#AFY fic

[callsignspark]

anything for you | part one

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed 

word count: 4.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: I wrote and edited this in about eight hours on Tuesday last week and then got my appendix out on Wednesday, so it's a bit later than I said it would be. Some friends and moots are tagged at the end, have a good weekend!

Friday, February 10, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 2100 PST

It was late. Later than she ever worked. But the project was done, the week was over, and now the weekend could be enjoyed. Daydreams of a hot bath and chocolate are interrupted by an alert from her security system.

Someone is in her house.

A quick review of the cameras told her it was one of the idiots that hung around her father – the insignia on his jacket sleeve a dead giveaway – and her heart rate slightly slowed. She would have to find out the identity of the man in her home once she got there. Whoever it was, he was lucky enough to avoid facing the cameras but apparently not smart enough to realize they were there. Maybe she’d introduce him to the baseball bat that had a permanent home in her trunk. Pedal to the floor, she stewed in her anger on the drive home and created a simple six-step plan:

1. Park around the corner to avoid detection. 2. Sneak through Mrs. Klempner's backyard. (Do not destroy the roses.) 3. Review live footage and determine best entry point. 4a. If identity of man is unknown – subdue with baseball bat. 4b. If identity of man is known... subdue with baseball bat anyway. 5. Deal with idiot once consciousness is regained. 6. Suffer consequences from dipshit father at a later time.

As she slips through the gate of her back fence, arms covered in scratches from rose bushes and rage simmering in her chest, she reminds herself to be grateful that her neighbor's overgrown rat of a dog (and her mortal enemy) is already inside. A normal day would find Rufus barking from sunrise to whenever the elderly Mrs. Klempner remembered to let him back in the house. Taking his unnaturally high anger level out at anything and everything from the mailman (who agreed the obese Jack Russell terrier was a spawn of the devil himself) to a leaf that dared to fall within a 50-foot radius of his dog house.

"Never barks at anything actually important, though, stupid four-legged ball of blubber." She mutters to herself as she hides under the dining room window. "Okay, fuck head, let's see where you are."

Flicking through the feeds, she finds the man standing in her kitchen with his back still to the camera, drinking from one of the nice crystal glasses gifted to her by her mother. The nerve of this man!

Stashing her phone away, she peeks through the dining room window, only to find her mystery guest rummaging through her freshly stocked fridge. Her mouth drops when he comes back out with one of the peanut butter hearts she had bought herself as a Valentine's Day treat. I haven’t even had one of those yet! 

She doesn’t recognize the blonde man just from his ridiculously wide shoulders, but she does notice the flex of his arms as he unwraps the stolen sweet. None of the guys in her father’s crew are that broad. That means it’s someone from the Daggers. Which can only mean bad news. Or maybe she’ll get lucky, and the intruder will have news that her father is dead. Then he turns, she can feel the blood drain from her face as nausea creeps up her throat – luck was not on her side tonight. She knows the man standing in her kitchen.

Jacob Seresin. The Hangman.

Using the shadows of her house as cover, she slowly begins to move back toward the fence gate, trying to give her scrambling brain time to think of a new plan.

1. Slowly, quietly move to the gate – keep eyes on the house the whole time. 2. Sprint back to the car. Hit the highway. Head south. 3. At the first rest stop, pull as much cash from the ATM as possible. 4. Buy gas, scissors, hair dye, and as much non-perishable food as possible on a credit card. 5. Repeat steps 3 and 4 two more times. Create a paper trail. Keep moving south. 6. At the third stop: ditch cards, phone, and ID in the garbage on the way out. 7. Continue south for another 10 miles, then swing back to the north. 8. Head for Canada. Drive safe. Don't get pulled over – remember, no ID. 9. Once in Seattle, contact Vinnie for help crossing the-

"Where do you think you're going?"

The next ninety seconds happen fast. In just a few moments, the bat is swiped from her hand, and her mouth is bound with what she can only hope is a clean cloth. Two sets of hands restrain her arms, and a third her ankles. But only after she makes contact with someone’s family jewels. The satisfaction at the sound of his grunt and the thump of him dropping to his knees doesn’t last long as she’s dragged toward her own home. All of her attempts to break free or scream for help are woefully unsuccessful.

The back door opens, the silhouette of The Hangman filling the frame. "Will you get her inside already?"

"Something isn't right, Jake." The tall, bespectacled man on her left grunts, struggling to get the wiggling woman into the house without hurting her.

"She's been fighting us the entire way! Bob, let go; I’m just gonna carry her in." The even taller brunette on her right throws her into a fireman's carry and brings her into the house. "I don't think she knows what's going on."

"Ya fucking think, Bradshaw? Just get her in a chair and make sure she can't move. Where the fuck is Javy?"

A man with a thick mustache chokes back laughter. "Oh man, he took the bat out of her hands, and she got him right in the balls. Direct hit. Took him right down to his fucking knees. He's still out there trying to catch his breath."

"Someone, please go get him." The exasperation is clear in his voice, and even as she fights getting tied to a dining room chair, she can't help but think that the most feared man in the city looks exhausted.

"You don't know why I'm here, do you?"

The question catches her by surprise, allowing the men to finish securing her feet. She hadn't been directly addressed since being grabbed in the backyard. She stares at him, hoping her expression properly conveys the "I can't speak because your fucking goons gagged me, you idiot" that she's trying to project.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

She knows her "yeah fucking right" comes through clearly because he huffs a laugh.

"I'm not. And clearly, your father didn't tell you I would be here tonight, or you wouldn't be tied to a chair right now." The room’s attention is stolen by movement at the back door, "You alright, Machado?"

"I'm fine.”

“Man, she got you good!” A curly-haired man crows at him.

“Garcia! Shut up, all of you!” He hisses at the men trying not to laugh before nodding at his boss. “I'll be okay."

"Good. Would hate for your lovely wife to not get those children she so dearly wants." He crouches in front of her, "Now, back to you. I'm not here to hurt you, so I'm going to take this off, explain why we're here, and you're not going to scream. Do you understand?"

She takes a second before nodding, only agreeing because the cloth in her mouth is starting to make her gag reflex act up. "Alright, lean forward a little bit."

She does as she's told, slightly shaking as his hands come uncomfortably close to her neck. She knows what damage those hands could do; what damage they have done. She closes her eyes, and next week’s headlines light up her eyelids like a Broadway marquee.

Local woman found strangled in her San Diego home. 

Local woman with ties to organized crime found tied to dining room chair. 

Local woman unfairly paying for the crimes of her idiot father at the hands of his boss, city's wealthiest entrepreneur.

“Hey, open your eyes. Look at me, Rebecca.” The command is given gently but firmly. She obeys, not wanting to upset him now that she has no hope of escape. “There we go. Oh shit. Please don’t cry; I’m not here to hurt you. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.”

“Forgive me, but you’ll have to excuse me for not believing you.” She sniffles, tears escaping without permission, voice shaking even as she snarks at him. “Especially since you mentioned my father.”

“You’re like he said you would be. You know who I am, then?” Amusement dances in his eyes and his smile sharpens when she nods. “Who am I?”

“Jacob Seresin: CEO and chairman of Eagle Hotels and Resorts. But better known around the city as “The Hangman” – head of the Daggers.” Her resolve strengthens, and she vows not to show any more weakness. “How did you get in my house?”

“Very good. You can call me Jake.” His smug, condescending tone brings her blood back up to boil.

“Okay, Jake.” She spits his name back at him. “Why are you here? What did my father do?”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Six months ago, on my sister’s birthday. How did you-”

“Delilah, right?” He interrupts, waiting for her confirmation. “I’ve met her a few times. She seems like a good kid.”

“She is.” Her words are almost silent, heart pounding from the terrifying knowledge that this man knows who her sister is. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t reply; instead stands and grabs a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge, “Got any straws?”

“Why are you here?” Her voice is stronger again, more concerned with why her baby sister is part of the conversation than the beverage needs of the dangerous man shuffling through her kitchen drawers.

He tuts at her, “One thing at a time. Where are your straws?”

“Why are you-” She cuts herself off, sighing when it becomes clear that he’s not going to stop until she answers his question. “Drawer to the right of the stove, clear container.”

“Oh, reusable kinda gal, huh? Save the turtles and all that? Rock on.” He grabs a chair and sits across from her, so close that their knees touch, before cracking the bottle and plopping the straw in. “Take a sip. I’m sure your throat is sore from all the screaming.”

She shifts forward, hesitant but willing to drink it since she saw him open it. She thanks him, the manners her mother instilled in her automatically coming out, and immediately scolds herself for being kind to the monstrous man in front of her.

“You’re welcome.” He sets the bottle on the table and leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. “What do you know about the Daggers?”

“Not much. Why are you here?”

“You’re very stubborn; has anyone ever told you that? Explain how much “not much” is, and I’ll answer your questions.”

“I know how the Dagger Organization was formed. I know you’re the head of the Daggers, a position you inherited from your father, who inherited it from his father, and so on. You have a large group of advisors made up of two smaller groups. One group you trust because they’re your people. I’m guessing the men in my kitchen are part of that group.” She takes a beat, glancing at the five men around her island, pretending not to listen. “The other group, not so much. They were your father’s advisors, and more than one of them is rumored to be the reason you inherited your position. My father is part of that group, and likely the one you trust the least, given how he was your father’s right-hand man at the time of his death. Not to mention the fact that he’s a huge idiot. That’s all I know; I don’t understand how the hierarchy works or anything like that. Why are you here?”

His eyebrows raise – surprised or impressed, she can’t tell. “You know more than I thought you would by your “not much” response.”

“Yeah, well, gotta know your family history, right?” He stifles a laugh at her sarcastic tone. Her father warned of an attitude, but he didn’t mention her sense of humor. “How did you get in?”

“If I untie you, you gonna try to run?” He avoids the question, lips quirking when she squirms at his eyes running up and down her body, trying to assess if she’ll fight him when she’s untied. “Or kick Javy in the crotch again? His wife really is hoping to get a few kids out of him.”

“I won’t run.” She confirms, then mutters to herself, “It’s not like I would get very far anyway…”

He hums in agreement as he moves to free her legs first. “You’re a smart one.”

“I do alright.”

“Rebecca, I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. A bachelor’s degree in mathematics and two master's degrees? Seem pretty damn smart to me.” He moves behind her chair to unite her hands. “How are your wrists, sweetheart? Did Bradshaw do it too tight? I’ll let you take a shot at him if it was too much.”

She forces herself to ignore how her stomach flips at the term of endearment and the way his hand gently rubs her shoulder on his way back to his chair. She examines her wrists and rotates them to check for injury, reminding herself of the games men like him play. It’s not real. He brought up Delilah as a threat. It’s not real. He’s being kind, so you’ll trust him, and that’s when bad things happen. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not- 

“Do your wrists hurt?”

“They’re fine, thank you.” Her voice sharper than she means it to be. Calm down. Don’t give him a reason to make them hurt. 

“You sure? They look a little red.”

“It’s fine; I’m sure it’ll go away soon.” His eyebrows lift in doubt as she rubs her wrists, trying to soothe the slight rope burn she got from struggling.

Play him back, don’t give him the upper hand. “I was sorry to hear about your dad; he was always kind to me.”

“Drink some more Gatorade.” His voice is stiffer than before.

Bullseye. 

She looks up from her wrists, eyes darting between the orange liquid and the man opposite her. When she doesn’t move, he nods at the bottle, a silent order to drink. He continues on after she complies, looking pleased. “What do you know about the Tomcat arrangement?”

She shakes her head. “I know it exists. I heard my father mention it once or twice in passing; when I still lived at his house, but I don’t know what it is. You still haven’t answered my questions.”

“When my great-great-grandfather created the Daggers, he did it with three other families.”

“The Bradshaws, the Kazanskys, and the Hermanns.”

“Yes, as you know, Albert Hermann – your great-great-grandfather – was one of the four founding members. What started as equal power between the four families changed over time. My family ended up as the leaders, and an agreement was made during our great-grandfather’s time. First, so long as there is a male heir to lead the next generation, the Seresins stay as the lead family. The other three families remain at the top of the chain of command. The leader taking their advice and counsel. His most trusted allies. The second part of the agreement is that whenever possible, the heir – the future leader – will marry a daughter of one of the other families. To keep the power balanced as much as possible between the families. As a way of ensuring that the Seresins don’t end up with too much power. And now that I’ve taken over my father, it’s time for me to get married.”

She stays quiet, stomach twisting at the information. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Rebecca, your family is the only family with the right lineage and daughters suitable enough to satisfy the Tomcat arrangement.”

“Daughters? Daughters! My sister is being considered?!” She lunges at him. “She’s eighteen! You vile, disgusting pig! You fucking piece of shit!”

“Will you stop it?” He easily stops her attack, her five-and-a-half-foot frame no match against his six-foot-two body. She struggles against his hold on her wrists, unwilling to stop fighting until she gets a decent hit. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to tie you back up.”

When she doesn’t listen, he flips her around, gathers both wrists behind her back, bends her over the dining room table, and uses his weight to keep her in place, “Enough.” 

It kills the fight in her. “She’s only eighteen! She’s just a baby! I was trying to get her out of there. I was supposed to get her out of there! I promised! I promised I would. I promised…” Sobs wrack her body, choking the words in her throat.

The house is silent except for her crying, the sound amplified from where her face is pressed against the table.

“Stop crying. Please stop crying. Jesus, your fucking father was supposed to have explained this to you already.” Jake sighs, resting his head against her shoulder blade. Nothing had gone in his favor today. “I don’t want to marry your sister.”

Her heart skips a beat, and her voice is thick with tears when she asks, “...what?”

“I don’t want to marry her. She’s practically a child. C’mon, take a drink.” He lets her up and grabs a tissue from the sideboard in her dining room. “Per the Tomcat agreement, after taking control, if I’m not already married, I have six months to get engaged to a woman who meets the requirements of the agreement. And then a year to marry her. My advisors reminded me today that I only have two months left to get engaged. Your father ever so kindly reminded me that your family is the only one with women that meet the Tomcat terms. He was quick to offer your sister to me, who I refused even quicker. She’s young enough I could practically be her father. It has to be you.”

“No.” Her answer comes swift and firm. No more playing into her father’s hand.

“If you refuse, he’ll kill you – he’ll do it himself if he has to – and then he’ll force your sister to marry me. And I won’t be able to stop it.”

She scoffed as she wiped at her nose, “You are the most powerful man in the city, probably the fucking state. To say you couldn’t stop it is absolutely ridiculous!”

“I wish that were true, but there’s still too many of the old guard, too many stuck in the ways of our fathers and grandfathers. I refuse, they’ll kill me, and your sister will be forced to marry one of my uncles – for the sake of keeping the Seresin name in power. Or worse, your father will try to take control, and god knows what will happen if he gets a taste of any real power.” He takes a breath, trying to gauge the reaction of his future bride. “I know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what I want either, having these archaic rules forced on us. But if we don’t play along, things will get much worse.”

“I- I… is this really the only way my sister stays safe?”

He didn’t think he had ever seen such sadness before and tried to answer as gently as possible. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, but it is.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

“I guarantee she’ll be safe from harm of the Daggers. You know I can’t promise anything more than that.”

She nods, eyes distant as she thinks before she straightens and looks him in the eye. “I have conditions.”

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands.”

“I think I am, actually. Sure, if I refuse, I end up dead. But so do you. And my father will make your family’s life a living hell, I have no doubt. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a bastard to women. Besides, they’re not demands; they’re… conditions – compromises, really – and quite simple ones at that.”

He grits his teeth, knowing she’s right and wishing she wasn’t quite so smart. “Fine. What are your conditions?”

“My sister is allowed to do whatever she wants. And we’ll pay for it, whatever it is. If she wants to go to college, her tuition is fully funded. If she wants to stay in San Diego, volunteering at animal shelters and surfing all day long, we’ll buy an apartment for her. I don’t care what she does, as long as it’s her choice, and she doesn’t have to live with my father anymore.”

“Agreed. We’ll get her out of there as soon as the wedding is over. What else?”

“She can’t know the circumstances of my agreement. She’ll obviously know why I’m the one you’re marrying – why we’re getting married in the first place, she’s not an idiot – but she can’t know that she was the one offered up by my father and I’m only doing this to save her.”

“Done. What else?”

“I know we’ll have to announce our engagement, but I need a month before we take it public. That’s how long I need to give my notice at work and do a proper turnover so I don’t screw my team over.”

“You don’t have to quit, you know? You can keep working if you want to.”

“I know, but let’s face it, as the wife of one of California’s most widely known men – in good ways and bad – it’d be hard to keep working like I do now. And with your reputation, there would be cries of corruption and protests. I’d end up constantly harassed by press and, honestly, probably my coworkers. They’re not exacting your biggest fans. But I do want to keep working. I can’t be someone who sits at home all day, not having anything to do. I’ll go crazy.”

“We’ll find you something at Eagle. Anything you want – the business side, the volunteer and charity team, anything. Or you can start something of your own. We’ll figure it out, Rebecca.”

She breaks eye contact for a second, feeling flustered under the intensity of his attention.“I assume I’ll be moving in with you?”

He nods, “I’d actually like you to do that as soon as possible. You’ve always had a target on you because of your father, but being with me just makes it grow a hundred times. I want one of my people with you wherever you go out in public. Not only will our rivals be a problem, but I’m not counting your father out either.”

“My sister gets a guard too. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I would do anything to protect her. She is my- our biggest vulnerability.”

“Done. What else?”

“If I’m moving in with you, I’d like to sell this house. And the money from the sale will be mine.”

“You don’t have to worry about money. You’ll have full access to all of my accounts.”

“The money will go into my account that you will not have access to.”

“I’m not going to steal from you.”

“I’m not worried about you stealing. It’s to protect myself… just in case.”

His face softens in understanding. “The money will go into your account, which I will not have access to. I will pay for the realtor and any fees associated with the sale; you’ll get to keep as much as possible.”

“That’s not necessary; I can pay for-”

“I’m sure you can. But I’m going to anyway.” He holds up his hand when she attempts to protest. “You’re not going to win this one, so save it for another fight. What else?”

“Fine.” She huffs an annoyed breath out of her nose. “I’ll need to update my will to account for all of these changes.”

“I was already planning on bringing in the lawyers; we’ll get everything set before the engagement announcement.”

“I’d like my own lawyer to review everything.”

“You have a lawyer? Why?”

“Does it matter?” Her voice is sharp again, but it’s different this time – the word defensive flashes in his mind.

“No, I’m just surprised. Who is it? We’ll get them on retainer, but their office will be solely dedicated to you.”

“Peter Spartz of the Spartz Brothers.”

“Really? He’s good. I’ll have the legal team set up a meeting to get everything in place. What else?”

“I want to manage the size of the wedding. I know between Eagle and the Daggers, you have an obligation to invite a ridiculous amount of people, and they are all welcome to come to the reception. But I want the ceremony itself to be as small as possible. I don’t want to get up there and vow myself to you in front of a thousand of your closest business associates if I don’t have to.”

“We can do that. What else do you want for the wedding?”

“What do you mean?”

Her confusion confuses him. “What do you mean “what do I mean”? What do you want the wedding to look like? Flowers? Your dress?”

“Oh, I guess we actually have to plan a wedding. Fuck.” She looked annoyed at the prospect of having to plan their nuptials. “I really don’t care what we do.”

“You don’t care what your wedding looks like?”

“I- no? Should I? It’s not like we’re doing this because we love each other. Or even like each other. We’re fulfilling an obligation our grandfathers put in place a million years ago so that we don’t end up in shallow graves in the middle of the Mojave. Besides, I don’t know how you would even begin to plan a wedding…” Her voice trails off, slightly embarrassed that she isn’t prepared with this information already.

“That’s fine. We can get a wedding planner. My mom can help, our sisters can too. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“Oh, I’ll be giving input on the important things. Cake flavor, what’s being served for dinner, of course, the booze, and the honeymoon… But the only thing that matters to me is that we're legally married by the end of the night. I don’t care what it looks like to get us there, just as long as you like it.”

Her face twists deeper, unhappy at the thought of having to make all the decisions by herself. “So, if I make our colors Barbie pink and vomit yellow, force you to wear a kilt that’s five inches long – even though you’re not Scottish – and insist that we decorate with nothing but rare and expensive orchids that you’re extremely allergic to, you’re going to be good with that?”

“I’m fine with all of that.” He smirks at the surprise and annoyance on her face. “Oh, don’t be shocked, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever you want. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. Anything else before I propose, you say yes, and we live mildly ever after?”

“One more thing.”

“Anything for you, my dear.” His teasing tone makes her smile briefly, but it disappears as quickly as it came, her expression hardening.

“This one stays between us,” she nods towards the kitchen.

“Out, now.” His men move immediately, the soon-to-be-married couple watching them file out the back door.

She turns to him once it clicks shut, face made of stone and eyes full of fire. “I don’t care how it gets done. If you do it yourself, if you have someone else do it, it can be messy, or you can make it look like an accident – maybe it looks like a heart attack. I don’t care. But the first time the opportunity presents itself: you kill my father.”

The Hangman appears before her very eyes, his smile sending chills down her spine and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. For the first time all evening, she truly sees the blonde in front of her as the ruthless, cold-blooded man he’s known to be.

“Anything for you, my dear.” 

tagging:

@bussyslayer333 | @callsignvalley | @gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @mothdruid | @mouseymagines | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @rhettabbotts | @roleycoleyreccenter | @roosterbruiser | @ryebecca | @theharddeck | @withahappyrefrain

credit for dividers here

[bxeckersz]

smoked away my brain | Jana El Afy x teammate female!reader

summary: Jana and y/n get high together

warnings: weed, language, smoking

“I smoked away my brain. I think i’m going dumb.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Hey guys!” I yelled as I walked through the door. “hey y/n” The girls said. “Whatcha guys doin’?” I asked. “I’m doing my homework” Aubrey says. “Same” Paige and KK say.

“I have no idea where the other girls are. probably in their rooms or something” Paige shrugged. “Is Jana here?” I ask. “Yeah shes in her room doing whatever” KK said, her face glued to her computer. Man, they really put the student in student athlete.

“Jannn!!” I announced, bursting into her door. “hii y/nn” Jana said, giving me a hug. Out of everyone on the team, me and Jana are the closest.

“where have you been all day?” Jana asked as I flopped down onto her bed. “I was shooting around, uh I went to classes then study hall, I went to my friend’s house, and I shot some pictures for my NIL deal” I shrug. “Shooting around on an off day? crazy” Jana laughs.

“You know why i came home?” I raiseed my eyebrow, a slight smirk on my face. “oh my gosh. Yes, yes.” Jana says almost immediately. It’s like she reads my mind, I swear.

“You wanna get high, don’t you?” Jana says, getting up. “You already know.” I reply.

☆☆

Me and Jana were passing the blunt back and forth with quiet music playing in the background. “Sometimes, I wish I could get high everyday. But then I remember i chose to be an athlete” I groaned, passing the blunt to Jana.

“I know” Jana giggled. By that point me and Jana were higher than a fucking kite. “I’m so fucking high” I laugh, laying back. “My God, I know. Me too” Jana giggled with me, putting the blunt out.

“Guys we’re about to have a movie- ew bro, it smells like 398 pounds of weed and sweat in here. ugh” KK gags, immediately closing the door. “ya’ll they high as fuck right now.” We hear KK say.

“we should go out there” I said, my voice raspy. “Yeah, we should.” Jana giggled as we got up.

“No, go ya’ll high asses back in there.” Paige said. “hush” I mumble, flopping down on the couch. “see this is why we need to ban weed from Jana and Y/n. This is the second time this week ya’ll have gotten high together” Morgan says. “Relax, mom” I laugh.

“That was a good one” Jana giggles with me. “What the hell are we gonna do with them” Kaitlyn says, shaking her head as she watches us laugh and giggle.

We quite literally smoked our brains away.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

thanks for reading!

ya’ll this is so rushed and bad 😭.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

anyway update for you all--sorry I have been a bit absent the past week. It wasn't intentional, I've just suddenly unexpectedly left my aromantic era and it's ✨mutual✨ and I'm just trying to sort it all out mentally after being in my aromantic era for y e a r s. Plus he's stupid hot as fuck so like.

I'm not a big fan of the Hard Launch so vague post stays vague, but!

[irwinsblender]

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pride month

luke hemmings:

take it easy (request)

sweet melody (request)

braeden lemasters:

drunk on halloween

[totallovestrucksimp]

Larry x Marian prompt

It’s how his family finds out about their relationship. Larry comes home from the club with a bruised eye and cut up knuckles because someone made remarks about Marian and her romantic history. (Extra love if you include Oscar telling Marian what happened at the club)

”This wasn’t how it was supposed to come out”

“It’s 8:15, Larry should have been back by now. What could possibly be keeping him for so long?”

Dinner at the Russell residence isn’t normally this tense, but when Bertha Russell is worried, so should everyone else be.

“He’s been at the club dear, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s simply too late for him to come.” Assured George.

“And he’s probably drunk.” added Gladys.

“Gladys! Don’t say such things. If he’s not coming, then he should have at lease sent a telegram.”

Just then, there was a commotion at the door.

“And that’s probably it now, one of the footmen can go get it.”

Ignoring her husbands request, Bertha went herself, only for the other two still at the table to come running when they heard her scream.

They were met at the door with the sight of Larry’s face bruised and lip busted, along with a busted knuckle on his right hand. Beside him was Mr Fane, Church, and Bertha, fretting over him.

“George, get him to your office, Gladys, you go and alert the staff, tell them to bring bandages, Mr Fane, thank you for bringing him home.”

“Mother, it’s not that bad, I didn’t break anything.”

“But you could be concussed! I want you looked at properly by a doctor-“

“Mother, I’m FINE-“

“Don’t fight your mother right now, she’s just worried. Come into my office and we’ll have you looked at.” George spoke into Larry’s ear, leading him away.

With Larry, Gladys, George, and Church gone, Mrs Russell was left with Mr Fane.

“What on earth happened to him?” She finally asked, the anxiousness of the situation finally wearing off.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated. We were in the lounge with a few other men simply talking, and one of the other patrons said something that Larry to great offense to. Well, it sort of went out-of-control from there. A small fight broke out before I got him out of there.”

“But what did he say?”

“I…erm, I’d rather not repeat it, but it was quite vulgar, and I dont blame Larry too much for how he reacted.” 

He avoids her gaze, not wanting to be pressed on the subject any longer.

I think I know who this is about now she thinks.

“I will say it was about someone he cares about deeply, but it really should be Larry telling you this. Now I must be going or my wife will worry.”

“Or course, please send Aurora my regards. Thank you again for seeing Larry home safely.”

He nods and heads off.

***

With the four of them plus Church dressing Larry’s wounds in the office, there’s finally time for answers.

“Mr Fane told me about the fight you got into at the club earlier.”

“The other man started it.”

“And you should have ended it! I raised you better than to use your fists to talk instead of your words!”

“He called her a Trollope! I couldn’t let him get away with that!”

“Larry! Your sister is in the room. Please keep your language civil.”

“I’ve heard worse.” Gladys speaks up from beside her father. “And besides, if he was defending a lady’s honor-“

“And he will not have contact with said lady from this moment forth. Not if she’s starting to bring out this behavior in you.”

“You can’t stop me-“

“Larry, as much as I hate to do this in front of your father and sister, I know who you were defending and I know that you’re not well suited. She’s not a good match for you.”

He shoots out of his chair in a fury.

“Marian is MORE than a match for me!”

Absolute silence echos throughout the room.

“…what does any of this have to do with Marian?”

Larry recoils a little in shock, not expecting this reaction from his mother.

“What did Mr Fane tell you?”

“Less than thought. I assumed the fight was about Mrs Blane, but it appears that I was wrong. Start from the beginning, and tell us everything.”

The bruised man lays back in his chair, recounting the events of a few hours earlier.

“Me, Mr Fane, and a couple of others were having some drinks in the lounge, and the conversation got around to the Van Rhijns. One man said that he’s surprised that Mrs Van Rhijn has let Marian stay in the house, even when men keep dropping her left and right. They started speculating why they were dropping her before I stood up for her, but then he asked me why I was defending someone who was likely a trollop, and…well, you know how it went from there. You understand I couldn’t let that go unpunished, right?”

There was a moment of silence after he wrapped up his story, the only sounds being Church applying more tape to his bandaged knuckles.

“Well, that puts the situation in a better light, doesn’t it dear?”

“Yes, I suppose so, but you mustn’t let word about this get too far. If people were to hear about this they might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea might that be mother?”

“That you two of you are in a courting ship.”

He demeanor suddenly changes. He looks down almost bashful, and the faint trace of a blush rises on his cheeks.

Suddenly, it clicked.

It was about someone he cares about deeply.

Oh.

Oh.

“You and Miss Brook! For how long? When did it start!?” Gladys squeals.

“We started courting right after that night at the opera. We agreed to keep it quiet to not upset her aunt.”

“Why haven’t you told us before now? And what’s your plan for her in the future?” Bertha questioned, still reeling in from the shock.

“I think Larry has had a long night, and so have we. Let’s let him have a rest for we bombarder him with more questions.” Says George, trying to help keep his wife at bay.

“We’ll discuss this in the morning over breakfast. But I want genuine answers from you. I don’t want to mess up her relationship with our family.” She rubs her temples. 

“I’m going up to change.” She leaves the room. Gladys turns to her brother.

“You’ll tell me if you plan to propose to her before you tell mama, right?”

•••Epilogue••• 

At 8:59, Oscar Van Rhijn steps out of his cab on to the corner of 21st street, where he meets the doors of his childhood home. “Mr Van Rhijn! We weren’t expecting you at this hour!” Bannister says as he opens up the house for him.

“Ah, I’m just popping in for a visit. Is Marian around at all?”

“They finished dinner, and she just went upstairs for a lay down. Would you like me to go fetched her?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

He takes a seat as he watches his mother’s butler climb the steps to his cousins room. This gives him time to think about how to tell her about his interesting evening. Never mind the fact that he witnessed Larry Russell get into a fight at the club. Never mind the fact that the fight was about her. Never mind that Larry shouted that he would never be ashamed for fighting out for the woman he loves to the entire place.

“Oscar! What are you doing here? I’d invite your mother in here with us too, but we had a little spat during dinner. Apparently she thinks I’ve been seeing someone behind her back again. What an interesting thought, don’t you think?”

Yes Oscar thought. Things are going to get very interesting indeed.

[honeyedlashton]

Night in Austria 🚬🤎☕️

[xviruserrorx]

I'll wait for you another night / As you like / Dressed in Himalayan white / I'll wait for you some other night / Dressed as you like / Dressed in Himalayan white - Snow Cats by AFI

For Day 4 of @merlinrarepairfest

[ashtons-lemon-tree]

Moodboard for an upcoming Mashton songfic I'm currently writing

🎶 We were friends, now I want more / Would you take it wrong / If I leaned in for a kiss now, babe? 🎶

[itshoneywhatever]

My AO3 Works

Top Gun: Maverick — Hangster

You’re a Bad Habit… Series - 2 Works / Complete / Omegaverse, Mpreg, Explicit

You’re a Bad Habit I Can’t Shake Off (but I still want more): They don't date, they are not even friends, what they have is similar to a bad habit you want to quit. And now they have to figure out how to be parents together.

In Need of Some Life-Affirming Touches: They don't date, they are not even friends, what they have is similar to a bad habit you want to quit. Now, in the face of uncertainty, boy do they love getting high on each other.

Other TG:M Works

How Long Does It Take? — One Shot / Past Mpreg

A passionate goodbye leads to long lasting consequences for Jake.

Formula 1 — Lestappen

I was looking for comfort (and I found you) — One Shot / Omegaverse

Charles wakes up feeling off, craving the comfort of his nest but not having the luxury to lay in it for the day, not when it’s a race weekend. When he finally is able to relax, he ends up finding more than the confort he was looking for.

A Happy Turn of Events — One Shot / Omegaverse

He never would have thought that stupidly standing up to Max so he wouldn’t start a fight with Charles’ teammate would lead to the omega being as I’m

A Turn of Luck — One Shot / Chussy, Menstruation

Charles is on day three of his period and the cramps are so bad he has to cancel his date with Max. He hadn’t expected for the man to show up at his place, completely unannounced.

MCU — Stony

Divided We Fall, Together We Stand — Complete / Omegaverse, Mpreg, Explicit

Tony is left to deal with the aftermath of everything.

Peaky Blinders — Sholomons

Deals Series — 14 Works / Complete / Omegaverse, Mpreg, Explicit

Deals Have Consequences: Tommy needed to ensure Alfie's loyalty no matter what. He didn't expect the extent of the consequences of his actions.

Closing the Deal: Two weeks have passed since they signed the contract. It's time to close the deal and enjoy its perks.

A New Deal is Made: No matter what they are doing, no matter the situation, Tommy is first and foremost a businessman.

The Offer: Their lives through the years since they met up until the moment they decided to live together, told by one Alfie Solomons.

The Fine Print: All things considered, Alfie should probably know better about de importance of reading the fine print whenever he signs a contract.

Changes: With everything that has been going on, Tommy can't help to ponder in all the changes that have taken place in the last few months. And in the ones that are about to come.

Getting to Know You: Jealousy makes Alfie angry. Tommy doesn't have time for his bullshit. So they are going to talk like the fucking adults that they are.

Turn of Events: Alfie has to go to London. Tommy goes along. Things don’t go as planned.

The Rest of Their Lives: Bedrest is driving Tommy insane, reading isn't enough, writting isn't enough to keep him distracted; he's spending too much time on his head and some uncomfortable doubts are making their ways to his mind. All he wants is for the babies to be here already so he can walk again, and for Alfie to pay him a little more attention.

Loyalty: Cyril is very grateful for the life he has been give, that's why he makes his mission in life to protect the one who he loves -and love him- the most. (Or: A Story where Cyril prefers the Shelby boys more.)

Together: It's been a month since the twins arrived in a rather dramatic way, and this story is about how Tommy and Alfie are managing how to raise three kids and find time for them as a couple.

Another Type of Contract: “This holiday season, Tommy, I offer you another type of contract.”

One Last Deal: Tommy has a lot on his mind — kids, husband, the company he has to run. Having to worry about his fuckin' cousin lurking around, shouldn't be one of them. It's time to make a decision and negotiate one last deal.

Headcanons — Deals Series: A collection of headcan on requests about Tommy, Alfie and their kids. All set in the Deals series.

Other PB Works

Easy to Manipulate — One Shot

There’s one sure way to make Alfie agree to whatever Tommy asks, and Tommy isn’t afraid to use it.

The Model & The Baker — One Shot / Based on Prompt

It was impossible, he knows, for Tommy to still want him. He knows there’s no chance for them to get back together, and it’s all his fault. Ada seems to thinks otherwise.

Surprise! — One Shot / Based on Prompt

When he saw her there, he realized he couldn't just leave her to her own devices. So, he took her home.

Wish You Were Mine — One Shot / Based on Prompt

I want to blame you, but we both know I hurt myself with my own expectations.

From a One Night Stand to Business Partners… — One Shot / Explicit

Before a big meeting in the morning, Tommy decides to go out the night before to get a feel of the city.

[gothluke]

i 🩷 ashton

[flash-bastardd]

Guillermo always did look good enough to eat.

I have written smut! First time ever!

[callsignspark]

anything for you | part two

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, implied child neglect, descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks, discussion of insecurities, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed 

word count: 5.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: here's part two, thank you to everyone who read the first part and left such kind comments - you're all so lovely!

Thursday, June 22, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 1332 PST

“When you asked if I was free for lunch, I thought this was going to be a fun, sexy thing.”

“And you thought garlic-and-onion-filled gyros were the appropriate pairing for a sexy lunch?” She snorts, rolling her eyes when he keeps talking, ignoring her teasing.

“I wouldn’t have said yes and ordered your favorite-” Jake pauses to shove a huge bite into his mouth “-if I knew you were just going to torture me with this stuff.”

“That’s disgusting, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Rebecca looks at him with disdain when he opens his mouth to show off his half-chewed food. “How you were voted California’s most eligible bachelor eight years in a row is a complete mystery to me.”

“I never had lunch with the selection committee.”

She smiles at his joke, then straightens up, getting down to the matter at hand. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I don’t care what color our napkins are.” He groans, flopping back into the loveseat where they’re sharing lunch.

“Well, neither do I!” She huffs, flapping the fabric samples toward his face. “Pick one: pearl white or ivory cream.”

“Those look fucking identical.”

“They basically are.”

“So why does it matter?”

“Because Michelle needs an answer today on what we want for the reception, so please pick one.”

“I want whatever you want, darling.” Her blood heats up; the combination of the condescending pet name and how attractive he manages to be while lounging on the uncomfortable corporate-chic cushions is practically lethal.

She practically whines his name, tired of the back and forth on a conversation they’d already had three times. “Stop being a patronizing dickhead and just pick one of the nearly identical napkin options.”

“The right one.”

“Perfect, a fantastic choice.” She tosses the samples on the table and pulls out her phone to text the decision to their wedding planner. “You know, it would be nice if you would help make some of the real decisions for this wedding, too.”

“But you’re doing such a great job! And besides, I’m giving valu-”

“If you say, “valuable input on the honeymoon” one more time, I will sit on you and shove that salad down your throat, I swear to god, Jacob.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll shove more than just the salad.”

He sits up, a huge grin lighting up his face. “Wow! You are so feisty today, Mrs. Seresin!”

“I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet; you pompous, jacka-” Her joking tirade is cut off by his desk phone.

“Honey, as much as I love it when you’re mean to me, gonna need you to hold onto that thought. I told Ginger to hold all calls while you were here unless it was an emergency.” He hustles to his desk, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he passes. “This is Jake Ser- okay. Okay, hold on, sweetheart, she’s right here. Just a second.”

He waves her over as he holds the receiver away from his mouth, “It’s your sister, and she’s crying.”

“What?!” She trips getting up, her mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. “Delilah? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Th-they-they aren’t-t-t…”

“Try to breathe, honey. Are you okay? Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” It’s a relief to hear, but Delilah’s breathing is too unstable to be comfortable.

“Alright, okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. Don’t want to trigger an asthma attack, so we’re gonna take deep breaths together, okay? Just like we used to when you were little.” The sisters breathe together, the older one making sure her inhales and exhales are loud enough for the younger one to hear over the phone.

It takes a few minutes, but Delilah’s breathing starts to level out. “Thanks, Becca.”

“Of course, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“My academic awards ceremony is tonight, and I’m probably getting a big math award, but Dad just called me to tell me that they’re not gonna make it because it’s Mom’s birthday! They’re going to dinner and then to the bars with the guys from Dad’s crew! Can you believe it?” Her voice is weak but borderline shrill. “It’s my senior year – the last big thing besides graduation – and they’re not coming!”

The last three words send Rebecca’s mind into a spiral. All the times she had heard that exact phrase and then been the one to care for her sister flashing through her mind. At seventeen, being forced to be a primary caretaker to an infant Delilah during the limited free time she had in between school and work. At twenty-eight, and parenting her preteen sister because her biological parents decided to go on a month-long trip to the Caribbean. Every time they had deemed something else more important than their child. The countless volleyball and softball games missed, cash wasted on tickets for the school musical, parent-teacher conferences that were straight-up ignored half the time. When Rebecca was younger, she would mourn the gas money burned and the free time stolen as she acted as a personal assistant and valet to her sister, driving back and forth to practices, dentist appointments, dance classes, play rehearsals, haircuts, anything that Delilah needed. Looking back now, she was grateful they had gotten to spend that time together.

“We’ll be there.” She interrupts without thinking.

“You will?” Delilah’s voice is soft but pleased. The intention of her call was just to vent to her big sister, let out the frustration of being ignored again by her parents. “You don’t have to. I know you’re both busy.”

“Never too busy for you, babe. What time does it start? Do you want a ride?” She sinks into the desk chair, crossing her legs and leaning back, hoping the pressure building behind her eyes doesn’t turn into a full-blown migraine.

Rebecca can feel Jake hovering before he squats next to the chair. She ignores him in favor of letting the now happy voice of her sister wash over her. It’s a solid plan until a large hand lands on her thigh. His palm is warm where it lays against her skin, and his fingers gently rub the material of her skirt, letting her know he’s there. She turns her head to the right and peeks an eye open, watching him watch her.

“Is she hurt?” He mouths the question, looking relieved after she shakes her head.

She hesitates for a second before putting her hand on his, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand in thanks. Jake takes the opportunity to hold her hand, playfully squeezing her fingers a few times, a ghost of a smile on his face. The sisters talk a bit more, confirming plans for the evening and saying “I love you” before hanging up. Rebecca drops the receiver into its cradle and leans back, looking at the ceiling. The office is quiet, the clock on the wall making the only noise in the otherwise silent room.

“Since we’re not preparing to storm Normandy, I take it everything is okay now?” She hums in confirmation, still staring at the ceiling. “What happened?”

“They’re not coming.”

There’s something about the way she says it – voice hollow, emotionless – that sets warning bells off in his head, but he still asks, “Who?”

“Fucking Seymour and Brittany.” She starts pacing. “It’s Brittany’s birthday, so they’ve decided that it’s not necessary to attend Delilah’s academic awards ceremony. Her senior year academic awards ceremony. Her last one. Where – because of her intelligence, hard work, and high academic ranking – it’s extremely likely that she’ll be receiving a boatload of awards. My father called her and told her they weren’t going to make it because they’re going out to dinner and then drinking with those idiots that hang around him! As if they couldn’t do that after the awards are over! It starts at six, and it’ll be like, at a maximum, an hour and a half!”

Jake stares in shock at the woman trying to wear a hole into his carpet. It wasn’t uncommon for her to curse or to be louder than usual when joking around, but the last time, the only time, he had seen Rebecca raise her voice in anger was that fateful night in February when she reamed him out after breaking into her house. Since then, her demeanor has matched the woman she had always been known to be. A kind and thoughtful person with a quieter disposition, one that hid a tough side she brought out only when needed, and a wit sharp enough to cut glass. Her voice is scathing, decades' worth of built-up frustration and resentment being released, and it freezes him in place.

“It’s just so unfair! I know they don’t like me, that I’m the “black sheep” of the family, or whatever the latest lame-ass attempt at an insult my father has taken to calling me. I don’t care about that. I worked my ass off junior and senior year to get a good scholarship, and I did. I practically put in full-time hours to save up enough to get out of that fucking house, and I did! The day after my eighteenth birthday, I packed up that crappy Camry – that I bought with my own money! – and moved into that sketchy apartment with five roommates. I worked hard to be the “outcast” of that family! I escaped, and they don’t like that, and that’s fine. I don’t need them to like me!”

Her voice was getting louder, the pacing and hand gestures more frenzied. She could feel her blood pressure rising, but she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t been this mad in years. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry.

“But it’s not fair that Delilah is treated like that! Like some show pony they can trot out when it pleases them. I know she’s the kid that was created on purpose, and I was the mistake no one wanted, but they just show her off like she’s some shiny object! Bragging about how smart she is and her amazing grades, her talent and how she gets cast in lead roles in the school plays and musicals, her athletic prowess, and how she definitely could have gone D1 if she wanted. But she doesn’t want to because she’s going to dedicate herself to helping others – something they know nothing about – but, of course, none of that actually matters to them! I can count on two hands the number of things they’ve actually showed up in the last eighteen years and still have fingers left over! And the worst part is she still believes they’re going to show up! That they’re suddenly going to give a damn about anything she does. That they’re going to treat her as more than a way for them to make themselves look better. And she doesn’t have anyone else because the only other family left is our grandfather, and it would take a fucking miracle for him to show up to an event where there’s even the slightest possibility that his son might be there. There’s no one else, so I said we’d g- oh my god.”

She stops on a dime, turning on her heel to Jake, who was shaken out of his stupor after the third curse word and now is staring in disbelief at his fiancé. “I said we’d go. You don’t have to go. I’m sorry I said you were coming without checking first-”

“I want to go.”

“-I just got caught up in the moment and didn’t think about it. You don’t have to-” His words register. “What?”

“I said it’s okay that you RSVP’d yes for me; I want to go.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not your sister.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m aware of that. Otherwise, this engagement would be kinda awkward. And illegal.”

“What?” The joke goes over her head; she’s only half paying attention, her body still on a high from anger and the adrenaline rush that hit when she heard her sister crying.

“Because if she was my sister, then we’d be related, which is illegal or at the very least frowned upon…” He trails off, realizing he’s not getting through. “Wow, that really got to you, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m used to their bullshit; I usually don’t get so mad. But hearing her cry on the phone like that, she was practically hyperventilating when you answe- wait. How did Delilah even get through?”

“I put her on the allowed caller list.”

“You did?” She’s surprised.

She probably shouldn’t be anymore. Except for the rough start to their engagement in February, Jake had a perfect gentleman.

His generosity is unfamiliar to her, unexpected from a man of the Dagger organization. And she hadn’t been expecting the same care to be so easily extended to her sister. She assumed she would have to make more demands to ensure Delilah was taken care of properly. But he’s done everything she was planning to ask of him, and more, before she even had the chance to bring it up. A college fund set up with safeguards in place so only a select few have access, protecting the money from her greedy father. A brand-new car: one that’s cute and practical, with a top safety rating, in her sister’s preferred color. A week-long trip over Delilah’s spring break to the three schools she was considering so she could make what Jake called “the most educated decision possible.” He even almost bought a house that neighbored the campus of her final choice, a decision that Rebecca had to talk him down from. She’s still suspicious that he secretly bought it, despite a lengthy lecture on why that was a dumb idea.

Despite his kindness, it was hard for them to interact with each other at the start of their engagement. The first month was awkward, filled with distrusting glances and silted conversations as she settled into the guest room of his ocean-view property. Their proposal announcement was spent answering questions about the financial impact of Rebecca joining Eagle Hotels as the head of the newly reformed community and charity outreach division instead of their whirlwind romance. The press conference was supposed to be the way to launch the couple to the public, grabbing attention and headlines at the fact that California’s eternal bachelor was taking a wife who was going to use the profits of his multi-million company to pour money into cancer research and other worthy causes. Instead, the next day, the media was speculating about the financial future of Eagle and the validity of their relationship, not believing they were in love – or even liked each other – due to the lack of chemistry and the visible discomfort radiating from them both.

After reading that even reputable publications questioned the engagement, Rebecca realized they needed to become friends. Being comfortable with each other would allow them to sell the relationship to the public and investors while having the bonus side effect of convincing the older members of the Dagger organization that were still doubtful. Getting to know each other on a surface level and becoming friends would allow that to happen without having to get too close. Her plan had worked. They became comfortable with each other, the speculation stopped, and the gushing over their relationship started.

It also had the unintended effect of him becoming even more thoughtful, taking her into consideration and asking her opinion, even when it wasn’t necessary. He makes her laugh, a perfectly timed terrible pun lifting her spirits on tough days. He gives affection freely. Keep gestures subtle in public, a hand on her lower back or whispering in her ear just to follow it up with a kiss to her temple, all done to get perfect paparazzi shots of the couple. In private, around friends and family, his hands are bolder but never disrespectful. A strong arm around her waist, a gentle kiss on her neck, a warm hand on her thigh.

It's not what she’s used to from men, and it flusters her, even knowing it’s an act.

Then, the reminder that it’s an act puts her guard back up. Reverting to constantly reminding herself that this is a business agreement, a marriage of convenience.

Nothing more.

It’s hard, though. He makes her feel safe. Something a man hadn’t done in a decade.

Even when something happens that rips her back to reality and she’s reminded that this isn’t a real relationship, she feels safe. She knew what she was signing up for when she agreed to the marriage. What it would mean to be the wife of The Hangman. That he was a dangerous man who had done horrible things. There’s been several nights when he comes home late, knuckles intact to ensure plausible deniability of the Dagger leader, but with dark red flecks on an otherwise pristine white shirt that betray his innocence. It’s clear from the fact that Jake lets her see him on nights like that, nights when business had to be taken care of, that he trusts her. She trusts him, not fully, but enough to know that with him, she’s safe. She knows that as long as it’s not his blood that he comes home covered in. But another night, another ruined shirt, and the reminder runs through her head on eternal rotation.

This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family. This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family.

“Of course I did. She’s family. Oh honey, come here.” He pulls her close after catching sight of her lower lip wobbling and hugs her soft body into his harder one. Mentally admonishing himself after the moment he takes to appreciate her curves when she’s practically crying. “It’ll be okay. She’s going to school; it’s paid for, and she can stay with us during her breaks. Or we’ll get her a good internship, so she doesn’t have to come back at all. And after we get married, she doesn’t ever have to see them again if she doesn’t want to.”

“I know.” She rests her forehead against his collarbones, breathing to try and stop the tears threatening to escape. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?” One of his hands starts rubbing her back, the other drifting down to his favorite spot on her hip. “We can fix it, just gotta tell me.”

“Everything? I don’t know; I just feel so guilty. For the longest time, I was resentful that I had to take care of her so much, and of course, it was them I was mad at, but I’m afraid it seemed like I was upset with her. And then there were so many years where I was more distant than I wanted to be because dealing with them was just so awful. And I couldn’t get her out of there, and I’m worried that those two have hurt her in ways that I’ll never be able to understand or fix.” Her voice gets tighter as she speaks, cracking on the last word.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay. I know you feel bad, but you did everything you could for her. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. And even though you were kinda distant, you still spent so much time with her. She loves you so much; she wants to be just like you. And let’s face it – with both parents alive, no documented history of abuse, and your father being who he is, no judge in the county would have dared to give you custody. You did the best you could do, and it was enough. She’s kind, smart, and funny, and I’m 110% certain that is all of you.” He wipes a tear that falls. “And I’m here now. Together we’ll keep her as safe as we possibly can. I will do everything in my power to protect you both. Okay?”

She sniffles, “Okay. Thank you, Jake.”

“Of course, anything for you, you know that. Now let’s see a smile!” Her weak attempt at a smile is met with his wide grin. “There’s my girl!”

His smile turns confused when she bites back a laugh. “What?”

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

How the fuck did I get here?

Rebecca has had that exact thought countless times since February. If someone had told her five months earlier that she would be sitting in the back of her high school’s auditorium next to Jacob “The Hangman” Seresin, and not only would he be her fiancé, but he would be willingly and eagerly attending her sister’s academic awards ceremony, and that it was his idea to buy a bouquet of daisies and make a reservation at the nicest steakhouse in the city to celebrate afterward, she would have taken that person to the emergency room for fear of horrific brain damage.

After the call with her sister Jake had cleared the rest of his schedule, insisting they spend the rest of the afternoon together. He spent the next few hours driving them around town, completing a to-do list that existed in his head. The first stop was a jewelry store to pick up two necklaces. One he immediately put around Rebecca’s neck. A beautiful white gold pendant with a teardrop-shaped peridot gemstone that rested perfectly on her decolletage. August’s birthstone for her and her sister’s birthday. The second box had an identical necklace, a graduation gift for Delilah, he explained. She didn’t have a chance to protest the much too expensive gifts before he was dragging her down the street to a bookstore where they argued over the best author of the twentieth century for almost an hour. Leaving with multiple books by Ian Fleming and Sue Grafton for comparison purposes and a promise to the owner to return. They popped into Rebecca’s favorite bakery for a snack and left with a baker’s dozen of treats and two iced teas. Splitting a chocolate donut, they dropped the rest of the pastries at the Machado household for Javy and Julianna to enjoy on their anniversary weekend. The last stop was a florist on Main Street to grab a bouquet before they picked Delilah up and headed to the school.

It had been a perfect afternoon.

The more she thinks about how smoothly everything went, how natural it felt, the more stressed she becomes. It shouldn’t have been easy. It shouldn’t have happened at all! He had more important things to do than spend the afternoon together. Why would he do that? She’s attempting to distract herself from the overwhelming feelings threatening to send her into a panic attack by flipping through the awards ceremony program when she sees it.

Her brain disconnects from her body; she can feel it happen. She knows the room is loud; it had been loud when they sat down, but now everything is muffled, and the only thing she can hear is blood rushing in her ears. Her body suddenly feels like concrete, heavy in a way it isn’t usually; an invisible pressure pushing especially hard on her sternum, making her breathing staccato and shallow. The folded booklet in her hands is now blurry, her eyes so unfocused she’s seeing multiple of the program swirling in front of her. Her hands start to shake in a way they haven’t done in a long time.

It’s the goddamn program. A voice in her head tells her. How are you supposed to deal with this? Seeing her name out of nowhere!

Another voice interrupts. No! It’s his fault. He’s being too nice; it wasn’t supposed to be like this! He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She distantly thinks both of the voices are probably right. Because for the second time today, she can feel Jake’s concern from where he’s seated next to her – the auditorium is old, and the seats are packed together, reminiscent of a time with laxer safety regulations – and Rebecca knows that his eyebrows are scrunched together. They do that when he’s confused or worried; she noticed a few weeks after she moved into his place. She can feel his hand land on hers, and his breath is warm against her cheek where he’s leaned in close to check on her. He’s probably asking if she’s okay, asking what’s wrong, asking if she needs anything, shockingly sweet for a man suspected to be the cause of twenty-two deaths, but she can’t focus on him because right there, printed in black and white, is her mother’s name.

Monroe Mathematics Scholarship - $5,000 Given to the graduating senior who completed all the advanced mathematics courses with the highest overall four-year average and is pursuing higher education in medicine, engineering, or education. Established in 2009, this scholarship was created in loving memory of Laura Monroe and is generously donated by an anonymous alumnus. 2023 Winner: Delilah Hermann

“-ecca? Honey?” Her ears come back into play as a hand turns her face to the left. Dazed brown eyes meet worried green ones. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Liar.

The green eyes narrow. “You’re lying. What’s wrong?”

“I- just… flipping through the program and seeing her name sprinkled throughout it right next to the words “graduating senior” got to me. She’s not a baby anymore. She’s going away to school, at a school that’s far away from me. And I’m going to miss her.”

Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“Oh, honey.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, right hand absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I know, it sucks. It was hard to send all three of my sisters off to school, especially Kayla, and we’re not nearly as close as you two are. I don’t have any words to make it better, but I get it if that helps?”

“Yeah, it helps a little bit.”

“Good. Now!” He pulls her in close, pressing their cheeks together as he dramatically gestures toward the front of the auditorium. “Who exactly is that punk sitting next to my sister-in-law?”

“You don’t recognize him? That’s Travis.”

“Travis Kazansky?” She nods as she settles back into her own seat and firmly closes the program, she still felt dazed, but the weight of his arm was grounding. “Actually, where are the Kazanskys?”

“Sarah mentioned that Tom’s treatment was harder than usual the other day. I think they were planning to stay home so he can rest. Poor Travis. His senior year has been pretty rough.”

“God, he got big. What happened? Why are they sitting together?”

“Well, he went through puberty; that tends to happen to children, especially those that are 18 years old.”

He lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “You’re so funny I almost forgot how to laugh. Why are they sitting together?”

“Probably because they’re friends, Jake.”

“Friends?! How did those two become friends?”

“Delilah was his trig tutor, and they became friends… how ever kids become friends these days. TikTok or whatever. I don’t know anymore.”

“I thought she was taking calculus?”

“She did take calc, but she was a tutor for lower-level math classes this year.” A small smile forms on her face, watching the two teenagers shyly flirt with each other, surrounded by their friends.

“Jesus, you two are smart. I don’t know where you got- Look!” Jake interrupts his own muttering to aggressively point down front again. “Look at that! He put his arm around her!”

“I see that. It’s very sweet.”

He looks incredulous. “Sweet?! That’s not sweet! He’s taking advantage of her!”

“You’re being ridiculous! He puts his arm around her, that is not taking advantage of her. He is a perfectly nice boy!”

“No, he is not “a nice boy” – he’s a teenage boy! He's the starting quarterback and captain of the lacrosse team!”

“Hmm, wow, sounds familiar.”

“Exactly! I know what he’s like because that’s who I was!”

She rolls her eyes at the overprotective brother routine. “And you turned out fairly decent. I think we’ll be okay.”

“No! He’s not good enough for-”

“Jake. What he’s doing is totally harmless. He’s a good kid, and we know his parents very well. I’m not worried about it. And I’m actually glad a cute boy is flirting with Delilah. I didn’t get that, so I’m happy she’s getting to experience it.”

He freezes, looking sideways at her, noting her wistful expression as she watches the younger blonde boy play with her sister’s perfectly curled hair. “No one flirted with you in high school?”

“No, which isn’t surprising. I was a dork and so painfully shy. Besides, no one wanted to be known for being the guy that flirted with the too-smart-for-her-own-good, fat girl.” She shifts in her chair, dislodging his arm from her shoulders, uncomfortable with the vulnerability she had accidentally shown. His response is interrupted by Principal Scott attempting to start the evening, the entire audience cringing at the feedback that reverberates through the hall.

“Well, it’s nice to know some things around here never changed.”

Jake is worried about the woman in his passenger seat; she hasn’t once made fun of his music choice or criticized his bad blinker habits. She’s been staring out the window since they left the restaurant, just watching the bright lights of downtown. “You didn’t cry as much as I thought you would.”

His bad joke works, as it so frequently does with her. “Oh, like you’re so tough! I heard you sniffle when Delilah got the math scholarship.”

“How could I not be proud of her? She won seven awards, and that was the biggest one I saw listed in the program, and she won it!” His eyes go big as he defends himself.

She leans back into her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. “It is a big award, must be a pretty successful alumnus who donated it. Wonder who it is…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool of them, whoever they are.”

She goes to question him – fairly certain the anonymous alumni donor is him – when he makes an unexpected turn. “What are you doing?”

“Ice cream.”

Her eyes narrow, “I thought you didn’t want dessert?”

“Maybe I just wanted to have some alone time and get a lil something sweet with my something sweet.”

“You said no at the restaurant, that you were “too full” for dessert.” She points out.

“Well, I’ve since changed my mind.” He sniffs. “A man is allowed to do that.”

“Mmmhm. You’ve done that a few times tonight.”

He plays dumb. “What do you mean?”

“When Delilah mentioned that we were going to Morton’s for a celebration dinner in front of Travis, I thought you would blow a gasket. But instead, you invited him to join us; I didn’t even have to nudge you. And you didn’t complain once when you called the restaurant to adjust our reservation.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

She starts chuckling at him. “Stop it! You are so full of shit. There was nothing! No complaining, no protesting the, the- oh, what did you call him when he put his hand on her back? Oh! No protesting the “devil child” joining our dinner? And by the way, I can’t believe you suggested that Travis drive Delilah home and then stuffed fifty bucks in his hand so they could stop and get ice cream!”

“He’s not a bad kid.”

“Oh, and what pray tell has caused this sudden change of heart, Mr. Seresin?”

“He was very polite and respectful.”

“And?” She pokes his arm, poking him harder when he mumbles something. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“…and he called me sir without any prompting.” He backs into a spot, completely avoiding eye contact once in park.

“Oh my god.” Her chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. “You are so ridiculous.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He looks genuinely sad, pouting in the driver’s seat.

She unbuckles and leans across the console, getting in his personal space with a smile bigger than he had ever seen from her. “I thought you liked it when I’m mean to you?”

Her voice is low, sexy, even as she’s mocking him with his own words from earlier in the day. Suddenly his whole body feels hot, and he laughs to deflect, praying to any available deities that his neck isn’t turning red. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Just for that, you can pay for ice cream.” He climbs out of the car, smile growing as he listens to her protests about how she wasn’t even the one that wanted ice cream, so he should be the one to pay. She’s still making her case when they meet at the bumper, but he doesn’t respond, distracted by how she hooked her hand through his elbow without thinking. He stares at the ring adorning her fourth finger, and his heart thumps.

This is what the rest of our lives are going to be like.

She gently pinches the inside of his bicep as she presses into his side to give more room to a young family juggling a stroller and three young kids on a sugar high, wiggling her fingers at the baby propped on his mom’s hip. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Always, my dear.”

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credit for dividers here

[masterbaiting]

[iridescentis]

Power & Control by MARINA sounds like the plot of a nischa fic

[honeyedlashton]

Santa Baby

by Honeyedlashton ~6.6k

Bottom!Luke Hemmings/Top!Ashton Irwin One Shot

Porn with plot, daddy kink, voyeurism (kind of)

“Hello, Santa, baby. What's your name?” The glittering blonde asked like he hadn’t just used it before the break ended. Luke fixed his heavenly gaze on Ashton once again and the man felt his body warm—probably the stage lights. “For the audience.”

“Ashton.”

“Ashton!” Luke’s perfectly colored lips formed the name the way he imagined a beautiful model would eat an ice cream cone. “Isn't Ashton handsome, everyone? Give him a round of applause if you find him as scrumptious as I do!”

The audience roared to life again. “Ashton, baby, are you familiar with the concept of the game, ‘Christmas Catalog?’” Luke's warm hand rubbed his shoulder blades over the velvet Santa coat.

“I can't say that I am, Lukey. Mind tellin’ me?”

“Well, it's a pretty simple game. I show you all sorts of prizes from various price ranges, and you have to guess what the sum total of everything is.” Luke’s sweet explanation was like the cooing of a dove. He swore he could see the little fake wings flutter a little. Like a giggle, that winning grin curving across glossy lips.

“That seems easy enough to understand. Even for a guy like me…”

Or

Ashton is on his dream game show at Christmas time, and the grand prize is better than he even thought it would be…

[ratwars]

Rewrite the chapters poem to accommodate more chapters vs have a doubled length chapter. The battle.