#'surely not me' brother its always a little embarrassing being where the tag game ends. this could be a win win for us

[6okuto]

how'd u know i love to talk about myself and overshare. Wehehe... thank u for the tag!!! 🙆��‍♀️

started writing: Omfg. tried writing a luke hemmings x reader fic on wattpad when i was definitely not supposed to have wattpad almost a decade (🤯) ago. i don't think i wrote more than a few chapters before deleting it so my irl could follow me LOL

also tried writing one (1) jungkook thing when i was like 14 (it had like no plot & was mostly metaphors. sooo embarrassing thinking back on how my irls read it 😭💔), but then i didn't write again until tumblr 😭 some of you have watched my main writing journey from the start

started blogging: well known(?) nia lore… first post was december 2021… accidentally posted my asra relationship headcanons and here we are! but i was a lurker for a couple years i think

followers: 5.6k.... bizarre considering the long droughts i've put u all through + i only Rlly write for haikyuu 😭 i'm sure many are inactive or bots but 5k is still nonsensical like i'm just a girl fr… love u guys 🫵🩷💌 thank u 4 rocking w me.

communication: i don't. it's bad. i'm so bad dawg i'm so sorry to u all 😭 but i appreciate Every interaction and message !!!! 🥹🥹 i see an inbox/dm notif and go (!! :D !!)... i smile at my screen and think about ur message and how i could respond.. i pinky promise U r all Always On My Mind!! even if i don't reply to ur reaction I see it and go !! :00 YIPEE !!

really sorry i don't approach people…even moots... i DO really want to talk but i Still struggle to even follow people (back) because i get nervous. what if u don't want me to follow u. what if u think i’m stupid. i still only follow like 60 blogs because of this. fawk my stupid Baka LIFE bro IM SORRY 😭💔 i'm trying. i feel miserable and lonely when i think about this IMGONAN TRY HARDER PLS WAIT 🫵!!! thank u everypony who messages me despite it all. I will cry and wail and sob in front of u /pos /very grateful ☹️🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

for me,, i Love leaving long reblog tags but i can get overwhelmed(?) at the thought so it can take ages to actually reblog ;; i also try 2 make it clear i rock heavy w interaction.. i hope i give off a friendly aura. pls. how i talk here is exactly what my irls get too,, ur all my friends. it's just that i'm akin to a scared cat that takes months to be comfortable ☹️

likes: they're alright!! i don't mind spam liking, it's kinda fun to watch and i've never dealt with any shadowbanning because of it.. i don't know where that idea came from to be honest 😭?? i appreciate them & i get why leaving tags can be nerve-wracking or awkward to do at first, so don't worry ! 👍👍

i do wish the ratio of likes to tagged rbs/comments was better, but i found a post from a couple years ago where i talked about how my ratio was also only like 10% rbs (not taking into account which actually had tags) so it's never been very good/gotten better… it was better with multi-chara posts—i'd post late at night and wake up giddy to read all the tags but that doesn't really happen anymore.. probably both because of my posts and how the community has changed.. it's disheartening to say the least so i try not to check a lot anymore 😭 just try to write what makes me happy 👍

requests: general relationship hcs r OK to ask for. but other than that they'll stay closed… i push myself to write a certain amount minimum and then get tired… and i feel so bad when i don't get to one/i'm not inspired… they sit there for months and months like girl just let it go.

i think they're still good and fun for events though! and i like when people ramble or just share thoughts with me so i don't Have to write a full post ^__^

writing: let me get all of This out of the way. i think i've gotten less creative over time tbh.. and a lot of my ideas are fun to daydream about but feel flat or boring or too short when i try to write them… and i wish i was more concise,, had better descriptions,, filled the work with more than action beats and movement (or Stopped adding them and just let the dialogue exist),, could write fun au’s and stuff other than fluff oneshots…

i have a lot of thoughts but,, it's all still fun when i've locked in!!! i really like writing and i'm probably not as bad as i think, but i'll keep trying 2 improve on the things i listed. i think i've gotten a little better atp at least!!! 🙂‍↕️🫡

hcs are generally easier to write, plus i get to be silly and ramble 👍 that's why i didn't even Write oneshots in the beginning… twas scary.. especially bc i had no experience w them...

i don't even consider myself a Slow Writer i'm just not creative. LOL. literally just no ideas. if i had them i'd write more 😭 will try to do more short .txt posts..

dialogue is still my strong point. pretty much all my fics start as what could be described as scene scripts 👩🏻‍💻 i try hard to make it fun but still realistic,, and i think my characterization is pretty good.. hopefully... (;ﾟ∇ﾟ) maybe not my smaus LOL

and i don't really write angst anymore but i'm alright at it! 👍 i also have my moments writing nsft stuff and part of me wants to make a sideblog for it but,, IDK. we'll see.

i also want to write for more fandoms but.. scary. scawyyy... scawy... or just more for the ones i Have written for tbh. LOL. cove... may ask for ideas 4 him 🫡

works i'm proud of. umm. …

notes wise idk for sure, i'm assuming it's clingy boyfriends with 14k and flustering moments with 12k. all my old multi-charas did well. I ROCK W THIS! they're rlly fun to do when i actually have an idea to work with, and they Take Time, so i'm not mad they did so well tbh. i'd like to do some again ^^

i liked the iwaizumi sitting on the lawn one but i didn't like the ending… confusing mood and not what i wanted so i deleted it ;; you know it's serious when i actually delete a post guys. but i was cooking! tried hard on it and it was fun to do :3 will maybe go back and revise the ending some day...

i also liked “the most attractive person in the room” !! largely because i got to write banter, but also i was pushing myself to write more than Action beats and Movement so i was happy with myself ^__^

the smau where they react to your new post... i don't even like the actual reactions that much,, but people liked the different reader pics and that made me really happy !! 🙂‍↕️ i want to do another part but i'd have to remake all the accounts so 😮‍💨😭

#THROWBACK, this post for LL where mc wanted to go back to earth. who's rocking with nia 6okuto angst. i miss writing it sometimes LOL i remember really liking writing this one.. the ideas just kept coming...

and here's a Bunch of parts of fics i'm probably never going to finish / post bc i have nopony to (not nervously) tag so. u might as well get something + i like them. yaaayyy!!! ε=ε=(ノ≧∇≦）ノ

(1 + 2, 3 + 4 (copium fic. mb if the beginning is cringe.), 5, 6, 7, 8)

Behind the scenes of a Tumblr Writer - Tag Game

Hey there, I love behind the scenes and since this is something that's rarely talked about, let me start the chain... if you feel uncomfortable with a question, just skip it. You can add some if you want as well.

Started writing: I wrote my first Harry Potter fanfic at age 10. Started posting around 15,16 years old. I'm now 31, so...

Started blogging: I started on a German fanfiction site around 2010/11 I think. Might have been earlier too, but back then I was mostly reading, no posting. I really started when I got into One Direction (very late, tbh)

Followers: Currently at 961, which is wild to me. I don't even know that many people IRL. I convince myself that half of them are bots tbh, so I don't freak out all the time.

Communication: The people I talk to regularly are: a few writers who answered after I constantly reblogged and commented on their works and a few people who commented and reblogged my work. Writing and blogging on here can be pretty lonely, depending on your personality and the time you're active (I'm from Europe and a lot of my followers seem to be living in Northern America, so there's the Timezone thing) ... And I found that the best way to strike a conversation is to reblog, comment, and to not be shy. I do wish I got more asks, though....

Likes: I actually filter them out. I have 793 original posts up at the moment. It doesn't give me anything to know how many likes a fic has other than to tell me which characters are liked more than others or maybe that one fic does especially well. My activity only shows me comments, asks, reblogs with tags, and answers to my own asks. I live for the tags and the comments.

Requests: I love talking to people about ideas. That's how I started the plotbunny game because I have so many ideas and so little time. And sometimes an idea just doesn't want to be written out fully. Requests are fun because YAY, I get some mail... but then I freak out because I don't really know how to write this NOW and then I freak out because it's been a week already, two weeks, wait, two months? I'd rather have suggestions where people tell me vague things like "I'd love to read something about this side character" or "Have you ever considered this character with a soulmate trope"? because then I don't have the feeling of failing the request when I write it a little bit differently.

Writing: I am a fast writer. I know that's one of my talents. I can churn out a oneshot of 1k words in less than an hour. People read slower than I write. That can suck sometimes because you've just posted this and you want to know what people are thinking but they're not as fast as you are. I do have a lot of ideas. I want to write constantly but my brain doesn't always want to. I am trying to respect that.

There are also certain things that I just feel wrong writing. I cannot write anything suggestive (I also don't like reading it) and everything past that gives me panic attacks. I can hardly write mean characters and jealousy feels so wrong to me that I cannot write it. I've also overdone it with the soulmark trope and now I feel like everything I write about it feels lifeless.

I write best in the mornings before going to work, but I don't have much time there. I don't need special music (but it helps), but I need to have at least some energy left and at best, no distractions. But I have been writing for over 20 years, so I will say experience helps a lot.

Tagging: @revasserium @shoulmate @lemurzsquad @screamin-abt-haikyuu @toomanygoldfish @satorisoup @emmyrosee @reverie-starlight @alienaiver and @writingsofanomnivore and everyone else who wants to join

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john x reader (part 3 of ?)

gif by @michaelgreys but i cropped it cause god daMn 👀

read part one and two! | my masterlist

a/n: this one goes out to all my john bitches!! i know it's hard out here, we get no new content but this part is steamy as hell. its not over yet, though! i'm a sucker for happy endings, ok? i hope you all like it, i'm still working on requests as i go :) much love to @stxdyblr-2k for ghostwriting on this series, she has the most amazing ideas in the world 🖤

love, abi xxx

tagging: @datewithgianni

prompt: john's been ignoring you and you want to know why.

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw!! smut, cocky john, just straight up porn at the end but can you blame me

John hadn't spoken a word in your direction for a week. Despite constantly seeing you glued to Ada's hip, he’d barely acknowledged you since the wedding. He didn’t even bother looking up. Instead his jaw tensed, taking longer inhales of smoke, constantly examining the pocket watch dangling from his right hip. You were the last person John wanted to see right now. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the flush of your cheeks as you had moaned for him imprinted in his memory. You were fucking picturesque writhing around in his lap, a mess for him, and only him. He’d never felt like this; never wanted someone so badly it hurt. Usually, he drowned what little emotions he had in the nearest bottle of whiskey. You, however, were igniting something inside him he’d never felt. Lust, yes, but it was more. A yearning, a need, to see you smile at his crap jokes for the rest of his fucking life. God, you were getting to him.

His coldness and distance towards you hadn't gone unnoticed. To John’s embarrassment, his brothers regularly referred to it as "a little tiff", usually when you were within earshot, as they loved embarrassing his brother. They were blissfully unaware of the full story, assuming his cockiness had put you off him. He sometimes wondered the same; even though you remained polite by greeting him despite the minimal nod he responded with, you seemed ashamed. John only hoped it wasn't because you were ashamed of him. The truth was, he couldn't get the intensity between the two of you off his mind. Whenever he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he remembered how pretty you looked begging for him, then the embarrassment of having to reject you out of family loyalty. You admitting you wanted to have sex with him, him getting fucked off at you because you were off your face, complicating everything. Yet, every night, he held your words close to him, trying to decipher them.

He knew his brothers wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand how tragic it was; they'd think it was funny that Ada's best friend wanted to fuck him. Either way, John would always rather put himself in the firing line of his brother's jokes than risk your reputation being blemished. He just couldn't look at you without a wave of guilt and sexual attraction flowing through his veins, causing his jaw to clench and his shoulders to stiffen, his suit jacket expertly covering strain on the crotch of his trousers.

A full week had passed since the wedding, of a man Tommy had recruited in an assassination effort. It was embarrassing how his family used money to attempt to push the trauma they created under the carpet. He knew he didn't have room to talk, but fuckin’ hell, a wedding? Maybe Tommy should've just not hired him to blow the brains out of his own father. Well, it was one way to get rid of the police commissioner who got too nosey, John guessed.

He had hoped that you were a passing phase of infatuation. He’d had many before; he’d been notorious around Birmingham for his conquests. Sure, it was possible he had just gotten overly excited and intoxicated around a beautiful girl. Yet, in the quiet moments of his life, in between his kids and business, his mind was only on you. You, straddling him in that booth, the way you grinned at him as he approached you at the wedding party. Sometimes when he was driving home, his mind would drift off thinking of the feeling of your figure pressed against him, the feel of your lips, your laugh, the sound of your heaving breaths against his ear. You haunted him the most at night, visions of you with his name on your lips in his silk sheets. You were his forbidden fruit, dangling barely out of reach.

***

John was at his desk, paperwork long abandoned in favour of whiskey and a cigar, lost in his own thoughts. The loud tapping of rain and the wind of the storm outside shook the windows, yet John felt somewhat at peace; a temporary peace, but he could unwind. Just his desk, the moonlight, the gas lamp illuminating his empty glass and the heavy English rain for company. He found far more joy in the simplicity of life than his brothers, who reeked of new money. He liked his things the way they were, it all worked, but he had to admit he was a sucker for a good suit. The kids were long in bed, the nanny to comfort their nightmares. It made him feel like a shit father, and he didn't want to be like his useless dad. He had started resenting the life Thomas was forcing him to live; the booze, the partying, the Tokyo, the fighting. It was wearing on him. He needed a break from everyone in this town, he reckoned.

However, a certain unexpected guest was always welcome to him. You had just drifted across his mind when a firm knock at the door caught his attention. He straightened his tie, leaving his legs outstretched and crossed on the dark oak desk, calling for the visitor to enter.

There you were. Dripping from head to toe, but still as beautiful as ever to him, despite your damp hair and slightly smudged makeup. You had caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he couldn't suppress the cheeky grin which spread across his face.

"Got caught in the storm, eh? I'll put the fire on and pour you a drink yeah? Warm you up." He slurred slightly, springing into action, lighting the fire and going to fill two glasses with whiskey, which you politely refused.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Mr. Shelby."

He decides he won't either. He tried to ignore your piercing gaze, motioning you to sit across his desk from him, reaching to put the whiskey in his drawer. "That's not like you. Where you headed, love? That lecture with Ada?"

"I came to see you."

He noted your firm tone, the flirty smile, the coy eye contact.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been avoiding me." You told him bluntly, his cheeks reddening, eye contact breaking momentarily.

"Yeah, I know." He took a draw from his cigar, rolling the smoke from between his lips on the exhale. "M’sorry."

You watched him for a moment and he met your eyes, suddenly softened from his usual icey blue inquisitive stare. To shame, he looked so vulnerable right now. You could feel yourself falling for him again. This is what you hung around for, the fleeting glimpses of the authentic John Shelby. The lad you'd first giggled about in the girl's bathroom at lunch, barely knowing what sex was. Barely understanding power and politics. Unaware of who you'd both end up as.

"You're fucking soaked to the bone. Come on, I'll put your clothes to dry by the fire. And don't give me that look, I'll give you my coat to save your modesty, lass." He teased. You ignored the way his muscles flexed as he reached for his woolen jacket, some outrageously expensive tailored affair from some London boutique, his large rough hands brushing your fingers. "I'll turn around."

You grasped the coat, heading to the fireplace and warming up for a moment, checking that you were far from his line of sight. This was a dangerous game for you both. You wished he'd grab you, take you on his desk and finish what he started, but the way he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited indicated that he was restraining himself.

You'd rid yourself of your thin jacket, bought from the market stall last week, effortlessly trendy but an imitation of the pricey stuff Ada and the blinder wives and girlfriends you knew. You were jealous of their fur coats, they were always warm and glamorous looking even on the coldest winter night in Birmingham.

You glanced across the room to John. He was staring intently at the wall lost in thought, teeth gritted.

"John? Could you unzip me?" You asked, purposefully making your voice sound as neutral as possible, looking at him over your shoulder.

He paused, bringing his fingers to rub circles against his jaw. You caught a glimpse of white teeth and dimples as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye and you can't help but match his coy grin. He pushed himself off the desk and quickly closed the small distance towards you, his hand finding first your shoulder then the zip at the nape of your neck, your breath hitching as he pulled the zip to your waist. You could feel his eyes tracing the curvature of your spine and hips. You both hesitated for a moment, before John’s warm fingertips grazed your waist, lips pressing into your hair affectionately. His mouth found his way to your ear, cheekbone, jaw and then neck, encouraged by the way your left hand cradled his head as you pressed your body back into his and how your eyes drifted shut at his touch.

"Sweetheart, why did you come here?" He muttered into your ear, his words and casual affection causing your core to swell in response.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you. I've barely slept in a week, feel terrible. Then you've been ignoring me-"

"It isn't personal, Y/N. You know this isn’t how I want it to be." His hands found their way to your waist, gripping lightly at your hip bones, sending a shiver down your back.

"Well this is how it is, John. It's never going to be any different. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you fucking on about, love?"

"I reckon that just once can't hurt, nobody would know but us. Then we can both move on with our lives..."

John hesitated, "What about Ada?" His head rested on your shoulder, the scent of your sweet perfume causing him to want you even more. Jesus, he was too far gone.

"We were so close the first night I got here and we didn't. No one caught on then, why would it be different now?"

He wanted to trust you so badly, it ached inside of him. He wanted to feel you around him, make you cum for him again and again, for you to be breathless and shaking under him. He wanted to give you everything he could, even if just once. But he couldn't.

"She's my sister. Family is everything; if I don't have them, I’ve got nothin’." He stated firmly, yet his palms lingered on your hips, the liquor destroying his perception of the distinction between friendly touching and actions that made you swallow deeply and pray for relief.

"You have me for tonight." You pulled away from him, ignoring the groan that escaped from his lips at the loss of contact. You locked your eyes with his blue ones and pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders, allowing the damp material to pool around your feet, standing in front of the man you'd wanted for years. It was now or never.

He stayed silent, watching you, eyes not leaving yours, challenging you for a brief moment before his eyes flickered over your figure.

"Is it such a crime to want to fuck you?" You asked, the silk of your skimpy underwear forcing John to wipe the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he drank you in, mumbling profanities under his breath. Yet, despite the glances and his sudden frustration, you could tell you had him. His eyes were feral and hungry, daring you to keep pushing him. His shoulders were squared, he was ready for action. The crackling firelight illuminated you beautifully; you were irresistible to him.

"It's not a crime. Where'd you get this backbone from?" He asked, reaching for you but you stepped away, teasing him.

"University up north does sommet to a woman."

"You can fuck off or fuck me with that attitude."

"The latter if you behave yourself, Mr Shelby."

He smirked at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender, before wrapping his coat around your shoulders, pulling you towards him by the back of the collar. "You've got a mouth on you, love. You gonna put it to good use?"

"I was told months ago that you'd sort me out, John-" Your speech was interrupted by a small squealing giggle as he tugged at your hair lightly for mocking his voice, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges due to his grin. "I'm disappointed with these delays, especially from the Shelby Company."

"Well, as the boss, I'll sort it for you, personally and immediately. Let me make it up to you, lass," John crooned, his lips meeting yours once again, fingers pushing your thighs apart, still clad in your black stockings and garter belt. "This is where we got up to last time, yes?"

"Yes Mr. Shelby, I believe so."

He pressed his lips and teeth against where your jaw met your neck, tracing his index and middle fingers over the silk of your underwear which covered your slit. You couldn’t help but lean into him, a slight hiss escaping your teeth.

"You like that, huh? You're fuckin’ soaked for me already, love," John muttered against your neck, lifting your left leg to hook around his waist, easily lifting you onto his desk, scattering loose papers and heavy accounting books onto the floor in his urgency to feel your bare skin on his. "They teach you how to push a bloke over the edge at that fancy university?"

"No, I figured that out on my own actually."

"Always knew you were bright," He smirked, quickly ridding you of your flimsy panties, the pads of his fingertips hot against your thighs. "Always going for the ones smarter than me, Tommy reckons it's not difficult."

"Your brother's chatting shit, he's not the one ‘bout to fuck me on his desk, yeah?" You shot back, opening your thighs to encourage him, your cunt exposed, cutting off John’s laugh. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. "You're my favourite brother, always have been. If you tell Finn, I'll kill you," You teased.

"Come off it," John grunted in reply, unable to restrain pressing kisses to your inner thighs, your head tilting back, fingers desperately clutching at his hair. “Need t’get a proper taste of you, yeah? Look so fuckin’ sweet for me.” His mouth reached your core, slowly dipping his tongue into you, causing your mouth to fall open in ecstasy. God, his lips were even softer than they looked. His movements switched from light and teasing to purposeful and focused, his fingers curled and pumping inside you, tongue and thumb attacking your clit. He'd gotten on his knees, your legs wrapped around his neck as he groaned into your cunt, causing you to buck your hips wildly at the sensation, moans falling out of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ christ, John,” You swore, feeling yourself pulsate and twitch around his nimble fingers, crying out into the empty office building. You were getting so close, your hips jerking independently, chest heaving as you gasped for air. You were quickly getting overstimulated, you were so close. Before you could finish, John raised his head back to yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, his hands moving from your cunt to your tits, finger tips tracing the outline of your nipples through your silk bra.

"If we get to do this once, I want to feel you finish on my cock, doll," John grunted in a hushed tone, pointedly moving his lips to your collarbone when you opened your mouth to argue back to him.

"Then I get to ride you." Your statement took him by surprise; most women he'd slept with seemed fairly passive in bed. Sure they enjoyed themselves, but they never took control. He could feel himself swell in response to your words. He'd never been put in this position; he was a stranger to it, but the idea was thrilling and wickedly seductive. Especially from someone who was the epitome of "girl-next-door" as they were growing up.

"Polly reckoned you'd be trouble since Ada told us you'd returned. Don't mind getting into trouble with you, though," He teased, his plump mouth dipping to your cleavage, unclasping your bra, tongue circling your hardening nipples.

"John, fuckin’ christ, need you to finish me off, yeah?" You begged, voice shaking, much to his amusement, his fingers re-entering you roughly. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, soothing your body from the sharp sensation, the slight pain exacerbating the pleasure arising from his mouth and fingers.

"I've barely started with you, and already you're begging for me to fuck you." He muttered into your skin, as he watched you writhe and lift your hips, reacting beautifully to the feelings he was reawakening within you.

"John, m’not fucking about, yeah? I need you," You whined, hand resting on his inner thigh, fingers grazing the fastenings across his groin, gazing up at him from your seat on his desk. John hated waiting for relief, he had very little patience, and almost immediately he gave in and collapsed into his large armchair, pulling you on top of him, letting you pin his wrists to the chair and grind against him as your mouth found his, then his neck, removing his waistcoat, shirt and tie, revealing his muscular chest. The bruising kisses you pressed to his skin left him breathless and needing more, helping you unbuckle his belt and push his suit trousers down his legs. You couldn’t help but take him into your hand, moving it up and down his sensitive shaft.

“Christ, you’re too fuckin’ good at this,” John groaned as you spit on your palm to better move your hand up and down his cock, teasing the sensitive tip with your fingers and tongue. He couldn’t help but watch you, keeping eye contact as you toyed with him, blue eyes heavy with pleasure and lust for more.

You angled your hips above him and he adjusted himself, using his hand to better push himself inside you. You yelped lightly as you adjusted to his girth, his mouth distracting you by pressing kisses on your shoulder and tangling his hands through your hair, trying to control his breaths as you adjusted to him, soft moans falling from your mouth, your tight cunt gripping his cock.

“S’fuckin’ perfect, like your pussy was made for me,” he groaned, breath growing heavier with the sensation of you grinding against him. Pushing his hips up into you, he couldn’t help but grab at your hip bones, grip burning into your skin, bouncing you on his cock, mouth slightly slack, groaning as he grasped at your flesh. You’d imagined hundreds of times how fucking irresistible John would look underneath you, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

The thrill of having John Shelby with his trousers down in his office, quickly dissolving into a moaning and grunting mess with every rotation or twist of your hips, in the midst of a stormy night while the thunder echoed around the empty streets below was almost too much to take. You should be home right now, curled up in that empty unheated flat, behaving yourself. Even on a date or fucking someone else. But instead you'd gone to him and now you were riding him. You wanted the moment to last forever, right now everything felt so right, you knew when it was over the guilt would hit. But you couldn't avoid it, you could feel your legs start to shake.

“Look so god damn pretty ridin’ me, love. Makin’ me wanna cum inside you.” John growled, panting, struggling to keep pace as you moaned on top of him. Your fingers found his jawline and guided him to look up at you, craving to see how his face looked when he finally came undone. He reached between your legs, torturing your clit with his fingers while he slammed into you a few extra times, using up the rest of his energy. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge, crying out John’s name as you felt yourself release. Watching you whine his name was the last straw for him, spilling into you as your dripping cunt squeezed him, reveling in the image of you a mess for him.

***

You finally came back to your senses, catching your breath, John clutching you to his chest protectively for a minute or two, enjoying the tranquility and post-sex clarity. He checked his clock, sighing and lifting you from his lap to his desk, running a towel under the sink in the corner of his room and passing it to you to clean up between your legs with.

"Charming," You smirked, tired but satisfied. "No wonder the ladies always come back for more."

"Not you though, aye? One night only exclusive, this." He matched your playful tone, but his eyes were dull with exhaustion and he looked almost upset. He was probably just knackered after working all day and then going overtime just to please you.

"Make yourself useful and grab my clothes for me John-lad." You teased, thankfully changing the subject. He rolled his eyes in the waning firelight, locating the clothes the two of you had left scattered around the room. You quickly dressed, not caring how he watched you silently, as though trying to memorize the image of you. Your clothes were far drier than earlier, the last remaining remnants of damp clutching to the fibers and freezing you all over again. Yet before you could even comment, John's wool coat was wrapped back around your shoulders.

"Because you're cold, not because you look fuckable in it." He said pointedly, smirking slightly, the edges seeming artificial.

"Remind me not to fall madly in love with you. Won't be able to help myself if you keep talking like that, Mr. Shelby." You retorted sarcastically with a grin, earning a gentle dig to the ribs.

"It's Mr. Shelby if you're trying to fuck me. John is between friends and family, right?"

"Someone better inform Mr. Solomons of that distinction, then," You paused, "Mr. Shelby."

"Don't be a fucking cocktease." He scolded with a small grin, grabbing his car keys and hat from the door. "You want a lift then? Don't dick about being polite, Y/N, it's fucking midnight, just accept it."

"Since you asked so nicely."

"You know you've got worse since you've been at uni? Too fast for us lot now." He teased, half serious, as he led you to his car. He couldn't believe the beautiful woman in his passenger seat was the girl with pigtails who'd chase Ada around the canal with their girl gang for hours, the pretty teen who read for hours in his sister's bedroom, comparing notes together. No one was surprised you got a scholarship to university, despite your gender and class. You'd been incredibly lucky. Yet, you'd seen the world and had come back to Birmingham and picked him.

Shame you could only pick him once.

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Demon Brothers panic-buy MC a last-minute birthday present

Prompt: You drop the fact that your birthday is in a few days, much to the demon brothers’ surprise. They don’t have a gift for you prepared-- panic ensues.

Note: gender neutral; :) i just like seeing them get flustered

--

Lucifer

“Ah, your birthday? Of course I knew. You thought I didn’t?”

He didn’t know-- not until you told him just then a mere DAYS before your birthday

Internally panicking but he will NOT have you know that he missed this rather important detail

Casually asks you in the next few days if you’re free to go out with him because “he wants to spend more time with you--” which he DOES but he has ulterior motives such as hoping you’d point out something you like when you go out so he can gift it to you

Will watch your movement and gestures like a hawk trying to gauge what sort of present you would want from him

Money isn’t really a concern of him; he just wants to make sure that his gift is something you actually want and is thoughtful enough

If he’s unlucky and you are in fact NOT free in the few days leading up to your birthday, he paces a lot in his room, trying to remember if there was something you mentioned from a past conversation because he has too much pride asking you what you would want for your birthday

...but eventually caves in and asks his other brothers (probably Asmo or Beel) what they think you would like because his love for you >>> his pride

He has seared your birthdate into his mind now because he’d rather not have a repeat of whatever happened this year

--

Mammon

“Your birthday? Hahaha of COURSE I knew your birthday was in a few days… IN A FEW DAYS--?!”

He blurts this out but you tell him it’s fine but he won’t have it

He’ll try to cover it up, pretending he knew, but he sucks at lying and the fact he suspiciously walks out of your room to find a quick job listing to get enough money for a present is telling enough

First ideas most likely include rummaging in his room for anything valuable or shiny that you could possibly want

Considers giving you his car for a second in his panic but realizes you’d probably freak out at the extremely extravagant present

Will definitely try to snoop in his brothers’ rooms in search of things and collectively tells them (and makes them panic) about your birthday as well

Eventually sucks it up and works at Hell’s Kitchen, literally diving underneath counters and tables to avoid having you see him working

Terrible at making excuses to you about where he is so you probably know he’s working, and he feels bad that he has to avoid hanging out with you-- but he loves you and this is for you, after all, so he bears it

Buys you something he finds value in and thinks would like nice if you wore it; after all, the Avatar of Greed wants the best he can afford for you

--

Leviathan

You tell him your birthday is coming up soon while he’s playing something and the only thing he says first is “oh nice”

Then he realizes

“YOUR BIRTHDAY IS WHEN??”

He died on the screen, which you point out, but his eyes are wide and a little pleading

Asks you directly what you want for your birthday and he will literally search it up for you on Akuzon right there and then (it’s wild seeing online shopping on several screens)

“How about this one? Wait, no-- that’s terrible quality and the reviews are horrible; let’s check out this one.”

Makes you tell him everything you could have possibly wanted in the past few months so he can compile a list of things he can search up and select from

If he’s manic for the next few days, know that he hasn’t been gaming (has not since you dropped this very important detail) but has been vigorously searching up all the online shopping sites he can find to get the things you wanted down to its detail and quality

Definitely enlists his online friends for recommendations, but regardless will buy you matching gaming headset on top of whatever you wanted because he wants you to know you’re his Player 2, even if you don’t game

All the presents come on the same day (Mammon grumbles that it’s blocking the walkway) and he shoos you away as he carts everything up to his room to wrap it

Wishes he had more time to make you a present instead of buying something but hey there’s always next year

--

Satan

“O-Oh. Your birthday is in a few days, huh?”

Satan stares at you for a few moments too long as if he wants to say something but decides against it and gives you a benign conversation starter like “You must be excited for another year done”

Inwardly, he’s trying to calculate in his head when he has time to research for things you want, if going on a cat cafe date is too indulgent to be a gift to you, if he should just ask you what you want for a present-- all while holding a conversation with you

Not a great conversation, mind you-- you can tell he’s a little preoccupied, but you’re more worried about how his sentences trail than anything

Pops up randomly in the next few days in your room just to chat, looks around your room, and then leaves again (like a cat)

He’s trying to find a present that you’d want to use-- something practical-- but also something you’d also enjoy having (he’s setting up high standards, but he wants his gift to be good enough for you)

Low-key stressing a lot over this that he’s a little distracted at all times

Ends up combining all his gift ideas by setting up a date for you to spend some quality time with him AND buy your gift when the two of you are together AND has a gift ready for you just in case nothing catches your fancy on your date (he is anything if not prepared for all scenarios)

The gift he gets you is something he’d think you’d enjoy or reminded him of you (and hopes for the best)

--

Asmodeus

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?”

Asmo is almost offended that you didn’t tell him about your birthday-- how is he supposed to set up a extravagant birth week celebration if your birthday is in a few days?

But no matter-- he’s not that discouraged and is determined to rock your socks off with a present anyways, even though he would have definitely had your birthday celebration as a tag for the entire month if he had the time (now it’s only a week-long trending tag, but he’ll make do)

Will definitely coyly offer up himself as a present (and if you say yes, he will be at your mercy) but thinks he has more creativity that than to make you special day great

Takes you on a shopping spree where he dresses you up in the fanciest of clothes and things that you have always adored and refuses to let up until you let him buy you a gift

On the day of your birthday, he offers up his room as an entire spa day-- pedicure, manicure, whatever-cure you would ever want! Massage, face mask, bubble bath-- if there’s anything that can let him show how much he appreciates you, then tell him! He is at your mercy today!

Takes you out on a spin in town, buying you drinks and dancing with you at clubs if that’s what you want; but the night is yours, hun!

Beelzebub

You tell him when he’s eating something and his face morphs from surprised, delight, to sadness

“I… didn’t get you a present yet…”

You reassure him that it’s completely okay, but you know your words aren’t working because he still has that forlorn expression that reminds you of a kicked puppy

Asks you directly what you would want and if you tell him he’d be more than happy to get whatever it is you requested, even if it’s a physical gift or if you want to spend the entire day with him

It is your birthday and he already feels bad for not being able to really prepare for it properly, so he’ll do anything he can to make you happy

If you don’t tell him what you want, you better be strong enough to resist looking into his eyes to not cave into just telling what you want

Eventually settles on giving you something thoughtful and quickly hand-made-- like a set of coupons that say things such as ‘I will do your chores for a week’ or ‘I will make you dinner’

The coupon book has a lot of food-related things than anything, but you know his love language is basically food-- he loves you lots, okay?

Other than that, he’s super indulgent to you on your birthday. You want a lift? No problem. You want him to carry you bridal style to school? Sure, he can’t see why not!

--

Belphegor

“Wait, seriously? You waited until NOW to let me know?”

Kind of annoyed about the fact you dropped this detail on him now and decides to immediately punish you by trapping you in his embrace in a forced snuggle even while you laugh (so honestly, you have no regrets)

Tells you he’s not getting you a present

He’s getting you a present though, regardless of what he says, but now he has the element of surprise on his side (assuming you believe that he’s not getting you something)

Hangs out with you per usual in the next few days, paying more attention to what you would want in a present and asking low-key questions about possible gift ideas-- he’s real sneaky about it, so you honestly won’t pick up on it at all

Goes out of his way to help you study and help you out because it is your birthday, after all, and he’s pretending like he didn’t get you a present

Probably casually drops off a gift at your desk on your birthday, and if you’re surprised, he’s a little smug-- but if you’re not, he’ll be a little embarrassed but will tell you to just ‘open the present already’

Gift is most likely to be something that he’s noticed that you have continually needed but never had the thought or time to get-- just to make your life a little easier

Tells you to go nap with him as compensation for the work he’s done trying to think up of a gift for you

[asyipyip]

there was a post that popped up on my dash not too long ago that said something along the lines of "if you're only reading YA and fanfiction, you're not reading, you're consuming tropes" and i wanted to comment on it but i didnt want to reblog it because 1.) i didnt want to clog ops activity any more than it already was 2.) i dont....fully disagree, and 3.) if this point im making does end up being totally inane and the majority of ppl disagree i dont want to become the victim of a snarky comment from op that leads to me being dunked on for several reblogs

anyways

Like i said, I don't fully disagree with that point, not at all. theres a reason why filters and tags exist on fanfiction sites, and its so ppl can literally look for specific tropes. There are the occasions where you find a fic thats such a unique and well written concept you forget its not an original novel- but that's rare.

my only hold up is....thats okay? not everyone likes/enjoys reading, and fic is a good way to mentally engage in it without committing to a book.

The reason why i got hung up on this is because of a specific story from my aunt, who has been an middle-high school english teacher for over 20 years now, and from what i can tell, is a damn good one

My aunt works in a low-income area with lots of farming town kids, so its pretty conservative and VERY underfunded

and she has a rule for her classroom: you MUST bring something to read for silent reading (i think once a week but im not sure)

And she tells her students "i dont care what you bring, just bring something"

A lot of students bring whatever books, magazines, anything. She has had snarky kids bring in books obviously meant for little kids; and she doesn't say a word.

It doesn't always lead to something, but she's had several students who REALLY struggled with reading grow to love it because....they can read whatever they want and not get shamed by her. She had a high school senior bring in dogman comics and she was like hell yeah! I've heard those rock! She's had students who never read for fun tearing through series because it's easy and they aren't embarrassed to be reading them anymore.

My little sister went to a really snooty, up-its-own-ass charter school for years and its festered a literal hatred of reading in her. She wasnt allowed to bring anything "pop culture", no harry potter or hunger games, DEFINITELY not comics or graphic novels, nothing besides "classics" (my brother can testify, it was the fucking worst)

So yeah, I agree that people only reading trashy-romance ya or fanfic aren't really "reading books". Totally. And I agree that anti-intellectualism (which was forged on this website in response to people shaming anyone they deemed "not smart" which honestly was mostly just internalized misogyny“im not like other girls” behavior) Is an actual real problem, but I don't think people reading mostly fic is this horrible thing that's gonna lead to the end of intelligence online

Anyways, yeah. Read what you want. If you have the motivation, check out a book you've never read. Or read articles when they pop up on your timeline, that's what I like to do.

But don't let anyone shame you for reading, I think. Whatever you've got motivation to do, I'm sure it's still keeping your brain stimulated and helping your vocabulary.

[bamf-jaskier]

Who the Fuck is Eskel?

If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy? 

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books. 

Post under the cut

Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves. 

For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show. 

We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:

“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”

“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.

“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”

“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”

Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.

She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped. “Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”

Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.

“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”

She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.

“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.

“Wolf, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”

Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear. 

Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them: 

“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”

Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV. 

Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.

“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”

“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”

This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s. 

“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”

“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”

“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”

“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”

It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.

“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”

Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself: 

Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.

“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”

Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society. 

There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:

“White Seagull.”

“What?”

“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”

“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”

“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”

“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”

“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”

I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.  

Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted. 

In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word. 

Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier. 

Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.

And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events: 

This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.

“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?”

“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”

“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”

“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”

“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”

Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict. 

This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:

The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.

Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.

So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen. 

The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this: 

The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.

“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”

“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.

“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”

“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”

“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”

“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”

“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”

They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.

“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”

Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks. 

So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point. 

Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel. 

[taglegend]

Tag Fact #3 -  I’ve come to realize I’ve always been a fan artist more than I thought. so here is a timeline of influences that shaped my childhood to now. from nostalgic times, to sad changes, to great loss, to strange rises to fame and phases, to stepping stones and finally a laughing place. all the things that make up your favorite fan artist Tag.

1. Rayman (bumped into this in the year of 1999) was actually the first fandom (with crossovers) I bumped into when I was 9. although the internet wasn’t available at the time it was still fun to dwell in home amusements. I remember the storylines and the OC’s I made but they’re kind of embarrassing and it’s probably a good thing there was no internet. I’ve done fanart and comic crossovers of Rayman with Calvin and Hobbs and Nights Into Dreams, spinoffs of Sonic the Hedgehog OC’s, Yoshi with Pikachu, and the Pokemon/Digimon craze with OC’s and other Nintendo comic shorts. but the drawings and comics are long gone and disappeared in the garage in a backpack due to suspecting my sister’s dad accidentally throwing them away. years later towards the year 2018 (now 28), we decided to move to North Carolina and it was my chance to find them again. unfortunately the backpack was gone just like I suspected (my main stuff), but for some reason I found my Pokemon/Digimon fanart, a good batch of Super Mario drawings (vaguely remember doing these), my sister’s drawings and some other neighborhood kids’ drawings in a dirty box. I was partially happy I found something at least but it was the backpack I wanted the most. sometimes I regret not looking for the backpack (’cause I was too busy being a kid) but it’s alright, noone needs to see that shit anyway, ha ha. anyways, I recall being a fan of Rayman from 1999 ‘til 2002.

2. Sonic Adventure 2 Battle (bumped into this in the year of 2003) my second fandom I bumped into when I was 12 going on 13. at the time, my sister and I both liked the Sonic The Hedgehog Franchise based on the Battle remake and ended up making our own secret fanart club that consisted of only us two members. she liked Sonic (and that was her boyfriend, ha ha) and I liked Knuckles (and he was my boyfriend, ha ha) and we were crazy in love about Shadow’s backstory. we listened to the game’s soundtracks as we drew fanart and comics after school and man, those were good times. however, as we grew older towards the year of 2005, we ended up having separate rooms and I believe it played a part in disconnecting on the same interest. then one day, I asked her why she wasn’t into Sonic anymore and she replied, “Because I grew up.” I was sad after that and slowly observed that she was influenced by the emo culture and the new friends she’s made. I was the only member of our little club for a little longer...but eventually I moved on too. I still have some surviving fanart we did together but it doesn’t mean shit anymore since she turned out to be an abusive mother from the last I’ve heard of her. 

3. Gorillaz (bumped into this in the year of 2006). as the Sonic years were at its end, I first heard the song “Feel Good Inc” on Music Choice and seeing the first image of them as displayed on this post (except the fan-made background doesn’t count since I can’t find the original artwork). this was my third fandom and later had proper access to the internet to the website I still currently use called DeviantArt. at first I liked 2D but eventually fell for Murdoc and developed a spiritual connection towards the character as obviously seen in my old fanart and rare photos of my devotion shrines on Valentine’s Day and his birthday every year. for the longest time since being a permanent fan from 2006-2017 (11 1/2 years) I had no knowledge that it was a political propaganda band and other realizations I don’t want to talk about. I only followed them because it was a cartoon and not the bullshit behind the musical project. the world I’ve built and support for them for all those 11 1/2 years shattered the fuck out of me and I just wanted to be left alone to find myself again, somehow. activity stopped on all my profiles, the flow of fanart stopped since I now cringe from the fan service and felt I was used for my talent. I didn’t want to be reminded of it all so I took down all my Gorillaz fanart and archived them for old followers’ nostalgia but also in the hopes they’ll be forgotten in my timeline. I ceased to exist in the fandom for huge personal reasons but it’s best to not say why. I know for sure that the fandom wonders what happened but it’s none of their business. THE END.

4. Waluigi (although I knew he’s been around since 2000 during childhood, I took deep interest once I revisited the character again in the year of December 2013). as silly as this sounds, when I revisited him again, the character was so bizarre that I ended up staying up 3 nights and 3 days in a row just looking all over the internet on everything about him and the questionable “hush-hush” absence of a backstory. despite there being no backstory he slowly gained a cult following and in many ways it’s a good thing. however, since the early 2010′s tension has been building up between Nintendo and its fans about him starring in a main game but everyone hasn’t fully gotten it in their heads that it’s not gonna happen. as long as Nintendo is in control of that, the fandom will not win, I’m sorry to say. on the other hand, if it’s going to be this way, then that’s what fanart and comic projects are for. as for me, I am doing my very best to get my comic project “Waluigi Land” going. again, I apologize if it’s taking very long to get Chapter 2 going if you’ve been keeping track but aha moments need to develop before I start permanent drawing (since concepts, character design and storyline needed improvement badly). as of right now I am still a Waluigi fan and I will not quit on him.

5. Turbo from Wreck-It-Ralph (although it debuted in 2012, I watched the movie two years later into the year 2014). for some bizarro reason, I had an unhealthy obsession with this character to the point where I dressed up as him for Halloween 2014. only 2 fanarts of him and the Turbo Twins exist on my profiles, mainly because my mind was more focused on just ‘thinking about him’ or ‘being him’ rather than drawing physical drawings. luckily, this supposed alleged fandom didn’t last long a little after Halloween so I chalk it up as a very short phase. to this day I don’t know what has gotten over me about him. the only thing I can think of now is that I think it’s because the character had yellow eyes and teeth but I don’t know. now that I think of it, that little fucker was ugly as hell and I STILL don’t know what had gotten over me. one day, my brother mentioned what that was about, and I said to him, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

6. Undertale (although it debuted in 2015, I later took interest in it in 2016). It was all about Sans and Papyrus. I couldn’t get enough of the skeleton bros. eventually Toriel and Mettaton EX became my favorites but it took a long time to draw more of all 4 of them because I had other important things to do in my life plus I was still waiting for the next Gorillaz album to revive my imaginative juices (or so I thought). I really want to have this as one of my frequent fandoms but I just don’t have time for it anymore. it’s still in the back of my head to want to draw them but at this point I still have other better interests to be in. and besides, I’m lazy just like Sans.

7. Cuphead (June 28th, 2017 was the official day I called quits on the British-based band Gorillaz due to the bullshit behind it. since that date I was lost, had no inspiration to look forward to and no cartoon guy to make me smile...but lo and behold of the same year, I took an interest in playing the game Cuphead and man...that shit was a frightening exaggerated metaphor for being on that one drug (forgot the name though) and having sex at the same time but man that was the best fun I’ve had in years. I mean, it’s like, enemies are just so happy to murder you and that scared the shit outta me. and the facial exaggeration?....I think I should stop, ha ha. anyways, the Moldenhauers saved my ass from spiraling down, they have no clue. anyways, eventually I became a permanent fan of their work so to ease the hurt and erase my past from the G-fandom I had to re-wire my brain into a different cartoon category that’s a rather more American, so anything Toon related like Roger Rabbit, Felix the Cat or another favorite that’s a western-based cartoon makes me feel better, especially my new man .......King Dice <3 <3<3<3. however, there was something about this new fandom category I still didn’t quite understand until the date March 14th, 2020. I finally understood what it was but I feel I shouldn’t bring it up. anyways, Cuphead and anything western or rubber hose is my last stop in inspiration for the remaining years of my life. many say never say never but I believe I’ve found my laughing place and that’s all that matters.

[its-a-novelist-girl]

Never Have I Ever

Summary: A virgin, 20-year-old Damian with too many trust issues to let a girl get too close is constantly teased by his brothers for spending so much time with his female best friend, Y/N. During a game of never have I ever, Y/n is shocked to find that her incredibly good looking best friend has never had more than a brief kiss. Y/n starts to think and she might have a proposition that Damian can’t say no to. 

(Disclaimer/Notes): I own nothing of DC characters. This will be partly comic cannon and partly my own. I have never posted like this on here so please be patient with me as I learn. 

(Tags): @theyellowfeverexperience​, @ginevraxrogers​, @lilsxtan​, @idkmanicantenglish​, I’m sorry if I missed anyone! 

Rules to Never Have I Ever. A person says something they have never done or experienced, if the other players have done it they put a finger down, if they have also not done the thing they leave their fingers up. 

It was Tuesday night at Gotham public library, and your group was slowly but surely losing all focus at the task at hand. A small thud took your tired eyes from your book, to look across from you where the sound had come from. Alex, one of your project partners, had his head face down in an open book, and groaned loudly. 

“Ok my brain is at max capacity, I can’t do it anymore,” his voice came out slightly muffled by the book pressed to his face. You chuckled and shook your head, but you had to agree with him, you had all been there for four hours and desperately needed a break. You stretched and slumped back into your chair to look over at your best friend Damian, who was intensely focusing on his book.  

You met when you transferred to Gotham prep a few years ago and when Damian figured out you could care less about his money and fame, he, of course, a bit reluctantly, took the opportunity to make a friend that might actually genuinely like him for who he was. Spoiler alert you did like him and you quickly became best friends. After you graduated you both enrolled in Gotham University, taking whatever classes you could together, which lead to this mind-numbing project. 

“Let’s play never have I ever,” Tina suggested from her place in the chair next to Alex. Alex’s head shot up at that and responded, “Alright, put em up.” 

Three hands shot up, elbows resting on the table, fingers up. You looked over to Damian, and when he still didn’t look up from his book, you asked 

“Dami, don’t you want to play?” 

He took a deep sigh, one you knew was just to be dramatic, and raised his hand but refused to stop reading, and honestly, you called it a win. 

“Never have I ever fell from a tree.” You and Damian both put a finger down and you ignored the flicker of his eyes from his book to you in shock.

 Everyone took turns and after a few games, eventually, it was left with Tina with three fingers up, Damian with two, and you and Alex each had one. Tina was trying to think of one that would knock you both out of the game, and you raised an eyebrow at her when she grinned suddenly. 

“Never have I ever had sex,” She said smugly, and you threw a paper wad at her as Alex groaned, “Oh come on, not fair.”

You laughed and glanced over at Damian’s hand, which still had two fingers up. 

Suddenly he met your gaze, closed his hand into a fist, and said: “Come on Y/N, it’s late and we should both be getting home.” With that, he stood with a grace you envied and started packing his bag. You did the same and after saying farewell to your other partners, headed to his car. 

---------- 

You leaned back against the comfortable leather seats as you watched Gotham’s streets pass out the window. Damian, of course, was driving you home from the study session. You turned your head to look at him, studying how the light from the dash illuminated his features. How it casts shadows on his face that makes him look like the Son of the Demon he was trained to be. 

You had found out about Damian’s secret identity a year ago when he rescued you from getting mugged walking home one night. It was his eyes that gave him away in the end. He looked at you straight in the eyes and you could see the flicker of panic as he then checked you over for injures before his masked expression fell back into place. You asked him to walk you home, pulled him inside, and demanded to know if Robin was Damian Wayne. He had laughed and hugged you saying how grateful he was that you figured it out and he wouldn’t have to lie to you anymore. Since then you had spent more time at the manor, befriending his family and spending times with his brothers (much to Damian’s dismay). Damian even opened up a little about his childhood over a bottle of far too expensive wine he had stolen from a gala.  

Your mind wandered back to the library. Could it really be possible that the gorgeous man beside you had never had sex?  

“Can I help you, Y/N ?” he asked not looking away from the road and the corners of his mouth twitched up when you jumped a little in your seat. 

“Have you actually never had sex?” you blurted out before you lost your nerve. 

Damian whipped his head to look at you to make sure he had actually heard you right, eyes wide in surprise. He gapped at you before turning his attention back to the road, breathing deeply before saying 

“No, if you must know I have never had more than a brief kiss from a teenage socialite at a gala I was forced to attend,” he muttered, trying to sound intimidating so you’ll drop the subject. He looked back at you and your shock must have shown. 

“Why is that so shocking to you?” he demanded, switching between looking at your face and the road, his cheeks reddening under your constant gaze. Still, you could see past the wall he was trying to place up, he was embarrassed. This was something you were not expecting, you made Damian “I don’t have feelings” Wayne embarrassed. 

“Oh come on! Have you seen yourself!” The words pour out of your mouth before you could stop them, and suddenly it was your cheeks turning red. You turned to look at the road as you both let the silence take over, as soon as you were sure Damian wouldn’t comment on what you said you heard him whisper into the silent dark night. 

“I don’t trust anyone enough to ever be that vulnerable with them.” 

Now that was something you had never considered as you turned to look at him again. Damian was always incredibly private and while he had let down a few of his walls around you, you knew that had taken a long time. He was strong and could be scarier than Batman if he wanted to be, so knowing that being vulnerable terrifies him shocked you. You knew that his life with his mom wasn’t great and that he wasn’t incredibly close to his dad, so it made sense that he wasn’t used to being vulnerable with anyone. And yet here is this car with you, he talked to you about something that embarrassed him without fear you would tease him about it. Its how your friendship worked, you never expected anything more from Damian than to just be himself. 

“But you trust me, don’t you?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking in a whisper that matched his own. 

He chuckled lowly and said, “You’re the exception, Y/N, not the rule.”. He pulled in front of your apartment building. He got out of the car to walk you to your door, something he has always insisted on doing because “come on Y/N this is Gotham.”. You both walked to your door in silence, only speaking to thank him for the ride and to ensure he text you when he got home. After he left you got ready for bed, crawled under your covers and stared up at the ceiling in thought. 

Damian Wayne, son of the biggest flirt in Gotham, has never had more than a kiss. The knowledge shocked you. He was gorgeous, build like a Greek god, with green eyes that could melt panties for miles. If you were completely honest you had admired his body more than once. Had thought of what it would feel like to run your fingers through his black hair, to feel his biceps that were bigger than your head. He has popped up in your dreams a couple of times; how could he not? Best friend or not, Damian Wayne was hot. 

Then another thought popped into your head. You were the only girl Damian trusted outside of his sisters. Now that you thought about it you realized how true that was, he had never allowed another girl to get very close to him. You were the only girl that you knew of that was allowed to hug him on a regular basis. You were the only one allowed to call him Dami. Another thought popped into your head. If you were the only girl he trusted, maybe you could help your best friend out? 

----------

Damian was getting ready for bed, after checking in on his father and Tim patrolling and making sure his assistance wasn’t required. Tim had made a snide remark about his study date with you, calling you his girlfriend for the millionth time. After the boys had met you, the teasing only got worse. Sometimes having older brothers sucked, he thought to himself as he remembered the countless times every one of his older brothers gave him crap about having you as his best friend. Tim and Jason were the most vocal but Dick tended to tease him when they were alone. Although none of them ever teased him in front of you. It was an unspoken rule amongst everyone because they knew how much your friendship meant to him. 

Damian settled into his bed with a book he had been meaning to read and tried not to think of how he embarrassed himself in front of you today. He had been hoping that you wouldn’t catch that he hadn’t put his finger down but of course you noticed. How was he exposed to explain to you that he was terrified of letting his guard down? That being naked in front of another person in such an intimate way was something that he wasn’t sure he would ever let himself relax enough to enjoy. He was trained as a child to not show weakness, to not let anyone be able to get the upper hand. He knew his mother seduced men to kill them before, so what would stop anyone else from trying it. Getting him in an exposed and vulnerable position to exploit. 

If he was being honest with himself though, the only girl he truly found fascinating was you. He loved the way you moved, clumsily compared to his trained gracefulness. He loved that you didn’t care his father was famous. He loved that you were smart enough to realize he was Robin and never once judged him about the questionable things he has done in his past. Not to mention you were beautiful and that his mind had wandered many times before he gets control of himself. He wondered what your bottom lip would feel like under his thumb. He wondered if all your skin was as soft as your hands. He wondered what it would feel like to hold you close and nuzzle his face into your neck. 

A buzzing sound next to him drew his attention away from his book. He put the bookmark in place before closing it next to him and picking up his phone. In all of his life, Damian has had many shocking things happen. He would count this in his top five.

[all1e23]

Powdered Sugar

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Boston didn’t come without repercussions. 

Warnings:  A bit angsty, but Bucky is all love sick if that helps. 

A/N:   It’s a shorter chapter but it’s still important and it sets up where our slightly dumb couple is headed. I tried to grab everyone who asked for a tag recently if I missed you please let me know and I’ll add you. This is the fourth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up! 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

It felt good to be home. Every time Bucky’s left New York and came back, it made him realize how much this city really was home. Now you were part of that. You were home. It had been five days since you left Bucky to fend for himself in Boston. On the morning of your flight, he got up before the sun was and drove you to the airport. He kissed you for fifteen minutes in front of the airport security check-in and nearly made you late for your flight; he couldn't help it. He hated being away from you, and knowing it would be days before he could hold you again, he might have gone a little overboard — Bucky wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about him before he made it back to Brooklyn and to you. 

Steve handed over three folded bills to the cashier behind the counter and took two paper cups of coffee, passing one to Bucky. It was their first day back in the office since closing the deal with Carol, and Bucky was having trouble focusing on his job for the first time in his life. He desperately wanted to ditch work and spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but he had a company to run, and he had to be a grown-up. 

As Steve reminded him, all damn day. 

“So, what’s going on with you and Y/n? You both were... different in Boston.” 

“I don’t know Stevie. That last night…” Bucky shook his head and stared at the white plastic lid over his coffee, he couldn’t explain it — there were no words to describe how he felt about you and what happened this past week only made things more confusing. 

“It was different. She said I was her stupid, and things were just different from how they usually are. The way we were with each other... I dunno, man.” 

Steve was quiet for a long beat before he looked at Bucky with a small grimace he asked, “You’re excited because she called you stupid? I call you stupid all the time.” 

“No, it wasn’t like that—” 

“Sam constantly calls you dumb. All the time. I have to separate you two—”  

“Steve!’ Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away from him. He was not in the mood. He was already grumpy because he wouldn't get to see you until the Stark Gala, and now Steve was pissing him off with the dumb questions. 

“She said my stupid. It’s the ‘my’ part I was talkin’ about, dumbass. She called me hers, and it wasn’t the first time, either.” 

“What else did she say?” Steve urged with a wide grin. 

Bucky felt his cheeks pink, and his ears were burning. He cleared his throat and grumbled through a forced cough. “Uh, she called me her… fella.” 

Steve chuckled and bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his. If Sam were there, he probably would have teased him over the pet name, but Steve didn’t. He liked seeing Bucky this happy, and Steve knew it was all thanks to you. He wasn’t about to cheapen Bucky’s feelings by teasing him over a silly name.

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer, and Bucky grinned and told him honestly, “Yeah, I think I am, Stevie.” 

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, with all this talk, and he realized he hadn’t heard from you yet today. This was a sign. Boston was the push he needed. He needed to stop this nonsense, and tell you what he wanted, tell you where he wanted your relationship to go. He was going to tell you what’s on his heart at the Stark Gala — he was done playing around. You had to know he was all in, but if you wanted to keep things the way they were, he could be okay with that. He will stick around for as long as you’ll have him because he was already in love with you. 

It was going to hurt when you leave him no matter what, you should at least know how he felt when you do walk away. 

You arrived home nearly six days ago, and from the moment you stepped through the door, you refused to talk about the trip or Bucky. There wasn’t a moment of that trip you wanted to relive — even the good parts, it would only make the bad parts more painful. Pretending as if the terrible, awful, wonderful week never happened was the only way you could clean up the mess you made of your heart.

Of course, it would be easier to forget if your roommate minded her own business, and she wouldn’t let it go. 

Every time Natasha asked you a question about Boston or Bucky, you evaded. You would change the subject back to her or offer to buy dinner, and Clint would change the topic for you — the pizza or Chinese debate always bought you an hour. Natasha would only put up with that for so long, though. There was no way you could keep that up forever, and you knew that, but you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to. 

It hurt. You needed distance between you and the damage that was done — if you were going to find a way to repair it. 

This morning, you sat at the counter spoon hanging loosely from your hand, spinning your cereal as you stared at your phone in your other hand. You had been like this since you opened Instagram, sitting and gawking at your phone. You couldn’t eat. All you could do was stare. Not after you saw what Sam posted. Most of his additions were of the boys and usually picking on Bucky, but the latest picture was what caught your attention. It looked like it was their last night in Boston, and Carol was smushed between the men. 

Against your better judgment, your thumb took on a life of its own and clicked her profile. Carol had reposted Sam’s original image, but there was another photo that made a green monster stir in your chest. The look of their attire said it was towards the end of the night, jackets had been shed, and hair was let down— it was only her and Bucky this time.

Bucky had been caught mid-laugh, glowing smirk and little eye crinkles in captured in Mayfair or whatever the hell filter she deemed was best to highlight your boyfriend— Bucky. He was not your boyfriend. Carol's arm was linked in Bucky's, and she was gazing at him adoringly, but it was the caption that had your hackles raised. 

Can you believe no one has snatched this man up?  He’s more than just a pretty face, let me tell you. Sweet like you wouldn’t believe and knows how to negotiate. Can’t wait to start working with this stud. 

“Why don’t you snatch him up?” 

You jumped at the sound of Natasha’s voice coming from over your shoulder and dropped your phone to the counter, narrowly missing your bowl of milk. You hated it when she did that. 

“Seriously?” You whined loudly. “I told you not sneak up on me!” 

“Sorry. I said your name three times, but you were busy staring at your phone like it was going to turn into something. So, did you snatch him up?” 

You shook your head, letting her know you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to say something. It had been days since it all went down, and she would find out eventually. It was better she found out now before Bucky tired of you and found someone else. You slid off the stool to drop your bowl in the sink. Your cheerios were soggy anyway. 

“No, I didn’t, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/n, what happened--”

“He doesn’t want to be snatched up, okay? Least of all by me.”

Natasha watched you dump your breakfast in the trash and pour your glass of orange juice down the sink. You avoided her eyes, but she could still see the hurt filling them, as you explained everything that happened in Boston and everything you heard that night. None of it made any sense. Bucky told her how he felt, the whole truth, and no one lies to Natasha. 

“Y/n, I know that’s not true.” Natasha pointed to where you were standing and told you what happened that morning he invited you to Boston. “He stood right there, looked me in the eye, and said you meant something to him. He said he was going to tell you in Boston how much you meant to him and that he wanted more than this game you two are playing." 

"Well, he lied!” You shouted, falling back against the counter from the blowback of the admission. “Of course, he lied. You’re my best friend. You probably would have killed him and hid the body before I got out of the shower. He’s not going to tell you the truth because he knew you would tell me.”

“And why do you think he told them the truth?”

“Steve is his best friend and his business partner. They all served together, Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They are brothers, and he’s known Sharon for over a decade before she ever married Steve. There is no way he lied to them, and even if he did lie to them, it doesn’t make him any better. It only means he’s embarrassed to with me, so he lied to the people closest to him.” 

Natasha wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. He lied to someone, and no matter who caught the lie and who heard the truth, none of it was good.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you heard and let him explain himself. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. If it turns out he is a total dick, you can use the moves I taught you freshmen year and give him a broken arm as a parting gift.”

A single kiss dropped to your cheek, and she left you alone to find your way through the tangled web of dark thoughts spinning around your head. Natasha was right — like always. You needed to talk to him about the trip, but first… You grabbed your phone from where it fell on the counter and pulled up your messages. Your stupid fingers were at it again. A quick screenshot of Carol’s post, you dropped into the textbox and typed furiously before your brain could gain control over your fingers. 

You: Looks like you had fun. Did you finally get snatched up? 

That sounded awful and jealous and childish. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with you, your phone mocks. 

You watched three bubbles pop up right away as if he was already sending you something or at the very least, had his phone in his hand, and guilt swam up your throat, choking you. He was probably working, and you were sending him childish messages fueled by jealousy.  

Fella❤: I had more fun when you were with me. I got snatched up months ago. Sorry to say.  A sweet girl stole me away. Made me her fella, didn't you hear? 

You hated how he could say things that meant so much to you and mean so little to him, and you really hated how much you didn’t hate it at all. 

You: Did she? Really? 

Fella ❤: Really and truly. She did. I was hoping she would be my date to the Stark Modern Art Charity Gala this weekend. I was about to ask her when I got your message. I haven't seen her in days, and I'm itchin' to have her on my arm again. 

Of course, on his arm for show and nothing more. 

You: That can be arranged. I don't have a dress, though. I don’t want to embarrass you.

Fella ❤: You could wear a garbage bag and be beautiful, and you could never embarrass me. BUT if you insist on getting dressed up. I think I have something in mind. I'll send it over. 

Fella ❤: What has you thinking I could ever be embarrassed by you? 

You ignored the question and hoped your answer would keep him distracted so you could have that conversation in person.

You: Okay, I’ll be your girl for the night. 

Fella ❤: I hope after the gala it will be more than just one night, sweet girl. 

Ordinarily, Bucky’s flirting and little sexual innuendos would make your toes curl, and those stupid butterflies in your stomach flutter — maybe even laugh if it was silly enough, but it didn’t. It left you feeling empty and… wanting. Which only made your choice easier. Of course, you were going to go wherever he wanted you to go because truthfully, five days was far too long without him. You missed him. You missed so much your chest ached, and the only thing that could ease the hurt was seeing him. 

If being Bucky’s sugar baby was the only way you could have him, then you were going to take what he could give until he was done with you because you were not ready to lose him just yet.

[psychemeanscure]

PART 21

Everything happened so fast. It was just Jang Taeyoung being wasted with the amount of alcohol he can be after a wrecking voice message he received from her to later getting delirious of her own image he always adored for. The next thing his assistant could only remember, was that they already backing up their boss of knocking out each man of the Alcaziar’s son, Zilo.

Yes, they’re currently in a chase to get the two-faced young dimwit indeed. Going ever possible place it could gone. And they did. Its warehouse of drugs. Jang Taeyoung holding a steel bar in its right hand, the other’s in pocket then he’s good to go with another battle. Walking boringly to the next pack, he spoke.

“Were you the last batch?”        

Lee tried to stop his boss for a reason, just to be interjected by Jae. “Don’t dare.”

“What?! He’s not thinking straight, Jae. We need to stop him before it gets worse!?”

Truly. They might just be ordinary subordinate who only follow the orders been ask to them, yet they were still human after all. Over the years of working with the great troubleshooter, they knew they also learn to care for him. So for Lee to witness the extent of his boss’ moves until today is too much not to pry.

Or better well said, being acquainted with a woman named Sung Eunyoung is dangerous more than what he expected it to be. He’s aware. Rather they all aware of its affection to her, but how can’t he worry when high officials were already involved. Given that his boss was in the bridge of being observed due to being investigated she caused even. They shouldn’t risk his safety!

“Jae!”

Another call he needed to his co-subordinate. “We can’t.”

Only to get debated once again. “The f*ck?”

His complain, but a recall for Jae. Remembering every bit, a Jang Taeyoung perceived when he himself tried to stop him as well. In its penthouse, in front of its own portrait. He knew, his boss is ready to risk everything.

The way Jang Taeyoung pushes the invisible button of his portrait revealing his secret revolver, a still wrapped blue gum, and cd tapes he left hidden over the years. A remembrance of his failed past. The SIESTA project which was once his writer self’s work to greed.

Tucking the gun on his holster while handing the gum and tapes to his assistant. He commanded. “Send this to Manager.”

By the mere mention of it, Jae instantly got alerted. He doesn’t even need to ask further for he already understand what that was. The Manager. Its former Russian boss who has a knack of not giving up pursuing his boss’ blue gum experiment that even after its exit with the gang, its interest didn’t end. Yet, Jang Taeyoung never gives in to that. Despite the continuous offer his former boss bestow for him, none until today.

He never been for he knew it was unsuccessful itself. He cannot manage of showing it again. Not even his Sung Eunyoung who almost knew about it. The reason why it’s been covered with satin cloth all the while as his hasty flexes halts her the moment she was about to touch his portrait. But if it’s his failure the only choice to keep her safe, so be it.

“Boss, isn’t it better if we should see things first before doing---“

“There ain’t something to see already, Jae.”

“But boss, you know the consequences---“

“Can’t you see this isn’t about me anymore?!”

He finally erupted. Sighing to calm himself, he faced his assistant once again. “He’s the only one who can help us. So just do what I told you to do so. You know what I meant about it, aren’t you?”

Hearing his last sentence somehow relieve his assistant as a proposal begins to form from its mouth. “If that’s the case, then we should ask for extra troop for you, bo--“

“I don’t need one. She’s much important.”

Responding a groan, Jae disagreed. “Boss, we can’t get you in dang---“  

“Another word Jae, and I might just kill you as well.”

And just like that, he surrendered and comprehend his boss’ request instead. And just as today they had no choice but to watch him fighting without braking.

Tapping Lee’s shoulder, he reminded. “We can no longer stop him, Bud. He’s already unstoppable. Accomplish or not, we’re only left with one choice and that is to protect who’s important to him at all cost. That’s all he wants.”  

Huffing with heavy breath with one-man punch to enemy’s underling, “F*ck this.” He follows. As in just a snap, they became their boss’ support system.

~

“Boss, saw the Alcaziar!”

A shout from one of his men, Jang firmly retorted. “Where?”

Pointing out the area, his men answered. “Along the hallway, upper right.”

That with one swift move, he tags along sprinting to the opposite side contradicting its path until he did. He reached him as he pointed his already loaded revolver at the back of its head. No doubt, the young Alcaziar is finally captured.

Welcomed by its mocking smiling face as it turns to face him, hands in the air. “Bang, little brother.” His reciprocated mockery even. As the act-like embarrassed Alcaziar answers. “Eish… Fine. I’m busted.”

For it was also too fast for Jang to drag him in a scattered gambling room, being beaten in some of his trivial parts. “Now, dimwit. It’s either you tell me where your delusional father is, or be dead instead. Your choice.”  

Wiping out some dust from his black suit, he threatened. Just to receive the snickering laugh of the young Spaniard, looking up to him, drained. “As if I had a choice either.” Its own hopeless answer as Jang Taeyoung starts to click his heels to sit by a near table with checker chips on it. Unmoved from the pity situation of the other. Picking one piece of chip as he pictures it like chess pieces before opening a theoretical talk.

“You play chess, Zilo?”

“I am. Why?”

As delighted Jang smirk. “So will you believe if I say why queen and knights are best partners in chess then?”

Confused Zilo questioned. “Shouldn’t it be the king and queen on a throne, though?”

Rubbing the texture of the checker chip, he retorted. “That’s the luxury of monarch, dimwit. Unfortunately, we’re talking boards where all I can see is a king who only proves himself useless in it. Hiding between his towers and pawn fences while lazily waiting for its queen’s pride and brave knight’s outcome. You got the sense, Zilo?”

Narrowing eyes starts to retract. “A give and take blabber getting the privilege which should have been given to queen and knights, you saying? Pathetic.” 

“Exactly. Makes sense, right.”

“Right. So what do they call each other? Comrades ready to reach supremacy? Great.”

As the amused chuckle came after Jang, “That’s how they’re made to be a perfect team! And you know what’s more fascinating?”

“What?”

Walking over to the young Alcaziar again, he bent. “It was when a queen’s in danger, the knight cannot be much angrier than slaughter and unforgiving.” Face leveled, as he begins to tap his revolver to its cheek itching to pull its trigger.

“So spill now young Alcaziar before this knight in front you become a stallion you can’t hardly imagine.”

His knowing verdict, only yet to be responded by a beaming smirk, urging its next word. “Too bad, brother. That’s just also the irony of chess you’re perceiving of.” Pausing to surround its eyes around the room, security agents flock to corner Jang and his men with guns. “You forgot the prankster bishop who hides in surprise behind the pawns.”  

“What will you do now, knight? The fences are already after you.”

Recognizing they are owned by filthy back up officials they have, he can only awe in sarcasm. Manically laughing like they were just joking around, gaping orbs following the surprise sight, mannish arms resting from his crouched knees. Cold Jang Taeyoung finally advents.

“Know what, dimwit?”

“What?”

“That for some time I actually thought of you as one. A younger brother I never had.”

Zilo was lying if it didn’t warm him for it obviously did as his once smirking face easily vanish just like that. Looking up to already standing older brother he never had as well. It’s too late.

Gazing to multiple guns pointing at him, he complains. “Eish… F*cking law makers.” Before he went back to look down Zilo. “I guess I misjudge you then.” Pulling out his revolver once again, he left one last word.

“Let’s play the game if given the chance, yeah? Who knows.”

And with a starting blow from the enemy’s agents, the imprudent chaos has begun. Together with his men, Jang knocks every underling that goes on his way. Series of bullets heard and wasted, lifeless bodies lying on the grime of floors, stinks of blood spread on endlessly from the dirty four walls. As all he could think of, is to chase the straightway escape of the young Alcaziar who has been escorted from the start.

But he was too late. They were already far for his reach. The youngster’s car freely drives from the buzzing path of sinners for cursing is the only thing that can pass his anger.

Before another gunshot was heard. For it was his stooping body covered with blood he saw. “We got him!” as a voice unfamiliar to him speaks out. The pain is bearable though like they intentionally miss to shot the most vital part of him as it didn’t take him long to know the reason why as another flocks of underling came rushing after, ready to take him down. He fights back. Even if his body isn’t cooperating this time.

How a simple stretch of his legs he flawlessly does, is lost. How hasty blocks became his wrecking bricks. And how his keen reflexes of dodges demote to novice. He hates it! He’s not usually a person who easily get strained with a mere shot. F*ck, he got the worst even!  

It seems like they implanted something from the bullet fired to him which lead him to be weak. Whatever it is, he’s f*cking screwed up! “Tss. These f*cking cowards.” His hell of grumbles the moment they were ask to stop their countless attacks. With his once perfect face busted and once well-built figure turns into qualmish leaf. They successfully take advantage of his current wimps indeed.  

Surely as he was fighting them alone, actually. How can he get help even when his men have their own fight meters afar from his? A much more number than he partakes.    

Pressing his gushing stomach while holding any possible thing that can give him strength which turns out to be edges of wooden recycling bins. He looks up to the scumbag that caused him then. Veeros Alcaziar, bending to face the aggrieved him. “Hey, young lad.” Its unabashed greeting. “How was the show, eh?” its next word as he can only grunt trying to grab its collar by the hand that was once holding the edge of the bins. Only for him to end up gripped lousily instead.

“W-where. Where did you bring Sung Eunyoung!”

Regaining a remaining strength, he has. He enraged. And the latter just confidently tapping his downgrade shoulder. “Don’t worry, young man. You’ll meet each other soon.” Its lunatic response as he begins to get drowsy. Medicine perhaps takes its effect.                                

“You know what you missed about the king, Lad?”

‘So he’s there all along.’ He thought.

Leaning its head towards his ear, the geezer whispered.

“It’s his manipulative intelligence.”

Then a Jang Taeyoung, finally passed out.

~

“Wake up. Jang Taeyoung, wake up!”

For there it is. The voice he had searched like years. Heard by his own lobes.

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Play Brave

(Alright, so as it turns out I can’t write mystery, so I made it kinda fluffy with lowkey hints of the beginning of a cop show. I hope you like it tho.)

Master List

~~

“What you did was very brave.” The paramedic, a man whose name tag read “Wonpil”, complemented, dabbing the cut over your eyebrow with alcohol. “You’re lucky you aren’t seriously hurt.” 

“I just wanted to protect my friends,” You confess, “Lots of crazy people out tonight.” 

“Well, its a full moon, its Halloween, and everyone’s been cooped up for 6 months, I’m not really shocked everyone’s gone a little crazy.”

“Nurse Wonpil, how’s our little hero doing?” A new, yet familiar voice asks, which makes Wonpil roll his eyes. 

“I’m an EMT, not a nurse. And Y/n here is fine, some cuts and bruises, but nothing warranting a hospital visit, unless you get a headache that persists longer than an hour, then go see a doctor.” You nod at the EMT, jumping down from the back of the ambulance to spot the mystery speaker. 

“Detective-”

“Jaehyung Park.” You realize, “Everyone in town knows who you are.” You defend yourself awkwardly. He’s a lot more handsome in person, there's the hint of dark roots in his sandy blonde hair and his dark eyes are hidden behind big glasses. You wonder for a moment how people could think he’s intimidating. Yeah he was really tall, but he was kinda skinny and even in his dark clothes, didn’t look very threatening. “I thought you only worked as a violent crimes detective, I didn’t think a random dude with a knife would count.” 

“It’s Halloween, the entire precinct is working where they’re needed.” He shrugs, “Besides, I think someone attacking trick or treaters is a bad thing.” You couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up at his casual shrug. “Also, when Sungjin mentioned your name, I couldn’t help myself.” You freeze at his comment, more than just a little confused. 

“Me? How come?” 

“I read your book. “Something happened in Seoul” I’ve always liked mystery novels, so when I found out it was based on one of my cases, and you knew my Captain, I had to meet you.” He scratches at the back of his head nervously. “Kinda wish it was under more favorable circumstances.” You both laugh at his comment, and you’re thankful the darkness of the night is hiding your blush. 

“Me too, but it’s always nice to meet a fan.” The silence that falls between you is heavy with something you can’t quite place. “Anyway, the investigation?” You prompt. Jae nods, laughing sheepishly as he pulls a pen and pad from his pocket. 

“Right, you’re right. Where was I?” He double checks his notes, face falling serious as he refocuses on the case at hand. “Okay, your friends over there told me their version, can you tell me yours?” You nod, clearing your throat. 

“My friends and I were walking home from Fabel, the bar on third. I was closest to the street and Minju was about a step behind me and in the middle and her brother Minsung was next to her on the house-side. We were talking about our plans for the rest of the night, when I heard what sounded like running footsteps. When I turned around, I thought it was maybe someone we knew, this guy was running towards us. He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I don’t know why but I put myself between the twins and this guy and next thing I know he’s slamming into me. I didn’t fall, but when he tried going after them again I panicked. I grabbed his jacket and yanked him sideways, right into the bus stop. I didn’t realize he had grabbed my arms until I was already falling. I hit the other glass panel and went right though.” Jae winces as you gesture to the cuts on your face. 

“Ouch.” He comments, “But Wonpil was right, that was pretty brave.” You huff at his words. 

“Didn’t feel brave. I just panicked, the twins have never fought anyone ever, and I can survive a few cuts better than someone can a knife wound.” Jae nods, although you can tell its tentative. 

“What can you tell me about the man?” You wrack your brain for a few moments, trying to recall all the small details. 

“He had a kinda long beard, like maybe five inches, and it was curly and grey. I’m pretty sure he was Caucasian.” Jae nods along as you speak, diligently writing. “I’m pretty sure I was taller than him, and he was strong enough to take me down with him, so he isn’t weak.” Jae nods again, glancing up at you when you don’t add anything else. 

“Is there more?” You shake your head, a little disappointed you couldn’t help further. 

“I’m sorry, everything happened really quickly, I’m shocked I remembered that much.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Did you see what happened to him after you fell?” 

“He just got up and ran away like nothing happened. Minju called the police right after.” You pause thinking about the events of the last hour and can’t help but find it a little funny. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking, it’s Halloween, if you’re going to go around attacking people, why not wear a mask? Or dress up? This guy was just wearing jeans and a tshirt.” Jae lets out a small chuckle as well. 

“That is kinda strange. Thank you for the information, and the call.” He glances back towards his partner and the twins. “I think Brian’s going to take them home, I’m sure he could drive you if you like?” You wave off his offer. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m only a few blocks from here, I can walk.” Jae looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “What?”

“Do you really think I’m going to let you just walk home alone after being attacked? Are you crazy?” He scoffs in disbelief when you don’t answer, turning back to the trio a few feet away. “Brian!” His partner sighs, reluctantly looking over. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“I’m going to walk Y/n home. It’s not far, I’ll meet you back here in 15.” Brian nods, flashing you a thumbs up before turning back to the twins. Jae turns back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. “Shall we?” 

You wave goodbye to the twins, who smile knowingly and wave enthusiastically before turning to lead Jae to your apartment. 

“So, “Something Happened in Seoul” how’d you get that kind of information from Sungjin?” Jae begins, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat as you walk. 

“Oh, we’re friends. I was working as a journalist at the time, so I was getting insider details.” You explain, trying not to glance over at him. He was very cute and it was very distracting. 

“So how’d you two know each other?”

“College. His girlfriend at the time was my roommate. He used to hang out at our dorm all the time to avoid his roomie.” Jae’s laughter echoes off the houses around you and you have to physically restrain yourself from putting your hand over his mouth to quiet him down. 

“I thought he and Dowoon were cool?” He wonders, tugging you closer by the wrist when someone on a bike rides past. You have to pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat increases at his touch. 

“They are now. But in the beginning when Dowoon was still figuring out his major he just played video games all night.” Jae laughter is much quieter this time around. 

“So tell me, Y/n, how did you go from being a reporter, to writing a New York Times Bestseller?” You’re thankful, once again, for the darkness as your cheeks heat up again. 

“I always wanted to be a writer.” You shrug. “Nothing had really piqued my interest, until Sungjin told me how you had found the kidnapper. I thought it would make a really interesting story.” 

“And the romance? How did you come up with the idea of the reporter and the detective?” He glances over at you, a cheeky smile on his face. 

“I um, everybody likes a cliche.” You’re pretty sure he can see right through your lie, but let's be real, you were not about to say “well the real detective was really hot and I was basically writing fanfiction” because that would be embarrassing. “This is my complex.” You point to the coded gate a few feet away. 

“Ah, okay.” Neither of you move for a second, somehow feeling like this was some kind of date, and yet knowing it wasn’t. “So um, how about you give me your number so I can update you on what’s happening. Maybe you can write about it.” He refuses to look you in the eyes, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks are turning red. 

“Maybe you can leave yours with my publisher?” You tease, turning to the gate to punch in the code. 

“Maybe I can leave it with you?” He tries again, which makes you laugh to yourself. You tug open the gate, turning back to look at him. 

“I’m having a book signing tomorrow at the Public Library. Second floor conference room. Bring your book and I’ll give you my number.” Jae’s smile is contagious as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Alright, what time?” 

“Noon.” 

“Okay then, tomorrow at noon. Second floor conference room of the library.” He jots this down in his notebook with a nod. “I will see you then.” 

“Have a good night, Detective.” 

“You as well, Y/n, stay safe.” He closes the gate between you, his fingers lingering next to yours. He has a small, far-off smile as he stares at you. “See you tomorrow.” You tap his pinky with yours, some kind of silent promise to fulfill your end of the bargain. 

“See you then.” 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” You’re the first to move, taking a small step back, which seems to draw him back into himself. He offers you a small bow, and one last smile before heading back the way you came.

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Characters: Elaine, Arthur x Theo, Vincent

Pairing: Elaine x Isaac (eventually)

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​ @lady-moonbroch​

A/N: This chapter turned out nothing like the first draft XD Enjoy some Elaine spending time with her Uncle and she meets a boy!

Four days into her new job as Theo’s assistant, the mood in their home had drastically lifted. Elaine never complained and paid close attention to every task given to her, exceeding all expectations. She quoted things he’d said to her years ago and questioned smartly, craving the knowledge he had. Having her along had proved quite useful with prickly clients, smoothing over situations with a charming smile and sweet words, likely emulating Arthur. 

Theo enjoyed having time with her. In recent years, they’d grown strained. The teenager wanted more freedom and broke rules in place to protect her because she believed them unnecessary. Now, at nearly eighteen in only two days, she’d fought harder. Being able to keep an eye on her put the art dealer at little more at ease.

His daughter sat across from him, glancing at him out of the corner of her vision. Elaine hadn’t taken the news that she couldn’t accompany him today well. Instead of anger, she’d pouted silently all morning.

“I take it that you aren’t happy with today’s agenda,” Arthur piped up with an amused grin not quite hidden by his cup of steaming coffee. The previous night Theo had informed him of the impending unhappy teenager.

Elaine stuffed the fork full of pancakes into her mouth, enough to make her cheeks puff out to match her frown. She’d gotten up extra early and made pancakes and extra sweet coffee, but the answer remained unchanged. Now, she wanted to drown her sorrows in syrup and butter until she got sick.

“Vincent has asked for you to help him today while I’m gone.” Theo could easily see the motive behind his brother’s sudden request. He’d promised to make her do some work instead of spoiling her the entire day.

The teenager flinched at those words. She couldn’t very well turn down her uncle, as she adored him so much. Help isn’t the word she’d choose to describe what the day would entail. He’d likely ask her to do a small task or two, nothing that required much effort. “Fine. I guess I can do that.”

Working didn’t bother her. She assisted around the house with the chores without complaint. If Comte asked, she would readily agree. It irritated her that this client wouldn’t allow her entrance to his home, prompting this sour mood. No promises of being quiet or staying outside had swayed Theo. He couldn’t risk spooking the man.

“If you find yourself in need of something to do, I can have you proofread for me.” Her grimace only made the mystery writer chuckle again. Her disdain for that job well-known. Though she enjoyed his stories, playing editor didn’t appeal to her. A tedious thing.

Theo cracked a grin, rising from the table. “You better thank Vincent for saving you from that.” One check of his watch ended the conversation. He bid his family farewell before heading into town alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to help your Papa with his work?” Arthur teased further. He had been a tad jealous that she eagerly wanted to assist Theo over the course of the week. Ah, but he was also grateful that the two were more understanding of each other.

Elaine stacked all the empty plates to carry them to the kitchen. “I love you but no.” Her curt reply still amusing. Setting the dishes in the sink, she licked the sticky syrup off her fingers.

“Off you go then. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

The young vampire didn’t need to be told twice. Housework didn’t appeal to her either. She did her part, pitching in when needed, but if told she didn’t have to do it... the teenager bailed as quickly as she could.

Inside the mansion, the hallways were quiet and empty.  At this hour, everyone should be awake, except for Leonardo perhaps. Rapping her fist against Vincent’s door, she cast confused glances down the hallway.

“Goede morgen, Elaine,” Vincent greeted with a bright smile. He laughed softly at her confusion. Since Arthur and Theo had moved out of the mansion with her when she was only 4 years old, daily happenings didn’t reach their house as quickly as it spread through the mansion. “We’re the only ones here today.”

“I’m okay with that.” She flashed a disheartened smile, unable to shake the dark cloud hanging over her. Her normally mischievous and lively attitude disappeared. The others might have tried to make her understand. She understood perfectly fine.

That didn’t make it less saddening.

“Come here.” He’d barely open his arms and invited his niece to find comfort with him when the teenager stepped forward and accepted the warm hug. Vincent stroked his fingers through her copper hair. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but she reminded him so much of Theo when he was a child. “You know, he couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you were on the job.”

“Really?”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t said so to her. Theo would give praise often, especially when she came up with new ideas. Telling the others about it, that was rarer.

Vincent hummed in response, a gentle smile on his lips as she peeked up at him. “I’d say he was outright bragging. I’m not surprised. You’re his daughter after all.” Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he laughed softly at her uplifted mood.

Elaine lingered a little longer before releasing him, soaking up his sunshine-like warmth. “I guess I could stop pouting about it.” Relenting her sad feelings, she sighed softly before questioning. “So, what was it you wanted my help with?”

“I finished the final painting and I thought I’d ask for your expert advice on where to put it in the gallery space. That is, if you want to.” His request was well-received with a glowing smile from his niece. Theo had mentioned that he’d given her the sole responsibility of choosing how to use the space to best showcase the art. The uncle looked forward to seeing what she’d done.

***********

The paintings on the wall were shrouded in black cloth, to hide the precious items from view until the day of the showing. Only a select few knew what was beneath, ones trusted by Theo to make this a success. Elaine had been gifted one of the only keys to venue, a testament to her importance.

“I believe I’m looking forward to this event more than any other,” Vincent commented, allowing the staff to hang the framed piece in its designated spot.

The heat in her cheeks caused the teenager to turn her gaze anywhere else. “It’s not much different from how Vader does it. I’ve been to more of these than any other event in the city.” The location changed but ever since she learned to walk, she’d been toddling around, observing, and learning how it works. Before she’d even realized, she’d begun understanding color theory and composition.

“It wasn’t too long ago that you were only a few years old and correcting patrons on the medium or style of the art. You always had this incredibly serious expression, much like Theo.”

“That was so long ago! I’m almost eighteen!”

Vincent chuckled with a loving smile. “Yes, I guess that’s right.”

The chime of the door timed perfectly with one of the staff calling to speak with Vincent. Elaine stepped away to investigate the newcomer. Violet eyes narrowed at the sight of a boy, likely no older than herself, attempting to take a peek at the portrait veiled by the black cloth. “Excuse me, but you can’t be in here.” Her tone less than polite, Elaine thrust her palms against his chest to push him away from the art piece.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ve been most curious about why there are staff entering but it’s never been open for business.” His emerald eyes filled with hidden intent that didn’t quite match the half smirk on his lips. The boy never resisted her pushing him back to the door and onto the street. “A secretive operation, I presume, miss?”

“Elaine and we don’t open for another two days.”

Her biggest fear was that he was a spy for le academia and all of her father’s hard work would go to waste if they were discovered. He didn’t fit the typical appearance of a high bred family, usually scrawny and uptight, and he wasn’t either of those things.

“I’ll have to pop in when you are open. My name is Leon Autry.” He flashed another brilliantly smug smile and winked. “Might I inquire your surname, should I have any future questions?” The reason lost on the recipient. He’d yet to ask anything relevant to the gallery.

Elaine turned on her heel to return inside. “It’s Doyle.” Even though she didn’t quite like the boy, she couldn’t risk turning away a potential buyer. Her cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t clear if it was from embarrassment or anger. The young pureblood didn’t have many friends her age, and that led to a bit of awkwardness when around humans her age.

“Ah, like the writer.”

The girl stilled, hand hovering above the door handle. Perhaps she’d heard him incorrectly.

“You might not know of him. He’s a British writer, mystery, I think.”

Or perhaps not.

“I believe it’s Arthur Conan Doyle. Any relation?” Leon asked as if he already knew the answer, like playing a game of truth or dare in order reveal a secret for confirmation.

Elaine relaxed her shoulders. Although she could hardly admit that she was indeed was the daughter of that very Arthur, albeit the vampire one, she wouldn’t allow him to glean that precious information from her. “No, but you aren’t the first to ask. But wouldn’t that be grand? Imagine being related to someone as talented as that.” Her dreamy smile fowled his for a moment.

“Imagine.” The façade of his grin had ghosted away for a split second, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Elaine, are you ready to head back?” A third party interrupted, much welcomed by the girl. Vincent approached the two, protectively a half step in front of his niece. The tension between the two children enough to worry him.

Her head bobbed once in response. “Yes, let’s go home.” The way Leon’s eyes followed her unsettled the girl. Elaine settled back on the seat in the carriage, mulling over the strange interaction. Was it so unusual for someone to draw a connection between her name and the human Arthur from this era?

Whatever the case, she now had a proper mystery on her hands.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 82

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves.  Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky.  The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and  over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge.

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away.  His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed.  Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only  taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.”  It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep  my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?”   Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey  baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments.  “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather  ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over.  Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs.

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here.  It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary.  You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid.  You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet.  I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s  a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears.  The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for.  And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he  loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence;  the promise itself -and not wanting to break it-  giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm,  tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek.  He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee;  squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles.   Nervously bouncing  his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that  shakes the  house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me.  I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails.  But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take  her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits.  “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz.  “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif.  Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something.   There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can  backtrack your way into Dhaka,  You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first.  Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks.  “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids.  We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now.  Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people.  We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.”  He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind.  I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

******

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels  digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker.  He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative.  He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own.

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still.  A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing,  eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes  too much, she moves away and he gives  up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her.  

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep.  And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room.

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck.  The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets.  

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life.  To that sprawling, beautiful home   on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort.  The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery.  And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs.  “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard  way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs  and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.  

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own.  One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?”

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put  them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now.  And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful  in either of our first marriages, neither of us would  have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with  homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…”  he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows,  and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

[kbstories]

Intrinsic

in·trin·sic (adj.) Belonging naturally; essential.

Just because Trafalgar Law didn't make plans beyond Dressrosa doesn't mean Bepo didn't.

(Or: Law comes home.)

Tags: Reunions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Trafalgar D. Water Law Gets A Hug, References to (Past) Suicidal Thoughts, Bepo and Law are soft and I love them

Set in Zou. Content warning for references to suicidal ideation (in the context of Law’s plan).

***

Months Bepo waited.

Months he roamed Whale Forest, him and his crewmates, their leader in name only as the days bled into weeks and the horizon remained unchanged. Up until the Beast came a-knocking, there hadn’t been anywhere to lead them to. The Heart Pirates weren’t budging a single inch, hell or high water or freaking Mammoth shifters be damned.

Finally, finally, the forest murmurs with the presence of someone new, glistening leaves and sun-lit meadows welcoming the silhouette of a man Bepo would recognize anywhere, anytime, be it a year from now or another decade.

Then Trafalgar Law smiles and it all disappears in a haze of happily shed tears as the crew rejoices around them.

Things slide back into place just like that, between the excited cheers of the Heart Pirates and the slump of Law’s shoulders as he relaxes into Bepo’s fuzzy-tight embrace.

“Welcome back, Captain”, Bepo tells him, intense with the wave of love and devotion and relief crashing within him, and designates this the best day ever when Law’s smile stays where it is, eyes warm with affection.

“It’s good to be back.”

(Months they spent waiting and yet the world won’t stop spinning for their sake. “We can’t linger”, Law says hours later, arms crossed and expression guarded across one Strawhat Luffy. Strawhat nods, solemnly; he turns around and declares:

“Everyone! Reunion party now but make it snappy! Traffy wants to get going!”

Bepo decides he likes their new ally then and there.)

A party is a party, and with a crew as boisterous as the Strawhat Pirates, the chances of it remaining somewhat contained go towards zero pretty much instantly. A few hours in, Bepo is vaguely gobsmacked that the crew is as crazy as their captain. Then again, they have to be, to follow a force of nature in the shape of a man.

Suddenly, the resigned sigh Law breathes over his mug of beer – technically Pirate Hunter Zoro’s mug of beer, which he had thrown in Law’s direction regardless of his protests – makes so much more sense to Bepo.

It makes him laugh all the harder. His poor captain’s nerves must’ve taken quite a beating in this alliance: He hasn’t even started slicing limbs off people yet. And that after Bepo saw Chopper cling to Law’s head in an effort to hide during an impromptu game of tag with their long-nosed sniper and Penguin, of all people. In fact, Law didn’t even blink. He merely waited for Chopper to leave before fixing his hat, huddling closer to his drink and going back to ignoring them all with icy resolve.

There is a very real possibility the perpetual chaos that are the Strawhat Pirates broke Trafalgar Law somewhere along the way. Bepo has yet to determine if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Two bowls in hand, he settles beside the fallen tree Law perches on, a nice distance away from the bulk of the banquet in full swing. Bepo nudges Law’s elbow with his own and offers him his share of lasagna. “At least Penguin’s having fun?”, he adds with a hopeful smile. Law glances at the bright grin on Penguin’s face – he holds the tiny reindeer over his head like a trophy and yells, “Gotcha!”, only to be tackled to the ground by God Usopp a second later –, then at Bepo’s pleading eyes. He huffs, an undeniable trace of humor hidden in there somewhere.

“It’s something”, Law grumbles into the first forkful of food.

He eats and Bepo does too, humming in appreciation of the explosion of meat and melted cheese on his tongue; even Law seems pleased, picky eater that he is, and Bepo’s spirits practically soar to the stars above them.

A mere day ago, this exact scenario was little more than a pipe dream. Sure, the arrival of the Strawhats had been a much-needed sign that their waiting was coming to an end (and it was pretty fantastic news for Zou, in the grand scale of things). Rarely in his life had Bepo been happier to meet four complete strangers.

That joy had somewhat faded when Sanji answered Bepo’s call for his captain with a sympathetic twist to his mouth and a shake of his head. Don’t worry, he’d said right after, and faith had burned in that unshakeable gaze. Luffy’s with him. Nobody dies on my captain’s watch.

Bepo had thought of a lonely island far away and the anguished cries of a brother mourning another and winced. It seemed downright cruel to bring that up, and so he didn’t. Instead, he’d taken that trust and used it to summon another bout of patience.

It turns out Strawhat's cook was right all along. Bepo swallows another mouthful of lasagna, his fork pausing on its way back to the bowl. Sanji had looked so proud of his crew in that moment. Would he really leave them behind like that?

“What’s up? You’re awfully quiet.”

Law’s voice is low, the concern in it meant for Bepo and Bepo only. He waits for Bepo to come back to himself with a blink and a soft apology before raising an eyebrow. No more words are needed: Law sets aside his mug and the empty bowl, and slips to the ground, folding his legs against his chest somewhat-gracefully. Like the tides follow the moon, Bepo shifts with him and lets his captain lean back against him.

A quiet sigh signalizes that yup, Law is comfortable. Then:

“Bepo. Talk to me.”

Always so impatient. Bepo smiles and relaxes, too.

“Just thinking, I guess… The Strawhats are our allies now, right? Do you think they’ll be alright, going against Big Mom?”

Law looks up at him with mild surprise, tilting his head back to see Bepo beyond the brim of his hat. Bepo doesn’t bother hiding his unease from him; he’d be able to tell, anyways. A decade of friendship will do that to people.

“You’ve barely known them for a day. You’re seriously worrying about Blackleg already?”

Busted. For a moment, Bepo contemplates the merits of feeling embarrassed about it. “It’s been over a week with Sanji”, he negotiates, pulling his snout into a pout when Law just smirks. “Besides. Whatever trouble they start, we’ll catch it too. It makes sense to worry.”

Law huffs one of his rare laughs, a little rough around the edges but so familiar. Perhaps Bepo can forgive his captain for being a jerk.

“Don’t get me wrong: I don’t blame you. We were in Dressrosa all of, what, three days? Strawhat stepped off that island a national hero, him and Longnose. Don’t ask me how the fuck they do it. It’s exhausting.”

Of course, Bepo read all about their exploits in the paper. What kind of first mate would he be if he hadn’t? What happened, it sounded a whole lot like a nightmare and a miracle and a revolution wrapped in one. It sounded like a lot – and Bepo has carefully laid plans to bug Law into opening up about it once they’re safely wrapped in metal and a few hundred fathoms deep.

Trafalgar Law doesn’t do heart-to-hearts, ironically enough. Thus, Bepo’s plan might’ve taken… unreasonable proportions to ensure he does, this time.

Yet Law mentions Dressrosa so casually. He’s not tense in Bepo’s embrace (yet). A mere stone’s throw away, the Strawhats and the Heart Pirates and the minks dance around the bonfires, all smiles and drunken laughter, and Bepo takes a leap of faith.

“So. Dressrosa.”

Law stills.

“…Yeah.”

With gentle pressure, Law pillows his head against Bepo’s chest. Bepo wishes he could see his face; he compromises with a gentle squeeze to Law’s arm, the uninjured one. I’m sorry.

Law sighs. It sounds fond and really, really tired, too. “I’m not gonna lie, Bepo. It was pretty fucking horrible. I knew it was gonna be a shitshow but… Fuck.”

Somehow, that one word tells Bepo more than any newspaper could. Carefully, he wraps his arms around Law's shoulders, loose enough not to crowd him but there nonetheless. “But you made it”, Bepo says quietly. His voice goes soft with emotion, as close to unsteady as Bepo will let it. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters to me, Captain.”

And it’s that that makes Law stiffen, his breathing more measured, tense. An inked hand rises to meet Bepo’s, hesitant. Bepo intertwines their fingers, soothing.

“You knew.”

Bepo huffs at the numb surprise in his voice, hard enough to ruffle the collar of Law’s shirt.

“I’ve been your friend for about as long as that plan of yours exists, Law. ‘Course I knew. It was your decision to make and I’ll always follow your lead, no matter what. Just… I’m glad it didn’t end that way. Your life is so much more than that asshole ever deserved.”

A long bout of silence follows Bepo’s words. Maybe it’s weird for Law, to be the one out of his depth between them – yet Bepo had nothing if not time on his hands to think, and to wonder, and to hope with all he had that Law would be alive long enough for Bepo to tell him he matters.

Here, where Law continues to draw breath in his arms, it’s hard to imagine a world where he didn’t come back. Where the Heart Pirates waited and waited, safely out of the picture while their captain was slaughtered by the man he hates most.

It’s the very stuff Bepo’s nightmares are made of. There’s no point in putting that burden on Law's shoulders, though. That’s all his, and if that’s the price to pay for Law to be alive and free, Bepo will proudly wear those scars to the end of his days.

Suddenly, Law’s fingers squeeze his, and Bepo tilts his head down to watch his tattoos move. D E A T H, a bold challenge to fate that has served them well, despite it all.

“I’m sorry for– Yeah. I didn’t know there was another way. I just… I needed him gone. So Cora can rest, y’know?”

Bepo nods, his chin nudging Law’s hat so he can feel it. “Of course. No need to apologize, Captain.”

Unexpectedly, it makes Law chuckle of all things. “No apologizing, huh?”, he says, teasing, and– Fine, Bepo walked straight into that one. He grumbles and knocks his knee into Law’s without heat.

Then, Law lets go of Bepo’s hand to burrow deeper into his arms, shifting and turning into his favorite position for a nap. Finally, Bepo catches a glimpse of Law’s face – a little pale, a lot tired but comfortable, at peace – before he smooshes it into Bepo’s fur.

And yeah, okay, Bepo can take a hint. Seems like Law decided to enforce his golden rule of no mushy talk in public, after all.

“Oof. Gentle, Captain.”

“Mhm, sorry.” Law’s voice comes out muffled. “I haven’t slept in fucking forever. Strawhat wakes up with the sun like some kid. Seriously, who just does that?”

“Lunatics”, Bepo answers immediately, mostly to feel Law laugh again. “Figures that’s the kind of friend you would make, all by yourself out there.”

“Ugh, terrible”, Law agrees, a little slurred with oncoming sleep but still coherent enough that Bepo can and will tease him later for sounding so fond. For now, he lets him doze off, warm to his core at the sight of Law falling asleep almost immediately.

Bepo makes himself comfortable and settles in for a long wait. Usually he’d fall asleep right along with Law – there’s something so calming about feeling someone’s heart beat so close to one’s own – but for now, he’s happy to listen to Law’s quiet snoring and watch his crewmates make a fool of themselves to match their new allies.

(Much, much later, Bepo startles awake to wide eyes staring at him just inches from his face. Law is still asleep and thus Bepo doesn’t move – instead he blinks and stares back, watching Monkey D. Luffy’s face move into a pensive pout like he’s thinking hard enough to hurt.

When it’s clear there will be no explanation beyond a long hmmm, Bepo clears his throat and whispers: “Do you… need anything?”

Strawhat tilts his head. Bepo expects him to yell as he always does but his voice matches Bepo's, barely a murmur.

“Kinda? I wanted to ask Tra– uh, Law if he wants to go now. He seemed in a hurry earlier and I kinda forgot. Well, everyone’s drunk but we’ll manage, y’know? He’s sleeping though. Hm.”

There’re at least two things in that statement that Law would tear Strawhat apart for, and one of them is the sudden use his actual name. Bepo wonders if Strawhat still thinks he’s confused by ‘Traffy’, even though he already explained the nickname to him.

Reluctantly, Bepo offers: “I can wake him up?”

Strawhat shakes his head, his signature smile quick to appear on his lips. “Nah, it’s fine. Law needs his sleep. He’s always so angry in the mornings. It’s funny.”

And as sudden as he came, Strawhat's gone, jogging back to the bonfires and instead opting to jump on his sleeping swordsman half-way there. Bepo witnesses the ensuing scuffle with amusement.

Yeah, Bepo definitely likes Luffy.)

[dopposhusband]

I know I say it all the time, but I wanted to tell you directly for once: I think the stuff you write is genuinely great! Whether it be a few headcanons, a fic or a description of one of your AUs, I really love them! They're well written and always interesting to read, so thank you for posting your stuff! I'll always be looking forward to more! Once again, I have another question about your boys! Do you have some friendship HCs? Either between them or in general? ^^

@yokairu​ Youre the absolute sweetest!! It means the world to read that, I owe you so much, thank you! I wrote a whole thing about Doppo having friends once at three in the morning and its been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks so I thought the ideas I had there would be interesting here! I also put a lil hc what I think being friends with them would be like too!

Doppo doesn’t really have any friends outside of Jakurai and Hifumi which is a huge shame because I think he could get along with everyone! He really deserves more people to care about him!

💼 Dice inviting Doppo to try a more adventurist life for a night, have the two go gambling and drinking together. I just want Doppo to be able to loosen up and have some fun and I also want Dice to understand just how much of Doppos apology loops come from such an abusive work life. They’re complete opposites and they could learn something from each other!!!

💼 Doppo being a big brother figure for Ichiro, Doppo is literally the walking definition of exhaustion and having to take care of two baby brothers must’ve been tough on Ichiro. So Doppo can understand having to hide more negative emotions from his years hiding them from co-workers, managers, customers, and maybe even his own younger brother. Doppo might not be able to help carry the burden Ichiro has but let him give him like a nice lil head pat, tell him hes doing a great job!!!

💼 Also speaking of buster bros, Jiro and Saburo??? Like imagine Doppo teaching Saburo how to use Microsoft Excel!! Jiro catching Doppo on his lunch break and begging him to buy him lunch too, then Doppo complaining about how much his job sucks and Jiro giving him some of the worst career advice ever.

💼 Rio teaching him how to make all kinds of drinks and foods he can eat to relieve his stress and tension. Just Doppo out in the woods to clear his mind from the bustle of the city, taking in fresh air and just relaxing. Having someone like Rio who isn’t too talkative but is always willing to let him vent then after hes let it all out he can just lie back and look at the stars!!

💼 Even though Ramuda and Matenrou are on very tense terms but having him make clothes for Doppo. It could just be something small like a nicely designed tie but it’d be enough because itd liven him up knowing that this is something no one else in the world has!! And just having him model for Ramuda at all, it would be such a good boost to his self esteem and hed get to wear all kinds of pretty outfits!!

💼 DOPPO BOOK CLUB!!! DOPPO BOOK CLUB!!! On Doppos days off he host a book club with Gentaro and Rosho! They all talk about books they’ve read, Doppo usually only talks about chapters rather than full books because he rarely has time to read. Gentaro constantly lying about the ending of a book to goof on Rosho and Doppo but always feeling a little bad when Doppo takes it seriously and gets all bummed that it was taking him too long to finish.

💼 Sasara the funny clown man trying his damnedest to make Doppo laugh at one of his jokes!! The salaryman is sad too much he deserves a good laugh too and sometimes Sasaras funny so its perfect!!

👔 Being friends with Doppo changes the longer you know him, at first he’ll be very nervous and overly considerate, but after a long while he’ll eventually relax. He worries a lot about being a burden or about you thinking being friends with him is an obligation so you’ll have to be the one to initiate conversation with him at the beginning. Once he feels confidant that you really care about him then comes the second hurdle of him feeling terrible about never having any time. Time is an issue for Doppo but he tries his hardest to always answer whatever texts you send him and he always extends an invitation to you whenever he can! Slowly, he’ll also be more open about his emotions, not like he isn’t already but he’ll be less worried about expressing them. He’ll be less indecisive on vocalizing his annoyance if you do something that bothers him or if you’re doing something stupid alongside Hifumi. He’ll still be apologetic but less so when it comes to him keeping his ground because you guys are close enough for him not to worry about bending over backwards. Its all a long process but if you do make it to the end you have a very loving friend who is just glad to have you around!

Ichiro needs more people to hang out with, people he can de-stress with when he’s away from his brothers. MC BIG BRO DESERVES A BREAK!

🎧 I know I ship with IchiDice but the two would make great boyfriends and regular friends! Ichiro tends to avoid things that he’s too young so he can’t go gambling instead he gets Dice addicted to a gatcha games. Dice isnt huge on the anime stuff but he sure loves hitting those SSRs! The two are always talking about their pulls, bragging about the good and complaining about the bad almost 24/7. On the other side though when a day gets too stressful Dice is more than okay to listen to Ichiro vent a little, although it is rare and its not like Dice gives good advice but its nice to have an outlet. In return Ichiro always lets Dice crash at his place whenever he hits a massive losing streak.

🎧 Ramuda constantly complains about Ichiro and his brothers clothes so he has an excuse to make them new ones. He also loves texting Ichiro just to chat, always using stickers and litters his texts with emoticons.  。.:☆*:･'(*⌒―⌒*))) °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ

🎧 Okay, now hear me out, Rio and Ichiro. It’s the strangest combination but Rio is just such a sweetheart, after the DRB he came over to the Yamada household to check up on them and bring them food. After a little while of gaining his trust Ichiro would slowly warm up to him, I mean he helped with chores and cooked for them. (Even tho the food is a little suspicious being made literally anything) It must be hard to take care of two kids when you’re still a kid too so Rio wants to try and help a little.

🎧 I think there isn’t enough of a focus on him being on good terms with Jakurai and the two being friends. Like Rio, Jakurai worries about Ichiro and how much of his childhood was taken away from him so whenever the two are together he tries to take up the responsibility of paying or driving so he can relax. He takes him and his brothers out fishing occasionally, how much they catch depends on how much Jiro and Saburo argue though.

🔴 Ichiro is an absolutely amazing friend to have! Although his brotherly instincts can make him a little overbearing sometimes, always inviting you over for dinner or reprimanding you if you do something a bit more reckless. He loves involving people in his interests so if you even hint about anime or hip hop he’s on you in a second to drop everything he knows about the subjects, he has whole list of series, artists, and light novels he can’t wait to share! Of course he loves to hear about whatever you’re interested in at the time too and tries to get into it too! Day offs or slow days are anime days so be prepared to get hit with a spam of messages from Ichiro to watch that anime he kept talking about!

Dice travels literally all over the place, he deserves to know pretty much everyone, honestly.

🎲 Jiro and him are some rowdy boys, they get into all kinds of trouble! Whenever Jiro goes tagging sometimes Dice will tag along if he’s too broke to be gambling. If Jiro has any extra cash on him he’ll take Dice to get something cheap to eat since he can’t have him starving himself. Honestly, Dice is like having another older brother except he’s more embarrassing than Ichiro could ever dream to be.

🎲 He usually ends up seeing Samatoki at some of the casinos around Yokohama and like the true idiot he immediately begs for money, not the smartest thing to do to a yakuza but this is Dice. After being yelled a firm no, he’ll usually bum a smoke off him and the two will chat for a little. Sometimes if Samatoki is feeling friendly he’ll tell Dice about any gambling rings happening and if hes being even friendlier he’ll warn him about the dangers too.

🎲 Jyuto and him have run into each other a couple times although it was mainly him having to be escorted off private property. Every time Jyuto gets a call about about someone trespassing he gets so exhausted the moment he shows up and its just Dice again. After being pretend arrested Dice always ends up begging Jyuto to drive him to Rios camp.

🎲 Hifumi has found Dice in the alleyways he takes to the train station, the two usually chat on the way back to his apartment because Dice can’t say no to Hifumi’s cooking. After eating everything Hifumi would make him he’d usually either beg for gambling money or just enough to get back home. Although, on winning days he’ll visit the club, request Hifumi and a champagne call as thanks for feeding him with an extra bonus of downing a whole bottle of champagne. 

🎰 Congratulations you have gotten your very own stray cat! Dice is constantly coming and going so don’t be surprised to wake up and find him sleeping on your doorstep or couch if you gave him a key. He’ll be looking to you for food and the occasional pity 10,000 bills because he swears THE NEXT ONE IS THE WIN PLEASE. You never have to worry about telling him no though, his ability to go from groveling to standing on his feet to just chat is at a record speed. He usually spends his time gambling but if you can’t then he’s more than fine just talking a walk through the town pointing out places where he won or places he lost everything and had to hide while he waited for Gentaro. Past all the begging he’s a funky boy here for a good time and when he hits that 777 you are definitely one of the first people he goes to when its time to celebrate! 

[seongbyeol]

Predator || P.N. & A.S.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Note: I took forever to make this, so sorry about that. This is based of episode 3 from season 2, so obviously spoilers ahead. I really like writing this, even though I took forever. It was mostly because I didn’t have any idea what to write it about. So the idea was the one that took most trouble. When I had the idea, all it took was to write it, and yea. Here we are. I hope everyone enjoys this. And before anyone asks, (spoilers ahead) the reason why I’m putting Night and not Blackwood, is because after the hole thing with father Blackwood, she kind of dropped the name. I think... I don’t really remember. But with how the season ended, I’m sure she definitely changed her name back. I didn’t know what to call this part. So sorry if you think the name is a bit... weird.

Request: Could I request a poly relationship between prudence, Ambrose and a soft girly reader? If not that’s alright!!

Warning: Spoilers, a smut scene is implied. I don’t do smut. There are however some touches and kisses and like always, grammar errors, I suck at writing.

Word count: 2841 (this is a long boy)

Fandom: CAOS

Pair:Prudence Night x Reader x Ambrose Spellman

Tags:

It was hot, being surrounded with bodies upon bodies of horny teenagers grinding next to each-other while the music blared through the speakers.

It was hot.

Sweat danced it's way down my neck, but it didn't seem to bother Ambrose, who at the moment was leaving kisses on my neck. It also didn't seem to bother Prudence. I think she found it kind of hot seeing me this way. And the way she was looking at me, I couldn't say it bothered me. We where young kids in love, full of lust and never ending excitement. And that's one of the things I liked about them.

"We're just getting warmed up for Lupercalia." I heard Prudence tell Sabrina while I made my way back from my bathroom break.

"That's tomorrow, isn't it?" I say, getting the attention of everyone.

"My Love." Says Prudence, grabbing my hand, and pushing me toward the already cramped up sofa, making me seat on her lap.

At this, my cheeks turned a bit pink, I was embarrassed of the eyes around us. "Prudence." I mumbled.

"Are you embarrassed love?" Said Ambrose, pulling on my shoulder to make me stare him in the eyes.

But before I could say anything, Prudence answered. "There's no need to be, not with how you where behaving yourself out there." Said Prudence, pointing to the dance floor with her head.

Before I could get more embarrassed than how I was, Sabrina spoke. Making me give her a small smile as a thank you.

"Lupercalia is witches valentine's day. Right?" She asked. And she almost hit the jackpot.

"Lupercalia coincides with mortal Valentine's Day, yes. But in my opinion, it's just a lot of hype." Responded Nick, who was sitting next to her in the sofa in front of us.

"Oh, please, Nick. Sabrina's not so naive and innocent as all that. No one is after signing the Dark Lord's Book of the Beast." At this she game me a look, reminding me of the day I signed the book. Reminding me of the pulls, touches and moans of that day inside my empty house.

————

This was the first event, the Matching, In which witches are supposed to be paired with warlocks. And since the only warlock in our relationship was Ambrose, who was not participating, Prudence decided to take that place instead. To be honest, I believe she just wanted to see me dance. It was a problem, with father Blackwood, and I don't want to know how she convinced him to let her, or if she convinced him at all. But I'm glad my match is secured.

I stood by Ambrose and Prudence, both of them holding me by the waist. When Father Blackwood spoke.

"Welcome, one and all, to Lupercalia, the Festival of the Wolves. Brother Ambrose." At this, Ambrose pulled away from us, and Prudence grabbed my hand, taking me to a seat.

"All right, fellas, take your places for the Matching!" Prudence handed me a red ribbon, and then sat on the seat in front of me. She stared at me like a hungry wolf ready to take its prey, and I like it. But I couldn't help my self to feel a little embarrassed. Which made me look away. I heard prudence chuckle, but my gaze was on Sabrina, who currently stood on my right, holding a black ribbon. We gave each other a small smile, before I was looking back at Prudence.

"All right, ladies, you know how this goes.

When the music stops, take a seat on the warlock, or witch-" Ambrose directed his eyes at us. "closest to you."

Ambrose started playing a beautiful melody that I remember he practiced sometimes while we had our home dates. And I dance, the practiced danced everyone learn, and I could tell I was doing it perfectly. I could feel Prudence eyes on me, and if Ambrose eyes weren't covered, I know he would've been staring at me too. Folds, and twirls, and touches. With some glances here and there. I was enjoying myself. But before this could go any further. There was a sneeze, and the music stopped.

I had no competition, I was the only one in front of Prudence. Not that if I had it would have made any difference. I don't think Prudence would have allowed that. So taking my time, I walked towards Prudence, and sat on her lap.

"Oh, sorry, Sabrina." I heard Dorcas say from across the room. Me and Prudence both looked, seeing Sabrina laying on the floor, disbelieve written all over her face.

I was a little confused, I knew she wanted Nick, but Nick currently sat patiently next to me.

Sabrina walked around, towards the last empty seat. Nick's seat. And with a smile, she sat on his lap. Both of them looking behind towards Dorcas. Who without believing it looked at the guy on her lap, not so happy to find out it was Melvin. Apparently Nick had payed him to wear glamour. And I thought if Prudence or Ambrose would go to such lengths to have me. And after thinking about it for a second, I came to the conclusion that they would. They would do that and more.

———————

"Witches. Warlocks. Congratulations, you have been matched." Said Ambrose, I was currently helping Prudence hand the anointment baskets. "Tonight, you and your paramour shall go into the woods and re-enact the Courting. What that means is that each couple shall go into the woods and disrobe and anoint themselves and lie under this blessed Lupercalian moon, absorbing the potency of the Goddess Selene Herself. Abstinence is encouraged" At this everyone booed. "In anticipation of the powerful release that concludes Lupercalia. However, should couples be moved to unite," Ambrose locked ayes with me. And then With Prudence, who winked, and then with a smirk looked my way, to find me already staring. "Well, I'm sure the Dark Lord would not oppose."

"The milk and blood are for the purification." Prudence started saying. "The oysters and figs are for fertility and virility." She handed her last basket to Nick. "The cherries are for..." She got close to Sabrina, "popping." She said close to her face with a pop. Making everyone laugh. I didn't.

She grabbed my unoccupied hand, and took me with her towards Ambrose, who grabbed me by my waist. Holding both me and Prudence close.

"A word or two of caution." Said Father Blackwood, taking everyone's attention. "Each couple must stay together the entire night. And, above all, do not stray from the path. All manner of lust-filled creatures stalk the woods during the Lupercalia. Now, with the Dark Lord's blessing, let the Courting begin." Right after that message which only left me a little worried, Ambrose rose the horn he was holding, and blew on it, officially starting the Courting.

After everyone left, we where the last to start our walk through the forest. It was dark, and quiet, aside from the far away giggles of the other witches and warlocks in the area. But before long, we where all alone, and we had set our little camping space. After I helped Ambrose put down the blanket on the floor, we all sat down and slowly took out the contents of the basket. But my nervousness almost made me drop the glass bottle of milk, which Ambrose grabbed in time.

"Nervous?" He asked me. It wasn't like we had never done it before. But doing something like this, out in the woods worried me. And after Father Blackwood's comment about the lusting creatures in the woods, I got even more worried.

"Yea." I Said not wanting to lie. "I just, I don't know. I don't feel comfortable out here."

"My love, there's no need to feel insecure. We're here to protect you." Prudence said, placing her hand on my thigh.

"But if you don't want to take it too far, then we won't force you." Said Ambrose this time, placing his hand on my cheek. His warmth making me lay my head on it.

With a smile Prudence took my hand, and placed it between her lips. "I'll do this, get comfortable you two."

Ambrose looked me in the eyes, as If asking for permission, which with a small nod, I gave. He slowly helped me take off my leather coat, setting it aside. I did the same to him, which made a small smile grow on his face. My black long sleeve turtle neck was next, he pulled it from under my skirt, and over my head, and I just followed his instructions. I laid slightly back, and let him take off my shoes, and socks. And to help him get it over with, I unbuttoned my denim skirt, and helped him bring it down. He folded every piece of my clothes, and when he was done he looked back to stare at me. I was wearing a black lace wired bodysuit, that accentuated my curves. Ambrose seemed to like it.

"Now, now. What have we here?" Asked Prudence. Her eyes never leaving my body. "Looks like my pure little girl isn't so pure after all." At this my cheeks turn red.

"You wanted to look good for us didn't you?" Said ambrose.

"Of course I did, I always do." I say. "Well? Why am I the only one without clothes on?" I don't know where this confidence came from. I think having them look at me the way they where was making me feel gorgeous. Powerful even, or it could be the moon that rose high in the sky, shining brightly over us.

"Bossy." Prudence said, and those words came out dripping with lust. I slightly arched my back while breathing in.

"Where is my little (Y/N), and what have you done to her." Said this time Ambrose, not taking any time to take off his clothes. At this I slightly chuckled. And soon Prudence was doing the same.

They slowly walked towards me, both like predators ready to eat me. They had shown a lot of their predatory senses in the last few weeks. I could have blamed Lupercalia, but this is how they usually are. They each took one of my legs, lifting it up to their mouths, and starting with my toes they made their way up slowly. Without taking their eyes off me. It was getting to me. My breath was getting faster, harder to maintain it self in a pattern.

Once they reached the border of the slip, Prudence pulled it up slightly, tracing her fingers through my skin. Ambrose however he rose, taking his dominion up to my lower belly over the slip. Before he could go far however, a howl could be heard in the distance. We all rose at the same time, looking into the woods to see if we could see anything, anything at all. But we saw nothing. At least, I saw nothing.

"Was that—?" I was cut off by Ambrose before i could finish.

"A wolf." The anxiousness I fell before any of this had started had come back, and slowly but surely I started to shake. Prudence noticed.

"Love? Love?" She called, but I didn't answer. "(Y/N)!" she said once again, grabbing me by my shoulder, making me look back towards them, meeting two pairs of worried eyes. "Are you ok?"

"Can we get out of here?" They both kept on staring at me, wanting to know if I was alright. But they didn't ask any questions, and before I knew it we where dressed and out of the woods inside the academy.

----------

"After the Hunt, all I can say is, poor Melvin. He doesn't know what's in store for him tonight." Said Agatha. We where all getting ready for the Hunt, the final event of Lupercalia.

"Can you imagine? A virgin, at his age?" Said Prudence, who at the moment was putting up my socks for me. Her fingers gently gracing my legs. "You'll be gentle with him, won't you, sister?" At that,she tugged my knee high socks a little tight, while staring at me right in the eyes.

"And afterwards, we'll all share. It's been ages since we had a virgin." Was what Agatha said, and I couldn't help but look at Prudence, just for her to slightly move her head as if telling me she wouldn't partake in such things.

I remember when Agatha and Dorcas argue with Prudence over weather to share me or not. Prudence was fully against it. She's mine, don't you dare touch her. She had said. Which filled me with pride. It still does. The fact that she let Ambrose take some of my heart from her without ripping his throat out surprised me. But I'm glad she didn't. We make a good trio.

"Unfortunately, you're too late." Dorcas interrupted me from my thoughts. "I initiated Melvin the night of the Courting."

Prudence was already putting my cape over my shoulders, when she hear Dorcas, making her turn around. "You didn't abstain?"

"Of course not." Dorcas instantly Said. "Did you?"

"A girl doesn't kiss and tell." At this her index finger touch my chin. Giving me a wink. The girls giggled. Prudence took her cape, putting it around her shoulders, I stood up to help her."But hurry, sisters, it's time to assemble outside. A fruitful Hunt to us all." She grabbed my hand and started walking towards the exit of the dorms when I spotted Sabrina.

"Are you coming, Sabrina?" I asked, stopping, and making everyone else stop with me.

"I still need to take my berries of phylaxis. Go ahead. I'll catch up." I gave her a small smile, and fixed my velvet black slip, with lace on the borders.

"Alright.”

And so we walked outside into the cold night. My hair loosely bouncing while we walked through the woods. Finally reaching a clearing where witches and warlocks waited patiently. The other girls wore outfits just like mine, a slip socks, and cape. The boys however, they wore jeans, and shoes, just not a shirt, with some wolf skin hanging from their heads safely wrapped around their necks. It literally felt like we were recreating little red riding hood. Only that, instead of the wolf hunting the little girl, the little girl hunted the wolf.

Ambrose wasn't wearing any of that. He wore a black turtleneck, with a leather black coat, and like the boys some jeans and shoes. Even tho he wasn't showing off his body, like the rest of them I prefer to look at Ambrose. Though I wouldn't have complained if Ambrose stood beside me with some wolf skin around his neck.

"Welcome to the final night of the Lupercalia. Hoods hunt wolves, witches hunt warlocks. The outcome of the Hunt shall determine the year ahead. Will it be bountiful or barren? Fruitful or fallow?Tonight, we hunt and are hunted, releasing our blessed magicks into the night." You could see the excitement in some of the girls, even Prudence was glowing today. "Warlocks, are you ready?" All of the boys let out a loud howl, just to be followed by Ambrose blowing onto the horn. Being done with that, he turned towards the girls. "And, witches, are you ready?" I howled as loud as I could, while holding onto Prudence. And following that, Ambrose again blew on the horn, and everyone started to run.

You could hear the yells, screams and giggles everyone was making. My hold on Prudence was strong, while we made our way through the woods. The girls where jumping on the guys, some even going to the ones they weren't match to. One of those was Dorcas. I wasn't Surprised.

In an instance, Ambrose passed by us, running like only he could do. Fast and free. Without knowing it, I was a giggling mess like everyone else. Running after the ones they were looking for.  And before long, Ambrose stopped, and I was in between his arms. Our lips met, and I don't know if it was the night, or the Adrenalin inside me. But I wanted him. I wanted them both.

The kiss was rushed and deep. But before long I was without air. Ambrose let go of me, so I could be able to catch my breath, and instead he kissed Prudence. We dumbly made our way into a safe hidden place, where the capes where thrown to the side, and the clothes made a bath to the place we where hiding. I was currently kissing Prudence. While Ambrose kissed my neck, slowly making his way down onto my chest.

We where hungry, full of lust, and it was hot. The cold night changing temperatures because of how close our bodies where. More clothes where being dispersed onto the floor and before long we where all naked.

Our bodies United.

And we were all one. Like it was supposed to be from the start.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 6: There Are No Saints in New Orleans

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Come one, come all to the exclusive (even among the elite) event of the evening; a show not to be missed and sure to be the talk of the town for years to come. That's right, you'll only find it here at Persephone. Werewolf vs. Minotaur — to the death!

[READ IT ON AO3]

An old-fashioned iron elevator lines Persephone’s back wall. Pull back the metal doors and step in to crystal-clear glass without a smudge or streak in sight. It would be a nice way to look down on the club’s main floor from above — to take in all the things limited by distance and closeness.

But when Taylor sees the equally-clear panel that slides aside to allow the elevator to descend into a plunging endless black he rethinks how cool it is. Like, immediately.

They approach keeping close behind Cadence and Katherine. Ryder catches him looking over his shoulder and throws a subtle arm around his shoulder, whispers “keep your eyes ahead, you look like you’re up to something” in his ear, and remains at ease.

Some people just aren’t used to this sort of life, but thanks for the tip?

An attendant presses the call button on the elevator’s rigging. Summons it from the topmost floor in the smoothest glide he’s ever seen. There’s no way that’s just human technology at work.

Another attendant — similar, not identical — pulls open the grate doors where a third steps aside for them to enter.

He guesses she’s fae by the way her skin shimmers like glitter beneath the surface and the point of her ears. Doesn’t say anything just in case he’s wrong and might somehow offend them, but the golden highlight under almost obsidian skin is breathtaking nonetheless.

Though she becomes breathtaking in a whole new way when Taylor watches her eyes drift subtly to the signet rings on the hands of their guides.

She holds up a long-fingered hand before Ryder, Taylor, and Cal can join them.

“Rings, sers.”

Ryder jumps at the opportunity — cocks a brow and starts what has to be a prepared monologue; “I knew you’d ask. Wouldn’t you know, what happened was —”

“Rings, sers.” She cuts him off, unfazed.

He looks behind her to Katherine; already inside the elevator and leaning against the back railing. But it’s Cadence who steps forward, places a feather-light touch on the attendant’s arm to draw her attention.

How the towering man manages to look so unassuming is a mystery. Even his smile seems genuine — but it can’t be. Especially not from the way Ryder spoke to him earlier. If Taylor hadn’t seen those red eyes for himself he’d have a hard time believing the man was anything potentially dangerous.

“I can vouch for them, miss.” He offers.

Just when it looks like he’s disarmed her with his smile, the fae shakes her head. Though when she replies she’s kinder in tone; recognizes his status as assumed by the ring.

“It is my job, ser.”

“I don’t remember security being this tight during the Lunar Eclipse.”

“Increased measures due to recent events, ser,” she nods imploringly, “all for the protection of the guests, Persephone-assured.”

Taylor blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “We just lost our rings in one of the rooms, that’s all!”

But it’s not enough. She starts to wave down the other two workers. “These things happen, ser, we understand. However until your rings are recovered we cannot allow use of Persephone’s services.”

When Katherine finally joins the conversation she’s got a furrowed brow and a hint of ire on her tongue.

“Jesus, Nik, leave it to you and your new boyfriends to make everyone’s fucking lives that much harder.”

Everyone’s startled for different reasons. Taylor and Cal exchange glances, mouth ‘boyfriends?’ in absolute bewilderment. Nik looks ready to smother her with his sleeve it it’ll stop her current train of thought. The attendant’s cheeks go slightly blue with what must be their version of embarrassment at her vulgar language.

Only she doesn’t stop there. “Let me guess — while you had me and Cade waiting at the poker game you were… what, getting off in the steam room?”

And because he’s always been a sucker for improv Taylor takes Nik and Cal’s hands in his and squeezes. “I don’t really think that’s your business.”

“What, my partner isn’t my business?” she snaps.

“When he’s with us he’s definitely not your partner, honey.”

Katherine’s got a twinkle in her eye — elbows Cadence into action subtly while the attendant looks between them to see if she can settle their tiff on her own or if she’ll need backup.

“Like I care what your newest little toy has to say,” Katherine rolls her eyes dramatically, “but you kept us waiting then and you’re holding us up now! If Izzy’s gone by the time —”

“Pardon her,” Cadence leans down and apologizes to the fae in a low voice, “she’s had a bit of a night.”

“I—I can tell.” Comes the squeaked-out reply.

“We really don’t want to cause a scene.”

“Of course.”

“Oh come on,” jeers Taylor — now fully in-character, “like poker compares to what we can give him? You’re out of your mind.”

Cadence hisses through clenched teeth and lets the fae fill in the rest for herself. This doesn’t have to turn into a big scene. You only have to let them through.

She finally cracks; lets out a helpless little noise and stands aside. “We’ll have the spa searched for your missing belongings. Forgive us for delaying your — er — Persephone experience.”

The attendants are probably meant to stay in the elevator for the duration of the ride but as the three of them shuffle in — Taylor and Katherine now coming to verbal blows about some throwaway comment from “Miami last year!” — she worms her way out, presses the button for the lowest floor behind her, and helps her fellow worker close the gates to send them on their way.

Only when the glass panels close and plunge them into darkness does the fighting end.

He can hear Katherine’s smirk. “Not too shabby… who are you, again?”

“Taylor. That was actually kinda fun.”

“You really dropped the ball there, Ryder.”

“Hey, Kathy?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Not a chance.”

The noise is first. Cheers of joy and frustration and a distinct thudding followed by the clap-clap of hooves.

Then come the lights; less fancy and bright than the ones back on the main level but they’re probably there for an ambiance or something — part of the fixation the rich have with things looking shabby and poor. And through the glass floor it doesn’t take long for their eyes to adjust.

The last piece of the puzzle is the smell — old things like rust on chain-link fences and concrete that bring him back to the city for a flash. And underneath it the sour, coppery smell Taylor’s only recently come to understand is blood, freshly spilled.

It’s not just a cage match — it’s a bona fide Fight Club being held a couple stories underneath the wealthiest properties in New Orleans.

The crowd hangs in a thick mass of sweat and expensive perfumes around the center cage. Sways like the tide to keep their eyes on the fighters within as they rumble around their confines.

Up high they get a rare chance to see the fighting full-blown. Rare, and terrible.

Taylor barely has time to clasp his hand over his mouth and hold back his exclamation. Watches as the hulking stone troll — it’s not Krom, it’s not Krom, it’s not Krom — with geologic muscles pounds its fists against its chest and rushes at a startling speed towards the opponent.

The owner of the hooves is a satyr; half the troll’s height with horns included and stocky rather than built. There’s a chip in the curved ram-like horns and blood running down its face from a broken nose.

It stomps against the concrete — and he has to ignore the splatters of dried blood in various colors to focus on the fight itself — and braces. Makes Taylor want to yell for it to move because there’s no way it can hold back the sheer weight alone of the troll. He almost can’t watch. But it’s like a train wreck — he can’t look away.

The crowd erupts with noise at the collision. The satyr is stronger than it looks; holds back the troll first with its horns and doesn’t give it time to grab for the softer, fleshier parts before charging, bull-like, to push the heavier opponent all the way to the other side of the cage.

Then it goes dark; the hand over his eyes just a little clammy. The troll roars in agony.

He pulls Ryder’s hand away just in time to see the troll fall face-first. Thin, watery blood pools beneath it. His confusion doesn’t last long when he notices a jagged, torn edge of the caging bent into the cage like a spike.

“No weapons inside,” Nik explains lowly; like he’s holding some sort of reverence for the troll now being dragged limp by its arms from the arena, “but that doesn’t stop the resourceful.”

A shirtless duo, what look like a brother and sister with a beauty so striking it can’t possibly be of this world, enter and take the satyr’s hands to raise it up as champion. Most of the crowd boos and jeers — Taylor can see why when the money begins changing hands near the shaded back of the space.

“People enjoy this?” He can’t help it when his voice cracks.

“Violence is just another luxury when you’ve got enough money.”

The elevator grinds to a halt and Cadence pulls the doors open for their exit.

“Keep close.” Ryder doesn’t give him much of a choice, what with the arm around his shoulders, but Taylor’s definitely not arguing right now. Not with what he just witnessed.

Several steps and something feels off — missing. Makes him look around to find Cal a few paces behind with a sickly pallor and his hands balled into fists.

“Cal, what’s wrong?”

It draws the attention of the others. Katherine follows the werewolf’s line of sight and mutters more than a few expletives under her breath.

The walls are lined with (no doubt expensive) graffiti and posters larger than life. Some are peeling at the corners and bear ink faded with time and what might have once been sunlight. Now they’re almost relics of a bygone era — no, eras — of fighting.

Nearest the elevator has to be the most recent title match. Glossy paper smoothed down and tacked in with polished nails, colors still vibrant and with a large piece of tape bearing SOLD OUT across the front partially obscuring the words.

But it doesn’t take a genius to piece it together.

MARDI GRAS EXCLUSIVE!! ONLY FOUND AT PERSEPHONE!! MINOTAUR VS. WEREWOLF!! $5K BUY IN!! ASK YOUR ATTENDANT FOR DETAILS!!

Before Taylor can reach his side Cal doubles over and empties his stomach at his feet. They’re far back enough that it doesn’t grab anyone’s attention. Already the next round of bets is beginning and the mob is losing itself with greed and a hunger for blood.

“Hey — Cal, hey,” he rubs the man’s broad back as he gags up the last of his spittle, “we’re here, we’ll get Donny before anything happens. He’s not gonna fight.”

Cal rights himself shakily; wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

“How do you know — guh — he hasn’t already?”

He doesn’t. And doesn’t want to try and give Cal false hope. But his face says everything before he can try to put on a smile — makes Cal nod grimly.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

A gaggle of goblin onlookers herd aside just in time for them to spot the bouncers haul away the unconscious stone troll through a metal warehouse door.

Ryder jerks his head that way. “Likely where they’ve got all the fighters.”

“So let’s go.” Cal growls; starts to push his way through the bodies before Ryder grabs him and holds him back. “What the hell?”

Katherine clicks her tongue. “You don’t know what match they’re on. Storm in there now and every fighter who wants to be here could be back there waiting to turn you into ground beef.”

“But Don —”

“We’ve come too far to risk it now, Cal. Please…” The wolf looks into Taylor’s eyes — then his shoulders sag with a nod.

“Fine. Just until we see what round they’re on.”

Ryder lets out a low whistle that draws Katherine’s attention. Sweeps her gaze over to what has to be some kind of VIP corner with a poor excuse for bleachers dotted with better-dressed guests smoking cigars and being served by attendants.

Most of those guests are crowded around an older woman in all black. Set lines from an unkind tussle with the years around her thin lips and deep in her forehead. She doesn’t sacrifice her wealth for her mourning; and the high-cut thigh slit on her gown isn’t something you’d expect at a funeral anyway.

“Let me guess, Izzy?” Taylor asks as quietly as he can — practically whispering it in Ryder’s ear.

But he doesn’t get the chance to answer as Isadora's ruby eyes fall on their group from across the crowd. The same color as Cadence’s back up on the floor.

Oh.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Katherine scoffs; throws a dirty look back Taylor’s way before resuming her position on Cadence the vampire’s arm. “Don’t have any fun without us.”

With a tittering wave they’re gone — being let passed the velvet rope to Isadora's section and too far away for any of them to hear.

“What do you suppose they’re talking to her about?” He doesn’t bother whispering this time — knows they can hear him even if they don’t look his way before the movement of the crowd obscures them from view.

Ryder shakes his head grimly. “Nothing good. So let’s not be caught making it our business.”

Though the betters and onlookers are of the same caliber as the party-goers back upstairs, the ambiance of the space is just different. Taylor isn’t the only one who feels it, either. Every time he grabs for Cal’s arm to keep them all together he feels the shiver of goosebumps — the wolf within knows something here is inherently wrong.

Up above it hadn’t seemed like all that shining wealth could be housed within the same realm as the thing that had gone after him in the cemetery. Now, though, he gets it. This is the real world; all the paint washed off and costumes put away.

He definitely doesn’t find it as beautiful anymore.

An unseen announcer takes to a pitchy speaker system to let everyone know the next match is in fifteen minutes and that all bets are final. It incites those around them to start placing their final calls — jostles them like a sudden storm at sea.

He stumbles as a figure forces himself between Taylor and Nik. Scrawny shoulders like cut stones and a rusty mop of hair that ends just above a set of pointed ears suddenly turning to look at him with way too much malice for a stranger to have.

“Watch where you’re going, mortal.” When he speaks the fae’s accented voice cracks in a way Taylor’s all-too familiar with. It makes him grin despite himself and when the stranger takes an almost comical level of offense to it he laughs, too.

With no shame, of course.

“What in the blazes is so funny?!” It’s obvious the kid — god, he can’t be more than a teenager or… whatever that is in elf years — puffs out his chest to look a little bit more intimidating. Obvious and wholly ineffective.

Lucky for Taylor the only kind of people that make him look less masculine are preteen boys.

“I’m —” pause to breathe again, “— I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I…” No, yeah, he is.

“How dare you,” is the sneered response, “do you know who I am? When I tell my father of your impertinence you will rue this!”

Well that just kind of kills the joke. Makes Taylor look back to Cal who doesn’t make a show of hiding his curled upper lip.

“Whoa there. Calm down Little Elfen Annie, you bumped into my friend, here. So how about instead of empty threats you try an apology?”

Somehow the youth finds more of himself to puff out but it’s no match for Cal’s werewolf physique. He dwarfs the redhead effortlessly. And only then does the kid notice.

“Of course you’re a shifter. One of the impure, no doubt.”

Taylor gawks. “Hey, watch it. Now you’re just being a dick.”

“You vulgar —”

“You wanna talk vulgarity twerp you ain’t heard —”

“Oh god — N-Nik! Nik! Ni —”

They all three fall silent when Ryder’s calloused hand falls on the elf’s decorated shoulder. Makes him look up (and up) into the Nighthunter’s stone-cold expression with the barest flicker of fear showing through his bravado.

“Get. lost.”

Ryder doesn’t have to tell him twice. Though he does make it look like he’s choosing to leave — rights his blazer and mutters something in a lilting language under his breath that Taylor thinks he catches a bit of but, obviously, doesn’t speak so he lets it go.

“What the hell happened to ‘laying low?’” Nik scolds the pair of them. Barely enough to get Cal to calm down. “Put it on ice, Kujo. Before you get us kicked out and then no one’s gonna save your brother’s sorry tail.”

Whatever curse Cal throws at Ryder’s turned back is lost when the crowd starts cheering and chanting around the cage. Draws their attentions to the far end where the back door opens and a large, hulking shadow casts over the dim lit hallway beyond.

“We know you’re all buzzing for the fight of the night, folks!” comes the Announcer’s voice overhead. Cal whispers a “no…” and Taylor feels his stomach drop out from under him.

“But we thought we’d give the poor wolf pup a fightin’ chance. So who wants to see our reigning champion take on the as-yet undefeated Corbyn the Satyr?!”

All around come shouts and chants of “bloody him!” and “break his face!” — along with the odd “get me my money’s worth, damn goat!”

Then a loud snorting noise rings through the arena and makes a hush fall over the crowd.

“Min-o-taur.”

“Min-o-taur.”

“Min-o-taur! Min-o-taur! MIN-O-TAUR!”

Soon the chant fills the air like a gospel. Draws out the god in question from the doorway in a prayer.

The Minotaur is everything and more. Just like in the movies but real; a real bull’s head on top of a real hairy body covered in mottled scars and wounds that fade into two of the biggest blackest hooves Taylor’s ever seen.

Atop his head are polished horns that, even from a distance, he knows could impale him without resistance.

The Minotaur stomps into the middle of the cage and raises its large arms. Encourages the crowd to chant higher, louder, faster. It revels in the sound of its name; tips back it’s enormous head and lets out a deep howl that actually shakes the metal of the cage. The crowd bursts into cheers like animals possessed at the sound of it.

For the first time Ryder actually looks worried.

“We gotta find that kid wolf before that thing tears out his spine.”

Taylor cringes at the mental image. “Jesus, Ryder, have some —”

“No,” Cal interrupts hollowly; never looks away from the Minotaur as it riles up the crowd by hammering its fists on its chest and bellowing in their faces, “he’s right. Donny’s dead if he gets in that cage.”

Just as the creature huffs in a group of faces at the front there’s a hot breath on the back of Taylor’s neck. Makes him yelp and jump sky-high away from the shiver that curdles up his spine.

“Hnn what the hell?!”

The perpetrator, a lemon-yellow goblin with a head almost as tall as his torso, grins his equally yellow teeth at them with fingers folded at his chin.

“Did Meerl hear right?” the goblin eyes Taylor up and down like a snack and it’s an experience he never wants to have ever ever again, “When Meerl was hearing that little mortal man wants in cage?”

Meerl (apparently) wiggles his fingers like long spider legs. “Meerl can make this happen.”

“Wha —” — nope, nope, a big fat fucking nope — “— no way, I —”

“Yeah, we want in.” Nik interrupts, holds Taylor back and snaps several times to grab Meerl’s glittering glance.

“How much?”

Cal snarls. “Ryder, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, wolfpack,” then he repeats; “I asked how much, worm.”

“Meerl only asks for small percent — small percent of mortal’s winning.”

“That’s assumin’ he wins.”

“Meerl can make this happen.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, yes. Come speak with Meerl — Meerl will make mortal rich.”

Before Taylor can protest any further Meerl starts off; pushing his spindly way through the throng just as the cage door shuts with the satyr Corbyn and the Minotaur locked inside.

He grabs onto Ryder in a panic. “What are you doing?!”

The answer he gets isn’t verbal — instead it’s just a look on his bodyguard’s face that (against his body’s wishes, very much so) makes Taylor’s heart do a backflip and stick the landing.

“Do you trust me to keep you safe?” Nik doesn’t take. Not this time. Instead just offers his hand cuts and all. He can hear Cal start to protest behind him and, farther up, sees Meerl turn and give them what he probably thinks is a sweet smile and a wave of his claws.

“Taylor.”

Nik’s voice brings him back to himself. What the fuck am I doing?

He hesitates… then puts his hand in Nik’s.

“I trust you.”

“Then come on.”

He throws back a pleading look at Cal — who definitely still opposes, but follows with a single nod.

Nik pulls him along in a secure grip to where Meerl waits. The closer to the cage the tighter the fit but they manage. All the way across the room to the metal door guarded by two suited stone trolls.

“Shit,” says one, and looks the three of them over, “you actually found one?”

“Meerl does good business, should not doubt Meerl,” the goblin croons. With a doubtful glance to his companion the troll shrugs and opens the door.

“Come, come friends,” Taylor tries not to let the goblin’s chuckling dissuade him from trusting Ryder as they’re led inside, “good business to be done.”

If he squeezes Nik’s hand a little tighter when the door slams shut, the hunter is a real bro and doesn’t mention it.

The thing about Meerl’s deal is that it isn’t a bad one in theory.

It’s Their way of keeping the fighting interesting and preventing people from accusing the club of rigging every match. Bring a Joe Schmoe in from the crowd itself and, should he win, most of the winnings are his. It’s a good return of investments for those who spend a little bit too much time and money betting on fighters.

And little Meerl gets a cut of the winnings. Not even half, not even a quarter! There would definitely be enough left over for the inevitable medical bills.

So it’s a sound theory — for someone like the Minotaur.

For the human going up against said Minotaur? Well yeah it’s a fucking death sentence; a warm-up routine for the hulking creature and an easy paycheck for the goblin whose job it is to bring in fresh meat.

Not that any of this is said out in the open but it’s obvious. Like, painfully obvious.

Which is why Ryder isn’t actually considering entertaining the idea.

Wait… right?

The fact that they’re led to a small room with only a desk and some paperwork should raise way more alarms on his so-called ‘bodyguard’ than his behavior would suggest.

Cal tries to keep out of the way; “I’ll wait out here, keep an eye on things,” but Meerl isn’t having it and ushers him in alongside. Closes the door to give them ‘privacy to discuss business matters,’ or whatever.

Doesn’t stop the wolf from nudging Taylor’s arm and jerking his head back out to the dark corridor. Not that they’ve gotten close enough in the—oh—three, four hours they’ve known each other by now but he doesn’t have to be psychic to get it.

Cal’s caught Donny’s scent. They’re in the right place at the wrong time.

The goblin scrambles to work; a fire lit under his yellow ass as he starts grabbing and shuffling piles of paper, packets, and waivers of various official pastels. Starts explaining everything in that hasty way one does when things aren’t completely legit. But Ryder eats it up like he’s just won the lottery.

Frankly it’s disturbing seeing him smile that much.

Before they suffer death by a thousand paper cuts, though, he puts his palm down on the already too-high stack of liability forms. His smile is so greasy it makes the goblin look positively angelic.

“I think this is a great starting point, Meerl,” he grabs Taylor by the shoulder and shakes him with camaraderie, “but this is my kid’s first fight — cold feet, you know.”

“Oh yes yes, yes Meerl knows.”

“So may~be you could gimme a few minutes with him? Help settle those nerves in a special way.”

It’s the wink that makes Taylor lean back. “Uh, excuse you?”

But Meerl is already stood and skittering towards the door. “Oh yes — yes Meerl sees this quite often, Meerl does. Give you, hm, say five minutes, yes?”

“Ten.”

“Six.”

“Fifteen!”

Turns out yellow skin goes sort of orange when it pales. But Meerl accepts with a huff and a nod. “Ten minutes, Meerl will give. Then new mortal will face champion — then champion will face wolf pup.”

The pop pop of Cal’s cracked knuckles as he clenches his fists echoes through the concrete walls.

“Or maybe the new mortal — er, me, you know what I mean! — maybe I’ll face the wolf pup.” Taylor jibes.

Any sensible person would take the way the goblin throws his head back in laughter as a clear sign to get the hell out.

“Yes,” Meerl’s tone is nothing short of placating as he closes the door behind him, “yes maybe—maybe…”

And though he may not be perfectly sensible, Taylor’s sensible enough to smack Ryder over the head the moment they’re all alone.

“Hi, yeah remember that ‘trust’ you asked for? It’s waning — fast.”

Maybe a little less so when Ryder scoops the paperwork onto the floor in a colorful confetti-like array. There’s no imagining his satisfaction.

“I got us back here, didn’t I?”

“With the sleaze-ball right outside the door.”

Ryder ignores him for Cal; “Can you track him from here?”

“He’s definitely close,” he’s almost breathless with anticipation, fear, worry; “he’s terrified.”

“I would be if I had to face that thing, too.”

Either the stone walls suck at muffling sounds or the crowd is losing its collective shit over the match. He knows which is more likely.

Ryder continues; reaches into one of the inside pockets on his coat and winds something long and dark around his fist. “So we’re all clear on the plan?”

Cal nods tersely. Taylor, not so much.

“Uhm, when was there a plan? Did I miss talking about a plan?”

“Jesus,” the hunter pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m gonna start calling you Rookie if you can’t keep up.”

Before Taylor can protest, though, Cal comes to his rescue. “Same thing it’s always been. We got in — now we find Donny and get out as quick as we can. And probably try not to get our faces busted in on the way.”

“And once we’re out?” He looks back and forth so fast he gets a bit dizzy, “You said Kristof was sending some of the Pack after him. Won’t you be on the run?”

“You let me worry about that. I’ll get you your Sage and we can part ways.”

Ryder nods curtly; flexes what Taylor can now see clearly as a thickly braided leather cord between his hands. “Sounds good.”

“No, no it doesn’t!”

“Taylor,” and Cal shouldn’t sound as sure as he does given his situation — not just the one he’s in but the one he’s going to be in, “hey — we’ll be okay. Thanks for the concern but… we’ll be okay.”

It’s likely Ryder’s keen Nighthunter-honed senses that spring him into action because any more time to delay and Taylor might just talk them into a newer, tighter corner than the one they’re already in. But just abandoning Cal after, well, after everything? It just doesn’t sit right in his gut.

“On my signal.”

He barely paints the fake smile back on before rapping his wrapped knuckles on the door. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Is that the signal? No, because he doesn’t move when the wiggly door knob turns and Meerl’s scratchy voice sing-songs through the gap; “Good good! Meerl promises —”

No, the signal is the cutoff and choking gasps of Nik winding the bulk of the cord around the goblin’s skinny throat. Hands flailing, grasping for purchase where there is none while his tongue lolls out and eyes bulge even farther out of their sockets than they already do.

“Knock him out!” hisses Ryder through clenched teeth. Angles their dear friend Meerl over to Cal’s drawn-back fist.

The punch collides with a sickening cracking noise; something definitely broken in either the wolf’s hand or the goblin’s face. Taylor and likely the betting crowd outside would have all their earnings on the latter.

But just before he falls Meerl manages a single attack; sharp nails digging unforgiving into Ryder’s forearm before his eyes roll back into unconsciousness.

Ryder recoils and the body falls through the doorway just as Taylor catches the sound of footsteps halting. His heart stops — only barely starts back up again when he recognizes the distinct metal-tipped sound.

Cadence peeks a head around the doorway; pushes up his glasses before they fall off of his nose. Behind him Katherine appears with a long dagger in hand.

“Here they are.” Cadence announces with all the glee of a man stating the obvious. He catches sight of Meerl and quickly steps away from the long tongue just an inch from his boot. “Ew.”

He gives Taylor a slight wave. Entirely too optimistic for the current situation. Unsure of what else to do Taylor just… waves back?

Ryder, however, is furious. “Kath—what the hell —” he looks around them both to check the coast is clear, “— are you doing back here?!”

Katherine barely has time to return the dagger to a well-concealed holder on her thigh before Cadence pulls her in for a disgruntled side-hug.

“She was worried about you.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t need to,” he admonishes, “I could tell. Kept watching them during our meeting with Isadora — she noticed, by the way. So thanks for that.”

“You didn’t hire me to kiss her ass.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Without being asked Cadence joins Ryder in dragging Meerl’s body fully into the room.

Cal looks between them as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “If we’re done with the childish bullshit? My brother’s about to get beaten to death.”

He pushes past Katherine with nothing more than a grunt. If she wants to say anything she doesn’t; bites her tongue and probably everyone’s benefit.

Taylor calls out, “Cal, wait up!” and follows on his heels as quickly as he can. Doesn’t look back to see if the others will follow but he doesn’t have to.

Bodyguard, remember?

The corridor seems to stretch on forever. Open doors lead to empty rooms and closed doors — well — Cal may be in a hurry but he has the sense not to open them without being absolutely sure what’s on the other side.

They’re so far back he can barely hear the noises from the arena. All it takes is one look down to his feet and he collides hard into the werewolf’s solid muscle. Flails a hand out only to be caught by his strong grip.

“Here — he’s here! Donny! Donny can you hear me?! It’s Cal! Donny!” He tries the handle; growls in primal frustration at the lock. Starts trying to knock it down with the brunt of his weight in a frenzy.

“Donny! Donny hold on!”

Cadence and the Nighthunters arrive just as Cal lets out a bestial growl; teeth grit and definitely more canine than human as he gives a final shove and breaks a splintered hole in the door. Knocks it off its hinges and sends it flying inward.

Cal rushes in — zeroes on a dark-haired and twiggy kid pressed against the bars that hold him captive.

“Cal!” The kid cries, voice thick and choked with eyes red-rimmed from tears. His hands shake as they grasp for one another like sheer force of will can make the bars disappear between them. Cal buries his nose in the mop of dark hair and inhales deeply, lets something wild shift underneath his skin before it settles; satisfied with the scent of kin.

“Christ, Donny —” he pulls back and thumbs away a fresh wave of tears, “— you’re such an idiot! I was worried sick about you!”

“I’m so sorry Cal, I’m so so sorry.” Donny hiccoughs; tries to right himself like he has something to prove.

But how can anyone prove themselves trapped in a cell? One of a dozen on either side stretching further into the labyrinth underneath Persephone.

Taylor and the others follow in — no door to close behind them but they’re far beyond that now. Take in the state of not only the kid but a couple others who press themselves up to their bars in desperation.

“Please get me out of here!”

“I’ve got the money, I swear! Get me out and I’ll pay off Lady Smoke I promise!”

“Please, please!”

“I don’t want to fight anymore!”

It’s involuntary how Taylor turns away and into the newfound safety of Ryder’s shoulder. He can feel the shaking of the man’s hand as it falls on his back.

Katherine lets out a choked noise beside them. “Holy shit, this is…”

“This is too far.” Cadence answers; knows they were thinking the same thing by the way she’s left speechless.

His grunts of effort and frustration fill the room as Cal tries to yank off the door — instinct overriding common sense.

Ryder reaches out, tries to stop him, but ends up on the business end of those same pointed teeth when the wolf rounds on him with bright yellow eyes.

“Whoa now,” Ryder holds up his hands and shimmies down his left sleeve to show a long metal tool, “I’m just tryin’a help.”

“Cal — I already tried that.” Donny reaches out and his touch soothes the beast within. Makes Cal remember himself enough to give Ryder an apologetic nod of his head before stepping aside.

He huffs in silence like he’s the one caged, not his brother. But not all cages are metal, are they?

Ryder takes a knee in front of the door, starts to fiddle with the lock. Katherine takes his cue and procures a lockpick of her own to start working on the other cells.

Cadence keeps his distance from the occupants but looks them over with almost medical appraisal. “You’re here because you owe Lady Smoke on some level?”

A few cells down hooves echo and a woman leans forward; presses her face against the bars and peers at them through two swollen blackened eyes. The centaur leans down and rubs the tight muscle of one of her front legs — she favors it when she shifts in place.

“Some of us couldn’t pay up; others just not in time.”

“Were you given a choice to fight?”

She nods. “Again; some. I wouldn’t fit on her private floor, though, so I was just brought down here to fight.”

It makes Katherine let out a wordless, mindless shout of anger. She struggles with the lockpick. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“It’s gotta be illegal…” Taylor tries. Only to be met with pitying faces.

Cadence shakes his head. “Not here. Though when it comes to Lady Smoke they’re lucky to still be alive.”

The centaur scoffs. “At least if I die in the cage there’ll be a body to bring back to my wife.”

It makes his blood run cold. “Who is this Smoke woman?”

Not even the captives have anything to say and that says a whole lot. Whoever she is she’s a part of this world that he doesn’t want to get involved in — that much is clear.

A thunk and Donny’s door swings open. He and Cal embrace without restraint this time and there’s such a heavy importance to it that Taylor finds himself looking away. Like he’s intruding.

Ryder moves on to the next cell and together he and Katherine work as quickly as they can to free the others.

Katherine sweeps the trail of her dress aside in front of the centaur but stops when a hand of bloodied knuckles rests over hers. Looks up into the human face with reverence.

“Don’t. I asked for this.”

“You didn’t. Nobody asks for… for this.”

“It was fight or let them take my home; my livelihood. It’s hard enough for the glamourless to get by these days. I didn’t want my wife to lose the roof over her head, too.”

Kathy’s jaw sets. “Then we’ll find you a new livelihood. Get you and your wife out of the city —”

“And where would we go?” Her laugh is rueful with a whinnying touch. “My family cast me out for marrying a biped. This is the only place we’ve found to call our own.

“Sssh, Nighthunter,” her thumb caresses Katherine’s hand gently, “no more arguments. I do not intend to die in a cage. And when I return to my love we’ll be free of the Smoke’s reins.”

“She deserves to keep her choice, Kathy,” Ryder coaxes her up and though his touch might intend to comfort her it doesn’t; makes her pull away as if in pain.

In that intimate moment Taylor was sure he saw a different person in her eyes. But whoever that person was — maybe caring, maybe mournful — she’s gone now. Replaced with Katherine and her hard edges.

“Whatever.”

The four other freed prisoners don’t stick around long enough for similar sentimental moments. Hopefully they’ve been down there long enough that they know their way out.

Donny, his hand in his brother’s like a vice, tries to follow them. “Let’s get out of here.” But Cal doesn’t move — makes him try again. “Cal, come on. I hate this place let’s go.”

There’s an unspoken understanding between those left standing.

It’s not enough to just open the doors. The cage needs to be torn down.

Cal sighs in defeat. “Well, they were promised a wolf in the cage. I can go — hey, what the—?”

They all watch as Cadence rounds on a metal heel and abandons them. Katherine barely has time to look back before hiking her skirts up for her dagger and following; calling out for him to wait for her to catch up.

“What’re you thinking? Cade? Cade! Cadence Smith you stop right there! Or at least let me catch up!”

Everyone catches up in time for Cadence to shove the back passage door open.

The pair must have initially gone through without confrontation — judging by the surprised looks on the guard trolls faces. One reaches out with a large sandstone grip but the vampire is too fast for him — moves faster than Taylor can blink and turns the tables with a grasp of his own.

“Oi — let me — GAH!”

He’s too loud not to be noticed. Draws the attention of the nearest patrons and from there it’s a domino effect as the mob pushes and jostles one another to try and get a look at the action.

The stone troll holds up a stump where his hand used to be. Looks down in horror at the remains of two limp fingers and the rest of his hand as a pile of sand. Cadence steps through the pile rather than over it. Leaves him to his agony without so much as a word.

Even the Minotaur — now alone in the cage and egging those still watching on with demonstrations of rippling muscles and the shine of its nose ring — stops. And that — that gets the arena’s attention.

In one last attempt to stop him Katherine reaches out; misses him by a bare inch and can’t stop Cadence from grabbing the announcer by the throat to pin him to the cage.

The seemingly mortal man is already red in the face from his work shouting. Lack of oxygen makes him almost purple under the flickering lights. Anger, outrage quickly melts into confusion then fear when he realizes his large and seemingly impenetrable guards aren’t coming to rescue him.

“I—gek—Can I hh-elp you, frie-end?” He chokes into his mic.

Before Katherine can lunge forward Ryder grabs her; holds her back. For her own safety.

“Cade — don’t do this!”

Her protest falls on deaf ears. When the vampire answers he does so close enough for the speakers to catch him — his barely repressed rage translates even though the static.

“Tell your audience your main event is canceled!”

And doesn’t that get everyone riled up.

“Wha—what?!” He covers the mic with a shaky purpling hand. “What the fuck are you on, man? Le-et me do-own!”

He falls back on his feet. Just in time to catch Cadence’s suit jacket before it hits his face; blinds him.

Cadence liberates him of his microphone for his trouble. “Though first you should tell them that your promised contender is nothing more than a child!” A jabbed finger parts the wealthy sea; Donny clings tighter to his brother as all eyes fall on him. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the werewolf that was promised! Not a wolf but a cub — who you would see torn limb from limb!

“And because I know there are far too many of you who aren’t sickened — nay, repulsed — by the idea of a child being mauled for your delight; to those I offer you this sobering thought! Not much of a fair fight, is it?!”

His words spread like a wildfire — dissent beginning to rile those who have shared money and hands through the night. Taylor catches sight of a man too late — doesn’t have time to stop him from shoving the announcer back against the cage with a shout.

“I should’a known this shit was rigged!”

“Hey, watch it pal!”

“No, you watch it!”

There’s electrical feedback as Katherine renews her attempts — tries to wrestle the mic from her employer to no avail. He brushes her off like a hurricane would a butterfly.

“Fear not, vermin, you will get the fight you were promised. And a fair one at that.”

He’s done with it now; shoves it into Katherine’s claws and busies himself rolling up his sleeves.

“Cadence — you’re not yourself.” And because he doesn’t know better she actually sounds afraid.

“How do you know?” There’s a dry laughter to his words. “You don’t. I don’t, either. But maybe this is it — maybe this is me. And even if it isn’t I’m not going to let a child pay a debt like a man.”

But Cal’s had enough. “If they want a wolf they’ll get a wolf! This isn’t your fight!”

“No,” and it’s with a foreign tenderness that Cal removes his spectacles and pries the single golden loop from his ear; drops them into Katherine’s waiting hand, “but neither is it yours.”

“Don’t let him do this.” Taylor tries to push his way through the crowd; but is stopped by Ryder’s hand on his jacket sleeve. He’s deceptively stronger than he looks. “Nik!”

“No, Rookie. We’re sitting this one out.”

Taylor struggles but to no avail. “But—”

“I said no.” Means it, too, by the end-of-discussion way he clips his teeth. “This guy is nuts, Kathy.”

And it seems the Nighthunters have finally found one thing on which they agree.

“Yeah,” she can’t — or won’t — look away from Cadence’s back, “desperation does that to you.”

When he’s ready, scarlet eyes fall on the announcer still shivering in place. Make him jump to Cadence’s attention.

“Open the cage.”