chef. He sat at one corner, probably in deference to his long legs which were stretched out before him, wrapped in black denim. A black leather jacket hung over the chair behind him. He looked dangerous. It was a very good look for him.
Dragging me by the elbow, Geillis nudged and bumped Angus to one side despite his vulgar protests, then practically pushed me down into the chair directly next to the chef. With a smug smile of satisfaction, she then retired to the opposite side of the table.
I looked anywhere but directly at Jamie, but I could feel his butane eyes on me. I was certain he would scorch right through my outer layers and down to where Geillis’ choice in lingerie burned against my tender skin. The noise from the rest of the table faded away.
“Ye look bonnie t’night, Arsonist.” His voice was low and gruff and it sent a quickening through my veins.
“Thank you, Jamie. It was Geillis’ Christmas gift to me, and I feel, well... let’s just say it isn’t my usual look.”
“It suits ye, I think.” He reached out and lightly touched the silver tab of a zipper that ended near my wrist, setting it swinging. I swallowed and looked frantically around. Several open bottles of liquor stood nearby. Grabbing the nearest one, I poured myself a generous serving and knocked it back, all in one go. I tried to steady my breathing.
“Look, Jamie...”
Just then a blond man in chef’s whites called to Jamie from across the table. An exchange involving a lot of Scottish cursing and an off-colour reference to someone’s lobster pot ensued. I tried to convince myself I needed to leave. It was late, I was half-drunk, and whatever I intended to say to Jamie should definitely wait for another moment. Maybe never.
A hand on my thigh broke my preoccupation.
“Sorry, Arsonist, ye were sayin’ something?”
I wet my lips, frantically trying to recall anything but the feeling of Jamie’s strong fingers, stroking me through the velvet of my jeans.
“I...”
At that moment, the woman on Jamie’s far side broke into song. The rest of the table cheered and clapped along, and it was impossible to hear anything except the concussive pounding of my heart against my eardrums.
Jamie grabbed my clammy hand.
“Come wi’ me,” he instructed, grabbing our outerwear and pulling me towards the door. Geillis watched our departure with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.
Outside the air was dense and cold, a briny slap after the stuffy warmth of the restaurant. Jamie obviously had a destination in mind, and we walked hand-in-hand along the cobbled streets for several minutes before finally emerging at the port. A jetty struck out into the inky sea, and it was there that we ended up. Besides a few gulls and the winking of a nearby lighthouse, we were all alone. The sodium street lights caught Jamie’s curls and made them burn.
“Forgive me, Arsonist. I couldna hear myself think in there. Tho, come tae think of it, tis no’ much better now.” Rather than release me, as he spoke Jamie stroked my hand, running calloused fingers over each vein and every knuckle. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, but it stole every thought from my head.
“No ring,” he remarked, stroking the finger in question.
“No,” I whispered in response.
And then it burst out of me, like a tidal wave of feeling that I never saw coming. I told him everything. My childhood roaming the globe with my uncle, pre-occupied and rootless, dreaming of stability. Meeting Frank at Harvard, and realizing that he represented all the things that my life to date had lacked: structure, security, a solid foundation, a home. And how it took moving to Scotland and coming into contact with a group of near-strangers to make me realize that the price I had paid for that stability was higher than I’d ever imagined. I’d given up my dream of becoming a doctor. I’d become so lost in Frank’s vision of who I should be that I’d almost lost sight of who I actually was.
By the time the flood of words left me, I was in Jamie’s arms, crying into his leather jacket. He hushed me with quiet murmurs and languorous stroking of my hair, as one would a child who has woken from a nightmare.
I stepped out of his embrace and rubbed my sleeve across my face. I must have looked an absolute mess, but he still watched me with those earnest, patient eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know what...”
“Claire,” he interrupted. I’d never before realized just how many consonants were in my given name. “Ye dinna need tae apologize tae me. But ye may want tae consider an apology tae yerself.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued.
“I’m no’ the kind of man tae tell another what they should and shouldna do. But ye strike me as someone who’s made decisions fer the right reasons, yet ended up in the wrong place.” Here he paused, as though carefully weighing his words. “There’s no sin in changin’ yer mind, Arsonist. Tis very well tae be hungry, so long as ye ken what ye hunger for.”
“And what do you hunger for, James Fraser?” The provocative words had left my lips before I had the chance to censor them. His answer came in the form of a blistering look that left no doubt as to its meaning. Then he gathered himself, banking the fire I’d unconsciously ignited.
“Many things. Regular, ordinary things, mostly. My family’s health and happiness. A faster bike. My own restaurant.”
“Like Tom’s there?” I asked, gesturing towards the harbour.
“Och, Tom is a braw chef, and worthy o’ every accolade tha’s been showered upon him. But the hospitality scene in Edinburgh is cut-throat, an’ suitable locations cost a fortune. Nah, Jenny and I want tae buy back our childhood home in the Highlands. Tis called Lallybroch, and when our Da passed, our Mam sold it tae her brother. We’d turn it inta a country inn, wi’ Jenny running the lodging side o’ things and I the dining. Tha’s the dream anyway,” he ended with a shrug.
I rested my hand on his forearm. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Jamie.”
Before he could reply, an enormous yawn burst from my lungs.
“Time tae get ye home tae yer bed, Arsonist,” Jamie grinned. “Come, I’ll give ye a ride.”
“Wait, haven’t you been drinking?” I inquired as we walked back down the jetty.
“Three years sober,” he explained with no hint of embarrassment. “I went somewhere pretty dark after my Mam died, an’ it took a near-fatal crash tae scare me straight.” His eyes squinted in a poor approximation of a wink as he added, “Besides, there are better ways tae chase a rush than in the bottom of a bottle.”
“Such as?” I asked brazenly.
Which was how I found myself on the back on a black motorcycle, my arms twined around Jamie’s waist. Rather than take me directly home, he steered us north, following the coast. It was very late, with hardly another vehicle about. We merged onto the motorway, and Jamie picked up speed. My thighs tightened around his lean hips, the vibration of the motor beneath us shivering up my spine. As we emerged beneath the hastate lights of the Queensferry Bridge, I stretched my arms wide, icy air ripping against the sleeves of my jacket. I laughed, although no-one could hear me. I yelled, and only the wind yelled back. I was flying.
***
It was nearly dawn when Jamie pulled up in front of my flat. My legs thrummed, my eyes were dry with fatigue, and my heart ached, but I felt better than I could ever remember. I handed Jamie back his spare helmet and shook out my curls. He watched me in that half-sleepy, half-vigilant way of his that I now recognized as desire.
“I don’t know what I could ever say to thank you, Jamie.”
“Ye needn’t say anything at all, Arsonist. Nae matter what ye decide, it has been my very great honour tae get tae know you.”
Without another word, he kick-started the engine and drove off into the early morning mist.
“Goodbye,” I whispered to his vanishing shadow.
***
The lamp above the couch was lit, and Frank lay still beneath its glow. I realized he had fallen asleep waiting for me to come home. Instead of regret, what I felt in that moment was pity.
The sound of my jacket being unzipped woke him. He blinked in confusion and then in shock.
“I’m very sorry if you were worried,” I began.
“Worried? Do you have any idea what time it is? My God, Claire, I don’t know what to make of you these days. You’ve never behaved irresponsibly before, and now you’re out at all hours and you’re wearing,” he gestured wildly with his hand at my new outfit which I had, quite honestly, forgotten I was wearing. “And your hair, Claire!” he finished, as though the manic state of my curls was definitive evidence of my fall from grace. Despite my exhaustion, I stood tall.
“Frank, we need to talk.”
64 notes
·
View notes
Note
Welcome! For DADW, "Don’t you trust me?"
thank you for your prompt! a little gen piece for @dadrunkwriting
Fic: A Matter of Trust
“Aw, come on, don’t you trust me?” Hawke asks, her expression falling when Fenris vocalizes his disgust.
“With my life, yes. With fashion, not in the least.” Fenris eyes the frilly white collar of the garment she holds with great disdain.
“I think you would look absolutely adorable in the ruffles!” Merrill pipes up, refolding a bright orange satin houserobe neatly to replace it on its stack. The Hightown stall owner eyes their triad warily but says nothing. The Champion has a reputation for paying in full for wares, barely haggling at all no matter how much Varric scolds her for it, and even Hightown merchants have gotten used to her motley company in exchange for the coin.
“Not on your life,” he tells them, words as firm in the face of their dismay.
Hawke pouts at him, but her every hint of disapproval doesn’t scratch at his insides the way it used to in the early days of their acquaintance, so he ignores her easily enough.
“How are we supposed to find you clothes if you keep rejecting everything we suggest?” she asks, tossing the ruffled monstrosity back on its own stack. Unlike Merrill, her folds are sloppy and come half undone with her motion – the merchant purses her lips but again doesn’t censure Hawke for it.
“It was not my idea to procure new clothing. That was all you, Hawke.”
Hawke snorts, peering through the mound of clothes as if the perfect outfit for Fenris will materialize if she looks hard enough.
“Hey, like I said, you need more clothes than just the armor.”
“The armor is fine.”
“You don’t want to wear something more comfortable?” Merrill questions, coming around to poke at the leather spikes on his pauldrons.
“The armor is comfortable.” Fenris crosses his arms, taking a step out of her reach.
“Come on Fenris, you deserve to indulge yourself a little,” she cajoles, yanking a sky blue tunic out from another stack and nearly sending the whole thing tumbling down. She holds it up in front of him to check the fit, but considering it looks more suited for a man Carver’s size it’s no surprise when she discards it the next moment.
“Indulge myself.” He fits his mouth around the words experimentally,
“Yeah, just. The only thing I’ve seen you really invest time in is fighting and wine, and the wine is still shit you’re pulling out of the cellar instead of buying something you prefer.”
“I also spend much of my time reading,” he says for the sake of argument.
“Yeah, but you don’t collect any books.”
“Do you have a point?”
“I’m just saying…” she pauses for a long moment, clearly weighing her words, and when she speaks her voice has that measured tone he’s used to hearing when she speaks of the most serious of matters. “Danarius is dead now and he can’t send more hunters after you. I figured maybe if you didn’t feel like you have to watch your back all the time now, you could, you know, reflect that. You don’t collect anything that could weigh you down – you’re still prepared to run, if you have to. But you don’t have to, now,” Hawke asserts, her bright eyes burning into his as she holds his gaze.
Stunned, Fenris realizes his mouth is open with nothing to say and he snaps it shut again, swallowing.
“I… suppose not,” he finally admits. It’s not as if he’s given no thought to his own freedom – never does a day go by when he doesn’t make note of the small things he’d never been able to have before his freedom; the ability to buy things with his own coin not the least of them. Still, he’s given little thought to the fact that he still wears the armor so generously gifted to him by his former master. He looks down at himself, the black leather and chestplate nicked and repaired by his own hand over the course of years, but still miraculously standing the test of battle. It’s almost a second skin to Fenris these days, only ever taken off to sleep, and sometimes not even then.
He casts his eye then over the assortment of clothing with a critical eye, really taking in the array for the first time – dresses in jewel-bright tones line the outskirts of the stall, and the rest is a set of tables containing all manner of trousers, chemises, tunics, shirts, robes, and housecoats all jumbled together. On giving it serious consideration for the first time, the thought of making an actual choice, picking something from all the variety, is nearly overwhelming.
Hawke must see something of his feelings on his face, because she moves to squeeze his arm in a gesture of comfort.
“Hey, we’re here to help you. Let’s start from one end and see if there’s anything that catches your eye.”
Not knowing what else to say, Fenris replies:
“Thank you, Hawke. You’re a good friend. Though be assured I will be taking both your opinions with a handful of salt.”
Hawke only laughs.
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
ssw | juice ortiz ; when he can't go any deeper | m
Notes:
Okay so here's the thing.. This is a bit of a glimpse into the future / what if for a fic I'm about to start writing.. well, re-writing. Despite me knowing jack fuckall about strip clubs / exotic dancing / how to describe someone giving or getting a lapdance or pole work, I got the idea to have Hazel working two nights a week in a club, idk why.. Anyway.. The idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are, loves.
Also.. I'm no longer just dipping my toes in the filth pool anymore. I went all in with this, oops rip. If anyone wants me to actually write the fic I have in mind for this... Pls.. I beg.. LMK.
Prompts:
taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.
kiss me up against the wall // moan my name as you come // when he can't go any deeper. - those were all the inspiration / prompts for this.
Fandom / Character:
Sons Of Anarchy / Juice Ortiz x Teller Morrow!OFC, Hazel
Fics Hazel can be found in:
None..Yet.
** the one I've used her in is being discontinued to do a rewrite.**
Warnings:
No minors, full stop. There is NSFW / adult content ahead. If you're underage, this was not meant for you -nor should you be reading this. If you choose to stick around after my warnings, this is strictly a you thing and it's not my problem or fault.
If you choose to go on and read this, these are the things present you need to be aware of: stripper!ofc - I admit.. I really am not too sure on how strip clubs operate, so.. if I'm wrong, sorry. lap dancing. thigh riding. body fluids tw. unprotected sex. That's pretty much it.
Tagging:
@brithedemonspawn
@chasingeverybreakingwave
@kyleoreillysknee
@sassymox
@twistnet
Other Stuff:
[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. | FANDOMS I WRITE FOR]
I swear I wanted to melt into the floor when I happened to glance out in the crowd and see Juice Ortiz sitting in the back with his eyes glued to the stage. I froze where I stood behind the curtain peering out and for a good five seconds, I heavily contemplated just bolting out the back door of the club.
But if I did that, I’d be out of the killer tips I’ve been told I could get dancing at this place. I wouldn’t have an outlet to express myself freely, either.
,, I had to know this would happen sooner or later. Charming is a small town and the guys from Samcro do come to this club. Even taking the audition and showing up tonight was me, taking a huge risk… So I had to know this would’ve happened at some point if I actually get the gig.” the thought came and I took three deep breaths. The hope was that I’d center myself.
Spoiler alert… it did not happen.
But I did catch sight of a brunette wig. And I convinced myself that between the wig and the dim lighting and the fact that Juice was so far away from the front of the club where I’d be dancing on the stage, he wouldn’t figure it out.
I’d just finished putting on the wig when the club owner cleared his throat and nodded to the curtains in front of me. “You’re up, kid. Do this right and Tuesdays and Thursdays are yours. Fuck it up and you can forget ever getting a chance to try again.”
I scoffed at him for a second or two but he stared me down, humorless.
My favorite Motley Crue song began to play and I stepped through the curtain. Out onto the stage and just as I did, I happened to see that prick AJ Weston and the guy who bought one of the shops downtown making their way to the table right in front of me.
My stomach dropped.
Those cold and emotionless eyes locked on me and he smirked. Nodding to me and leaning in to the shop owner. His best buddy or whatever. I don’t try and keep up with whose pissed off my father day by day, so I didn’t exactly know names.
All I did know was that for whatever reason, my mother’s scared to death of AJ Weston. She thinks she hides it, but she doesn’t. And my mother is not a woman who scares easily.
Suddenly, my biggest worry wasn’t Juice sitting in the back of the club anymore. It was the prick sitting right in front of the stage. I strutted out on the stage, not bothering to make eye contact with AJ Weston, no matter how hard I could feel him staring at me, willing me to do so. I tore off the cropped leather jacket I wore over my favorite red lace bra and after twirling it in the air a time or two, I tossed it onto the stage, hitting the floor. Writhing. Arching my back and crawling around, whipping my hair around to the song playing. I kept away from the center of the stage because I did not want to lock eyes with AJ Weston. I literally had zero desire.
The crowd was starting to get into it. I started to feel that rush like I used to feel when I danced in Las Vegas. I completely forgot about AJ Weston, thankfully. And what started off as a bumpy dance got smoother. Even more so when I found myself searching the crowd. Finding Juice in the back and locking eyes with him. That seemed to cut out a lot of my nervousness.
My hands drifted down my body, and I caught myself pretending they weren’t my hands but Juice’s. Just the thought of him feeling me up, his hands pinning my hands over my head. Pressing into me. The way he’d feel strained against those baggy jeans when he bucked against me in the heat of the moment. I used my dirty mind to fuel the dance. Letting my hands wander down to the waistband of my leather pants, working them down.
The crowd was really getting vocal now. They usually do when the clothing starts to actually come off. My stomach fluttered nervously when I locked eyes with Juice in the back of the club and I actually saw the way what I was doing on stage was affecting him.
He sat up a little straighter in his seat. Spread his legs a little. Squirming around. He nursed a glass of whiskey and his eyes wandered up and down my body slowly. When I hit the floor and started to writhe around, my back arching and my ass up in the air, he bit his lip. Watching intently. Rubbing his chin in thought.
Out towards the front of the club, right in front of me, I heard AJ swearing. Laughing out loud. I wanted to strangle the asshole, especially when he really got started with all his stupid filthy commentary as if he were mocking me, as if he were somehow better than this place even though he was willingly sitting here, of his own volition… But I went back to blocking him out. Focusing all my attention on Juice all over again instead.
Imagining what I’d do if I truly had half the nerve. What I’d let him do to me if I weren’t so damn afraid of falling in love with a Samcro man.
Because if I were going to love one, I’d choose him. Hands down. If I were ever to settle, I’d want to settle with Juice Ortiz.
My song was nearing an end. My dance was slowing down. I made my way up the pole again, grinding it as I inched up it. Slowly. Seductively as I could... Eyes locked on Juice the entire time as I flipped myself upside down and started to wind around the pole, spinning slowly with my arm outstretched as the other arm gripped the pole to hold myself. And just before the official end of my song, I dropped to the ground, crawling away from the pole. Towards the front of the stage, bolder. Getting closer in the hopes I could at least get a little better look at Juice’s face because I was dying to see the expression on it right now.
I smirked in his direction and gave a teasing wink as I pulled myself off the floor and slunk towards the red velvet curtain separating the back of the club from the front.
“Stormy Knight, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants the VIP experience, find Vinnie.” the announcer called out over the rowdy crowd. I was just about to reach for the doorknob on the door that lead into the dressing room when a throat cleared behind me.
“Not bad, kid. If you can bring that every single Tuesday and Thursday, gigs yours.” the club owner was standing there, smirking. He almost looked like he felt bad for doubting me in the first place. He added casually, “Had three guys come to me about VIP dances. I usually leave all that to my girls to work out. That’s extra dough in your pocket, makes no difference to me. I know half of ya have extra mouths to feed.”
I eyed him, my mouth falling open.
“Three guys? Like.. altogether?”
“No, no.. Two were together. One was by himself. Belonged to one of the MCs. Just do me a favor and at least attempt to obey club rules, kid. Don’t go gettin knocked up on the clock.” the man laughed and I took a deep breath.
At best, I figured that the biker in question was probably one of the Mayans I’d seen sitting towards the middle of the club.
I was pretty damn sure I knew exactly who the two men were and after mulling it over because it seemed as if my new boss was awaiting a decision from me, I decided I wanted no part of the risk of having to give AJ Weston and his slimy friend a private show.
“I’ll take the biker tonight, man. I’m not feelin up to a three way.”
The owner nodded and mused thoughtfully, “Good idea, kid.. That one guy out of the two of ‘em looked like his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor. I’ll go get your biker and bring him back. You got room 3. That was Gina’s old room.” before walking away, disappearing out into the front of the club again.
“Please god… at least let it be the J.D Pardo look alike if it’s one of the Mayans.” I muttered to myself, not daring to get my hopes up that it’d be Juice.
A throat cleared from behind me. I nearly shit myself when I heard Tig Trager mumble with a laugh, “Okay Ortiz. Go get your girl.” before walking away. I did not dare turn around until I knew Tig was long gone.
“Stormy, huh? That’s one hell of a name, baby girl.” he mused aloud.
I turned around slowly. Found myself body to body with him. He was staring down at me intently, licking his lips. Chuckling as he shook his head and leaned in a little closer to whisper, “Does daddy know you dance, Hazelynn? Because if he’d been here… Seen all that…” he fanned himself and gave me a teasing smirk.
My mouth dropped open.
“How? How’d you know?” I stammered out.
“I saw your car parked outside… Life pro tip, princess.. If you wanna keep this a secret, I’d suggest parking around back. Or catching a ride. Because your car? Kind of hard to forget.” Juice’s hand settled on my hip and he pulled me just a little closer. His eyes dipped down, settling on my lips, a quiet groan coming when his intent stare made me lick my lips and fidget a little.. Melting against him a little before I could stop myself from doing it. Giving a sheepish laugh as I glanced up at him.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Relax.” he chuckled. He must have felt how tense my body was as I pressed against him. I let out a shaky breath. Parts of me wanted to ask the logical question, if he came here a lot, but also, at the same time parts of me definitely didn’t want to know. Those parts of me knew that if I did ask and he said he did, I’d get just a little jealous. Because it already happened whenever I’d see him at the bar and he’d have Croweaters flocking to him.
“Guess I owe you a VIP.” I teased gently, nodding towards the door with the gold star and the black number 3 painted on it. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand, starting to lead him in the direction of the room.
“If you don’t wanna do this…” Juice frowned slightly and acted like he was going to walk away, but I stopped him. Made him look at me.
“It’s fine. It’s part of the job.” I gave him a reassuring smile as I opened the door to the room, stepping inside. Letting him step inside.
He closed the door behind him and we found ourselves body to body all over again. He muttered quietly, “Confession… I saw that Weston asshole and his idiot friend talking to the owner about a VIP dance with you so I went over and offered more money.”
Between the goofy little shit eating grin he gave me as he said it and the fact that he did that because he knows the guy creeps me right the fuck out, I was blown away. Before I could stop myself, I rose to tiptoe, gently pressing my lips against the corner of his mouth. “You’re an actual angel come to Earth, sir. You have definitely earned that dance.” I muttered softly as I pulled back to look up at him.
He bit his lip and my eyes followed the movement helplessly.
If I thought I was making myself wet on stage with my own dirty imagination, it was nothing compared to how wet I got when I locked eyes with him and realized that he was fully aware that I’d been staring at his mouth like a proper idiot.
I stepped close to him again and placed my palm on the front of his cutte, gently shoving him so that he settled in the chair right behind him.
Right away, his hands went to my hips. I lowered my hands, pushing his hands back down as I shook my head. “No touching. Club rules, Juice.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” he gave an awkward laugh and I giggled softly. Sinking down into his lap slowly.
Maybe I was slightly exaggerating out in the hallway when I told him I could do this and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. The second I settled in his lap and started to grind against it, I could feel myself dripping just a little more. I rose up slightly and he sucked in a breath. His knuckles went white with the way he was gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes were absolutely glued to me and I smirked. Teasing a little. Acting as if I’d take off the cropped leather jacket over my bra only to pull it back up.
The third time I did this, he growled quietly. Bucked himself against me. When I whimpered and grinded myself down harder against his lap, he muttered in a heated whisper, “You feel what you’re doing to me right now, baby girl?”
Oh. I felt it alright. The way he strained at his jeans, cock still twitching and growing harder and harder. The little friction I was allowing myself wasn’t enough. My cunt was throbbing and I was getting so wet that I was pretty sure when I finished giving him his lapdance the poor guy was going to have a wet spot on his jeans.
“Mhm.” I answered in a daze, leaning in so that my lips brushed against the shell of his ear and my tits rubbed right against him. He whimpered and bucked into me all over again and when I slipped out of his lap, he frowned. I hit my knees, parting his legs. Staring up at him from where I kneeled on the floor and he shifted in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair tighter when I started to rise up. Swaying my hips side to side. Leaning in. Rubbing against him as much as I could get away with. Oh, I was definitely using this little VIP dance he paid for as an excuse to do as much touching and teasing as I thought I could get away with.
All those urges to touch him I normally kept at bay were finally being allowed free reign and it felt so good.
I settled on his lap again. He let out a long and shaky breath and we locked eyes. He was staring at me like he wanted to ask me something or he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.
“What’s up?” I asked quietly.
“Nothin, it’s nothin.” he said it quickly. Too quick. I gripped his cutte and pulled him in closer. My mouth inching dangerously close to his as I muttered against it, “Whatever you want to say, say it. Trust me. I can handle it.”
“Okay, you asked for it.” he muttered. After a second or two of staring at his lap, he looked up at me again and asked quietly, “Did you wanna dance for me?”
“I got the owner to come get you, didn’t I?” my heart was beating faster. I thought it’d jump right out of my chest. I did my best to play as cool and casual as I could but every single part of me wanted to tell him that dancing was not all I wanted to do for him.
“I know that… what I mean is.. Forget it.” he went quiet. Looked down again and I gripped his jaw, making him look up at my face. “Eyes up here, Ortiz.” I teased gently, my smile falling away when I saw the serious and somber look in his eyes. I scooted away a little, an attempt to give him some space. Settling myself over his thigh instead of fully positioned on his lap as I had been.
“Talk to me.” the words left my mouth in a whimper as I pressed myself right against his thigh, rocking my throbbing sex back and forth over it. Getting wetter and wetter with each second that passed. And the ache. Oh god, the ache. I was on the brink of frustrated tears. And I couldn’t break down, I couldn’t act anything less than totally professional, because this was my night job and I was on the clock but God.. did I ever want to.
He spread his legs wider and took a deep breath. Trying not to touch me, but I could tell with the way he kept raising his hands only to put them back down on the arm rests of the velvet covered chair he sat in that he wanted nothing more than to do that very thing.
And the thought of those hands on me had me flooded in a split second. If there was any doubt before that I’d leave a wet spot behind on his jeans at the end of this dance, there wasn’t going to be by the time it was over.
Anticipation and desire had my stomach coiled tightly. I wanted, more than anything, to be able to pick up with this back home… Behind closed doors. Just him and I.
But I knew that tonight was most likely just going to be an awkward little secret. Kept between two friends. And it bothered me, because I wanted so much more than that but I was afraid to cross lines and let myself have that… I doubted it was even an option anyway because I just didn’t think Juice even saw me like that.
Sure, we flirted now and then, but nothing ever came of it.
God, did I want it to.
This heavy tension seemed to settle in all around us and I picked up on it. Juice groaned quietly, and after he nearly broke the no touch rule again and very nearly reached out to grab hold of my ass and rock me against his thigh faster, I leaned in.. Pressed against him as I continued to grind against his leg and muttered against his ear, “Most guys put their arms behind their head… Til they’re used to not being allowed to touch.. They get verbal too…” my words hitching in my throat, rushing out over each other breathlessly.
He raised his hands, locking them behind his head. Sprawling back against the chair. It seemed to help ease the tension built in his body too, because I felt him sort of melting into the chair a little and I smiled.
“C’mon.. Tell me what you want me to do.” I coaxed, fixing my eyes on him and biting my lip when I immediately found myself getting sucked far too deep into his gaze.
“Touch yourself.” he muttered. Raising up a little. Leaning forward. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl… Like you were when you were dancin out front.”
I let my hands wander.
They were shaking slightly and I just hoped to God that it wasn’t noticed.
Juice took a few shaky breaths and bucked a little in the seat. “Come closer.. Get on my lap.”
I moved so that I was straddling his lap and the way his cock strained against his jeans and I tried to stop myself, but as I started to rock myself back and forth over it, I whimpered quietly. My breath caught in my throat a time or two and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to beat out of my chest.
“I normally don’t buy dances if I come here.” he muttered quietly, shattering through my own current internal struggle.
Knowing this relaxed me a little. It was obvious he didn’t just going off the way he acted, but.. I still wondered. Some guys like to pretend it’s their first lap dance because it gets them going.
I’m not here to judge anyone.
I mean.. I have a good paying day job as a legal assistant and here I am.. Dancing two nights a week whenever I can find a club to take me just so I have some form of release.. Just so I can feel intimacy that for whatever reason, I tend to deny myself in reality.
I almost asked him why, but I remembered what he told me out in the hallway about outbidding AJ because he knew the guy scared me. And I stopped myself, even though parts of me hoped there was more to it than that.
My hands moved over my chest and I rocked myself over him faster. My breath catching in my throat as I felt myself rushing straight into an orgasm I’d been trying like hell to hold back the whole time we’d been in the VIP room.
I could feel my body burning up under his gaze and he leaned in again. Muttered breathlessly against my ear, “If you’re nervous..”
“It’s fine.” I pretended to brush it off. I acted as chill about doing this for him as I possibly could.
“Turn away.. I wanna watch you movin from behind, baby girl.” he muttered. The request caught me by surprise a little, but I kind of realized that he was doing it more for me than for himself.
I did what he asked, turning in his lap so that I faced away. My eyes caught his in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of us. As I started to rock my ass over his bulge, he growled quietly. Bucking himself up into me. Biting his lip as he did it three more times. Muttered in a lust filled daze “Fuck yeah, baby girl.. Work that ass.”
Just the way he said it had me dripping all over again.
“Faster.” he panted, bucking himself up into me all over again. Harder.
I tried not to, but I found myself imagining that he was taking me from behind. A fist full of my hair and my tits pressed right against the mirrored wall in front of us. And I rocked myself back and forth over his cock, pressing down even harder. Moving even faster. Almost close to a blinding orgasm.
“Fuck.” I swore quietly.
Juice sat up in the chair. Pressing his chest into my back. Muttering against my ear, “ Did you wanna dance for me like this?”
“Juice, I told you already.” my head fell back and my eyes fluttered open and shut. I squeezed my tits and rolled my hips faster. My breath came in short pants because I was so close to an orgasm that I was throbbing. He was leaning in again to whisper. “What I mean is if this wasn’t your job.. And it was just me and you… Would you wanna..” he rocked himself against me all over again. Harder. With more urgency as he swore under his breath and muttered that if I kept it up, he was going to come all over himself.
“ Turn around facin me.” he panted, his lips brushing against my ear and sending a shiver rushing through me. I turned back around in his lap to face him. Raising up a little. Teasing him by putting my tits at level with his mouth. Squeezing them together before lowering my hand. Toying with the waistband of my leather pants. Teasing him like I’d take them off.
“ Tease.” he pouted up at me.
“ That’s kind of what you’re paying me for right now, Juice.” I gave a soft laugh as I tucked a finger beneath his chin. Pulling his mouth dangerously close to mine. He licked his lips in anticipation and when he did, his tongue brushed right against my mouth. I whimpered helplessly.
And I just barely kept myself from exploding.
“You’re tensin up on me, Haze… Somethin wrong?” Juice asked quietly.
Looking at me as if he were bracing himself for something bad to be said.
By this point, I was so caught up in the moment, in the way it felt to grind myself against his cock and get out all these long denied urges to touch him to my hearts content.. It slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“Honestly? I’m a breath away from coming and this never.. Ever… happens to me when I’m givin a private dance.” my words came in a breathless rush and as soon as I realized what I’d just said, I lost my groove for a second or two. Slowing down. Trying to pull myself together.
Hoping to God that I didn’t just make things awkward for him and I in the future because I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
His mouth opened and closed and his hands gripped the arm rests again. Tighter.
“Do you know how hard it is for me? Feelin you dancin on my cock like this? Knowin I.. Knowin that this is probably as close as I’m ever gonna get? Fuck… If I were ever lucky enough to have you all to myself, baby girl...”
His words caught me by surprise. My heart fluttered a little and I swallowed hard. Going still in his lap just to stare at him.
The lights getting brighter and the music in the room going quiet had both of us jumping apart. I realized that probably meant my time in the room was done and before I could give myself a chance to back out, I slipped off his lap and held out my hand to him.
“ C’mon.”
He eyed my hand and took hold of it, standing. I practically drug him out of the room and then down the hall. Out the door and into the back lot behind the club. Once the door was shut behind us, I started to pace in front of him. Just trying to put it all together.
Torn between continuing to fight what I felt for him and caving in.
When he stepped in front of me and placed his hands on my upper arms, staring down into my eyes intently, something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I had his back pressed against the door of the building. My hands caught his, holding them over his head as I rose up slightly and crashed my mouth against his mouth.
Devouring. Hungry.
At first, he didn’t really react. But when the shock cleared and he realized what I was doing, he came alive. I melted against him and he growled into my mouth, deepening the kiss. Teeth latching onto my bottom lip and tugging until I felt it starting to bruise. I let his hands go and they were all over me. Settling on my ass. Rocking me up against him and making me whimper and dig my fingers into his shoulders. I couldn’t melt into him any more if I tried. I was so exhausted from trying to hold back in more ways than one at this point that my filter was totally shot. I rocked myself against him clumsily, a begging and needy whine filling the space between our mouths as the kiss broke when I just couldn’t hold it back.
“Do you know why I almost got off giving you a lap dance? Do you know what you do to me, Juice? I.. I tried so hard not to fall for you and yet.. Here I am.”
He blinked in shock. For a few seconds we stared at each other, panting for our next breath. Neither of us saying a word.
Then he bent and scooped me up. Started to carry me towards the end of the alley where he’d parked his Dyna Glide.
I didn’t do or say anything to try to stop him. I didn’t want to.
I’m so tired of keeping him at arms length. I’m tired of fighting the way I feel.
He sat me on the back of his bike and I grabbed hold of the front of his vest, pulling him down. Pulling his mouth down against mine all over again because I just.. I was needy. I craved him on this level I couldn’t even begin to get my head around.
His bike came to a stop in front of his apartment building and he got off. Scooping me up all over again. Stopping just outside the doors leading into the building to grope and kiss me. Letting his lips stray down the side of my neck. Sucking a mark deep into my skin. I clung to him and begged breathlessly, “Juice, please..”
Neither of us was really stopping to think. I didn’t want to.
I wanted him.
More importantly, I wanted to be with him. And tonight just proved to me that I couldn’t fight it anymore.
The whole time he was trying to unlock his apartment door, he kept fumbling with the keys. Rutting right against me. Stopping to kiss or touch me. When he finally got it unlocked, he stepped through the door and stepped over to the couch. Tossing me down onto it gently. Following close behind. Pressing himself down into me and snapping his hips against mine, making me whimper. My whimper echoing off the walls of the quiet room. I reached down between us, tugging at the hem of his white t shirt and he rose up, pulling off his vest and tossing it at a chair nearby. Then pulling his shirt off and tossing it too. It settled on the floor in front of the chair. Then he was pulling me up. Tearing my bra away and tossing it out into the room. My hands lowered, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and he bit his lip. Gazing at me for a second or two with this look of lust and adoration in his eyes. Savoring the moment and what was about to happen.
Because it’s been building for a while, apparently. I just focused so damn hard on keeping myself from caving in and letting myself have what I wanted, with him, that somehow, I missed all the signs.
“Baby, c’mon.” I begged.
The term of endearment slipped out.
He gave me that little smirk. Rubbed his chin in thought as he let his eyes wander.
He worked his way down my body, using his body to part my legs. He worked my leather pants down my legs and I kicked them free at my ankles.
His fingers caught in the thin strap of my panties and they came away with a quiet tear. I tried to get him out of his pants again and he lowered my hands. Slipping off the sofa. I watched intently as he teased me, pouting about it. Begging.
I needed him buried inside me. Fucking me. Slow. Deep. All night long.
His pants fell to his ankles and he kicked off his boots and then kicked his pants free from his legs. When he dropped his boxers, I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on the way his cock stood at attention once it was free from fabric. He was pressing himself down into me all over again.
His mouth roaming over my tits. Tongue teasing my nipples as my back arched away from the sofa and I rocked myself against him. His free hand settled between us, circling his thick cock. Teasing it between my folds and making me shiver and cling to him. Try to rock myself against him urgently.
And then he buried his cock inside me. Shallow at first. Going still to let me adjust to him. I felt like I was being split in two and the feeling had me whining. Nipping at his chest, at any patch of skin I could get my mouth on just so I could muffle the way I wanted to scream his name at the top of my lungs.
I rocked into him clumsily and he growled quietly. His hands going down to my hips. Holding them still as he started to pound me harder. Deeper. So deep he couldn’t go any deeper. When he bottomed out, I dragged my nails down his back.
“Not yet, baby girl. C’mon, hold out just a little longer for me.” Juice coaxed breathlessly as his hips crashed against me with a bruising pace. I begged for release, on the verge of tears. The more I begged, the more he’d slow down. Stop to kiss me or leave marks on me. Torture.
Slow, steady and deep torture.
“You gonna moan my name when you cum?” he questioned, slamming his cock deep into my womb. Going still and capturing my mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. “ God. You’re so.” he panted, snapping his hips against mine, cock pistoning in and out of me with steady deep thrusts, “So fuckin wet I can barely stay in. Fuck. Shit. Shiiiit, baby girl. I wanna cum so bad.”
“Juice! Ah, -ah fuck. Right there.” my back arched away from the couch and my orgasm ripped through me, leaving me weak and dazed, clinging to him as I tried desperately to keep up with his pace, spent. Dripping. My walls vising his cock and clenched around it. Tears flooding my eyes because holy fuck, all I’ve wanted for the entire time was to finally be allowed to let go.
Juice stared down at me from above, a soft gaze. He caught a tear as it made a black trail down my cheek. Chuckling quietly. Going still to pepper kisses soft against my mouth and then trail them down the front of my throat. When he started to move again, he muttered against my lips softly, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you. I’m right here.” as he pistoned in and out, the wet sloshing sounds accompanying each thrust he made seeming to make him move just a little faster. His hands were all over me and all I could really do was lie there, pinned beneath him. Whimpering his name as I tried to come down from the high. Stare up at him softly as my mind spun, replaying every single thing that led us here, to this exact moment.
“Oh fuck. Fuck baby girl. You want it?” his hips stammered, smashing against mine in a bruising pace and his words were swallowed by another hungry kiss and I nodded. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he did. Striking against my throbbing g-spot a time or two and growling, biting. Locking his lips against my neck and sucking yet another big,deep mark into soft flesh. The warmth of his release flooded me, making me whimper. Overfilling me, because I could feel the excess slowly leak down. Puddle beneath me on the sofa.. I bucked my hips against him greedily trying to take it all because I wanted it. I needed it. I craved him so badly I couldn’t have put it to words if I tried. He leaned into me heavily, panting for his next breath. Spent. A fine sheen of sweat gathered on our bodies. I grabbed hold of his face and pulled his mouth against mine. Our foreheads pressed together and he muttered quietly, “Mine?”
“Yours.” it shocked me when the word bubbled out. It shocked me because a, I was saying it and b, I meant it. With everything in me. As soon as I said it, he gave me a soft and lazy grin. Pressing his lips to my forehead. He collapsed onto the couch settling behind me. Pulling me on top of him.
Quiet little soft kisses. Caressing my face as he stared up at me and caught sight of one of the bigger marks he left on my throat, grimacing as he chuckled about it quietly.
“Fuck me. Baby, that was amazing...” I groaned out in a daze, making him laugh and gaze up at me. “Give me an hour, babe.” he teased…
“Careful. I might take you up on that.” I teased back, melting against his body. Letting his arms wrap around me and hold me tight.
#juice ortiz#juice ortiz fanfiction#juice ortiz imagine#juice ortiz oneshot#juice ortiz imagines#juice ortiz fanfic#juice ortiz one shot#juice ortiz sm*t#my writing ; juice ortiz#my fanfiction ; juice ortiz#my fanfics ; juice ortiz#// absolutely no one (0) under 18+ allowed. Minors DNI.#// ns*w content#// s*xual content#// body fluids tw#// unprotected s*x tw
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you think you might ever follow up that forking paths fic chapter where the two jons talk? Like after our jon leaves, id love to hear your take on how younger jon reacts when martin gets back from (what he now knows, thanks to our jon explaining) that trip to visit his mom. How do you think that jon goes about approaching martin, bc its def clear that our jons words really stick with him
Anon, I loved your prompt, and I’ve thought about it often.
No CWs apply. Set in an alternative series 2, pre JonMartin
This is related to a time-travel AU where both the ‘original universe’ Jon and Martin have visited alternative versions of the archives. There’s no major spoilers for that story, although if you’d like to have a read, it’s here. :)
Coat slumped onto its hanger by the front door. Keys jangling in a lumpen heap. He checks, then double checks the bolt lock, the latch, the door chain, and then toes a door wedge harshly in place for good measure.
Martin puts down his overnight bag, fat with clothes that need going in the wash.
A signal failure at Yeovil Junction, stretching a three-and-a-half-hour journey back from Devon by over an hour. There had been a motley gaggle of the rowdy and the drunk on the Victoria line, and they’d squawked and cheered at the inanity of nothing, their laughing getting louder. He had avoided eye contact, felt his headache building.
Back in his flat, he takes two paracetamol and sits down, feeling like the final pieces of a cliff-face, falling seaward.
A breath out. A breath in.
Sleep is slow to come, and he wakes more than once. Eventually, he just waits for his alarm to go off.
He can’t find an ironed shirt, so he wears a jacket to cover up the worst of the crinkles. He’s on time, but he still frets as he stands, compressed by strangers on the Tube.
The main office area is quiet when he comes in. Martin clicks on the light switch, with a heavy feeling of experiencing the entire weight of the upcoming week at once, then goes into the small staff room to make himself a tea.
Jon’s there when he gets back. Stood by his desk.
“Oh! Hi,” Martin says. The tea sloshes ominously as he jumps, but it doesn’t spill. “Didn’t - didn’t see you there.”
“Martin!” Jon says. Looking and sounding, rather unusually, like he’s slept more than his rationing of three or four hours nightly. “You’re – you’re back. Good. That’s. That’s good.”
“Oh. Er. Yeah.” Martin puts his tea down on a coaster. Jon skitters back to give him space but he’s still close. The bags under his eyes lighter. “Back to the old, er, grindstone, I guess.”
Martin trails off weakly. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Jon’s company, but it’s early, and Martin hasn’t stored up reserves to be his friendliest just yet, nor to navigate whatever mood Jon might have been stewing in. He’s half waiting for Jon to just tell him what work he wants him to be getting on with.
He wonders where Tim and Sasha are.
Jon, no better word for it, lingers. Weight shifted from one foot to another. He looks over Martin intently, and Martin’s face heats to think of what he probably sees; un-ironed shirt, scruffy shoes. He shaved this morning in a rush, and he’s likely missed a few bristles under his throat, down his jawline.
“How… How was your trip?”
“Um. Yeah. Ok,” Martin lies. “You know. Nice to get a few days away.”
Jon hums, opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it. Then:
“I’m… I’m going to Costas.”
“Oh. Ok. That’s fine.”
“Would you like anything?”
Martin’s small smile bursts onto his face like breaking the surface of a wave, and he’s surprised, by how touched he feels at Jon’s gesture.
Jon reflects his expression for a moment with a similar smile, before it’s quickly schooled into blankness.
“No. But thanks, Jon.”
“Ok.”
Jon makes no move to leave.
“Come with me?” he asks. He’s fiddling with his shirt cuffs, the ring on his finger. “It’s not far, and… I would like you to. If you, er. If you want to.”
Martin nods, and doesn’t understand the relief on Jon’s face.
-
Jon’s pace is clipped, brisk with speed, and Martin hurries after him, feeling a little bit like a satellite orbiting a force of gravity. By the time they get to the café, it’s the dregs of the morning rush in a small queue that trails limply from the counter around past the coolers stocking juices and sandwiches. Martin offers to get them a table, but Jon makes some flat-footed excuse about needing help to carry the tray while he pretends to peer at the overhead menus with far greater attention than they necessarily deserve. So, Martin waits with him. Listening to the whistling rush of the steamer and the juddering grind of the large silver coffee machine behind the counter. One of the baristas shouts to get the attention of a customer wearing headphones.
Jon won’t hear a word for Martin paying, waving him off impatiently in a distracted, short way that is followed up by a pause, and then a deliberately politer comment about how Martin can get the next one. It’s such a seesaw of tones that Martin’s left a little at sea by it all. Mumbling a thank you, jumbled and lost with the way this morning is going, the buoy lines and anchor points shifted since he went away.
Jon’s face reads similar.
They sit down at a four-seater table, Martin insisting on being allowed to carry the tray, if only to give himself something to do. Jon makes a protracted faff of adding sugar to his tea, drip-feeding it milk until it reaches an acceptable shade while Martin’s fingertips prickle with heat as his hands make flood barriers around his own cup.
“What’s this about, Jon?” he finds it within himself to eventually blurt out.
Jon looks up from his cup. Glances away almost as fast. He manages to balance a fine line between guilty and defiant with only the set of his jaw.
Ah. It’s going to be one of those talks then.
Some sheltered, tentatively uncrumpling part of Martin had hoped that they were past this.
He might as well jump straight to it.
“If this is your idea of some… I dunno, public place where you feel you can accuse me of being a murderer again – ”
“What?! It’s – ”
“ – I know you’re going through a lot, I get it, I do, a-a-and I am trying to understand – ”
“It’s not – ”
“ – I-I thought we were past this, I thought you trusted me, at least not to murder you in your sleep, for God’s sake – ”
“I… It’s not, Martin.” Jon’s hands are held up, palms outwards. “I promise. I. I trust you. It’s not about anything like that.”
Martin’s hands unclench slightly from around his teacup. Jon’s expression bares the singular marks of a man struggling between emotion and ingrained habit.
Finally, nearly glowering, he stares into his own tea, rather than at Martin.
“Tim and Sasha will be here soon. I’ve texted them, told them to come here, not into the Archives.”
“What, why…?”
“There is every chance we may be overheard there, and – ”
“Not this again – ”
“Martin.” There is nothing harsh in Jon’s rebuke, for all it is phrased as a curt interruption. He huffs an irritated breath and meets Martin’s eye almost defiantly. It loosens into regret. “I know that I have… have not exactly given you much reason to take me on faith. And my behaviour these past… I suspect I owe you my apologies for a multitude of minor indignities that you have neither warranted nor deserved, and I am sure that if we had more time, we could both sit here listening my faults and failings to our mutual satisfaction. But the fact is that we don’t have time, and at the moment, my request for your patience and attention is far more important than my desire for your forgiveness.”
Jon’s sincerity is straight-forward, clean-edged.
“Tell me then,” Martin replies.
“Something happened, while you were visiting your mum.”
“How did you know I was – ?” Martin starts, but Jon waves a restless hand as though eager to move on to other matters, to which Martin’s temper rises because oh no you don’t, and he snaps: “Have you been following me?”
It was clearly not what Jon was expecting him to say. His face, scrunched up with impatience, slackens into a mild panic.
“No!” he says. “No, I. I haven’t. I swear, Martin, I haven’t.”
“Then how do you know about my mum?”
“I can explain, a-and I will. But let me finish, please?”
Martin nods. It is not fear that is starting to itch under his jacket, but it bears a family resemblance.
“We had a visitor,” Jon says. From his coat pocket, he pulls out two cassette tapes, like the ones they use for the difficult statements. “Two, actually. While you were away. We can listen to them both, later… and you should. You have a right to. They’re about you, a-and me – um, us. Tim and Sasha were here when the – er, the statement givers delivered them, and I’ve already filled them in on the supplementary information that we didn’t get on tape. I haven’t… I’m not asking you to trust me, or even believe me straight away, but there’s… Martin, there’s something dangerous at the Institute. Something that means all of us harm, and these tapes – ” He taps on them with a nail. “ – they’re a warning. About what our future might entail. And I… I firmly believe that together, all of us, we can stop it.”
Jon winds down like an exhausted clock, and he slumps, his gaze dragged away from Martin’s as though he’s suddenly embarrassed by his outburst.
Martin lets out a long, billowing sigh.
“OK,” he says.
Jon looks up.
“Ok?”
“I don’t – I don’t even begin to understand what’s going on here. But I believe you. Though God knows why.”
Almost furtively, Jon’s face fractures into one of those small, surface-breaking smiles again.
“Thank you, Martin. I – I appreciate that.”
Martin’s blood vessels at that moment traitorously decide to flush his face with heat. He clears his throat.
“Right,” he says. “Right, so, these are the – the warnings, yeah?”
“I’ve brought headphones if you want to listen.”
“Which one should I…” Martin begins, but his voice sputters silent in his throat as he reads the labelling down the sides, printed in Jon’s aggressively neat hand.
Case #0160920: Statement of Martin Blackwood, for the attention of Jonathan Sims. Case #0160921: Statement of Jonathan Sims, for one Martin Blackwood.
“I didn’t record any – ”
“No. You didn’t.” Jon’s expression is steady if wary. “And neither did I.”
“S-so this statement here, that’s – that’s – and that means that your one there, that’s – ”
“Yes.”
“Fuck me.”
He meets Jon’s eyes. Lets out another, decidedly less steady breath.
Jon promised to explain. Jon promised answers.
And Martin can trust that right now. It’s easier, somehow, with Jon looking at him like he won’t let him get lost.
“This one first?” he says, pointing at the tape that another Martin Blackwood has made.
Jon nods, and passes Martin the headphones.
And in a coffee shop on the Southbank, Jon’s gaze not breaking from him, Martin listens to the story of how the world ends.
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Spones Pre-Reform Vulcan AU
So this is a rundown of a complex spones longfic that I would love some feedback on, as I am debating whether or not I should post it (As there is a sad lack of good long spones fics out there!)
Summary under the cut...
So, this fic would basically be an AU set around 2015. Bones, Jim, and Scotty go to the same university in Atlanta and rent an apartment together to cut cost. Scotty, a genius in his field of engineering, decides to build the engine of a machine he believes can send people to space more effectively than a rocket. To keep the machine safe and work on it in an environment than won't raise too many questions, Scotty leaves it in an abandoned storage unit where he and Jim can work on it together.
Bones swears that he doesn't want to be a part of it, that he's to swamped with med classes and he's studying to be a doctor anyways, not a rocket scientist. However, curiosity gets the better of him, so when Scotty and Jim tell him that the machine is finished, and they've even fashioned a little craft, he decides to go with them to see the finished product. What Bones doesn't know is that Scotty and Jim have wired the entire craft to the mechanism as kind of a joke, fully believing the machine won't actually be capable of flight, let alone going out into space. After all, they're just a couple of grad students dicking around with a machine. However, there are other forces at work, forces that they could never dream of. Bones jokingly goes inside the craft and buckles himself in.
When he takes out his phone to snap a picture for his girlfriend, his elbow hits the accelerator button of the craft. It shouldn't do anything, of course. The machine hasn't powered on, and Scotty and Jim have safety measures in place. Despite this, however, the moment Bones's arm hits that button, the entire craft disappeared with him in it.
For hours Bones feels nothing but weightlessness and disassociation, as though he is floating in a static state between sleep and wakefulness. When Bones finally regains consciousness, the first thing he notices is the arid heat. There is sand beneath his hands, so fine it's almost soft to the touch. When Bones is able to stand and look around to see where he lands, he finds the 'ship' not far from him, crumpled into a smoldering heap of garbage. He could have believed he was on earth, perhaps blown to some country with a desert, If it wasn't for the copper colored sky above or the unnatural heat that pressed against him like a weight. Bones walks and walks across this endless desert, until he hears the familiar muted tap of feet against the sand. when he turns around there are three men, well, not men exactly, but close enough for him to call them that. Their ears are pointed, and when their lips curl into identical feral smiles he can see their teeth have been sharpened to points as well. The two on the side have long braided hair, while the one in the center merely has his pulled back. They are covered in tattoos, piercings adorning those pointed ears. The metal isn't gold, though, but a dark color closest in tone to silver. Bones knows there is nowhere to run, but the urge overtakes him.
the feeling of danger in his gut is so strong that running is all Bones can do to stop a panic attack. He only manages to run for all of five seconds, however, before strong hands grab him. Bones is taking to a small city, once beautiful but quite obviously marred by violence. Though they speak in a strange language, their gestures and body language are enough for Bones to realize one thing- he must find a way to make himself useful. The opportunity comes more quickly than Bones would have thought. There are many wounded in the city,
and despite their vastly different biology Bones pieces together the tools he needs to heal them. After all, they are similar enough to humans in Bones's mind. When they realize that Bones can heal, they take him to a secluded part of what he can only describe as the city's fortress. Therein lies a young man, a prisoner named Spock who is apparently too dangerous to be kept with the others.
As Bones tries to help Spock, learning bits and pieces of the difficult vulcan language along the way, he begins to realize that the 'medicine' Bones has been given to administer is a slow-acting poison. With each dose, spock's madness grows. Slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, Bones begins to lower the dose of the poison, until Spock's madness wears away. To both of their frustration, neither can understand one another well enough to tell their respective stories.
Unable to do anything else, Spock initiates a mind-meld. Bones knows what it is, he has seen it happen many times by now, and he realized rather quickly that these creatures are telepaths. Still, knowing is quite different from feeling. What occurs is an intense but brief cultural exchange. When Spock releases the meld, Bones finds he has retained a decent grasp of vulcan, and when spock speaks once more, he can understand.
Spock was a prince, a firstborn, imprisoned and poisoned for desiring some reform in the city that would offer some measure of protection against the equally violent clans spread across the desert. They make a pact: Bones helps Spock escape into the western part of the desert to join like-minded defectors from all around the planet, and Spock will try and help Bones figure out a way to get home. As they escape to that motley group of warriors, Spock and Bones realize that they are part of something far larger than either of them intended to be, and that bones's arrival to the planet of Vulcan was no accident.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rock Stars Make Bad Boyfriends (Vince Neil x Reader x Slash)
Pairing: Vince Neil x Reader x Slash
Words: 3,170
Request: anon! : “hi again! i’ve got another idea for an imagine so i came right to your blog - hopes that’s okay! i had an idea where the reader kind of has an unofficial thing with Vince Neil but he’s stringing her along - flirting with other girls and such almost in front of the reader’s face - & she ends up meeting slash when gnr and the crue are on tour. slash immediately falls for her & she falls for him too but slash sees how Vince treats her. slash eventually asks her on a date & vince ends up hearing about it & confronting the reader about it. she tells him she really likes slash and she’s done with him and eventually slash and the reader end up dating much to vince’s dismay. thank you so much!”
A/N: Yes, love; that is more than okay!! I love that y’all come to me with these ideas! I love this prompt and I think about this Motley/GNR tour a lot...even if it was short. Turned into a short fic, but hopefully y’all don’t mind that. Hope you’re all doing well!
Taglist: @ubernoxa @the--blackdahlia @reigns420 @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @rumoured-whispers @dustnbones
“Vince?” The blonde kept his head turned away from you as though you hadn’t spoken a word. You felt the scowl on your face deepen as he sent a wave towards the girl working the outdoor bar of the hotel resort pool area. “Vince, are you even listening to me?” This time, your tone must’ve been enough to get his attention as he turned back to you.
“Aw, I’m sorry, baby. What were you saying?” You pushed your tongue against the wall of your mouth trying to summon patience; it’s not like you just spent the better part of the last five minutes trying to tell Vince about your day.
“I was talking about what happened earlier in the gift shop. There was a little girl who didn’t have enough money to buy this key chain, and a little old man bought it for her.”
“Mmm.” Vince’s head had turned again the minute you started talking. You frowned.
“And then the shop blew up. It was a huge explosion.”
“Mmhm.”
“The little girl and old man died.”
“That’s nice. Hey, I’m gonna go get us some more drinks, alright, baby?” Vince stood from his lounge chair without waiting for your reply. “Be right back!”
You sighed a little as you watched him unsurprisingly saunter over to the girl at the bar who was practically licking her lips.
All your girlfriends called you crazy for agreeing to go on tour with a rock star. Well, no; that was misleading. They encouraged going on tour, but expecting serious commitment from a rock star? In your dreams, they said. Rock stars don’t make good boyfriends.
You met Vince only about a month prior, so you knew it was nothing quite serious, but was it wrong for you to hope? You liked Vince. That first night neither of you could stop talking until the early morning hours, his eyes sparkling and unmoving from yours, his hand on your knee. But he was a humongous flirt. You tried not to let it get to you—after all, here you were poolside at a swanky resort in a room you didn’t pay for, going to concerts you didn’t have to buy tickets for. Tradeoffs, you supposed. Even still, you couldn’t help but glance over and over again as Vince stayed longer and longer at the bar. You tried to work on your tan and stay undeterred as you planned your outfit in your head for the show later.
That night, Vince complimented you already three times on the way to the arena, but that was only after he heard Tommy telling you that you were looking “hot as fuck, dude.” You still counted it as a win. Then you scolded yourself; were relationships supposed to be about winning?
You also heard Nikki saying something about how their new opening band would be starting tonight, kicking off this leg of the tour. Guns N’ Roses—you had never heard of them, but the name sounded cool. They must have been good if they were opening for the Crue.
Despite his sweet talking and possessive touch all the way to the arena, Vince soon abandoned you once you actually got there. You brushed it off; you weren’t a child. He did have a show to get ready for—you tried not to notice how many groupies you were already seeing walk by, though. There were more interesting things to see anyways. At least, you were determined to find them.
That turned out, again, to be wishful thinking. You didn’t have complete access to every part of the arena, and really, you felt bad about being in the way of all the crew members. That led to you finding the door outside, to the back of the arena, where you hoped to just find a quiet place for a moment.
It took two tugs with all your strength to actually pull open the heavy doors, but instead of opening a gateway to the outside, another body toppled into you. You let out a startled yelp.
“Oh, thank fuck, man!” You heard a soft voice say in relief. There was so much hair in your face that you couldn’t see behind all the black unruly coils to untangle yourself from this mystery guy. “I went outside just to smoke and like, chill before the show, you know, but the doors fucking locked—” you both finally untangled and you found yourself face to face with, well, still a whole lotta hair.
He had on black leather pants and a denim jacket with black sleeves, along with cowboy boots. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his curls, but you were sure he was staring right at you.
“Woah, uh...” he murmured. His voice never changed from the soft murmur. “I thought you were security or something.” You chuckled and watched as he pushed his hair away from his face, revealing pretty, brown, fascinated eyes that were, indeed, staring right at you. You could feel heat growing in your cheeks, but did your best to stay calm.
“No, just a lost soul.” You joked lightly. He blinked a few times at you, almost dumbfounded. He was adorable.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something fun.” A smile grew on his face at your reply.
“I can show you that. I’m Slash.”
“Slash?” You asked in amazement, and he chuckled.
“Yeah, well, my name’s Saul. But I’ve been called Slash for years.” Saul. Slash.
“Okay, cool. I’m Y/N.” You both exchanged smiles and he jerked his head, waiting to make sure you walked beside him rather than behind him.
He took you to where the rest of his band was gathered and introduced you to an eclectic group, all of whom were nice and chill. Less chaos than Motley, but still had that aura hanging in the air, that they were on the verge of destruction, that they were a gang.
Slash, though soft-spoken, asked you question after question—where you were from, what you normally did for fun, what music you liked as he strummed a guitar mindlessly. You watched his fingers in amazement, how effortless he made the action look. And then came his question, “why are you backstage?”
“Oh, well, I’m with—” Speak of the devil…
“Y/N?” You turned at the sound of the door slamming open and Vince appearing in the door frame. “Where the fuck have you been, I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“I’ve been listening to these guys jam. You guys picked a great opening act.” You replied coolly, and you couldn’t help but notice the way Slash smiled down at his guitar silently.
“Well, you’re supposed to be helping me with my makeup,” Vince didn’t hesitate to cross the room and pull you off the couch you were sitting on by your arm, giving you no chance in the matter. “Or, something more productive. Like putting that pretty mouth of yours to use.” You sent Vince a look and immediately snatched your arm out of his grip. No way were you going to tolerate being disrespected like that in a room full of people.
“If you wanted a sex toy to bring on the road with you, I’m sure you could have had plenty of other girls—that’s not what I am.” You replied, pushing around him and walking out of the room. Vince chased you down the hall.
“Hey! Y/N, wait! Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Vince cooed, pulling you to a stop and pressing his lips to your neck. “I just wanted to make sure they knew you were with me; I just get jealous. Especially when you look so fucking good tonight.” You let it go, but you didn’t forget the incident. And you especially didn’t forget the moment later, when you were watching Motley Crue perform from the side of the stage, as a hand gently touched your shoulder. It was Slash.
“Hey...you ever...want...someone...find...” you couldn’t hear him over Mick’s guitar.
“What?” You yelled at him. He laughed before leaning in close to your ear. He had to brush your hair back, and his lips were practically touching your skin.
“If you ever get bored or want to have fun with someone while you’re on tour, come and find me.”
The implication of that almost had you nervous; did all these guys just think you were a road groupie? But, sure enough, Vince ditched you once more at another show and you found yourself knocking on the Guns N’ Roses dressing room door. And there was Slash, answering the door with a smile as though you had known each other for years. “Hey, dude. Check this out, tell me what you think.” He played you a guitar riff he had been working on and waited expectantly to hear your thoughts after. And that was that, you were fast friends.
You weren’t sure how to explain the phenomenon, but you knew it was mutual. Just a special connection; even when you were both still learning about each other, it felt more as if you were remembering. It was like putting on a pair of boots that had already been worn in.
And you knew it was mutual because, according to his bandmates, Slash was pretty shy unless he was drunk. But not with you; he could talk your ear off. Somehow in just a couple weeks, it felt as if you were best friends.
That was an incredible feeling in itself; at this age in life, could you really meet another person out of the blue and grow so close so fast? But beyond that, there were little moments. These moments you quickly grew to live for, these moments made your heart race and your palms sweat.
Moments when you looked over at him, cigarette hanging from his mouth as he focused on the guitar, and you never wanted to kiss a pair of lips more. Moments when you thought maybe, just maybe, Slash felt the same. He would hug you in greeting every time he saw you, but sometimes leave his arm around your waist, effectively holding you to him until he had to let you go. When you would swear you caught him already staring because of how fast he turned his head away.
“Y/N, I can’t wait for you to meet Pandora.”
“Who’s that?” He smiled up at you, his head resting on your lap as it usually did, a guitar resting in his.
“She’s my boa.”
“Your...your snake?”
“She’s the sweetest—she’s gonna love you.”
He wanted you to meet his snake—or, snakes. You laughed, and for some reason, you felt such a wave of affection hit you at just the thought of his existence. You spent more time watching Guns open from the side of the stage than you did watching Motley—you were usually goofing off with Slash at that point. Suddenly, Vince’s continuing disappearances didn’t bother you so much. The only thing that actually did bother you was when Slash would walk you up to your always empty hotel room every evening. The both of you would drag your steps every time and take unnecessary trips to the snack machine, or stand out on the balcony to check out the moon. Just anything to prolong ending the night.
“Empty again,” you joked to Slash as you opened the hotel room door to dark and vacant room. You weren’t even sure why you and Vince kept up the charade anymore—he hadn’t even kissed you in days. At this point, you were riding to the arenas with Slash and his band.
Slash didn’t laugh like you thought he would. He was looking down, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Can I ask you something and you promise to not get mad?” He asked you. His words were almost rushed, as though he had to gather courage to even say them.
“Yeah, of course you can. What’s up?”
“Do you actually like him? Vince?” He ventured. “I mean, I know you don’t love him, but...”
“How do you know that?” You asked out of curiosity, certainly not out of disagreement. He was right, of course. Slash shrugged a shoulder.
“I would just imagine, you know...if you love someone, you would want to be around them. Tell them things first, eat with them, just kinda look to them first.” You listened to his words, realizing over the past few days you had been doing all of the above with Slash. You had given up trying to tell the nuances of your day to Vince, but Slash listened when you told him how you short circuited the electricity with your blow dryer at the hotel. He laughed at your jokes or when you tripped backstage because he was always watching you. He gave you his jacket when he saw you shiver once, he made sure you got food after the show if you were still hungry. When he was drunk and carefree, he wouldn’t chase after groupies. He would come and find you and fall asleep on your shoulder.
“I don’t love Vince.” You confirmed softly. “Vince...had me fooled into thinking he was someone else. That he cared.”
“Then why are you with him?” You stared back at him, unable to give him an answer.
“I don’t...”
“Let’s go out.” You felt your heart jump.
“We’ve...we’ve been out, though.”
“Y/N, Denny’s after midnight is hardly a date.” He said, though he was fighting a smile; that was a good memory.
“Depends on who you ask,” you chuckled, making him chuckle. “Wait, did you say a date?”
“Well, yeah. That’s what I mean.” He said softly. “Listen, Y/N. I think you’re pretty cool. And I dunno, I’ve never really...like, there’s a lot of pretty girls out there, right? But you’re so fucking beautiful I thought I was seeing things when you opened the door that day. Then, I found out you were with Vince, and I tried to let it go, but I see how he treats you, and it pisses me off. You deserve better. But you just, us, you and I, we click, you know? I know you feel it, right?” You nodded after a moment and felt your heart flip again when he smiled. “So, give it a chance. We have the day off tomorrow. Let’s fucking do something fun—I don’t know, we can go to the fucking zoo! Or go find some concert somewhere or just, go anywhere.”
“...Okay.” You agreed with a smile. He grinned back at you.
“Okay? So like, early afternoon? 4 or something?” You smiled; was he that excited to see you? Your heart hadn’t been this giddy in a long time.
“Yeah, that sounds great with me.”
It was barely 3 in the afternoon and you were towel drying your wet hair, fresh out of the shower, when your hotel room slammed open. Vince appeared for the first time since you’d last seen him before the concert the night before, staring at you with what you could only describe as fury. You stared at him silently.
“Can you fucking tell me why all the Guns N’ Roses guys are hyping up Slash for his big date tonight with Y/N?” He demanded. You looked down, waiting for the shake and guilt to hit you, but it never came.
“Vince, it’s not like we were in love with each other.” You said with quiet bluntness. Vince’s eyes grew wide.
“I brought you on fucking tour with me!”
“And ever since then you’ve left me night in and night out to go and sleep with every groupie that comes your way! We haven’t slept in the same bed in weeks! There are fucking lipstick stains on your neck right now, Vince!” He glanced in the mirror quickly before he cursed under his breath.
“Y/N...it’s just, the way it is, you know? That’s the life we live.”
“You just fuck other girls and have me waiting for you too? That’s the life?”
“Alright, I fucked up. I do care about you, Y/N, baby. I do. I’m trying. I’ll do better.” Vince’s voice was soft and sugary, and he walked over to you, grabbing your hand in his, holding your eyes with his. “Just give me another shot. We’ll have some fun.” This time, his smooth talking did nothing for you; your heart was already taken by someone else. You slipped your hand out of his and silently began gathering up your things.
“What are you doing, Y/N?” Vince laughed as you shoved your clothes in your luggage. “C’mon, baby, just calm down. You’re not even dressed.” You sent him an incredulous look.
“I am more than calm. Goodbye, Vince.”
“Where are you going? Y/N, seriously! Oh, what—are you just gonna jump onto the next rock star? I thought you weren’t a groupie, huh? He just wants to fuck you and then he’ll drop you, just you fucking wait! That’s all we do!”
“No, that’s what you do. You don’t speak for him or me.” You snapped over your shoulder at Vince’s childish yelling. The door slammed behind you and you smirked a little.
You made your way through the hotel in your towel, barefoot and hair dripping, and knocked on the door you knew to be Slash’s. He opened it slowly in confusion, and felt your heart expand at the sight of him already dressed and ready to go much too early—clean hair swept out of his eyes, a flannel that was barely buttoned, and leather pants. He took one look at your bag and towel.
“It’s not 4 yet.” He said, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Speak for yourself.” You said, fighting the urge to smile back. He leaned against the door frame, now smiling outright. “…You know, I think I just lost my backstage pass.” Slash laughed.
“It’s all good; I’ll sneak you in in my guitar case or some shit. And besides; this leg of the tour is almost over. We only have a few shows with them left. Next month, we’re opening for Alice Cooper.” He paused a little, his voice turning serious. “You know you can come, if you want.”
“I don’t know,” you murmured, looking down. Some of the things Vince had said were sinking in; you didn’t want to be known as just some groupie that jumped from band to band. Slash touched your shoulder in an effort to get you to look at him.
“I want you to come.” Your heart fluttered again, and threatened to soar out of your chest entirely when he leaned forward and gave you a light and sweet tender peck on the lips—your very first kiss together. He pulled back too quickly, laughing. “You look ridiculous.” You glanced back down at your towel again and laughed. Slash took your bag from your shoulder and stood aside. “You know, I’ve only got one bed in here.”
“That sounds good to me.”
#slash gnr#saul hudson#slash gnr imagine#saul hudson imagine#guns n roses#gnr imagine#gnr#gnr fanfiction#Vince Neil#vince neil imagine#Motley Crue#motley crue imagine#motley crue fanfiction#80s imagines#classic rock imagine#classic rock fanfic#classic rock
239 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
digitalkalpana
Untitled
vrhypno
musings of a bambi
unicornglitterbomb0
Unicorn Glitter Bomb
floconfessions
Florence + The Machine Confessions
crows-with-kiwis
hatsune FUCKING miku