#Debts payments arrangements

[commercialrecoverydebt]

AI Chatbots – Transforming the Debt Collection Industry

The services of debt collectors are a kind of art that these professionals perform based on tailor-made strategies while complying with national and international laws. The goal of these professionals is to ensure healthy cash flow as well as the relationship with the debtors. A well-defined debt collection policy in association with timely communication and strong relationships generate positive results in the form of timely debt collection. Modern-day debt collectors are seeking assistance from AI and chatbots assuming that they will help in debt collection. The problem is that these AI based chatbots are still facing a ‘poor reputation’ situation.

But post covid-19 pandemic, things have changed a lot and now people love them due to several reasons. Researchers have also confirmed this and the following data is enough to reveal the love of debtors and debt collectors for AI based chatbots.

62% of consumers would prefer to use a bot rather than wait for a human agent to answer (TIDIO)

74% of Internet users prefer using chatbots when looking for answers to simple questions (PSFK)

65% of customers are comfortable handling an issue without interacting with a human (ADWEEK)

Let's Keep It Simple – Consumers Prefer Interrupting With Virtual Assistant Rather Than The Debt Collector In Sydney Himself

Anyone would feel embarrassed discussing the poor financial situation that he is currently passing through. Even more embarrassing situation is telling the debt collector in Perth that he is unable to clear outstanding dues and this is where virtual assistance can be helpful. They interact with these chatbots more frankly compared to speaking to a debt collector in Sydney directly. The simple reason is that these chatbots are impersonal and non-judgemental. They simply ask questions and provide answers to the debtors in the form of solutions regarding the debt and negotiations related to the same.

Highly Convenient

It has also been discovered that talking to a chatbot is convenient for debtors as they can contact the debt collector in Sydney 24/7. This is not possible for humans as they close the office in the evening till the next morning.

A More Recognisable Platform

The biggest reason behind the popularity of AI based chatbots is that they are now recognisable to most people. Virtual chatbots provide instant gratification by fulfilling every desire and in terms of debtors, this desire is of contracting via a message rather than calling.

Saves Time and Money

AI based chatbots and debt collectors software mostly work in front and backend office activities. They can complete several sophisticated tasks very easily and help consumers in making payments arrangements, dispute filing and even, providing negotiation terms and conditions. In short, anything that creates a high-level of stress in humans can be completed easily with these AI based chatbots and robots. This means anyone including the debt collector and the debtor will experience a non-confrontational and low stress environment that helps them work better and improve productivity.

[bucksangel]

you taste like suburbia

pairing: mafia!stucky x reader (poly), john walker x reader but not for long

word count: 6.4k

summary: your lousy boyfriend John Walker owes quite a bit of money to some pretty shady people. And since he doesn’t have the means to pay, he’s brought you along to a negotiation to meet them - and hopefully entice them into accepting a different form of payment.

warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con kind of, a tiny bit of stalking/dark behavior (it’s only hinted at), voyeurism i guess?, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), threesome, poly relationship, petnames (princess, kitten, beautiful), daddy kink, sir kink, unprotected p in v, a little bit of misogyny (not from stucky), not john walker friendly, mentioned verbal abuse, mention of murder (you have to squint and turn your head 90 degrees)

a/n: this is based off this post and @crazyunsexycool ‘s very amazing comments (title is from ‘suburbia’ by devon again)

tip jar | masterlist

“It’s simple, really.” The men across from you have been staring you down this whole time, eyes barely leaving your body and that’s only to occasionally glance at the man sitting next to you. And though they’re looking at you, you know their words aren’t directed your way. No. It’s for John.

John Walker; your shitty boyfriend who, apparently, has got himself into a lot of trouble with some pretty shady people. You don’t know much, you just know that he has a debt to pay and he doesn’t have the funds.

And you’re not stupid, you know how this will go. Your relationship with John started good, great in fact, but then he fell back into his old gambling ways a few months in. You wanted to leave, to kick him to the curb the moment he asked you for money to cover some bills. But you were too kind-hearted for your own good and felt the need to help him just because you loved him. But the deeper into trouble he’s gotten the less he’s actually cared about you, too focused on getting his debts paid off so he doesn’t get a bullet in his head.

Thus, you’re here. Forced to wear that dark red, wrap-around dress that shows just enough to be desired in the hopes that will entice the men across from you into accepting a different form of payment. Fifteen minutes into the ‘meeting’ you can already tell that they’re going to accept. And you don’t really know what to do in this situation, you know you don’t really have a say in how this plays out, but some part of you doesn’t really mind. Part of you is glad you’ll finally be free from John’s bullshit.

It just helps that the men your boyfriend owes money to are extremely attractive. Both men don dark black suits, white button-ups, and sleek black ties. And the brunette - Bucky, maybe? - smirks when he catches your eye after having been staring at his hand grasping a cigarette for a few moments before glancing up at his face. With a wink, he turns his head towards his partner - Steve, if you remember correctly.

“You owe us quite a bit of money, but you already knew that. We also know that you don’t have the means to pay us.”

From beside you, you can feel John shaking in his seat. With just a glance in his direction, you can see the beads of sweat forming around his hairline at Steve’s commanding tone.

“We’re assuming that’s why you brought her, isn’t it?” With that question, both men look back at you, the hunger in their eyes is prominent. And part of you wants to cower in your chair, to wrap your arms around your body and hide from their intense gazes. But a bigger part of you likes it, craves being desired. Lord knows John hasn’t looked at you like that in a long while.

“Um,” John stops himself, seems to not know what exactly to say. But then Bucky raises one of his eyebrows and John is quick to continue. “Y-Yes, sirs.”

Steve hums, bringing up his glass to take a long sip of his liquor of choice. Bucky takes a short drag of his cigarette before speaking up.

“And if we don’t accept the arrangement?”

John starts really vibrating out of his seat now, both of his legs bouncing furiously. One of his hands rubs over the back of his other, and he gulps loudly.

“I-I don’t… Please. I don’t have the money right now. And, she’s good in bed. She’ll listen to whatever you say, so she’ll please you guys whenever you need, she can even cook and clean so she can be a maid for you too.”

His words make you want to vomit, talking about you like you’re nothing more than a whore, a piece of meat to be passed around and commanded. Your eyes narrow, glaring over at your asshole boyfriend as you begin to pick at your fingernails with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

Steve surprises you by slamming his glass down onto the dark oak desk in front of him, some of the liquid inside spilling out.

“And what makes you think you can talk about a woman like that?” His voice is booming, and the tension in the air is palpable. It’s hard to hide the smile that wants to spread across your face, but you manage to not show your smugness when John sits up straight and begins sputtering out an apology.

“Enough,” Bucky says, taking another long drag and then putting out the cigarette. As he exhales out the smoke, he makes sure to blow it in your boyfriend’s direction, and you have to look down at your lap to prevent the men from seeing your smirk at the show of dominance.

With a glance at his partner, they seem to have a silent conversation before Steve nods, looking back at John while Bucky looks at you.

“We’ll accept. If nothing else then to get her away from you.”

Even with the passive-aggressive comment, you can see the way John’s body visibly relaxes, and can hear the sigh of relief that passes through his lips.

You on the other hand don’t quite know what to do. Yeah, you’re glad you’ve found a way out of this toxic relationship, but you’re also very aware that this major adjustment in your life was made without your consent or input. This thought immediately makes all the satisfaction drain from your body, and you keep your gaze averted so the men across from you can’t see the underlying fear growing in your eyes.

Because you don’t know these men. You’ve never even heard of them until now. All you know is that anyone connected to the dark underworld that is the mafia couldn’t possibly be a good person. For a moment, you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realize all of the men are staring at you.

“Wh-What?” Your throat is a little dry due to not having spoken in a while, and you try your hardest not to let your voice waver.

“Are you okay with this?” Steve asks with an uncharacteristically soft smile and calm voice. He’s asking you how you feel about this? Why? Shouldn’t this be the end, the part where your boyfriend leaves and you uproot your life to live as payment for his debts?

Apparently not.

“Why are you asking me?” Confusion is laden in your tone, your eyebrows furrowing and your fingers picking at your nails even harsher.

“Because, beautiful,” Bucky starts, waving to a red-headed woman who suddenly appears with water for you. “We don’t want you thinking this is purely transactional. You’re not property, you’re a grown woman and you deserve to have a say in your life. If you don’t want to come with us, that’s okay. We’ll extend our contract with your dear boyfriend.”

Steve speaks up next.

“But if you do want to come with us, we’ll show you how real men treat ladies.” His eyes grow hungry for half a second, then return to that unnerving adoring gaze.

Everything grows silent for a moment, everyone awaiting your answer. As you look over at John, his face is contorted in fear of what they’ll do if you deny them, and anger - silently demanding that you say yes. And, looking over at him, you finally realize he’s never been who you thought he was. Even when he was being an asshole, when he would steal from you, when he would yell and scream and verbally abuse you because he lost even more money, you were so blinded by trying to help him that you couldn’t accept that you were being used.

Now, you know. You know that even if you don’t know these men, the fact that they’re even asking for your opinion says more than anything John could ever do. With one final look at him, you sigh, looking Steve in the eyes.

“I’ll go with you.”

Not only does John visibly relax, but you can see some of the tension leave Bucky and Steve’s bodies, almost like they were hoping that you would say yes.

“It’s settled then.” Steve’s smile turns into a sly smirk, and he momentarily shifts his gaze to John. “Your debt has been paid.”

John tries thanking him, tries to thank the men for sparing his life, but Bucky cuts him off by clearing his throat.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that comment, though.”

With that, Steve nods at the redhead who comes to stand behind John. In one swift movement, she puts one hand on his shoulder and one hand grabs the inside of his elbow, and she twists. The sounds of his bones cracking are loud, but his screams are louder, his cries of pain reverberating throughout the office. And, as much as you want to feel bad for him, you can’t find it in you to do so. The last two years have been hell for you, and seeing him in pain feels a little like payback for all the pain he caused you. You simply sit there and stare as the woman grabs both of his shoulders and hauls him up, ignoring his cries while dragging him to the door.

The woman follows him out, leaving just you and the two men. For a moment, neither of you speaks, almost like you’re all waiting for the other person to say something.

“So, um. What happens now?” You look at Bucky as he stands and walks around the desk, holding his hand out and encouraging you to grab it. Once you do, you let him help you stand and move you so you’re nearly pressed against his body, a heavy, black metal hand settling on your waist as he brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

“Now we take you home,” Bucky says softly, staring deep into your eyes and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“We’ll have our associates pick up your things,” Steve says, suddenly standing so close behind you that you can feel the heat from his body. His large hands settle on your shoulders, gently massaging your muscles and allowing any remaining tension in your body to slip away.

“And you won’t have to worry about anything for the rest of your life.” Bucky presses his body against yours further, holding your gaze for a long while before he leans down to place a delicate kiss on your cheekbone, very close to your ear. “Your only concern will be taking care of us, and letting us take care of you.”

In order to not moan you have to clear your throat, focusing all of your attention on not melting into a puddle at their feet. Steve leans down to place a kiss on your other cheek, sighing softly as though he’s been waiting for this. You hesitantly place one hand on Bucky’s arm and one on Steve’s hand, and he immediately threads your fingers together.

“Home?” Bucky asks, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Home,” You say without a second thought, already liking the idea of being with them, being theirs.

____________

You all get back to their mansion, because of course they live in a mansion, about an hour later. It’s in a woodsy and remote area of upstate New York with no neighbors for a good two miles, and upon driving through the gates and down the long driveway your eyes go wide, everything is just so big. The fountain in the front yard stands almost as tall as the three-story house, several expensive-looking cars are parked off to the left near what you assume is the garage, and you’re pretty sure you can spot a greenhouse in the backyard.

As soon as the car is stopped two men appear on either side of it, opening the doors for Steve and Bucky and letting them step out. A woman - the same redhead from earlier - comes up to your door and opens it, reaching out her hand and guiding you out.

“I’m Natasha,” She says with a welcoming smile on her face. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, jumping slightly when an arm wraps around your waist.

“It’s nothing, beautiful.” When you look up at Bucky, you see him giving Natasha a look that you can tell is a silent demand to stop talking. Then, he turns to you, pulling you close to his side. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

Despite a spark of uneasiness popping up, you walk with him, Steve appearing by your other side and taking your hand in his and once again threading your fingers together. He gives you a warm smile, squeezing your hand. “We’ll give you a tour later, for now, we just want you to relax.”

As you walk through the entrance, your eyes open even wider than before. Not only is the foyer huge, but the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling illuminates the area beautifully and your heels make clicking noises on the pristine tile floor. You let your eyes wander as you walk up the grand staircase, admiring the artwork on the walls while you’re led through a large living area and down a hallway to a door.

And when they open it, dear lord you just want to scream. It’s bigger than the one-bedroom apartment that you shared with John. There’s a huge canopy bed off to the left, a massive TV mounted on the opposite wall, and a reading nook against the floor-to-ceiling window with a long bookshelf on the wall next to it - ending a few feet from the bed. There’s plants hanging from the ceiling and potted ones in each corner of the room, and an open door off to the right gives you a peak at what must be the bathroom but resembles more of a spa.

It’s absolutely gorgeous and it makes you feel at home.

“How do you like it?” Steve asks, both men tugging and leading you further into the room when they notice you’ve frozen while taking everything in.

“I love it,” You say quickly, smiling at them as you walk towards the bed so you can run your fingers along the silk bed sheets. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good.” Bucky appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, warmth filling your body. These men are already showing you more affection than John had during your entire relationship, and it simultaneously hurts your heart that you stayed with an ungrateful and uncaring man for so long while also making you happy that you’ve fallen into the laps of men with high standards of how to treat a woman.

“We’ll let you rest up, now.” Steve comes up to you and works his arm between your back and Bucky’s body so he can hold your waist. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, bringing up his other hand to cradle your head so he can really breathe in your scent.

“Wait.”

Immediately Bucky and Steve pull away, and when you turn around and look up at them you can see the concern written on their face.

“This is my room?”

Bucky nods, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. Is it okay? We can redecorate if you want, just tell us what you like and we’ll do it.”

You shake your head, placing one hand on Bucky’s chest and the other on Steve’s.

“N-no. No, I love it. I just thought…” You trail off, biting your lip. You’re not too sure how to phrase your thoughts, but you try your hardest when the men continue to stare at you. “I guess I just thought you would want me to sleep in your room.”

Bucky sighs and pulls you close, placing one hand on the back of your head while Steve saddles up beside him to grasp your hip.

“While we would absolutely love having you in our bed,” Bucky stops to swipe his tongue along his bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to lean up on your toes to bite it. “We’re not going to force you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“We know this is a big adjustment,” Steve says, smiling down at you when you look at him. “So we don’t want to make you do something that would make you uncomfortable.”

The men go silent, as do you, allowing you to process their words. They’re right, of course. This is all so new for you, and even though you’re more than ready - you’ve been deprived of physical contact and a good orgasm for a while - you know it wouldn’t be a good decision to jump into a relationship like this so soon after leaving your ex.

Fuck good decisions.

“What if…” You trail off, biting your lip nervously. Deciding to be bold, you trail the hand on Bucky’s chest up until you can cup his cheek, smiling when he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“What if I do want to?” You glance over at Steve, batting your eyelashes and fighting the shiver that wants to run through your body when he groans, low and utterly sexy.

“And what exactly is it that you want?” Bucky asks, his voice dropping while moving his free hand to your back, slowly inching down until he can rest it on your ass, but not squeezing.

“I -“ Suddenly a whine is forced out of your mouth when Steve moves your hair and leans down so he can kiss and nibble at your neck. “Steve!”

Then, Bucky dips down while pulling your head closer to his so he can press a searing kiss on your lips, swallowing your moan as he squeezes and kneads your ass.

“Tell us what you want, kitten,” Steve murmurs, biting and sucking a dark bruise on your neck and laughing when you pull away from Bucky’s lips with a huff.

“I - fuck.” Your whining is bordering on desperation. The lack of physical and sexual contact for the last few months has finally caught up to you, and you’re about to cry with how needy you feel. “I want you to fuck me.”

Both men curse, Steve nodding but not removing his mouth from the column of your throat. And maybe if your head wasn’t already fogged over with desire you’d have heard Bucky’s muttered “finally.” As it is though, you don’t pay attention to anything other than their hands caressing and groping your body, the men working in tandem to strip you of your dress and lay you flat on your back in the middle of the bed.

Both men stand at the end of the bed, staring at you with dark lust in their eyes as Bucky palms his crotch. They stare for so long that you start to get self-conscious, wondering what they’re thinking. It was always quick with John, he never really focused on your pleasure but rather worried about getting himself off and asking with an infuriatingly smug grin if it was good. It never was, but you never told him that, you hate confrontation. So it’s a little unnerving to have sex be drawn out, to be the center of attention - and the attention coming from the two hottest men on the planet makes you squirm uncomfortably. You’re about to cover yourself with your arms when Bucky kneels on the bed and grabs one of your wrists, Steve appearing next to you so he can grab your other one.

“Don’t,” Bucky says hoarsely, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t hide from us, kitten.”

An involuntary moan forces its way up your throat and out of your mouth, and you find yourself agreeing with a quick nod. “I-I’m sorry,” You whine, arching into Steve’s hand that has now found a home on your covered breast.

“Don’t be sorry, princess,” Steve murmurs trailing his hand from your breast to your neck, toying with the necklace John had given you on your sixth-month anniversary. You haven’t taken it off since, it felt like a mark of ownership. And at first, it felt good, you loved knowing you were John’s girl. However, as the relationship progressed and worsened with every day, it felt more like a chain, weighing you down and forcing you to stay tethered to him. Yes, it had occurred to you to take it off a few times, but you weren’t ready for it to end. Even though it was an extremely toxic relationship, you had nowhere to go.

“Did he give you this?” Steve asks, disdain clear in his voice. And when you nod, he hovers over you, smirking as he grips the necklace and pulls, the chain snapping in two as he flings it across the room. Ignoring your shocked gasp, Steve and Bucky lean back and get off the bed, resuming their earlier position near the end of it.

“She’s perfect, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs after a long moment of silence. Putting a hand on the back of his partner’s neck, he yanks him forward, pulling him into a downright filthy kiss that makes your legs immediately squeeze shut to relieve the growing ache in your core.

At your loud and needy whine, they pull away, both men working in sync to get undressed and hurry to lay on either side of you. Both of them have kept their boxers on, but the very large bulge straining against the fabric does absolutely nothing to hide their arousal.

“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asks, and even though you can hear the desperation in his voice, you know deep in your bones that they would stop if you said no. And that just further cements your decision, you need them, you need to feel them and kiss them and have them worship you in ways John could never.

“I’m sure, Bucky.”

“Call me ‘Daddy’, princess,” He says, reaching up a hand and placing it on your throat. He doesn’t choke you, but the pressure lets you know that he wants to.

“I’m sure, Daddy.”

Bucky groans as though he’s been punched in the gut, and his hips jerk forward, rubbing his erection into your thigh. He dives down and captures your lips in a heated kiss, momentarily distracting you from everything around you. That is until you feel a hand travel down your stomach, ignoring your underwear and slipping inside to quickly cup your wet and aching pussy.

Pulling away, you let out another gasp, your gaze immediately shooting to your left to see Steve’s very smug smirk.

“Feel good?” He asks as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving his middle finger up and down your slit until he finally pushes through, slipping the thick digit into your quivering hole all the way to the third knuckle.

“Oh God, yes! Yes, Steve.” He pulls his finger out momentarily, only to shove in two fingers - once again pushing in all the way.

“Sir,” Steve growls, leaning down to nibble at your ear. His gravely chuckle when you mumble, “Yes, sir,” sends tingles down your spine, and you’re near tears with how good but not enough his fingers feel.

“I-I need…” You trail off, whining pathetically when Steve removes his fingers again. You whine even louder when Steve pulls his hand out of your panties altogether, letting you see his fingers covered in your juices glinting in the moonlight. The sight doesn’t last long, because Bucky immediately dips down to suck on them, both men groaning in pleasure. The brunette doesn’t swallow though, he actually lets the fingers slip free from his mouth so he can capture his partner’s lips, letting Steve taste you too.

“Fuck,” You whimper, hands automatically tugging at both of their boxers in an attempt to move things along. “Please just fuck me already.”

They separate from each other, grinning wolfishly at each other for a moment before glancing down at your cute pout and pleading eyes.

“What’s the rush?” Steve asks, dipping down to give you a brief kiss. “We’ve got all night.”

Thankfully, though, they get with the program, maneuvering your body to their liking until your bra and panties are also discarded. And you’re about to undo the strap on your heels before Bucky grabs your ankle, shaking his head in disapproval.

“You’re keeping these on.” His command sends shivers down your spine, and you can’t even speak anymore with how turned on you are. Despite this, you somehow manage to whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s good,” Steve says, moving to kneel on the bed next to your head while he palms his bulge with one hand and squeezes your cheeks between his fingers with the other. “You’re going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir!” You say enthusiastically, nodding your head as best as you can. And due to Steve holding your head in place, you can’t see what Bucky is doing, but you feel your legs being pushed wide open as the bed dips between them.

“Good,” Steve mutters mostly to himself, giving you an unnervingly soft smile for the situation. “Now, Bucky’s been dying to taste you since he first laid eyes on you, so you’re going to let him worship your pussy while I fuck your mouth. Okay?”

If you weren’t already drunk with pleasure, this would’ve been the thing to send you under. His commanding tone and the heat of Bucky’s mouth so close to your dripping core already have you on edge, ready to snap at the slightest touch. And when you nod, Steve turns to his partner, nodding once and smirking when he dives in, parting your pussy lips and licking a long stripe from your hole to your throbbing clit, where he then sucks it into his mouth.

The borderline scream you emit is so loud you’d be surprised if anyone on this floor didn’t hear it, but it’s quickly muffled by Steve shoving his boxers down and easing his cock into your gaping mouth. Now, you’ve never really liked giving head - well, with John anyway. He was always too rough, and the fact that he never returned the favor made it seem more like a chore than anything.

But you could definitely get used to this. Steve’s girth stretches your lips wider than ever before, and even through the haze of pleasure, you can tell that he’s holding back, letting you get used to the stretch. It doesn’t take long, and a particularly rough nip to your clit has you sucking Steve’s cock further into your mouth, and the man curses above you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Steve sighs, rocking his hips forward ever so slightly. When he finds little resistance, he pulls back and pushes in a little further, groaning deep in his chest when you bring up a hand to tug at his balls.

“Taste so fuckin’ good too, princess,” Bucky mumbles against your pussy, pulling away only briefly so he can easily slide two metal fingers in as deep as they could possibly go. It’s clear that his goal is to make you cum, and you’re not that far off. To be frank, your arousal has been building from the moment you met them, and they are not disappointing.

It only takes a few more thrusts of Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s hand coming down to wrap around your throat for you to cum - your cunt spasming and hips thrusting up into Bucky’s face as you chase your high. Soon enough, both men retreat from your body, giving you a short reprieve while they rid themselves of their underwear. Steve moves you so he can lay back against the headboard, adjusting your position so you can rest in between his legs with your back against his chest while Bucky hovers over you.

“Now, princess,” He murmurs, just loud enough for both of you to hear him, and taps your arm. “You’re going to hold onto Stevie while I ruin this pussy. Then, he’s goin’ to fuck my cum back into you.”

“Oh God yes, yes please, Daddy!” If your mind wasn’t deep in the pits of desire you’d probably be embarrassed by how needy you are, maybe even ashamed. Right now, though, you can’t imagine feeling anything but pure pleasure and happiness.

It all happens so fast, Steve grabbing the backs of your thighs so he can spread them wide and Bucky quickly following by pushing his cock - easily the longest you’ve ever taken - halfway into your cunt. He stops there for a moment, letting you get used to the sudden stretch before surprising you by pulling out until his tip is only poking in.

You’re frustrated, extremely so, and you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he doesn’t fill you back up. And you’re about to start whining when the man above you thrusts forward, burying his cock so deep in your pussy that you swear you could feel him in your throat. Deep and guttural groans fill the air, a metal hand grasping your thigh and keeping it spread so Steve can wrap his arm around your midsection and hold you close while the pace quickly picks up.

And you’re in heaven, this must be heaven. Because in no other plane of existence would the two most handsome men in the world be touching and gripping you like you’re a priceless gem they’re afraid to lose. From behind you, Steve groans every time Bucky pushes into you, forcing you to shift in Steve’s lap and subconsciously grind into his throbbing erection.

“Fuck, kitten,” Bucky mutters, bracing one hand on the headboard and dropping your leg so he can grab your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look into his eyes - dark with a desire you’ve never known. But there’s something else there, something primal that no ordinary man could have, a sense of possessiveness and ownership that seeps out of his pores.

You can’t do anything except moan, your mouth parting wider to let out a scream when Bucky shifts slightly, thrusting and hitting that special spongey spot deep within you dead on.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she Stevie?”

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Steve says softly, running the hand he has on your stomach down to your pussy to rub at your hole, feeling where you and his partner are connected. “Always knew she would be.”

Thankfully for them, those words fly over your head. You’re already too fucked-out to think properly, do you even know what your name is?

When Steve swiftly moves his fingers to your clit, your answer is a confident no. All you can seem to focus on are these two men and the immense pleasure they’re giving you. And it takes only a few more thrusts for you to feel that coil in your tummy wind tighter and tighter.

“Is she gonna cum?” Steve asks cockily, noticing the way Bucky’s hips stutter and his brow furrows. Reaching up, Steve grabs the back of his partner’s neck and pulls him in for a rough and messy kiss - mainly tongue and teeth. When they pull away, Bucky is nearly breathless, and you can hear the cockiness in his voice when Steve tells him, “Make her. Come on, baby. Fucking fill her up so I can.”

Those words - coupled with the fingers rubbing your clit, the pressure on your neck, and the cock that’s currently rearranging your guts - make you cum harder than you’ve ever. It doesn’t even really feel like an orgasm, it’s better than that. Something squirts out of your pussy with every forward thrust, and if it weren’t for being sandwiched between the two buffest men to ever exist then you’d be positive you were floating off into the clouds.

Bucky follows soon after, a loud groan of your name filling the room before his hips are flush with yours. Vaguely, you can feel his seed filling your womb, coating your insides, and it takes a full minute for Bucky’s breathing to even out. When he finally regains his composure, he leans back, holding your hips steady and chuckling at the glazed look in your eyes.

“Ready for me to pull out, kitten?” The answer he gets is a mumbled and pitiful “no”, which he laughs at, affectionately patting your hip. “Sorry, princess, we have to let Stevie have his turn.”

With that, he nods to Steve, who reaches over to the nightstand and procures a phone, handing it to Bucky. Bucky places his metal hand on the inside of your right thigh, holding it in place while he goes to the camera app on his phone. 

“Okay, princess, gonna pull out now.” With his phone aimed at your hips, he slowly pulls out, hissing quietly but not stopping until his cock finally slips free. He moans softly, and when you finally manage to lift your head enough to see what he’s doing you see the phone leaning closer, capturing the no doubt obscene view of his cum dripping out of your hole. Bucky takes a few pictures and then tosses the phone back to Steve, who places it back on the nightstand.

The men shift, maneuvering your limp body until you’re laying flat on your back with Steve kneeling on the bed between your legs while Bucky stands off to the side, gripping his still-hard cock.

“Alright, beautiful,” Steve says, adjusting a pillow underneath your hips. “You ready for me?”

It takes a second to process his words, but when you do you nod your head as fast as you can, nearly giving you whiplash. You don’t care though, all you care about is the delicious stretch in your core as Steve pushes in slowly.

“Fuck, kitten,” Steve growls, stopping when his crotch is flush against yours with his pubic bone pressing against your clit. He grinds his hips against yours, the stimulation to your clit making you whine loudly.

Steve is drastically different from Bucky, he fucks you slow and sweet, though no less forceful, reaching deep in your pussy until you can barely gasp for air. When your head lolls to the side, you see Bucky stroking his cock in time with Steve’s thrusts, and, without thinking, you reach for him, beckoning him forward until he’s close enough that you can wrap your hand around it. Both men moan, and Bucky brings up his flesh hand and cups one of your breasts, kneading the flesh and rubbing over your nipple, pinching and twisting just right so it’s bordering on a delicious kind of pain.

Then, a loud smack rings through the air, Steve’s hips jerking forward almost immediately after.

“Pick it up, babe,” Bucky says with a smirk, chuckling at Steve’s agitated look, but he does so nonetheless.

Steve starts fucking you with intent, slamming into you at a borderline inhuman speed - and you don’t know how it’s possible but the orgasm building in your core seems to be more intense than the last. And after a few more thrusts, you’re plunged into the dark abyss of pleasure - mind going blank as a loud sob rips through your throat.

It’s an indeterminate amount of time later when you regain consciousness, and this time you don’t recognize the room you’re in. It takes a few moments for you to shake the fogginess out of your mind enough to notice that you’re alone in the large bed, and when you raise your head to look around the room you can’t see Bucky or Steve. But the pictures of the two of them and friends scattered throughout the space show you that this is their room.

“Bucky?” You call softly, your eyebrows furrowing when you hear no reply. Stretching your arms above your head, you force yourself out of bed - noticing that you’re now covered with a large shirt that smells a lot like Steve’s cologne. You go into the bathroom to find it empty, then wander to the large walk-in closet - again, empty.

Where are they?

“Steve?” You say a little louder, tentatively opening the bedroom door and peeking out, finding the hallway empty and quiet. There’s a spark of uneasiness that ignites in your stomach, though you try to stomp it out by reasoning with yourself - they’re busy men, after all.

When you look to your right, you see a set of double doors at the end of the long hallway, and something in you tells you to check there. As you walk down to the doors, more uneasiness pops up, it just feels a little too quiet. But the closer you get you can start to hear whispers, and they become more prominent when you stop right outside the doors. Bits and pieces of conversation flow through the wood.

“I want him gone within the hour.”

“Off the bridge.”

“They won’t find him.”

But one line hits you differently.

“Don’t let her find out.”

Your curiosity is extremely peaked, and it takes all of your willpower to bring your hand up to knock. You feel a little like you’re intruding, but you’re too confused to not impose.

The door opens a few moments later, though it’s only cracked halfway, and Steve appears in the doorframe.

“Hello, beautiful,” He says sweetly, reaching out a hand to hold your hip. “Why don’t you go back do bed, hm? I’ll be right there.”

“But, Buck-”

“Is just dealing with a few things. We had to deal with a business related issue, but he’ll join us when he’s done.” Steve is calm, and the soft look in his eyes is enough to quell any anxiety you were feeling. You’re not sure how he’s able to do it, but he’s mesmerizing, already able to manipulate you to his liking.

You’re sure it’s supposed to be frightening, but you can’t find it in you to care. Unlike John, you know with an enormous amount of certainty that they would never harm you, they’ll protect you.

What you don’t know is just how far they’ll go to protect you - to save you from deadbeat men who are too selfish to not recognize a treasure when he has one. And men that are too stupid to know when he’s being lied to. You don’t need to know that, though.

So, with a smile and a kiss, he sends you on your way, only retreating back into the room when you go in theirs.

“That was close,” Bucky says as he hangs up the phone, putting it back in his pocket.

“It’s okay, she doesn’t know.” Steve turns to his partner, both of them wearing matching smirks. “And she never will.”

taglist (+ people who seemed interested): @yamitem @buckysprettybaby @kokeshi-mynx @cevansbaby-dove @biteofcherry

[mousedetective]

Please Help A Mentally Ill, Mostly Queer Homeless Family Stay Housed This Holiday Season?

PAYPAL | AMAZON WISHLIST | KOFI | GOFUNDME

VENMO: @penaltywaltz | CASHAPP: $afteriwake23 | ZELLE: DM me for email address

12/27/23 - Updated Post!

NEW GOAL!

$1290/$2013

(Original goal met, now edited for additional room help, food, bills and other things needed)

If I can get the entire amount still needed, I can do the following:

Get the hotel room for over a week, which will let us come and go without worrying about having to spend all day trying to raise money and we can run important errands next week

Close three open collection accounts my mom has by paying them off in full via her debt consolidation company, and pay off two defaulted payday loans

Pay off her PayPal debt so that PayPal will reopen her account

Have money to make a payment if I can get the debt collection company to find her other credit card account I need to arrange payments on

Get food after the 10th, because I fully expect both myself and my mom to be out of food stamps by then (also, I don't know who did it, but BLESS YOU to the person who bought us three DoorDash gift cards off the Amazon wishlist...I just wanted to put that out there in case you didn't send a gift receipt)

Most of this will be a huge help in getting us to be able to qualify for housing that requires credit checks, and helping Lena get her health stuff sorted and figure out if she has any other debilitating illnesses will help give her disability appeal more strength, which will help her get an income to support herself. So please reblog this version if you can, and help with money or wishlist items if you can (the restaurant gift cards go a long way, plus I desperately need the clothing for me because I've lost 40 pounds this last year and most of my stuff is now too big). Thank you for reading this, and I hope you have an awesome day!

[anexperimentallife]

EDIT: CRISIS AVERTED, THANK YOU!

Interracial US family w/ disabled autistic dad and toddler needs to get to the US for medical treatment

(New post because the old one was getting LONG with the updates. Details are under the "read more" to save your dash, with updates in the notes.)

TL;DR: If I'm going to live long enough to watch our daughter grow up, we need to get back to the US and get set up in a disability-friendly place where I can use my medical benefits.

Although I was already disabled (autism, adhd, and spine, joint, and head injuries), my health was stable--until four bouts of COVID left me immunocompromised, and utterly destroyed my health (including damage to my heart, blood clots that damaged one eye, neurological and joint issues, etc.), and although we started off fine, we've been hammered with one crisis after another, both medical and financial, that no one could have predicted.

Until we have enough to get back to the US, a chunk of whatever comes in has to go towards medical care that can't be put off, so the sooner we can reach critical mass on that, the better.

If you can help, or reblog, or share the links on other platforms, we'd be grateful!

The "Donate to Little or None" Paypal donation link takes the lowest fees, I think. (Kept the same link from when we were fighting to get our daughter's birth certificate fixed so we could get her citizenship affirmed.)

Then there's Ko-Fi:

And my little sister started a GoFundMe for us!

EDIT: The donation links above still work, but I removed the GoFundMe link.

IF YOU WANT ALL THE DETAILS SEE THE "READ MORE."

(There's more in my "rob gets medical" tag if you want a blow by blow account of how we got to this point over the past few years, but this is the gist.)

HOW IT STARTED:

I moved to the Philippines six years ago, after the deaths of my adult sons, in part to make my disability payments stretch further. Shortly afterwards, I was joined by my now-wife @thesurestthing (also from the US) for what was supposed to be a visit, but which turned into a permanent arrangement.

After I got a contract to license an old story for a mobile game (which tripled our income*), we found out we were having a baby, which was fine, because despite my disabilities (autism, adhd, two spine injuries, traumatic brain injury, a herniated esophagus, joint issues, etc.), my health was stable, and thanks to the contract, we were fine financially as well.

HOW IT STARTED GOING DOWNHILL:

Zoey's pregnancy was complicated, requiring two hospitalizations, and our daughter's birth was complicated, too--requiring a C-Section--which tripled our hospital bill. A few weeks after our daughter was born, the aforementioned contract was canceled without warning. THEN, when we tried to register our daughter's birth with the US embassy, we discovered an error on her birth certificate that left her stateless, and which took nearly two years, all our savings, and a fundraiser (thank you, generous people!) to resolve. Combined with medical expenses, that left us in a lot of debt.

A brief summary of went else wrong (leaving a lot out for brevity's sake):

I got COVID three four times during all this, became immunocompromised, and developed a slew of other medical issues (heart damage, eye damage and temporary facial paralysis from blood clots, persistent infections, a worsening of my joint issues, neurological issues, etc.) as a result of Long Covid.

I've had to be hospitalized a couple of times, undergo surgery, and was on an oxygen machine twice--once for an entire month, while I was bedridden. As of 24 January, 2024, I'm still recovering from my fourth bout of covid, which started at the beginning of October 2023.

There's a lot more, but you get the idea. COVID has completely wrecked my health, including tearing up my immune system.

And yes, I'm as fully vaxxed against COVID as one can be in the Philippines, with all available boosters, but again--I'm immunocompromised, plus they don't have the vax for the newest variant here yet. Zoey is vaxxed, also, and as a result, her bout with covid was extremely mild. El isn't vaxxed yet because they won't give the covid vaccine to kids under five here, but she's been able to share Zoey's antibodies from breast-feeding--which is apparently a thing.

The only way we can see for me to stay alive long enough to watch Eleanor grow up is to get back to where I can use my Medicare and VA benefits**.

WHY SO MUCH MONEY?

First, while we're still here, we need to pay for whatever medical care can't be put off. Plus, since I'm now immunocompromised, we have to get LOTS of vaccinations before we have to spend 24 hours or so in crowded planes and airports.

Second, we're going to be arriving with only what we can carry with us on the plane, and we'll need to get into a place near a VA hospital that I can easily get around in while I'm recovering from surgeries and getting various treatments. We'll need to pick up some secondhand household goods, and some kind of used transportation (because, you know, it's the US, where you kind of need a vehicle to get around).

We'll also need enough on top of my and El's disability payments to get by for a couple of months while Zoey looks for work. And all this is while we're still paying off the debt from the stuff I mentioned above.

So we're figuring that unless we catch some very lucky breaks, it'll probably cost between 20K and 36K altogether.

(We can't simply stay with friends when we get back, because literally every single close friend we have in the US with extra room and who lives close to a VA hospital has cats--to which I have a severe anaphylactic reaction. As in my entire respiratory system shuts down, and I have to be rushed to the ER to keep from dying; this has happened more than once. The only way I can be around cats is if I'm on immunosuppressants, and my immune system is ALREADY compromised, so I CAN'T do that.)

So again, if you can kick in, or reblog, or post our crowdfunding links (or the link to this post) on whatever other platforms you use, we'd appreciate it.

(*When I told social security about it, they said I could keep getting disability, too, because licensing IP rights didn't count as work income, and since it was a Moldavian company, it also fell under a special tax clause for getting paid by a foreign company while living overseas, so no taxes on it, either. )

(**VA benefits--I was a cold warrior in 1980s Germany. It was less than forty years after WWII, there was a lot of sabre-rattling--some of it nuclear--and we were there as a deterrent to prevent in Germany the kind of thing that's happening in Ukraine right now. Disclaimer because I'm tired of people accusing me of "invading" folks in the early 1980s when I was a dumb, heavily propagandized pre-Internet kid fixing generators in Europe. I wouldn't join today even if I could.)

[alicenotalice]

Absolutely engrossed by the most mundane, minor subplot of season ten—the wholesale stone deal between Joe Hills and Etho

Etho choosing to get himself into a comical amount of debt to Joe Hills, repeatedly. Because he’s the one who controls how many shulkers he gives for Joe to fill with stone—every empty box dropped off is a 2-diamond debt he’s signing up for

The existence of that debt leading Joe to adjust his build plans somewhat significantly—the roads of his massive community area build are now being outlined in froglights. Because Etho sells froglights. And Etho owed him hundreds of diamonds—so Joe can pay for the absurd amount of froglights he requires by cancelling Etho’s debt and leaving “you owed me” tokens in the payment box.

Joe could just build a froglight farm—but it’s funnier to get it from Etho. And Etho can get froglights a lot easier than he can get diamonds so I imagine he’s happy as well. They could just renegotiate the deal to a straight trade instead of the somewhat convoluted current arrangement—but I bet they won’t. Because it’s goofy, and fun, and most importantly it’s a Bit

I’m pretty sure this is the first real bit the two of them have had together

And I am. Enraptured. I’m cheering as other hermits start to patronize Etho’s stone shop. I’m trying to catch every Joe stream I can for debt updates. At some point over the course of this saga I was forced to admit that I am an actual Joe Hills fan, he’s one of my favs now, heaven help me lol

(And! It’s just really cool that this massive community area of Joe’s is being shaped by the resource needs of the other hermits! It’s like, thematic!)

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Gift

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Doflamingo x Viola/Violet (mentioned)

Warnings/Notes: My belated Doffy birthday oneshot 😅! Reader is female coded, but no explicit gender/pronouns are referenced (unless I missed one). Language. Age difference. Dubious consent. Male ejaculation, and some actual fluff this time?

Synopsis: Being such a vain and self-centric man, one would expect elaborate public birthday celebrations for Dressrosa’s king. But as the newest member of Doflamingo’s crew, you’re surprised to find that this isn’t the case. And you don’t think that’s right. So you resolve to give him a very personal gift anyway, to quite unforeseen (at least to you) results.

Fic Masterlist

———————————

Doflamingo didn’t celebrate his birthday any longer.

This tidbit of information about your new master was dropped so casually one afternoon as you and Baby 5 worked together to clean blood and viscera off of the stonework. 

The two of you were together in some dark room the Donquixote captain didn’t want the normal palace maids to venture into. A special interrogation space you now dumped another bucket of soapy water over.

It wasn’t your place to ask any questions though. You had only lived in Dressrosa for the last six months. 

You were the payment Doflamingo had taken when your previous owner couldn’t cough up enough for a weapons debt in time.

Yes, your last master had likely ended up in a room much like this one. Because you’d never seen that abusive old man ever again. 

But you were a logia user. And that qualification had seemed good enough for Doflamingo to allow you this new chance within his own ranks instead.

So you did not complain. And you did not step out of line. You only followed orders just as faithfully as all these pirates that had lived with him years before you had. 

But you still wondered.

You wondered why it bothered you that no one was supposed to acknowledge the day their leader had been born.

The one day that should really be his.

You were still so skeptical of this, that you even paid more attention to the goings on in town over the next week. Looking for any hint of even the most subtle celebration plans or decorations for the people’s king.

But there were none.

And within the palace, Giolla was who you most often were assigned to and shadowed. When you realized even she showed no interest in making artwork for the king’s upcoming cumpleaños as they called it here, that was when you finally knew they must be serious.

His birthday had been removed from all outward recognition, both within his own kingdom and private “family”.

It was such an odd notion, for how extravagant of a man Doflamingo seemed to be.

But you supposed you didn’t really know him either. In the entire six months you’d lived within his home, you didn’t think you’d had more than a few words directed at you from his grinning lips. And they had only ever been emotionless commands.

Ones you dutifully followed.

And you were okay with this arrangement. Because you had been purchased fairly. Your life preserved in exchange for being little more than a warm blooded machine. Simply another tool among all his others.

Yet you still kept thinking about him and this erasure of his birth. It felt so wrong to you.

Somehow even more wrong than the toys you sometimes heard crying in the underground port after midnight, or the blood you and Baby 5 cleaned up again and again from those equally hidden dungeons.

You lay awake in your room for hours actually, on the night before his birthday, until an idea finally came to you.

You had a need to do something about your feelings. You were very thankful to have a roof over your head after all. You were thankful to have a reliable supply of food, and you were thankful to be in the aura of this warlord’s protection in the violent New World.

It was a compulsion by that point really, to repay him in even some small way.

So you sat up in your bed and got to work then and there, inspired just the way you supposed Giolla always spoke of being. 

Your hands hardened as you summoned your power, yet also becoming fully transparent all at once while your fingers still moved nimbly.

You were a human made of glass.

Clear and flawless as your creation began to ebb from your own fingertips.

You could shape and alter it as easily as if it were molten. But you didn’t need heat to do this. Everything was still a part of you as you shaped one flower petal after another.

It became a large rose in full bloom. No stem, but the base of the flower was as wide as both of your palms put together soon enough. The candlelight’s glow in your room played through those rippling surfaces, casting prismatic reflections in every direction as you smiled.

But it still wasn’t special enough then. It wasn’t personal enough as you felt it needed a second element. 

Which wasn’t easy. It took you multiple attempts actually as you tried to shape a bird nestled within this blooming rose. 

A flamingo of course. But the neck was so slender, it kept drooping before you could harden it properly. And if you made it too hard, you were afraid it would hold tension and fracture before long.

So you compromised.

You let that flamingo rest its head, smoothing it with your still clear fingertips as you curved the neck down for the bird to lay its beak against its wing.

As if it were asleep. An elegant flamingo, content and peaceful in the bloom of a rose. The final glass was pristine in its clarity of course, with all the facets you’d created catching the light in such a way that it fully sparkled while you cupped it in your hands with admiration.

You loved it.

And the next day when you went into Doflamingo’s empty office as part of your regular task of filing his completed contracts for him, you left this gift on his desk while you took that stack of paperwork in exchange.

Yet you put no note with your gift. You didn’t even leave it in the center of his desk like a focal point, as you would never be that brazen or prideful.

No, you simply left it to the side. It could be little more than an ornate paper weight for all it mattered. He could discard it if he chose to.

And that would be alright. A gift was the receiver’s to do with as they wished after all.

But at least you now knew he would have a present. He would not be ignored on his own day.

And that thought made you very happy.

But hours passed easily within his palace. Neither Giolla, nor Trebol had any further special instructions for you that day. So by the time the sun had set again, you were alone once more in your bed.

Reading by candlelight as you often did. The palace library was available to any of the Donquixote crew, and its contents occupied you well in any downtime you found.

The story for tonight was interesting too, but not so different than those you’d read before. Just another handsome protagonist, and his rather oblivious lover to be.

It was quite predictable, but still enough to make you giggle once the two characters finally found themselves alone.

You knew exactly where this was going.

And you had been turning those pages just a bit faster in that anticipation before your small transponder snail suddenly awakened to startle you.

Of course you still answered immediately, expecting a late night order. Perhaps a request to join your fellow lower ranks in the underground harbor. Sometimes the pirates there got rowdy, trying to back out of prior agreements. But you were much less destructive than Trebol when restraining them.

“Yes?” You had answered in your calm way, ready for almost anything.

“Come to my office. Now.”

Anything but that as the young master’s impatient tone filled your ears instead.

“Yes, sir.” You said anyway.

The snail clicked, disconnecting from his side first as you dropped your book and practically leapt from the bed.

No one kept Doflamingo waiting.

So much so that you didn’t bother with shoes, or even changing.

You were barefoot, just in a nightgown that fluttered to your knees as you pulled a jacket on over it and hurried out and down the hall.

Your master’s office was on a higher floor. Always like ascending to where you would never truly belong as your feet took the staircase two steps at a time.

But there was no one else in the dark palace corridors. Nothing to speak of panic or a rallying of the troops at all to protect the island.

Yet as you pulled down on the golden door handles to open those carved double doors that led to his workspace, you had still expected to see more of the Donquixote crew.

Never once had you been here alone with him.

Until tonight.

“Close the doors.” He ordered.

And you still did so with no hesitation, then walking towards Doflamingo’s desk with your hands clasped subserviently in front of you below your waist.

You didn’t even ask for an explanation. You simply looked at him, awaiting further instruction.

But his large chair was pulled farther from his desk than normal. He was slouched back in it with his shirt fully open and oddly wrinkled.

One of his long legs was crossed over the other. But his foot was moving slightly, bouncing a little like letting out tension the rest of his body would not yet portray.

“Did you make this?” Doflamingo asked in such an odd tone, yet immediate and to the point as one of his fingers tapped the desk.

Your eyes finally broke away from him to look down at that glass rose you’d created with the flamingo still resting peacefully within the spread petals.

He had moved it dead center on his desk now.

“Yes, sir.” You answered simply, your voice still soft.

But that was when his posture changed.

“Why?” He asked you as he straightened up in his chair.

And you felt your hands tighten against one another. Yet, you were simple. You didn’t think ahead, or plan and strategize. Everything was only what it was and nothing more.

You always told the truth.

“I wanted to give you a gift. I’m thankful to be allowed to stay here, young master.”

And you saw his facial muscles contort slightly. 

Like he didn’t know what expression to make.

“But today? You chose today to do this…” He sounded strangely unsure. Irritated too, as only one of his large hands easily scooped up that glass artwork that had taken both your palms to carefully hold.

“Yes.” You again answered honestly. “I wanted you to have something even if we aren’t allowed to celebrate.”

His brow furrowed. But you did not see any bulging vein. He wasn’t fully angry, not yet. He didn’t seem to know what to do. 

And perhaps that was the root of this frustration.

“How old are you?” Doflamingo asked suddenly.

“Twenty.” 

He muttered a curse under his breath at this seemingly unpleasant answer. And you saw his leg shift, that movement of his foot getting a little faster.

“Well…hoy tengo cuarenta años. Es demasiado.” He finally told you in return, switching briefly to the native language of this island as he frowned. Like he couldn’t admit this number out loud, to you or himself otherwise.

And his fingers were still moving over your gift, tracing all those edges while he held it.

“I’ve waited hours today…wondering what to do about this.” He said again then. “I even brought Violet in here earlier to try and alleviate it...” And he gestured unabashedly at the messy state of his clothing that you had noticed on first arrival.

But only then as his arm moved did you see the smear of dark lipstick against his rib cage beneath that open shirt.

And that was the very first thing that finally brought a tinge of heat to your face.

“It’s…just a gift, young master.”

“It isn’t.” He corrected you so surely that you lowered your head like a scolded pup.

And you heard the resulting growl which came from that too.

“You’re too damn innocent.” He lamented. “And I’m twice your fucking age now.”

Said as if this was somehow all your fault.

His crossed legs shifted again too, like he was struggling with himself. “You don’t even have a man in town, do you? You just sit alone in your room all the time…doing what exactly?”

“I read.” You felt that coil of embarrassment in your stomach now rising to meet the heat still creeping downward from your face.

But he scoffed, a much crueler noise. “And think about me as you do? Clearly you must.” He held the glass rose up higher then, almost as if it were indisputable evidence in this sudden trial against you.

He was starting to sound genuinely angry now.

“I’m sorry, young master.” You tried.

“You can’t do these things and expect no consequence.” Doflamingo chided you harshly, as if you really were a fool.

A fool that he owned.

“Come here.” He commanded you in that renewed authority as he set your gift back to the center of his desk.

You followed the gesture of his fingers without question. He didn’t even have to use his strings as you walked around his desk to stand before his chair.

“You can’t show me affection and think nothing would come of it…” He warned only briefly. 

And it felt too dangerous to try and apologize further. You were silent as your eyes watched only those red lenses of his sunglasses. 

You did know enough not to dare look away from him now.

“I’m not going to fuck you. But you are going to let me get this feeling out.” He said darkly. “So just be quiet and we’ll be done soon enough. Then you can go back to your paper fantasies instead.”

There was not even an implication of wanting your permission in his mocking words either. He was telling you what was about to happen just before those long legs abruptly uncrossed and you were pulled between them.

And you still gasped as the clothed erection he’d been hiding this entire time now pressed up hard against your bottom in his lap.

He didn’t even give you time to process. He was already thrusting that sharp bulge against your nightgown within moments.

His large hands fisted within that same thin fabric beneath your jacket as he groaned quietly.

You felt him inhale deeply next, taking in your scent as he curved his spine enough to lean down into your smaller frame.

It was like being encapsulated, a monstrous snake constricting itself around a small prey when the smallest flick of wet met the side of your face simultaneously.

Just the very tip of his tongue, only a tiny taste of you before before those large hands tightened on your hips.

Doflamingo pulled you harder against his own, bruising your skin beneath your clothes you were sure while his pace quickened even further.

“You smell so good.” He practically hissed against you. “You’re so soft too…”

His long fingers easily squeezed into your thighs as well, even as he didn’t release your hips.

And you must still be in some sort of shock really. Because somehow you didn’t feel afraid. 

You just let him do it. 

It was his birthday. He was your master.

And you were what he wanted, in this moment at least.

He never lifted your nightgown though. He never opened his pants.

But you could feel his body heat, and his desperation. A shame that outweighed any you should have had.

It was his loneliness. It was his need.

And it was mercy towards you.

Your master was giving you his rarest gift in return.

He could have taken your virginity here and now. He could have shattered you with his haki on only a whim, logia user or not.

Doflamingo was fully in control of you, and honestly just enough in control of himself that he did not truly harm you.

His breath only quickened as time seemed to draw to a standstill for you. It felt both like forever, and not long enough at all.

And still you didn’t feel wronged. 

The humiliation was only his instead, whenever you finally felt him stiffen further, grunting before he shuddered and that new heat blossomed against the underside of your thighs.

You were still sitting tightly on his bulge, and the wetness of his release wicked through those meager layers of fabric so easily.

He’d fully cum on himself within his pants. The king of Dressrosa had done this in a private moment with you, then hugging his arms around your waist as he rested briefly, recovering from that surprisingly heavy orgasm.

“Happy birthday to me…” Doflamingo chuckled despite himself, still sounding a bit overwhelmed in this instance while he gradually came down.

“Happy birthday, young master.” You answered tentatively, almost in a whisper.

But he allowed it now. He even squeezed you a little more. And it didn’t feel fully sexual then. He wanted something to hold onto.

He wanted comfort.

“Thank you.” The Heavenly Demon said to you, the young one who was surely only another of his many pets.

But he meant it.

And maybe by his next cumpleaños he would be able to do more. Maybe by then you would be ready to be more than just the one he wanted both to consume and to hold tonight.

Maybe you’d been the oblivious lover to be all along. 

Regardless, whatever happened now, you wouldn’t be laughing at those characters in the books any longer.

If you’d even be reading them much at all. Because you might have someone else needing all of your free time now.

Someone far more sensitive than he’d ever let on as he kept you in his lap while he reached for your artwork again, moving it back closer to the edge of the desk so it better caught the light from the small chandelier above.

You watched your master smile, his body relaxing fully before he bent down enough again to rest his chin on your shoulder.

This was just another flamingo, resting his head with his newest flower.

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! 🎂🦩

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 4

Moodboard here, Main Masterlist here.

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 5,917

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope. Slow-slow-slow burn. Series Inspiration link: The Storyteller Episode 8

Song Suggestion: Harry and Hermione - Je Suis Parte

(Image Source: Here)

Although the words spoken to him through the den-den-mushi were what he truly needed to hear, Dracule Mihawk couldn’t help the small quake in his fingertips. He shut his eyes, focussing on the words spoken through the distortion in the earpiece, the purr of his crocodilian acquaintance rumbling with his raspy vocals.

“Swordsman,” the voice uttered with a small jesting lilt in his tone, “Did you not hear me, or are you actively choosing to not respond?” Mihawk’s eyes widened, his chest becoming tight while his heart choked within his ribcage.

“Dracule, I have the moon for you.”

Mihawk drew in a lengthy breath through his nose, attempting to stifle his anxiety through a brief meditation. Upon refocusing, he opened his amber eyes and fixed his reduced pupils down onto the parchment in front of him.

“And it’s-,” his voice halted in his throat, feeling the familiar strangulation of pressure on his heart, “-it’s to the appropriate specifications? It’s a dress that is as radiant as the moon? A dress that glows with a hue so majestic, it eclipses all else with its mastery?”

“Mihawk. Calm yourself,” the cold bark of the Crocodile ordered him, “I know what I risk if I am negligent to follow through with your exact words. Rest assured-,” a rumbled chuckle erupted from the Crocodile, “-I aim to collect a debt of equal value in return. Of what, I am yet to determine. What would equate to your life, hm?”

Mihawk sucked in another exasperated breath through his nose, opting to not grace his acquaintance with a response. 

“Judging from your engagement announcement; she is very easy on the eyes,” Crocodile complimented, sucking in another deep breath of smoke from his thick cigar, “Perhaps I should claim the right of Prima Nocta with your bride on your wedding night-.”

“-You are no longer a Warlord, Crocodile,” Mihawk’s tone cut through the air like a guillotine decapitating Crocodile’s words where they stood. Sir Crocodile allowed another sinister chuckle to rise throughout the phone in response, to which Mihawk’s frown deepened as his words began to sizzle as acid through cloth, “You would have no such right for that act, nor would I ever permit you to touch her at the risk of losing your other hand.” After a momentary pause, Sir Crocodile responded to Mihawk's words of warning. 

“I will spend some time mulling over my payment,” Crocodile’s smirk was tangible through the vocal distortion. Mihawk could almost taste the flavor of Crocodile’s lit cigar blowing tufts of nicotine-laden smoke through the earpiece of the den-den-mushi; all sour, strangling and as sharp as the golden hook adorning his left wrist. 

“You will have your payment, Crocodile,” Mihawk curtly spat into the microphone, his lip curling upwards into a snarl, “You may ask anything of me, but you will leave my bride out of the equation.”

At that, the hum of contemplation fell into the earpiece of the den-den-mushi before the receiver went dead; call concluded at the singular hand of the Crocodile. Mihawk sighed, feeling lighter in his chest, but continuing to hold such grappling urgency over him.

Time was running out, he could feel the clawing at his chest. The cruel teeth of fate continued to sink into his soul, his mortality tested under the curse of the Sapsorrow ring. He reached into his desk, removing a leatherbound book and running his palms over the emerald cover. The golden inked title set in wax remained slightly elevated, its ridges brushing against his fingertips. He opened to its latest tabbed page, the golden streak of ribbon pulled from the fold and his mind welcomed the words and committed their prose to memory.

“Two were forged, Two were made, One was lost, One was saved,” He muttered aloud, “Two were gifted, One was lifted-,” he narrowed his yellow eyes, unblinking at the final depiction on the page, “-The last not cast in molten bone; but lay dormant and waiting in moss-coloured stone.”

He heard the echoing voice of Shank’s laughter in his mind, recalling his light-hearted warning: “Mihawk, you should’ve cast the cursed thing into the seas. Mine was at least swallowed by the sea-beast while I protected the boy.” Shaking his head and focussing down at the words, he skimmed the pages bringing him to the final chapter. 

He closed his eyes, his mind becoming overwhelmed with the thoughts and conversations engaged with you, his governess; who was called as an aid and subordinate to rear his wards with skill and eloquence required to steer them into the correct path.

“These rings were made specifically to hold a particular covenant, none were the same,” your voice echoed in his mind, his brow continuing to lower as his anger rose, “each attuned specifically to the individual who purchased or claimed it. Why would you have such a thing, my lord? You do not seem the type to desire marriage or courtship.”

He snapped his eyes open, recalling how your lips brushed the band of the ring as you laid out your impossible demands for him to follow. He remembered the shock in your face at the knowledge he had one of the objects, the information you poured out regarding your memory of several others of its likeness. What else did you know? Did you know that should he not follow your requests, his soul would be claimed by the haunted specter of the Sapsorrow Queen? 

Suddenly his chest was rid of the anxiety he felt earlier, no longer fearing the haunt at the completion of the initial request. In its stead was the rise of anger and fury, his body rigid and tense with a violent rage. 

What more did you know? Why were you doing this to him? Why had you felt the need of punishing him, torturing his mortal soul in such a way? Did it bring you some sick and sadistic joy to know you had such a hold over him, your employer? These questions spiraled within his mind, his existentialism holding on by a thread as he focussed on your face.

No. No, that was not you. He saw your eyes filled with deep kindness and compassion; pools within flooded with apprehension and hesitancy; perhaps holding a crisis within your own soul. Why did you not tell him what you knew already? Why would you not trust him with such a departure of knowledge? His thoughts continued to whirl within his cocktail of murky thoughts.

If you were not going to disclose such information to the lord of Kuraigana; perhaps he could try his might at pulling truth from your lips as a simple Farm-Hand. 

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A gentle rap of the joint of a knuckle colliding with your wooden door arose you from your dreamless slumber; a welcome experience considering the thoughts that plagued you of late. You immediately hoisted yourself up from your bed, wrapping your negligee around your chemise and feet slotting easily into your slippers.

Upon arriving and opening you wooden door by all but an inch, your eyes were immediately greeted by the sight of fresh flowers. Vines of sweet jasmine, sprigs of pastel lavender flowers and the deep magenta and lilac trumpets of morning glory were interwoven within the small, wild small, blue flowers: held together by a woven string of hessian and twine.  

“Lost-Lady,” the voice uttered in a hushed tone, “I have brought your flowers.” A warm smile rose to bless your cheeks at witnessing such a presentation of florals, although confusion eclipsed over its growing trajectory. 

“Farm-Hand,” you paused, your voice holding a firm warning within it, “You have caught me once more in my nightdress, although this time it seems almost intentional.” The man hidden behind the flowers chuckled slightly, although masking it with a small, dry cough. You shook your head at him, looking at the collection he held before you and tilting your head to the side. 

“Where do the grounds grow lavender?” you quizzed him. The more you peered into the arrangement he laid in front of you, the more perplexed you became, “And where are there fields of myosotis alpestris’? I’ve promenaded the grounds with Perona often enough at this stage, and I am yet to see any.”

“I scaled a wall for them,” the man stated, as offhanded and nonchalant as one could possibly muster. You rolled your eyes at his confession, but before you could utter another quip; he interrupted your thoughts, “Would you like to see it?” A small air of thickened silence fell between you in the doorframe. Should he have viewed your expression, he may have seen your smile falter into momentary anger at such a suggestion.

“I am betrothed,” your warning tone remaining held within your cadence, “Whether I truly desired the unity or not, I find myself betrothed regardless. It is not an appropriate suggestion, sir. Particularly not at this hour.” The man behind the flowers sighed a sharp and exasperated breath, almost airing on frustration.

“I have acquired adequate permission from the lord of Kuraigana,” He huffed out in a dismissive tone. He straightened his shoulders, the flowers in his hands dropping for you to almost meet his eyes beneath the straw hat atop his head. You swore you saw two amber irises staring back at you beneath its broad brim, akin to your liege. 

You took a moment to study him: his head covered with a wide, straw hat and his nose and lips concealed with a pale piece of cloth. The shirt he was wearing was beige, lengthy sleeves pooling at his wrists after ballooning out at the elbows. He was adorning tan pants, dark leather boots hidden beneath the ankle line. 

His lips shifted beneath the fabric atop his face to either smile or grimace at you while he watched your eyes dance in deep thought. Choosing the kinder of the two options regarding that small shift in fabric, you opened the door fully to him and stepping aside to allow him entrance into your bedchambers.

“I will replace your flowers while you change,” he declared, gesturing for you to retreat into your changing screen, “I would suggest you wear trousers and a blouse.” Your brows fell into a confused frown while you pursed your lips at the suggestion. Opting to do as you were directed, you hastily removed your sleep clothes behind the screen and found some tan coloured pants and a white blouse. 

After placing the items atop your body, you revealed yourself to the man you knew as Farm-Hand. Opting to ignore his stare, you elevated one of your feet atop the wooden chest at the end of your bed and hiked a sock over your foot and inched it slowly up your calf. The small snap of elastic meeting skin sliced through the air before you rotated your feet and raked the cotton material over your other foot. 

“Where are we going?” you asked him over your shoulder, placing your feet back firmly onto the ground before finding leather boots beneath your bed, “I need to be back to begin lessons with Perona after the morning meal-.”

“-The lord of Kuraigana has dismissed all lessons today,” he uttered in return, prompting you to twist your head immediately to meet his covered face. You placed your feet in your boots and hastily walked over to meet with him, a strict dominance and challenge swelling in your heart at such an order.

“Why would lord Mihawk dismiss my lessons with my-... -our wards?” you asked him, this time there was no doubt that his eyes were indeed a similar hue to your boss. He closed his eyes, the corners of his darkened eyelashes bunching in aggravation before reopening them once more to meet yours. Softness. Such deep and somber softness falling over this Farm-Hand as he gazed into your eyes.

“He-,” his voice fluttered and choked around the words, “-He desired for you to be relaxed for the evening that is to come,” his yellow gaze searched your face, darting from focussing on each of your eyes and looking over your parted lips before rising back to your intense irises. 

“He wanted you to have a day for only yourself, while he had the manor made ready for the celebration tonight. Your engagement tonight,” he confirmed with a curt nod, “Hence the flowers, and the suggestion to see more of the grounds while the decorations were laid and placed.” 

You shook your head at his words, sighing out a defeated air from your lungs as you huffed out an exasperated breath, “Show me then, Farm-Hand.” You collected your sun hat from its place on the vanity and fastened it to your head as you gestured him onwards. 

“As you wish it, Lost-Lady,” he spoke in return, holding the crook of his left elbow for you to lace your arm into. You paused for a moment before reaching out and weaving your arm within his and allowing him to chaperone you throughout the grounds. 

Upon exiting the cobblestone walls and polished marble within the manor walls, you noticed the hum of hushed excitement from the staff who dared be awake and buzzing at this hour. The buzz would halt as you sauntered past the ladies in waiting and the footmen, noting they splayed themselves against the walls and nodded to you within the arm of the Farm-Hand; a nod to which you and the man at your side returned yourselves. 

The day was barely broken in by the morning call of crows and ravens, their serenade yet to be sung while dew clung to the crystalline grass in the fields below. Upon the vines hung an assortment of dark crimson fruit in several rows, but the prominent percentage were amber-coloured grapes of larger stature. 

“Farm-Hand?” you asked the man beside you, angling your eyes up to him and away from the meadows that were displayed in front of you. He nodded with his response of, “Lost-Lady?” You continued to permit him to guide you through the grounds and along a forgotten track. The willow trees brushed their hanging vines against your shoulders in a slow caress as Farm-Hand moved their curtain away and chaperoned you through their shield. 

“This is not a well-beaten track,” you laughed, prompting him to chuckle at your comment, “You made this journey this morning? In the dark?” He unlaced his hand from yours as he first stepped down a rocky incline, offering his hand out in an invitation for you to use him to steady yourself. 

“That I did,” he admitted. You placed your hand within his, allowing him to guide you along the stones that wobbled beneath your feet. A small, childish giggle threatened to spill from your lips as you stumbled your footing on the rocks. You allowed yourself to lean further against his arm for balance, noticing he wove himself closer to you to shepherd you to safety.

“What a strange thing to do at such an hour,” you again almost giggled as you took a small pause in your movements to steady yourself against him, “Do you not sleep?” He sucked in a small breath from behind the material of his mask, his hat doing little to conceal his surprise. 

“I have had much to ponder of late,” his tone holding a slight sassiness to it you were not expecting from someone in servitude. 

“And what does a Farm-Hand have to ponder, hm?” you sassed back, eyes narrow and lips in a playful smirk. His honey-coloured eyes widened at your return of attitude before looking down to where your hands were still joined at the palms. 

“Everything,” he uttered bringing his unoccupied hand to cover your knuckles and soothed over the skin with his thumb, “One which perplexes me is the curse of the Sapsorrow Queen.” He released your hand from within his and continued to guide you off the beaten track and into the unknown; the wall of the keep continuing to hold you within its guarded safety. 

“I see,” you nodded, brows furrowing at the thought, “I’m sure it would be quite the buzz amongst the staff. I can already hear it myself: The lord of Kuraigana accidentally engaging himself with someone so low-” 

“-Do not dare to do yourself the disservice of calling yourself low,” he spat in a gruff tone, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes, “I have-... -Lord Mihawk has always held you in the highest regard.” You halted your steps, taken aback at the statement, before again stuttering your footing forward to follow Farm-Hand closer to the edge of the wall.

“Forgive me for offending you,” you offered your apology to him in a hushed whisper, following behind him dutifully. He laughed heartily at that comment, the cloth covering his face doing a poor job at stifling his joy. 

“Oh, my lady,” he turned back to face you once more and offered you his hand to guide you up the small incline of grass and dew, “you can make it up to me by aiding my bewilderment.” You smiled softly at him, taking his hand once more and allowing him to tug you as you stepped up the side of the hill. You were ever thankful you paid mind to his warning of wearing trousers as the mud from your boots sprayed their hem with its sludge. 

“I will try as I might, Farm-Hand,” you smiled before your eyes widened in partial panic at the small slip of your boot. Immediately, the man above you reached down and grasped beneath your arms and hoisted you up to the top of the hill. He fell his hands to your waist as you steadied yourself atop the ground. You finally allowed a small giggle to spill from your lips at this motion, placing your hands on his wrists and gently prying his hands away from you. 

“This is a fair hike,” you confirmed with him, “I haven’t been on its equal since childhood. The grounds here are beautiful.” You turned to glance at the distance you’d covered, only barely making out the manor from the great distance. 

“Allow me the luxury of taking you higher,” Farm-Hand again smirked his hidden lips at you, voice dripping with arrogant sass as he gestured to the wall beside you. Your eyes widened at the height of such a wall, looking to the cobblestones protruding from the ridge in cement. 

“I am assuming there are some stairs closeby,” you asked him your pointed question, arching up your brow at his suggestion. He again dryly chuckled at your statement, shaking his head.

“But where would be the challenge in that?” his tone sassed within his hidden lips, prompting you to shake your head at him.You looked around at the wide wall, starting at the lowest lows before reaching to the heights above. 

“Are you expecting me to climb, Farm-Hand?” you shook your head at him, turning your gaze back towards him and noticed he had rolled his long pale sleeves up to the elbow, and was now shifting his pants to tuck their ankles into his leather boots. 

“I have had the challenge placed on me to bring you to the wall and show you where I collected your flowers,” he informed you, standing to meet your gaze, “And while you’re clinging to me, perhaps you could inform me all you know about the Sapsorrow curse?” You gasped at him, gawking as he gestured for you to walk over to him and bring yourself beside him. He readied himself by tying a dual-knotted rope, two loops within its length.

“Who challenged you to do such a thing?” you narrowed your eyes, suspicion overtaking you as you drew yourself behind the Farm-Hand. 

“You did, when you told me to show you,” he sassed, his eyebrow arching up as you apprehensively placed your hands onto his shoulders. He flung the rope into the air, the circlets falling over your heads, down your torso and halting at your hips as he pulled sharply on the end. You immediately became flush beside him and watched as he flung the end over a loop at the top of the wall, collecting the descending length back into his hand with a quick catch.

“You’ve done this before,” you smirked at him, eyes raking over his face with suggestive challenge laced within your tone.

He stooped down to you, the brims of your hats touching as he cooed down in a mocking tone, “I did this, this morning.”

You laughed, slapping his chest and mirrored his foot pressing against the wall. He began stepping his hands within the grasp of the rope, levering you towards the top of the wall and walking his feet against the stone ever so often to balance against it. You began to feel a little helpless as he hoisted you both upwards, a small air of panic rising in your chest the further you rose from the ground. 

“Whatever you are thinking, don’t,” He commented, his voice remaining steady as he continued flexing his arms and elevating you towards the top of the large wall, “I won’t let you fall, nor am I bothered by your presence beside me.”

“Are you sure? My additional weight is-,” you began, only to have his sharp reprimand catch you off guard with his tone. 

“-You are perfect as you are, and not encumbering me in the slightest,” he warned you. As a small display of his words, he looped his right arm within the rope and let go with his left. Looking directly into your eyes, he jumped his right hand upwards. He was jolting the two of you in a slower rise, but raising you all the same with only one arm. 

“Shall I keep doing it this way, or would you prefer it to be smoother, Lost-Lady?” He taunted you, keeping his eyes boring into yours with an intense sassiness. 

“Smoother is preferable,” you lulled your head to the side, rolling your eyes at this arrogant display, “But if you are not done with your peacocking; by all means, continue.” 

“As you wish, Lost-Lady,” he smirked, bringing his left hand back up to the rope and smoothing out the elevation between you, “Now, tell me about-.”

“-The Sapsorrow Rings? Yes. I can tangibly feel how interested you are in my knowledge on the matter, Farm-Hand,” you taunted him, again rolling your eyes at him. He growled lowly at you, but elected to say nothing as you approached the top of the wall. He wrapped his left arm around your waist, placing his right hand against the flat of the top and pushed upwards with his forearm. He ensured your safety first, placing you against the stone base and then falling himself beside you.

Dangling your legs off the ledge, you were overwhelmed by the sights laid out before you. Beholding the entirety of the keep belonging to your betrothed, you could see everything from here. The Manor, the vineyards with their white rose markers, the barrel room with steel vats, the hedge-end mazes and checkered flooring, the courtyards and workers frolicking - everything. 

“Turn around,” Farm-Hand commanded you with a soft tone. You felt his fingertips graze your chin, turning you to view a sight held completely secret and secluded from the rest of Kuraigana’s lands. This view had no equal; the expanding variety of flowers spanning the area was breathtaking. Some were wild, some were painstakingly cared for with hard work and persistence. Rivers of coloured petals and softened greens peppered the area, a small hanging swing fell from a heavy branch of a purple Jacaranda tree. 

Your jaw slackened, looking to the small field of blue stemmed flowers, to the back of the assortment. 

“You found the myosotis alpestris’?” Farm-Hand’s tone smiled at you. Without uttering a word, you slowly nodded your head, allowing your jaw to remain slackened at the sights. 

It was beautiful. Everything was so beautiful, and so private. Secluded, separate - secret.

“Did you hear the legend of how they got their common name?” He brushed his index finger over your jaw towards your ear, tucking a loose strand behind it before moving down to begin unloosening the knots at your waists. 

“It was said there was a knight who died on the quest to retrieve the blue flowers for his lover the night before they announced their intention to wed,” he continued picking at the knots to loosen them at your hip, “He called out with his final breath: ‘forget me not’ as he perished on the field, the blue flowers fisted in his palm.”

“What a horrible story,” you whispered, still not baring to take your eyes away from the enchantment below you. The shrouded man beside you chuckled at your candor, finally releasing the rope from the both of you and rolling it within his palm and forearm.

“A fitting flower for you, considering your predicament,” he smiled with his voice, nudging you with his shoulder. You finally broke free from the enchantment at that nudge, nudging him in return with your own shoulder. “Speaking on legends of old-,” he began, before you immediately elevated your tone above his.

“-Sapsorrow, I know. I did give you my word,” you sighed, a final small nudge of your shoulder brushing with his and a small smile later; you apprehensively began to relay your knowledge onto your new friend.

“I didn’t know there were ten of them, nor there was poetry crafted for them,” you shrugged your shoulders, “My betrothed was kind enough to inform me the warlords and higher ups in the world government had them, although I had my suspicions there were more than one in the midst.” You sucked in a deep breath of air before hissing it out. 

“The only mention I had heard was a story from my childhood. My father-,” your words choked in your throat, causing you a small rise in bittersweet melancholy at the memories, “...-My father used to read it to me. A funny tale, if not for its tragic origins. I adored the happy ending the most, but the beginning? That is what held my attention: probably why I made the insidious requests. Very self-indulgent, in that regard.”

Farm-Hand chuckled at your side, urging you to keep relaying your thoughts. 

“Sapsorrow, as she was known, was cursed to marry her father by placing a hereditary ring onto her unity finger - much akin to how I placed this,” you looked down at the green gemmed ring sparkling up at you, “on my own. Her father was widowed, like my own. She didn’t realize the moment she placed it on her finger, she was set to marry the ruling monarch in that area: her father.”

You shuddered at the thought, a smile rising to your lips as you heard your own father’s voice retelling the story with the vocal emphasis on each of the elements. He was such a wonderful storyteller, you could hear him talk for hours on end and never tire. 

“So what does she do? She makes it impossible for them to wed. She cannot marry her father, of course she cannot,” passion elevated in your voice, hearing the way your own father spoke the prose with enthusiasm, “but she also cannot dishonor the king, nor oppose the law. As each task grew more and more impossible, she forms a plan to escape from her kingdom and away from her destiny.”

Mihawk’s voice hitched in his throat, the material almost shifting from his nose and revealing his face to her at the notion. You continued to relay the fantastical tale of woe and romance, Sapsorrow being championed now as a servant to a prince. 

“So as the tale progresses; Princess Sapsorrow meets a prince and woos him with the three dresses she commissioned her father to make for her. They fall in love twice: her as his servant, and her as the princess-.” Farm-Boy leaned into you, halting your words with his voice overlapping your own.

“-Are you going to run?” He asked you suddenly, “Will you run from me-... -from Mihawk?” He quickly corrected himself, a momentary lapse he prayed you did not catch. You sighed, closing your eyes and taking a moment to collect yourself. You then allowed yourself another moment to look at the garden below you, you breathed in their deep and complex smell of deep florals and spiced undertones.

“To be candid with you, Farm-Hand,” you confessed in a voice above a whisper, “I had thought on it. I desired nothing more than to flee- to run and leave everything behind. I am terrified, Farm-Hand. I am-.” Shutting your eyes once more, you heard the first chitter of birds calling to the morning at the rise of the dawn. 

“I have always felt the need for control,” you continued your confession, “There were so many, many things outside of my control. I wanted to make a life for myself, a life that was mine. I never wanted to marry, to love. To shepherd others to create that life for themselves? Absolutely.”

“Are you planning on running?” Farm-Hand held a stern and unwavering tone to it, prompting you to meet his yellow eyes. You raked your eyes over his shielded face, noticing how his eyes particularly held a familiarity within them; a hue you deduced was endemic to Kuraigana. 

“I desired to. That was until,” you paused, looking to your knees and holding your firm gaze affixed upon them, “until his eyes-... until his voice-.” You shook your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts regarding your betrothed.

“Yes?” Farm-Hand questioned you, hypnotizing you to welcome back those enchanting thoughts you had dwelling on him, “His eyes?” 

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, eyelashes fluttering as the swell of your heart grew. The small breeze atop the wall carried the warm scent of the flowers below up to meet you. 

“And his voice?” he whispered, bringing himself ever closer to you. 

“It’s perfect,” you uttered your confession to the man beside you, held in a moment of utter awe at picturing your betrothed. The way he held you, the way his forehead touched yours as he cared for you. His hands were always ever guiding, always suggesting; never dictating. 

“It’s not what he can offer me, nor the bonds of fate that join us together,” you continued, baring your soul out to your coworker who so dutifully escorted you to the castle walls, “I just cannot allow myself to give into such feelings. Not when I know he is only doing it as honor commands it.” After a moment of brief pause, silence shrouding your presence together above the gardens, Farm-Hand spoke up.

“I have a problem much like your own,” he spoke slowly, prompting you to seek out his gaze. His yellowed hues held firm to the gardens as he continued, “When I think about her, it makes my skin tingle.” He absentmindedly began drawing patterns against the cobblestone wall, tracing invisible lines with the tip of his index finger. 

“My heart swells when she walks into the room,” he continued, continuing to hold his gaze firm in front of him, “Especially when she looks at me like she’d rather me struck by lightning. Her eyes, her voice. You said it first: perfect.”

You hummed in response, both dwelling in an air of unspoken desire and a lover's melancholy. Farm-Hand rose his palm in front of his eyes, staring at the small creases formed within them as he added, “The softest brush of her fingertips could have me fall to my knees if I remain uncareful.” You laughed a dry and humorless laugh.

“Ah, yes. We’re in love,” you continued to laugh, teetering off to add to your declaration, “how tragic.”

“A tragedy indeed,” Farm-Hand uttered with an undertone of purring sass. He tugged at his hat, ensuring it was placed firmly atop his head before standing atop the wall. He grasped the rope and began looping it as he had done before and extended his hand in aid for you to stand. 

“This will remain confidential, yes?” you uttered as you placed your palm in his, “I can’t let this confession get back to my wards, nor my betrothed.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Farm-Hand affirmed to you with a curt nod, “Under the condition you will not relay anything I told you here today, including knowledge on this area.” You took a final look at the garden, cocking your head to the side as you quizzed him.

“Is this area not common knowledge to those who live here?” you inquired, looking deep into his amber irises. 

“You are the first eyes to see it, aside from the lord of Kuraigana,” he uttered a final confession, “and I wanted so desperately for you to see what I have crafted with my hands. After all this secrecy, you deserved to see it in its prime.” Your eyes softened as he tied the ropes secured to your hips and hooked it over the metal hook. 

“Thank you for advocating for me to see this,” you smiled at him, soft and sweet as one would do their friend, “I have thoroughly enjoyed this adventure, and learning what you have managed to foster from the earth. I am proud to call you my friend.”

“As I am proud to call you mine,” he smiled with his eyes, his brows softening as he guided you to the edge of the wall. You looked over the edge and immediately found yourself unnerved at the prospect of a decline.

“Let’s call this a leap of faith, Lost-Lady,” Farm-Hand cooed down at you, “Taking a leap before you take the leap.” You stiffened in your tracks, prompting him to hold himself a little closer to you. 

“I’m here by your side, I will not drop you,” he confirmed, lacing his left hand around your waist and holding you against him, “Now let’s get you back to the manor. You’ll be needing a rest before the celebration tonight.” 

“I don’t think I can do this-,” you began, just at the moment Farm-Hand jumped with you firmly held against his side. You shrieked as you plummeted to the bottom of the wall, slowed only by the fibers of the rope fizzing within the firm grip of your friend. You held your eyes shut, even when you felt the air no longer blowing over your body at your descent. 

“You can open your eyes, Lost-Lady,” the man beside you cooed, voice dripping in cheek. You apprehensively unsqueezed one eye, followed by the other as you noticed your feet were placed firmly on the ground. The arm of Farm-Hand was continuing to hold you stable as you caught your barings, only unweaving around you as you gestured slowly for him to do so.

“Thank you, Farm-Hand. I have thoroughly enjoyed my morning,” you nodded, extending your right hand out for him to shake it, an air of professionalism once again returning to you. Albeit, the glimmer of humor in your eye and the pull of sass on your lips seemed to indicate you were toying with him.

“You’re welcome, Lost-Lady. I have thoroughly enjoyed mine,” He took your hand within his, shaking it briefly before stooping to press his forehead against your knuckles. After he rose, he uttered, “Let’s get you ready for what’s to come next.”

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Sweet on You, Chapter 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: M (Rating Subject to Change)

Story Summary: You had joined 'Sugar and Spice' in a desperate attempt to help your mother with her medical bills, so when an opportunity comes along to make a lot of money simply by spending time with a lonely attorney, you jump at the chance -- not expecting to fall for him in the process.

Tired of one-night-stands, Matt Murdock decides to sign up for a sugar daddy/sugar baby website, where he stumbles across your profile. However, despite making it clear that he only wants a platonic arrangement, Matt eventually finds himself falling for you.

Will the two of you be able to come to a permanent arrangement or will more than a contract be broken?

Warnings/Tags: Sugar Daddy!Matt Murdock, No Age Gap, Alternating PoV, No Use of Y/N

Word Count: ~1100

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the teaser! A few notes before we dive in:

-- While Reader's age is not actually specified in this, it's stated several times that she's closer to Matt's age than most women on the 'Sugar and Spice' website.

-- Matt & Reader do not actually refer to each other as their sugar baby/sugar daddy (although for all intents and purposes, that's what they are).

-- Divider is by the insanely talented (and just as awesome IRL as she is on Tumblr) @theradioactivespidergwen!

-- This is rated M for now, however rating may possibly go up in later chapters. 😈

-- If you'd like to be added to the taglist or if I've tagged you by mistake, please let me know!

Tag List: @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41 @atemydadforbreakfast

No, it's fine, Mom, I promise,” you said as you spoke to your mother over the phone. “It's not your fault you got laid off and lost your medical insurance right before you got sick.”

“It's not your responsibility to pay my medical bills, sweetheart,” your mother protested. “I'll come up with the money somehow.”

You shook your head even though you knew your mother couldn't see you. “You’ve sacrificed so much for me, Mom. Let me do this for you.”

Your mother sighed. “Okay, fine. But only because you just got that big raise at work.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Lucky me. Listen, Mom, I have to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

You hung up and blew out a breath. You knew your mother wouldn't approve if you told her the real way you had been affording to make payments towards her medical debt for the past several months. 

The truth was that your job as an administrative assistant barely even covered your own bills, so you had been supplementing your income through alternative means.

You had joined Sugar and Spice after one of the junior admin assistants had confided in you that she had managed to put herself through college by dating rich older men for money. “It's actually not a bad gig,” she had told you. “Most of them really just want arm candy to show off to their friends.”

You had gone home that night and checked out the website, and after discovering that you could select your comfort level/how far you were willing to go (by indicating that you were into either ‘sugar’ or ‘spice’) you had signed up.

It had been working out okay -- you had only been making a few hundred dollars extra a month so far because most of the men on Sugar and Spice wanted someone much younger than you were, but you had at least been able to scrape together enough to make the monthly payments on your mother's medical bills.

And speaking of…

You grabbed your laptop and pulled it over to you, then navigated to your Sugar and Spice account, pleased when you saw that you had gotten a new inquiry.

You clicked on it.

Hi, the message read, I ran across your profile and I think you might be what I'm looking for. If you're interested and available please message me back at your earliest convenience. Thank you.

You huffed out a laugh. Usually the messages you received weren't quite so… polite, so to speak.

You clicked on the sender's profile.

Matthew, 35

Occupation: Attorney 

Interested in: Sugar

Huh. Matthew was a lot younger than most of the men who frequented the site. Maybe that'll be a good thing.

You clicked the reply button. Hi, Matthew, you typed. I am available if you'd like to discuss things further.

You got up to fix yourself some tea, and by the time you came back you had another message from Matthew. Great! Is it okay if we meet in person to discuss possible terms of an agreement? Over coffee, maybe?

Okay, you replied once again. When and where would you like to meet?

The Brew Towers on Saturday, say, 9 AM?

That works for me.

Your eyebrows raised as a notification popped up stating that you had received $100 from Matthew.

As a sign of good faith , Matthew explained. See you Saturday.

See you Saturday.

You logged out and closed your laptop, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. This was the first time you'd be meeting a potential client in person and needless to say, you were nervous.

Matt sat back and took another sip of the glass of whiskey he had poured himself before he had signed up on Sugar and Spice. He had been in court earlier that day and had overheard a conversation during recess between opposing counsel about Nesbit’s much-younger girlfriend.

“How'd an old dog like you manage to score a hot piece of ass like that?” Peterson had asked jokingly.

Nesbit had chuckled. “You'd be amazed at what you can find on the internet these days. Let's just say Candy and I have a… business arrangement.”

Peterson had dropped his voice down to a whisper. “She's not an escort, is she? You know the partners don't want wind of any kind of impropriety possibly getting out to the public--”

Nesbit had made a dismissive sound. “No, nothing like that. You ever heard of Sugar and Spice, that website that connects men of a certain wealth and caliber with women who are looking for someone to take care of them? Well, Candy and I met there. She takes care of my needs, and I take care of hers.”

“So, what, you pay her to date you?”

“In a way. I keep her happy by giving her money and buying her things, and she lets me do whatever else I want when I'm not with her.”

Matt's eyebrows had furrowed. Maybe Nesbit had a point -- maybe it was easier to have a business arrangement with someone in order to fill the romantic void in his life rather than having to pick up a different woman every couple of weeks because they got too attached. Better to have someone who knows exactly what they're getting into.

As soon as he had gotten home he had looked up Sugar and Spice, and not finding anything in their terms and conditions that raised red flags, had signed up and began to browse through profiles.

After scrolling through profiles for over an hour and not finding anyone that piqued his interest he had almost gone ahead and given up when his voiceover function read out another profile header to him, this time for a woman who was at least closer to Matt's own age than all of the other women he had checked out. 

He had listened to your profile then clicked the “Send Message” button, typing out a quick message and hitting send.

He had gone to answer the door for a delivery, and by the time he had gotten back to his laptop he’d had a reply.

Before he could second-guess himself Matt had asked you out for coffee, then sent $100 to your Sugar and Spice account to show you he was sincere.

He shut his laptop and stood, then headed to go shower and get ready to go out as Daredevil. He'd gotten a tip about a major drug shipment coming in through the docks that evening and needed to go stop it.

He'd worry about his love life later.

[purelyfiction]

A Shot In the Darkest Dark

Benedict Bridgerton x (F) Reader

Summary: An agreement of terms that are not favorable for your future leads to conversations, moments of stiff air and inconsistency, walls and held hope.

Word Count: 2,393 Words

Author’s Note: welp I bet none of y’all saw this coming now did you, i guess you could call this a prologue to irreperable? thanks to the little bird in my inbox for this!! - arranged marriage, tension and fluff, all the fun things

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You’d just wish they’d cease the deliberations already. The walls of your family home seem to rattle and shake as the booming voice of your father comes from down the hall. Not even an hour prior a letterman had come to the door with a very detailed and lengthy compromise scrawled into the ink. 

It wasn’t unknown to your mother or yourself that your father had been making questionable investments as of late. So much so that he’d begun to fault on payments he’d owed. The moment that he’d understood what the letter was detailing, he ushered you from the room, needing to discuss with your mother what he’d read. 

However, you were not one to be left out of major implications, especially one where you’re not to be in the presence of the employed deliberators. That usually never bode well for you. An ear pressed to the rather light doors allowed you to catch the quick whispers of your name, a debt and a wedding. 

Then your mother had launched onto a defense for your position, which was incredibly brave of her. They were still locked into their counter points to one another when dinner was called. Your mother, flush in the face, can barely look your father in the eye. Meanwhile, he is too busy shoveling the meal on his plate into his mouth to invite a conversation between the three of you. That doesn’t stop you from inciting one. 

“Am I to just be left out of the running? Is there secrecy amongst us?” You knew the response already, it was your attempt at jolting your father into confession.

“Your father is shipping you off to London.” Your mama, always the curt one. Silverware clatters to the table and you meet the eyes of the only man in your life in hopes for an explanation. He fumbles on his words for a few moments before he can finally manage to get out the events that were unfolding. 

“Your mother- I- we have been discussing the manner of our finances. As you know, we are facing a testing set of circumstances and… my partner was kind enough to offer a solution that does not involve a trade of currency.” This partner, however, was the son of his former partner. Your father had been evading this debt for years before the son had come across the missing funds. A conversation last week had revealed the hand that the Amberley house had been facing. The solution? A union of the second eldest son and Lord Amberley’s only child, his daughter - you.

Before you knew it, you were being shipped off to a home in London in order to prepare for a wedding that you had mere days to come to terms with. Stood in a shop with a French woman who wouldn’t dare say more than four words to you with your mother and soon-to-be mother in law in the room, you’re questioning exactly what you’re being greeted with. 

At the very least, your new husband’s mother was a rare gemstone to be found. The woman had greeted you at the shop, by name, with a host of gifts for you and your mother (which was less than anticipated, considering you were approaching with very little to offer on your end) and then began to launch into tales of her family. A very large family, in fact, with children she was immensely proud of, fiercely dedicated to and overly enamored with. It did not come to be ungenuine though, not in the manner of people attempting to piece together some falsity in hopes to cushion their luck. No, no, Violet beamed as she spoke of her eldest daughter, now a duchess, her first grandchild - how she would be certain that her next one would have a great father on their side. Seeing that their father would be your husband. 

Kind, charming, educated and brilliant, she said. Devoted to studying his passion for artistry and poetry, well versed in the society standards while also being an entertaining chap. There wasn’t a poor thing mentioned in terms of this gentleman. Even when the older women had slid out for a breath of air, the modiste mentioned how incredibly stunning the family was, including your groom. 

Over dinner that night, you’d meet your fiance. Not a soul that had spoken of him had been exaggerating. Benedict Bridgerton was exactly as he’d been acclaimed to be. He graciously made his introductions to you and soon after made you chuckle with the comment he’d made under his breath. As you waited for the dinner hour to approach, he guided you around his family’s home. 

“This home is so very far removed from what it once was. See, Daphne, Francesca and Elosie all used to share their quarters with one another when they were younger, as there were only three designated spaces in the home and well, my parents were rather the love birds, it would seem.” You could not fault yourself for the way you grinned at his stories. They continued as you approached his own quarters, littered with canvas and paint jars, the smell of turpentine overwhelmingly hitting your nostrils. 

“I’d assume that you’d like children of your own? Your mother spoke very highly of your characteristics that would aide you in fatherhood.” His chin tucks over his shoulder in your direction, facing out the three panels of glass in the middle of his room. 

“I do not believe that is… solely my decision to make, Ms. Amberley.” Feet stay planted despite their wish to step back in sheer surprise. 

“Implying that you might forgo raising your own children? You speak so highly of your nephew, not to mention your siblings-” 

“That is the furthest thing from what I am implying.” He cuts you off a moment, a swift apology leaving him for doing so. “What I am implying is such that- it is a discussion I wish to involve my wife in.” The manner in which he speaks it is solemn. Benedict’s feet come to a chair, where he settles for a moment, looking anywhere but the direction in which you stand. 

“You wished to marry for love, did you not?” Your question catches him by surprise, leaving his eyes training forward to engage with yours. 

“Well, I certainly did not anticipate my marriage to be a settlement for my father’s books. Not ever did I prepare for such a thing.” Slowly, you draw near, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nor did I.” The pale color of his irises come up in your direction, moving in time with his hand which takes yours. 

“I am sorry that I have stripped you of the opportunity, Ms.” Your brows furrow as you shake your head. 

“No, do not fret with such things Mr. Bridgerton. The choices have been made, there is no value in dwelling on matters we cannot manage by our own volitions.” The way his facial expression softened at your reassurance let you know that Benedict would always be compassionate toward you. If not as your husband, as your friend. 

In three days time, the fanfare of the ceremony and following celebrations arrived just as you had in the glimmering showcase that was the carriage that the Bridgertons owned. The chapel was adorned in the most wonderful arrangements of flowers and foliage you’d ever seen. Coming from a countryside village there were countless items you’d never seen prior to today. The vivid colored flowers in your field of view being one of them, the intricate weaving pattern of your gown another, the ornate and sizeable stones on your neck being the final thing. 

Benedict had insisted that you borrow the jewels from his mother’s collection. If you were not to have the spouse you desired, he was determined to make the rest of the day match the expectations you had conjured in your mind. He had been sincere in the conversations regarding your nuptials, even more so on making you as comfortable as possible. 

The ceremony was rather quaint. It consisted of both your families, the extended and the near, a few family friends on your groom’s side. Your father did not work efficiently enough to keep very many friends. It would seem your luck would change as your last name did. 

Benedict had taken it upon himself to write his own vows, something he mentioned he had hoped to do one day in brief conversations leading up to the event. 

“My darling. I fear as though we embark on one of the most uncertain paths that the Lord provides for us in this life. For that is what He does, after all. He surrounds us with the light of the sun, the life of the botanicals that grow below us, the coursing of the rivers at our side, the family that resides behind us. He provides us with the fruits of His plans he intends for us. He provided me with the gracious woman that is you. As rushed and incredibly daunting as this may be for the two of us,” Benedict’s hand slid into yours, beginning to play with the gemstone soldered to the metal looping around your ring finger, “I pray that it is enduring. That it is kind. That it is joyous, prosperous and pleasant. That the days that result from our union be filled with contentment and merriment, from now and until our souls come to join Him.” 

They were beautiful. So meticulously crafted, and well intended as the two of you began the vow of spending the remainder of your lives with one another. 

Frequently they chase through your mind these days, walking around the home that Violet had insisted you take upon yourselves. The walls of books, the windows of light that brought you breathtaking familiarity of the countryside you’d grown to love - the dedicated quarters that Benedict had aided you in decorating to your every whim. 

The brunette had done every service to aid in your comfort with the marriage enacted. Beautiful gowns from the latest fashions, halls and gardens to lose your time into, countless hobby pools to pick from in waning afternoons, there was no shortage of effort from your husband. 

Your conversations were always well mannered, filled with little details of your past lives, stories of friends and siblings, rumors and fairytales from youth. Routines were built between the two of you, including that every three nights, Benedict would sit with you and read the words of the material you’d chosen to you. 

Tonight was one of those nights. Benedict lounges out on the chaise, jacket long gone, supple adorned vest and matching kerchief around his neck loosened from the days works. His words are joined with the chirp of evening sounds from a cracked window to aid in the circulation of the house. Your hands stay busy with a needlepoint project. The characters he speaks of are discussing the name of the child that’s been born. You implore your thoughts forward. 

“Ben?” His head shifts to look from the parchment and toward you at the use of his name. It was a name that his mother never used, nor his siblings rarely. Perhaps it was just you that had coined this shortened version of the Christian name he’d been given. “Do you suppose we should discuss children?” Blue eyes return to the page in front of him. Given the timeline since your wedding, it was not an unjustified question. You were aware that should the next time you return to London, his mother would be rushing up to you like a hunting dog, ready to drag the kill in from the woods to show off to the ton. 

“Do you wish to discuss it?” His eyes barely glaze over you before he slides a ribbon into the split of the book, covers coming together, the book leaving a hefty sigh on the table next to him upon contact. 

“I worry that it will be questioned the next time we are seen. We have not entirely been honest with one another over the subject.” There were plenty of things that hadn’t been honest in terms of your marriage the last few months. How Benedict and yourself had their own sleeping arrangements. That you saw each other maybe once or twice a day at mealtimes, save for the nights where it was explicitly discussed you’d be joining the other in leisure times. 

Benedict has grown quiet, which is a very odd state for the husband you have come to know the last weeks. This time, you set your own busywork aside, keeping your eyes toward him as he rests in contemplation. 

“I wish to have children of my own. Though, I know the process is… taxing on a woman,” the pillow under his head shifts to look your direction, eyes finally coming to meet with one another for a rare occurrence. They do not avert in quick fashion either. The admittance of a family was something you dwelled on with semi-frequent behaviors. After all, one can only do so much knitting of babe-wear before picturing the scene for themselves. You dwell in the wonder of it all as you keep each other held without touching either one of you. 

Would they look like their father? Behave like him? With the amused twinkle in their eye when a jest is made, a twist of words, stories with outlandish accents and impossible daydreams… would it be so horrible? To wake in the night with a small babe as they cry out for their mother, held in the warmth of her breast, comforted by her scent. You ached for such a life, one you were cheated of the moment the emerald slid to your hand. A very heavy hand that seems to burden you daily. 

“My wife.” Benedict’s voice comes to the room, echoing off of bound paper and golden embellishment on the walls. You tilt your head with a soft grin.

“I am sure we will come to an agreement some day, husband.” There is no need to linger on the unfortunate uncertainties between the two of you. The dark would linger where it rests, those that lived in its shadows subject to whatever hid among it. 

Even the ugliest and most ferocious truths.

[terriwriting]

Hi. My name is Terry and I went into debt during the pandemic lockdowns. Some of it was because I had to break a lease to escape a building the landlords were turning into a slum (elevator was broken for nearly a year, roaches overran the place, next door neighbour was throwing coke parties all night). For a while things were okay, but then the rising cost of living and rising interest rates made that debt unsustainable. Now I'm lurching from one crisis to the next and I need to get out from under this debtload before it crushes me. Everything donated to this fundraiser will go directly to paying down that debt, because it is the single biggest problem in my life and makes every other problem worse.

I actually owe over $10,000, but I have one Guaranteed Investment Certificate left over from years ago when I was able to save money. That matures in August and I've already made arrangements with my bank to have it applied directly to my debt. The GIC is for just over $7,000, which leaves me with $3,000+ to pay off somehow.

Currently I make just enough to cover bare minimums (rent, utilities, groceries) and if I can get extra shifts I can keep up on interest payments. But if I can't get those extra shifts or if I miss a shift I fall further behind. And sometimes I get enough to pay the interest, but I get it too late in the month to pay by the due date and still end up being charged a late fee. For a while I was making headway on the debt, then the cost of living went up and I was just breaking even. Then both the cost of living and interest rates went up and now I'm barely hanging on by my fingernails.

I have tried to make up the difference by cutting back. I've reduced my phone and internet services to the lowest levels available, and I try to keep my power usage to a minimum. Water is included in my rent but the area I live in is in drought conditions and water bills are going up. Property taxes are also going up in the region. My rent will probably go up at the end of my lease, whether I stay in this place or try to find a new one. Every apartment in this city is too expensive now, and my landlords have actually been comparatively reasonable in raising rent.

The cost of living has gone up too fast for me to keep up with, and I can't make my interest payments or reduce this debt on my own. Every small setback becomes a crisis, and I've made two posts here to cover things like vet bills and end of month bills. If I can reduce my interest payments immediately and reduce my debt over the next few months, I can get out of this spiral. If I can't, I'm going to keep tripping from one crisis to the next until I fall completely.

It's not all bad news. I have a couple of ongoing writing projects that might actually earn some money. My cats are healthy (thanks to everyone who donated to my previous fundraiser). And I have an apartment that is close enough to shopping and work that I don't need a car. I'd be doing alright if not for this debt. So: Everything donated to this fundraiser will go directly to paying down that debt, because it is the single biggest problem in my life and makes every other problem worse.

Thank you for reading this.

$100/$3100. Thank you!

[moonyasnow]

We Both Go Down Together.

PROMPT :

CHARACTERS : Ruggie, Kalim

CONTENT : Implied romantic relationship, Reader comes from a privileged background(Ruggie's part), Reader had abusive/neglectful childhood(Kalim's part), I've been obsessed with this song since I first heard it and now I'm making it everyone else's problem

...You come from parents wanton A childhood rough and rotten I come from wealth and beauty Untouched by work or duty...

...And my parents will never consent to this love But I hold your hand...

...And oh, my love, my love We both go down together.

Ruggie

Ruggie Bucchi, next to most other students of his Dorm, stood almost a head shorter; a result of not getting proper nutrition growing up in the slums of the Sunset Savannah and having to scrape by with little money for food, clothes...or anything, really. With a dead mother and absent father, growing up raised by his grandmother in a little slum-town, homemade donuts substituted for the birthday cake they could not afford. The circles he ran in were similarly destitute, perhaps chancing upon someone middle-class every now and then, and finally lucking out in becoming the second prince of the Sunset Savannah's errand boy.

You grew up in a beautiful lakeside villa with your family, and had a housekeeper who made your food and helped with your homework while your parents weren't home to sit down with you. You had fond memories of yearly vacations to faraway locations each year; shores of crystal white sand lapped at by cerulean waves, luxurious alpine mountain cabins, emerald green golf courses, high-end fashion boutiques in every Capital, a photo in front of every World Wonder. Your friends were those from equally influential families, ones your parents arranged for you, classmates from similar backgrounds.

When he first met you and saw your eminently cared for appearance, he immediately clocked you as some kind of rich kid. He thought you might be one of those lazy ones like Leona, or intensely naïve like Kalim. For his sake, he hoped for the latter.

Much to his surprise then when it turned out that, while certainly a bit naïve, you were aware of and wanted to change that. You kinda had to, now that you'd suddenly fallen from the lap of luxury and ended up in the same position as him; effectively homeless, getting an education through the goodwill of others, who made you clean up after them. And so you asked him to help you, figuring he would have good advice, which you certainly weren't wrong about.

It was a struggle for you, so used to having others care for you that you'd barely cooked a meal for yourself before. As he watched your soft hands slowly collect cuts, blemishes and callouses, he felt strange. He was happy to help you learn. But he didn't want this for you. For as envious as he was that you'd known the Good Life, of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth and never having to worry about where your next meal was gonna come from, he was happy for you that you'd had that. And to see you become accustomed to hard work for the first time...

He obviously knew it wasn't his fault, If anything he was easing the burden by teaching you tips, tricks and shortcuts to make the work easier. But he still felt like he was...'dirtying' you in some way as he did so. You were never meant to know that life, of needing to know the kinds of things he'd teach you. But he kept it all in his head, showing you a small smile each time you greeted him, laughing when you thanked him for his advice and promised to pay it back to him. As much as he might've known it was just the smart thing to do, he didn't want to accept any kind of payment from you. You were both in the same boat, as far as he was concerned, and he kinda tricked you into helping with his own errands while 'teaching you' how to do stuff like that, so in his mind the debt was already paid. But he couldn't say no to spending more time with you. You'd...grown on him. Far more than he ever expected you to.

There was another thing he kept in his head. Something he'd probably never tell you.

As soon as he heard precisely what kind of mega-rich and elitist family you were from, he was...happy...that you had no way back home.

He loved his own family, his Granny and the other kids on his street, and now you, more than words could ever say. That was why he did everything he did, after all: to provide for them, and maybe even be able to make those slums he was born in a better place one day if he had the spare cash. He knew how much it would crush him to never be able to see them again, and he felt bad you had to be put in that position. So that's why he felt conflicted.

Because while he might not have told you as much yet, by now you really were like family to him. He'd imagined a future with you. He'd grown up never letting himself imagine any specific kind of future, so he wouldn't get his hopes up. Not like he could imagine one with another specific person anyway, being so used to doing everything himself. But after a lot of time spent getting to truly know you, and even longer learning to trust you...he'd imagined a future with you. And that made you as close to 'it' for him as anyone could possibly be.

And the thought of losing that, losing you, either to the way back being a one-way-trip, or to your parents taking one looking at him, deeming him 'street trash' and forbidding you from seeing him again... It was scary. It even made him cry a little.

But one thought in the back of his mind made him feel a little bit better. The thought of your parents disowning you as well for associating with someone like him.

It was selfish. Obviously. He knew that very well. It hurt for a second to think he wanted something like that for you. His parents were gone, and he grew up close to squalor, but you still had yours, even if in another world, and they could provide everything you might need for you. If you just went back you were practically guaranteed the Good Life, and if you stayed in Twisted Wonderland with him you were guaranteed to struggle and toil and stress just like him, juggling multiple jobs until either he or you somehow managed to strike the job jackpot.

But he just wanted you by his side so bad.

...So bad he'd drag you down into the mud with him, soiling your pristine clothes, if it meant he got to be with you.

It'd be up to you to be stronger, smarter- whatever- than him if you wanted out, because now that he knew that's what he wanted, he was gonna try his hardest to get it.

He just hoped that if it came to it, you wouldn't regret growing so close to him.

Kalim

Kalim Al-Asim was born and raised in a palace, to wealthy parents employing 100 servants in their household. Upon his birth a parade had been thrown in his honor, him laid in his mother's arms, surrounded by the other two, atop an elephant, soft and plush fabric lined with spun gold shielding them from the sun. Loud, extravagant music was played by a live band following in the parade and all manners of confetti and flower petals were thrown in the air to celebrate the birth of the next Asim family heir.

You were born in a small, dingy apartment with the help of your parents' neighbor, your father not present, instead off at some bar or another wasting away that month's money. When it was done and your mother held you, she stared down at you with cold, bitter eyes as you cried. She then promptly left you on a blanket on the ground to go clean the blood on the floor, cursing you and your father under her breath.

He had the best private tutors in both school subjects and magic that money could buy, and while no means an academic prodigy, was praised often as he learned. He had too many toys and books and games to ever be able to count, sharing all of them with his many siblings and his closest friend and retainer, who had been by his side all their lives.

You never went to school simply because your parents never bothered to enroll you, and you only learned to read thanks to one of the older kids in your neighborhood being kinder to you than you thought you deserved. You had one stuffed animal, which was your only friend. You held it close. Treasured it. It was the only thing in the world that was yours.

Simply put, your backgrounds could not possibly be more different. And it showed, on both of you. His skin was clean, smooth and unblemished, yours off-color, gaunt and scarred. You couldn't understand why you of all people were the one he fell for. He shone like the sun. You were like a dirtied, dusty cooking pot, too rusty and worn to reflect anything.

When he found out about the rot and turmoil and taste of tears, dust and blood that was your childhood, he didn't judge you. You felt a bit silly for thinking he would; that just wasn't him, after all.

You didn't understand why he seemed sad seeing the state of Ramshackle. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest Dorm, but it could have been a lot worse. If anything, you felt anxious having such a large house to yourself. And you couldn't understand ever becoming used to living the way he did-- in luxury, never wanting for anything, always having people around him who cared, who would take care of and protect him.

He couldn't imagine what that would be like: having no one to care for you…having to grow up caring for yourself. But he did think it sounded awful. So he made up his mind to never let you experience that again.

He decided he would heap jewels and pretty clothes and good food on you every day for the rest of your life! Because he loved you. He loved you so, so, so much! And he'd give you every good and pretty thing money could buy, because you deserved it, and money was the one thing he had more of than he could ever need, or even spend in one lifetime. So of course he'd shower his beloved, his Hayati, in gold and jewels and riches and everything.

He would carve out the moon from the sky and give it to you on a silver— no, golden platter if you asked him to.

He couldn't understand why you seemed…scared, because of it. Why you started crying when he gave you the most elaborate necklace yet.

You didn't care about his money. You truly didn't. In fact, it intimidated you. You were scared that others would think that was what you cared about. You felt so guilty partaking in the feasts present at his parties, even when he was the one practically begging you to try it. You thought you could feel the eyes of every other person at the party watching you, judging you, thinking 'gold digger' or 'leech' or other synonyms. It became hard to breathe sometimes. But the way he held you so tightly, cleaning off the grime and neglect coating your being enough for you to begin to reflect his sunshine for the first time…through it, it became a little easier each day, to believe that you truly could— did— deserve him.

But then your worst fears came true: his parents didn't approve of you. Of you being with him. They, just as you'd feared, were apprehensive about letting you be with their son due to your background. Not only were you practically homeless with barely a Thaumark to your name, you had no proof you even existed as who you said you were, and had nothing and no one else to fall back on.

Just as you loved him, he loved you more than anything. He was so sure that his parents would love you too... He was completely blindsided when they didn't approve of you. He couldn't understand nor did he wish to believe that anyone, least of all his own family, could be so cruel— for that's how he saw it.

But in retrospect, you felt you should have expected that to be their answer. How does that look, for someone like you to be with someone of his status?

You'd never had much in life. But now you had him. Someone who, for once, loved you unconditionally. You didn't always know how exactly to deal with that fact...but you'd resolved to figure out how. Because you loved him. And the thought of that, this sense of safety, of him, being taken from you as soon as you'd started to become accustomed to the possibility of being allowed to keep them...

You cried that night. You were so scared that his parents would forbid the two of you from being together. Or worse yet, forbid him from even seeing you at all.

To try to soothe you, he took you with him on the magic carpet up high into the sky, where there were no one but you and him for miles. No one who could forbid you from crying into his silk, gold thread and sequence clothes, nor him from gently kissing each of your tears away and assuring you it would be alright. He knew his parents would come around eventually.

It didn't matter to him how many times his parents or other senior staff or relatives tried to explain to him the reasons for why they objected to your love. He'd already decided he wouldn't listen to it. None of their 'reasons' were good enough. Just excuses. Because he knew you weren't like that.

…He didn't say it then, because he knew you probably wouldn't like hearing it, but if his parents never came around…

…He wouldn't hesitate to give everything up for you.

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This was incredibly self-indulgent but I hope you still liked it!

I just kinda wanted to get it cleared out of my drafts, heh... ; O vO)

Also to that person who sent me a writing request, it's being worked on! ^^

[sflow-er]

YR Season 3 speculations: a layperson’s take on the criminal justice side

I’ve been considering making this kind of post for a while, because I’ve seen a lot of hopeful takes on how things are going to play out now that Sara has called the police, and I feel like I could add some perspective for those less familiar with the Swedish justice system. I hesitate to do it because I’m just a layperson and not even from Sweden but the next country over - but our justice systems are reasonably similar, I’ve spent a lot of time poring over relevant sources on Swedish law and justice, and @scatteredpiecesofme encouraged me to do this after our conversation yesterday.

So, here goes, haha.

As usual, I could very well be wrong about some things, and I welcome any additions or corrections!

Part 1: The system

Let’s start with a cultural observation: the criminal justice system in Sweden strives to be rehabilitative (restorative) instead of strictly punitive (retributive). This is especially true for young and first-time offenders, who are yet to develop a ‘criminal lifestyle.’ Fines, suspended sentences, and sentences on the lower end of the scale are the norm unless the crime is very serious. (See for example this text in Swedish about how the brain only fully matures at 25 and how young people experience punishments more severely.)

Swedish law recognises three different age brackets for offenders: 15 to 18, 18 to 21, and over 21 (adult). The punishments for young adults were harshened in Jan 2022 for some severe crimes (mostly to counter gang violence), but YR is set in the autumn of 2020 and spring of 2021. With that in mind, let’s review the situation that should apply in the show.

Firstly, the now-outdated law and practice include something known as ungdomsrabatt (juvenile discount). Any sentence given to an 18-year-old is normally reduced to 50% of an adult’s sentence, and a sentence given to a 16-year-old is reduced further so they get about 20-25% of an adult’s sentence. This can either mean a reduced version of the same sentence, or an alternative, more lenient sentence. Punishment can also be waived entirely for juveniles sentenced to minimal fines for minor offences (e.g. minor narcotics offences).

Secondly, there are some punishments specifically designed for young offenders. Ungdomstjänst (youth community service) and ungdomsvård (youth/juvenile care) mostly apply to those under 18 but can also apply to those under 21 where appropriate. The latter is for those in need of social service intervention; it’s an open arrangement where the juvenile continues living at home. Sluten ungdomsvård (institutional youth care) only comes into play in very serious cases. It’s the primary punishment for minors who would otherwise face imprisonment and, under the old law, also for those under 21, unless there are very heavy grounds for prison time.

There is also something called ungdomsövervakning (youth supervision); basically youth care with more restrictions. However, it was only introduced in Jan 2021, which means it cannot be applied to crimes committed earlier (for example in YR S1).

As mentioned, juveniles can also be sentenced to reduced versions of the same punishments as adults. For young adults, that most likely means a suspended sentence and/or community service and/or fines. These fines are often dagsböter (day-fines), which can range from 50 to 1000 kronor based on the defendant’s income, wealth, and debts for example. The minimum number is 30 fines, the maximum is 150, or 200 for several crimes. There can also be some other financial consequences, e.g. a 1000-krona payment to the Crime Victim Fund or compensation for the victim (these are much lower sums than in the US, for example).

Here’s a made-up example from Domarbloggen: three people aged 16, 18 and 22 beat someone up together. The 22-yo gets 4 months’ imprisonment, which means the 18-yo should get 2 months. Instead, she gets a suspended sentence and 75 hours of community service. The 16-yo should get 1 month, but that is commuted to 50 hours of youth community service. Social services are (and must be) involved for the 16 and 18-yo but find that they are not in need of any services.

Thirdly, juveniles are processed differently from adults. If someone younger than 21 is suspected of a crime, the police investigation that starts when the crime comes to light must be conducted without delay. For those under 18, there’s a time limit of 6 weeks from the initial police report to the decision to prosecute. In many cases, the prosecutor can simply decide not to bring charges and hand the matter over to social services instead. (See for example this Q&A document on the old law, in English.) 

Young offenders are also often eligible for förundersökningsbegränsning (limitation of preliminary investigation) and åtalsunderlåtelse (no-prosecution deal). In the former, the police and prosecutor decide not to investigate the crime, and in the latter, the suspect confesses their guilt to avoid being charged or tried for that particular crime. There are specific circumstances in which these can come into play - for example, when there are several crimes being investigated/charged and the crime in question would not affect the sentencing, or the sentence would be minor anyway. Here’s more info on the reasoning in Swedish, but it’s basically done to save resources for other crimes. The sentence for all the crimes committed is determined as a whole; it does not necessarily match the sum total of all the individual sentences. Accepting a deal means the crime will still go on the person’s criminal record.

If sufficient evidence is found and the matter does go to trial, the court can decide to hold it behind closed doors if the parties are young and/or to protect them from negative publicity. The judge must also be specialised in juvenile cases if the defendant is under 18.

Trials in this corner of the world are usually rather boring compared to what you see on TV. There’s no jury or heated cross-examination. The facts are presented, the injured party, defendant, and witnesses are heard, and the court considers the case. (Here’s a detailed description and even a 24-minute film in Swedish.) 

The bar for detaining young offenders before and after the trial is higher than for adults, but it can happen if they are considered dangerous or there’s a risk of them destroying evidence/influencing the witnesses (for minors, the social services usually watches over them instead). There is no bail system.

Oh, and if someone is sentenced to prison after all, they are not necessarily taken away directly after the trial. Serving the sentence may be postponed until the period of appeal runs out (often 3 months after the sentence enters into force, according to the Prison and Probation Service).

So, now that we know the framework, let’s take a look at the crimes that could come into light in YR S3! Not just those committed by August, but also those committed by Simon and Wilhelm.

Part 2: The crimes committed by the mains in YR

All excerpts quoted are from an English translation of the Swedish Criminal Code. I will include some of my own interpretations in the context of the show - but while reading those, please keep in mind that I’m just a layperson and could well be completely mistaken!

Kränkande fotografering (intrusive photography): August

A person who unlawfully, by means of a technical device, covertly records an image of a person who is indoors in a home, or in a toilet, dressing room or other similar space, is guilty of intrusive photography (Swedish Criminal Code, Chapter 4, Section 6a)

Scale of punishment for adults: fines or prison up to 2 years.

I don’t think this should be very hard to prove now that Wille has admitted to being on the video. August could of course claim it was someone else using his phone, but I think it should definitely be someone other than Alexander, who had already been caught with the drugs.

Olaga integritetsintrång (unlawful breach of privacy): August

A person who intrudes into the private life of another person by disseminating: 1. an image of or other information about a person’s sexual life; (...) 4. an image of a person in a very vulnerable situation; or 5. an image of a person’s wholly or partially naked body is, if the dissemination is liable to result in serious damage to the person whom the image or information concerns, guilty of unlawful breach of privacy (Swedish Criminal Code, Chapter 4, Section 6c)

Scale of punishment for adults: fines or prison up to 2 years for normal severity, prison from 6 months to 4 years for gross offences.

This is the revenge porn clause. In reality, sadly few cases lead to a conviction; for example in 2021, only 27 out of 1876 cases. The perpetrator can always claim their device/account was hacked, for example, and it’s hard to disprove that. We’ll see if Sara’s testimony and August having admitted his guilt to Wilhelm are enough.

Förtal (defamation): August

A person who identifies someone as being a criminal or as having a reprehensible way of life, or otherwise provides information liable to expose that person to the contempt of others is guilty of defamation (Swedish Criminal Code, Chapter 5, Section 1)

Scale of punishment for adults: fines for normal severity, fines or prison up to 2 years for gross offences.

Note that defamation does not have to be untrue in Sweden! It’s the ‘exposing that person to contempt’ that matters. However, if the defendant can show that the information was true and they were a) obliged to make this kind of statement or b) it was “otherwise justifiable to provide information about the matter”, they are not held responsible. August’s lawyer would probably argue that spreading the video of Wille was a matter of national importance.

A note on aggravating or special circumstances:

Both unlawful invasion of privacy and defamation can be considered gross if the information or image or the method of dissemination was liable to result in serious damage. This bumps up the potential consequences.

Normally, charges can only be brought for the above crimes by the injured party. However, the prosecutor could also choose to bring charges on their own in cases where public interest calls for it. The same goes for defamation if the injured party is under 18 or reports the crime in connection with another investigation, and public interest calls for prosecution. In this case, it doesn’t matter if the injured party wants the case to be pursued or not. So in my view, any potential resolution where Simon and/or Wille decide not to pursue these crimes should be written very carefully to exclude public prosecution.

There’s also another interesting angle that I haven’t seen thrown around much. It was first brought to my attention by a friend on ao3, and I can’t believe it’s still a thing in 21st century Sweden, but it is.

Högmålsbrott (treasonable offences): August

A person who commits an offence referred to in Chapters 3–5 that involves abuse of the King or another member of the Royal House, or of a person discharging the duties of the Head of State as regent, may be sentenced to imprisonment for at most four years if the offence can otherwise result in imprisonment for at most six months, and for at most six years if the offence can otherwise result in imprisonment for more than six months but at most four years. (Swedish Criminal Code, Chapter 18, Section 2)

Yes, really. Wille being one of the injured parties could complicate things for August when it comes to the above crimes, because they belong to chapters 4 & 5. He’s not actually going to get six years in prison for gross defamation, that’s just the maximum for adults, but it’s an interesting angle and a potential aggravating factor.

Next up, the elephant in the room.

CP: August

I don’t think I need to describe what this means; you can look it up in Chapter 16, Sections 10a and 10b. I’m not going to write it out so this post doesn’t get flagged.

Scale of punishment for adults: fines or prison up to 6 months for minor offences. Prison up to 2 years for normal severity.

Rickard did say that this could land August in prison, but I am highly sceptical. For comparison, consider this case, where an 18-yo who had 540 images in his possession, 98 of those particularly graphic, was only sentenced to 60 hours of youth community service, despite having disseminated some material on social media on two occasions. Or this one, where an 18-yo who was in possession of a video sent to him via SnapChat for a few months, was sentenced to 45 hours of the same - although he was 17 at the time of the crime.

August was 18, but on the other hand, the video he made and disseminated was short, not very graphic, and meant to defame the people in it rather than arouse those who view it. By law, the age and developmental gap between the victim(s) and perpetrator must also be taken into consideration, and as we know, it’s only two years. I’m inclined to think August is only looking at a minor offence - if charges are even brought at all.

So, the fandom should probably prepare for a more lenient sentence than many are hoping for! Ironically enough, the opposite is true for the next crime, which also applies to Simon and, to a lesser degree, Wille.

Narkotikabrott (narcotics offence): August, Simon, Wilhelm

Any person who unlawfully 1. transfers narcotics, 2. manufactures narcotics intended for misuse, 3. acquires narcotics for the purpose of transfer, 4. procures, processes, packages, transports, keeps or in some other similar way handles narcotics which are not intended for personal use, 5. offers narcotics for sale, keeps or conveys payment for narcotics, mediates contacts between seller and purchaser or takes any other such measure, if the procedure is designed to promote narcotics traffic, or 6. possesses, uses or otherwise handles narcotics shall, if he has acted wilfully, be sentenced for a narcotic drug offence (Penal Law on Narcotics, Section 1)

Scale of punishment for adults: prison up to 3 years for normal severity. Fines or prison up to 6 months for minor offences.

Swedish law is strict on narcotics crimes. Both Simon and August are guilty of several of the above, while Wille is only guilty of use. Wille’s offence would be considered minor, and the punishment might even be waived. However, I think it’s quite likely Simon and August might be looking at normal severity, and Rickard would probably advise August against bringing it up just to spite Simon.

If August went against that advice or the matter came out another way, he would probably get a harsher sentence than Simon on account of his age - although he could provide mitigating circumstances for the selling by saying that Simon coerced him...

In any case, Simon wouldn’t get off with a slap on the wrist either. He sold drugs on two separate occasions - ADHD drugs (which are amphetamine derivatives) and possibly also strong painkillers. Micke’s back pain was specifically mentioned in S1, we saw Simon steal Tramadol (which is an opioid) when he first got pills for August, and there was clearly more in that bag than just the ADHD meds. Amphetamine derivatives and opioids are specifically classified as narcotic drugs due to their potential for misuse, even if the drugs in question (Tramadol and lisdexamfetamine) aren’t as bad as some others.

Furthermore, Simon also committed:

Stöld (theft): Simon

Pretty self-explanatory. Chapter 8, Section 1 of the Criminal Code.

Scale of punishment for adults: fines or prison up to 6 months for minor offences, prison up to 2 years for normal severity, prison from 6 months to 6 years for gross offences.

It’s hard to say what the severity would be. On the one hand, it was just a few boxes and bottles of pills, and the value of the stolen goods should generally be over 1000 kronor to even be considered normal severity (case from 2009). On the other hand, committing theft as part of “criminal activities conducted systematically” is an aggravating circumstance. But I think the prosecutor would be lenient with a 16-yo like Simon and just focus on the narcotics crime (åtalsunderlåtelse for the theft).

Let’s proceed to the last crime, which is something I haven’t really seen a lot of people mention.

Olaga hot (unlawful threat): Wilhelm

A person who threatens another person with a criminal act in a manner that is liable to occasion serious fear in the person threatened for the safety of their own or someone else’s person, property, liberty or peace is guilty of making an unlawful threat (Swedish Criminal Code, Chapter 4, Section 5)

Scale of punishment for adults: prison from 9 months to 4 years for gross offences. Fines or prison up to 1 year for normal severity.

It’s highly unlikely that Wille’s shotgun waving would come out unless someone accidentally let it slip when questioned about the other offences. So the risk is slim, but I think it still deserves to be included, because an unlawful threat usually becomes a gross offence when a weapon is used. It’s also a publically prosecutable offence, which means August wouldn’t have the power to drop the charges. Note that the ‘treasonable offences’ clause doesn’t apply, because August has not officially been appointed as next in line by Parliament.

Like I said, I don’t think there’s any reason for August to sour his relationship with the Crown by dropping Wilhelm in it. I just wanted to include the threat to be thorough and show how much of a mess this could theoretically become.

Phew, that’s all of them! Thank you so much for reading all this way!

I guess the main point I wanted to make with this marathon post was that I really, really hope the criminal justice side is handled realistically in S3 now that a police investigation probably can’t be avoided. We shouldn’t expect anyone to be locked up with the key thrown away, due to the young age of everyone involved and the leniency built into the system. Also, the severest consequences could well come from the crimes that don’t sound as serious on the surface, such as the drug stuff - and Wille being one of the injured parties. (Or the potentially gross unlawful threat, but I doubt that’s going to come out.)

I’m intrigued to see what Lisa and co have in store for us, because they have a very real chance to highlight some interesting questions here.

Which (if any) of the potential crimes will August, who can liquidate enough money to pay for a great legal team, actually get punished for? Will he get off with fines and maybe some youth community service? Will the Alexander defence actually work when it really shouldn’t? Will social services get involved and maybe make August get some help for his issues? How will his social standing be affected when people learn it was him behind the video? Will the consequences finally teach him some accountability (which he definitely hasn’t learned growing up; see my analysis post about his upbringing and background)?

How about Simon? Can he avoid getting harshly punished for his dealing? How will social services treat him and his family if they get involved? Will his future and education be affected? Will he feel victimised again when the video matter is investigated (which could involve more publicity due to Wille’s involvement)? Could Micke try to claim he forced Simon to carry the drugs and sell them, to provide mitigating circumstances (and would Simon let his estranged dad risk imprisonment for him)?

And finally, is it fair that Wille being one of the injured parties could make the crimes more severe and extract “more justice”? Even though Simon was the one who couldn’t just deny being on the video to escape the negative consequences?

We shall see.

[collapsedsquid]

Italy's government said on Tuesday fiscal incentives for home renovations had had a "devastating" impact on public finances over the last four years and were to blame for the expected rise in the country's massive public debt through 2026. The most controversial is undoubtedly the so-called Superbonus, introduced by the-then Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte in 2020, which offered to pay homeowners 110% of the cost of energy saving renovations. Another project promised to cover 90% of the cost of doing up the facade of a building. The government initially predicted the Superbonus would cost 35 billion euros over a 15-year period. After just four years the Treasury says it has already forked out roughly 160 billion euros, an outlay that far outstrips the benefit to the economy.

[...] With such generous handouts, homeowners had no reason to haggle with builders over costs. On the contrary, as payments exceeded what they would spend, higher costs meant more money was left for the homeowners. [...]

Even though Draghi was aware of the risks, his government extended the Superbonus through 2025 under a phase-out arrangement. Meloni, who called it a budget "disaster", imposed limits to who could access it, but did not outright kill it. The problem is that the programme has become hugely popular with voters and small businesses and none of the political parties would risk pulling the plug, potentially leaving families and builders with worthless credits.

Tis not the people voting themselves bread or circuses that's the risk to Civilization but real estate tax credits.

[talkfastlibrary]

A Second Meeting—Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

**the dress photo is simply for the outfit not how I imagine reader to be! So it’s here simply for outfit choice🙂

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

Synopsis: you meet up with Jake again to discuss The Arrangement but your questions remain unanswered. Yet, you find out a bit more about Jake.

word count: 2.2k

Feedback is always welcome!

Enjoy!

****

Three days have gone by since dinner with Jake and you’re starting to think it was an illusion or a weird dream. Reynolds has been driving you everywhere just like Jake said which was nice to save money on gas but also strange because you’re not used to this. 

On Thursday Reynolds arrived with a black legal envelope and you ask if it’s the paperwork Jake mentioned. Reynolds nodded and you left it on your counter for two more days.

A week and many debates in your mind later, you finally decided to open it just to see what’s inside. You’re surprised to find it’s only five pages long. The first couple are about him, his schooling, random information, his accomplishments both in the Navy and otherwise, his likes and dislikes. 

Then there’s lists of what you’ll have access to; his house(s), cars, private plane, vacation homes, a credit card of hers linked to his account and then any form of a physical relationship should you desire one. He lists that he’s a good cuddler and gives great massages. He says he will be an ear for her whenever she needs and that he’s as much her companion as she is his.

The last page lists what she’d need to oblige to; the Naval Aviation birthday at the end of the month, naval dinners, weddings, vacations, and family get-togethers. At the bottom is a place for the both of them to sign then a post-it note from him stating your grandmother’s medical bills and further assistance from nursing staff has been taken care of by him. 

A lump forms in your throat at that nugget of information and just to make sure you open up your emails to see the final payment notices from all of your grandmother’s expenses. The papers drop to the floor and you’re soon to follow in a crumpled heap. You start to cry but then pull  yourself together quickly because you know once you start you won’t be able to stop. 

“Keep it together,” you whisper to yourself and shuffle the papers back in order. 

Then you start to truly think of all the things he can help you with financially; you could move your grandma back home, pay off your loans and debts on credit cards you used for your grandma. You pick up the last piece of paper that has his note and there’s a phone number next to it. 

You take out your phone and type in the number followed by a quick text:

I read the paperwork. I still have questions. Can we meet again?

His response is fairly quick back:

Of course. Join me for brunch tomorrow? Reynolds will know where to take you, he’ll be there by 11:00

You simple like the response. Your heart is pounding. 

Are you actually going to agree to this?

***

Reynolds is knocking on your door at 11:00 and he smiles when you open the door. 

“Good morning, Reynolds.”

“Good morning, Miss y/n.”

“I hate to ask…but does this look okay? I don’t want to be underdressed,” you press down on your light green dress. It reminded you of Jake’s eyes. 

“You look wonderful. Mr. Seresin will agree, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you exhale and follow him to the car. “Where are we going?”

“A favorite brunch spot of his called Horizons.”

“Oh…” you chew on your lip as you climb into the backseat. You were almost hoping it would be at his home, surely he has staff to cook for him. Why would he want to cook for you anyway?

The drive is only thirty minutes and you’re tapping on the black envelope with the paperwork you pulled from your bag. You run through the questions you had so you don’t forget them. When you arrive at the restaurant you see it’s along the water, luxury cars are shining in the morning sun. 

Just like with dinner, the host walks you to the back on the deck outside where Jake is. He stands up when you appear, all smiles and so very handsome. He looks wonderful in tan chinos and a green sweater that matches your dress perfectly. 

“Good morning, y/n,” he greets. His eyes slide down to the envelope but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Morning,” you respond shyly. 

“I hope you’re hungry, they have wonderful omelets,” he pulls out your chair. 

“Do they have pancakes?”

“Yes, they have pancakes.”

After placing your order and being given your drinks, you slide the black envelope on the table but Jake covers your hand. You look up and he has a slight frown on his face. 

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” he removes his hand then proceeds to cut up his egg. “Tell me about your week, what did you do?”

You stare at him in confusion and he senses your hesitancy. He shifts his gaze from his breakfast to your puzzled expression. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m so confused and have so many questions about all of this…”

“I know, and I promise we will discuss it.”

“But you said the ball was in my court, so can’t we talk about it now?”

“That depends,” he grins.

“On?”

“By saying the ball is in your court…does that mean you agree and signed the form?”

You close your mouth then huff because you haven’t agreed to anything and definitely didn’t sign for it. You felt a bit of a kinship to the little mermaid, Ariel, signing that could mean signing your life away for all you knew. You were going to voice all your concerns. He smiles back easily because he knows he’s got you, and it’s not in a patronizing way which makes it worse.

“That’s what I thought. Now, tell me about your week. I’ve thought of you everyday.”

Your stomach flips at that comment. How does he do that? He slips in these one liners that always catches you off guard but also makes you feel fuzzy inside. 

You continue your breakfast and tell him about your week. How busy you’ve been, how late you’ve been getting home from work and the constant headache you seem to be getting. While you’re talking you realize how easy it is to talk to him. You spill everything you’ve been feeling and he really listens which is something you’re not used to. 

While he takes care of the bill you gaze out at the water watching the waves ebb and flow.

“Would you like to walk along the beach?” he asks.

“Could we?”

“Of course, I take it you didn’t bring a sweater?”

“No…”

“I came prepared,” he nods, then pulls a cream cardigan from the back of his chair as he stands. You stand up as well. 

“I’ll be okay–”

But then a breeze blows and you shiver. He gives you a knowing look then holds up the cardigan. You turn around as he helps you put it on,  his fingers brush the top of your arms and you shiver again. 

“Fits you perfectly,” he mumbles, his breath blowing in your ear. He’s standing very close to you.

“Is it yours?” you spin away from him. Being so close is making it hard for you to think. 

“No. I bought it for you.”

“What?” you squeak, eyes widening at the gesture. “You didn’t have to–”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, placing his hands in his pockets. He rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet then jerks his head towards the water. “How about that walk?”

It’s a little steep and rocky getting down to the water, you’re grateful you decided on a nice pair of sandals and not your wedges you were debating on. There’s one more big drop and you pause staring at the distance of it. Jake hopped down no problem.

“Jump,” he holds out his arms, “I’ve got you.”

You inch forward, some pebbles tumble to the earth as you crouch down. You gauge the distance again between you and his open arms.

“Are you sure?” you chew on your lip.

“Positive. Jump, y/n,” he commands softly, his fingers motioning you forward.

You suck in a deep breath, close your eyes and push off. You gasp the short moment you’re in the air and then you’re in the sturdy arms of Jake, his hands curve around your waist and lower back while yours is locked behind his neck. 

“Why’d you close your eyes?” he asks.

“So it’d be over faster,” you exhale.

He sets you down, gently releasing you from his hold. You’re not sure if he did that to keep you at ease or if he didn’t really want to touch you.

“You have more questions, don’t you?” he moves through the sand and you follow.

“Only a hundred.”

You walk in silence for a bit and he still keeps a chaste distance between the two of you then a realization comes to your mind. 

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I have Sundays off,” he shrugs gazing out on the water.

“Oh…” 

“Would you like to sit for a while?” he motions towards a large piece of driftwood that has been flattened enough to make a decent bench. You nod and join him on the smooth wood.

You count in your head to eighty-three seconds then take that as your cue to ask your first question. You open your mouth but he speaks first. 

“Amazing how water can be so calm and then so violent the next, isn’t it?”

You stare out at the water, a few white caps rolling in and then outlines of boats in the distance. It doesn’t look too bad from here but you’ve read about riptides and how dangerous they can be under the surface of the water.

“Do you not like the water?” you ask carefully, somehow this seems like a sensitive topic for him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs leaning on his knees. “It reminds me of you, actually. You look so calm and peaceful on the outside but on the inside, you’ve got a riptide, a true force. I saw it last week at dinner with how quick you jumped to all of those conclusions about me.”

You sit up a little straighter at the mention of riptides, it was like he was reading your mind. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no, you have every right to think of all angles of this. I want to know your questions, y/n, I do. But I first need you to trust me that there is no recourse or trap of some kind.”

“How can I trust you when I hardly know you?” you’re staring at him as he stares at the water, the soft oceanic breeze tousles his hair. The undersides of his eyes look a little dark, like he hasn’t been sleeping. 

“You read all about me in the paperwork.”

“That’s not the same, that’s just words on a sheet but it doesn’t really show me who you are. And signing it would feel like I’m signing my life away to the devil or Ursula.”

“Ursula?” he cocks his head to the side smirking, “from the Little Mermaid?”

“Yes. Ariel lost her voice, I don’t want to lose mine.”

“That’s not going to happen. You have a wonderful voice that is very sure and profound. You might be a little closer to the devil aspect.”

“Are you the devil?”

“I’ve been referred to him once or twice,” he nods. “Does that scare you?”

You squint your eyes at him puckering your lips. You notice the way his eyes flick down to your lips and you look over the top of his head.

“Turn forward,” you instruct and he does so, “now look to the right…”

“What are you looking for?”

“Horns. I don’t see any so you must not be the devil.”

That makes him laugh, it causes his eyes to crinkle and you can see how nice his teeth are. He really does have a great smile.

“You’re sweet.”

“Can we discuss the paperwork now?” 

“Not yet, let’s enjoy the water for a bit longer.”

You sit in silence watching the waves roll and flower over the shore with seagulls swooping down low. The water looks so inviting you remove your sandals then walk to the edge of the beach. The wet sand is a little cool but the squish feels nice between your toes. You take a few paces forward and then the water rolls over your feet causing you to squeal at the coolness. You close your eyes inhaling the fresh salty air, the skirt of your dress flapping against your legs and one sleeve of your cardigan falls down your shoulder. 

Your questions are still bouncing around your head but now a new part of you is wishing Jake would come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. You want to hear his voice close to your ear again and maybe see what his smile feels like against your own lips. With a sigh, you open your eyes then turn around to see he’s already staring at you, his gaze intense and smoldering. It makes your cheeks warm and also a little sad because you can see a violent storm in his eyes, just like the one he was talking about with the water. 

What’s his violent storm?

[racefortheironthrone]

In a world where Robb Stark wins his war and manages to consolidate his realm, with the 7K being no more, lets assume he also annexes the northern crownlands too, what kind of council or burocracy would he establish to govern and how much of your economic development plans could he reasonably carry out in his lifetime and how could he unify his 2 realms economy into a cohesive unit?

In a Stark victory scenario, I think annexing the northern Crownlands would be an overstretch and something of a distraction from more important tasks (like bringing the Iron Islands and the Vale into his sphere of influence so that he can govern a geographically, economically, and politically coherent kingdom/coalition of northern Westeros).

To quote King Robb:

"Duskendale, on the narrow sea? Why would they go to Duskendale?" He'd shook his head, bewildered. "A third of my foot, lost for Duskendale?"

What matters in a brand-new Kingdom of the North is things like whether Gulltown accepts silver coins minted in White Harbor with Robb's face on them as valid payment for debts and taxes, or whether the Ironborn agree to keep their reaving south of Ironman's Bay, or whether the Stark navy can keep the Trident open all the way to the Bay of Crabs so that the Riverlands can keep trading directly with Braavos.

I did some back-reading through various economic development posts to see what I'd said in the past about the tricky scenario of how one balances the interests of multiple kingdoms in pursuing economic development. One of the things I'm noticing is that there are some reforms where there is real issues with competition/duplication of efforts (a Kingdom of the North can probably only support one Bank, one canal scheme, one sub-treasury system, one purchasing/marketing cooperative, etc.), some reforms where individual kingdoms can pursue their own goals but where there would be an issue about how the king balances the rewards he's doling out between the kingdoms (do you put your marginal dragon into winter schools and greenhouses for the North or church schools for the Riverlands or roads for the Vale?), and some where every kingdom can pitch in in a common effort (if there's going to be one sub-treasury plan, you're going to need a network of granaries along waterways from the Last River down to the Trident, the same information about how to improve agricultural productivity can be shared between the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale basically for free, etc).

That being said, one of the major political challenges of the Kingdom of the North was always going to be how you balance the interests of the component kingdoms and make everyone feel like the central government is giving them a fair deal and being attentive to their interests - and as you say, forging them into a cohesive economy would go a long way into doing that. So for example, one priority should be in working out reciprocity in trade between the newly-chartered cities. It certainly helps that a bunch of them (White Harbor, Gulltown, Maidenpool, Lord Harroway's Town, Saltpans) are along the same coast of the Narrow Sea or just upriver from the Narrow Sea, which makes close trade links more likely. However, you're going to want to make formal legal arrangements that, when it comes to port fees and staple fees and warehousing fees and the like, all of the North's cities agree to set them as low as possible for other Northern cities (if not an outright zollverein), and that burgher rights are transferrable between cities and that city ordinances will be honored by other cities, and so on.

In terms of "council or burocracy would he establish to govern," Robb was already taking a decent first step to bolster Lord Paramount Edmure Tully by appointing Brynden the Blackfish as Warden of the Southern Marches.

As I've written before, issuing city charters would be a crucial element of governing the Riverlands effectively. Giving Maidenpool, Lord Harroway's Town, Stoney Sept, Fairmarket, and Seagard a combination of economic and political self-governance would paradoxically allow King Robb to project royal authority more effectively - especially when it comes to generating revenue and manpower and enforcement of economic regulations.

[gretavangroupie]

Valor (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Jake x Reader, Daniel x Reader

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Cursin', Smokin', Drinkin', Allusions to Drug Use. Angst: Struggle and Poverty, Emotional Manipulation, Abandonment, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Fighting, Blood, Mentions of Death, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Actions, Crying, Heavy Angst, Allusions to Shady Activities, Coercion, Gambling, Betting. Smut: Kissing, Heavy Petting, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Penetrative Sex.

Valor Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A new project in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

HER POV

“I want details.” You demanded, determined to understand at least why they were keeping you so involved. 

They both gave you almost the exact same look, half-agitated and half-understanding they had to at least give you something. Jake cleared his throat first. 

“My dad…passed away seven years ago, and when he did, he left behind more than this shop.” Jake drew on his cigarette, readjusting in his seat as he talked. “Ace had a bad gambling problem, so bad that it put him in more debt and more depression than I really ever knew about. He used to hold these poker games for fun, until he started losin’ money, and started making more enemies than he did friends. Shit started to go south really quick. Honestly, it was a lot worse then, than it is now. The law was involved, dirty cops were playin’ cards one night and harassing my dad the next, drifters started to come around and threaten him while he was working…it was an overall unsafe environment for me and Danny.” He went on. 

“Wait.” You interrupted, trying to grasp everything. “Danny, you were always here?”

He nodded. “Yup, I uh, I started off in foster care, but…no one ever wanted to keep me. I was always getting into trouble and fightin’ in school… Jake was my best friend. I stayed here more than I stayed at home…most of the time my foster parents never even knew where I was. But Ace took care of me, when he could hardly even take care of Jake. So one day, it was Thanksgiving, I think. I just…never left. I was still just a kid. Started watching every move Ace made mechanicin’. Taught myself how to fix shit.” He ended the story with a harsh swallow. You knew that was something he didn’t share often. 

You couldn’t help but smile, realizing a little bit more how close these two actually really were. Raised as brothers. 

“So anyway, after my dad died, I was left with all this shit…all the money he owed to people fell into my lap. Not to mention all the other bullshit…the bills, the overdue payments, taxes…he was drowning then, and we’re drowning now.”

“And Teddy, he’s been playing cards here since I can remember.” Danny explained. 

“Teddy…” you repeated. 

“Yeah. He’s the one that called yesterday, he arranges the games. My dad owed him so much money, we’re still paying it back. We have to listen to him when he calls, we don’t have a choice. Every time we have a game and either of us wins, we give him the money. Right off the bat. It’s fuckin' horrible.”

“Well how long until he’s paid off?” You asked. 

“We’ve barely even made a dent, unfortunately.” Jake said, tamping his cigarette out on the floor between his boots. “It’s rare that either of us win.”

“Okay, well things are making a little more sense, I guess…” you could tell they were holding back on all the details, probably sparing you from knowing too much at one time. “So where do I come in, why are you hiding me?”

Jake took a deep breath, and leaned his elbows down on his knees, looking you directly in the eyes.  “You’re collateral. You’re fresh meat. They know that if…they can get to you, they can use you.” 

You felt your stomach drop to the floor. “Use me for what?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “To get to me.”

You looked back at Jake, staring each other down as you let it sink in. To get to me… You shook your head. “But that…doesn’t make any sense. Why would they think I mattered to you, at all?” 

You watched a tiny grin form on both of their faces. “They know we’re protective. They know you’ve been hanging around us…and honestly, I bet they know you have money.” Danny chimed in. “Y/N, how much are you payin’ for your motel room?”

“Uh, thirty-five a night, why?” You answered. 

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?!” Jake sat back in his seat as he and Danny exchanged knowing looks of ‘thought so.’

“Wanda.” Danny said, his voice seething. 

“I thought it was steep, but she didn’t give me a choice in the room, said it was all she had—”

“I bet she watched you pull your cold hard cash from your wallet, too, didn’t she?” Danny asked. “Watched you count it out?”

“Y-yeah…so?”

“So,” Jake tried to explain. “Wanda is friends with Teddy’s crew. Christ…She fuckin' told them you had money…they sent Tanya down here to get concrete evidence you were with us…that’s why he called the poker game. They want your money, Y/N. On top of our money. And they know that they can get paid a whole lot quicker if they get a hold of you…they know we would pay up if it was you on the line…”

Your eyes were stuck open at all of the information, trying to soak everything in as it was fed to you. 

“Me on the line…so, so you’re saying they might try to…to kidnap me? Hold me for ransom or something?” You could hardly get the words out. 

Danny nodded slowly while Jake massaged his palms. “Or worse.”

“Worse? What the fuck could be worse?!” You yelled, leaning off of the countertop. Danny stood from the chair, walking over to calm the storm he knew was brewing inside you. You felt him wrap his arms slowly around your neck, in a completely non-sexual way, knowing that if you needed to feel anything right now, it was comfort. 

“We don’t intend on letting you find out. And we don’t intend on giving them the satisfaction of winning like that.” He said, his voice laced with promise. You opened your eyes and peered over Danny’s shoulder, locking eyes with Jake as he nodded his head in agreement. 

“I’ve only been here for like two days, guys…you don’t owe me anything, I just want to get the hell out of here, I never wanted to bring all this trouble…” you felt like you were on the verge of tears, feeling guilty that you inadvertently made their situation worse. 

“You didn’t bring any trouble, Y/N. They’re bad men with bad reputations and shit lives. Teddy’s going to die wanting to bring me strife. It’s like he gets off on the shit…” Jake said, his voice trailing off as he looked at the wall behind you. Danny let go of your shoulders. 

“What, Jake? What is it?” His eyes were glued to the calendar that hung on the wall behind you. 

“Nothing. Today Saturday?” His face had gone completely white, stark as the smoke that bellowed from his cigarette. 

“Yeah, it is…” Danny took your hands in his. “I know it’s fucked, Y/N. It’s so fucked. And I’m so sorry you got dragged into this mess. I know you want to leave, but don’t you agree that the best place for you right now is with us? We can protect you…we know how their minds work…I’d feel so much better if you just, didn’t go back to the motel…”

He was pleading with you, and honestly at this point, you’d be terrified to be alone in that motel after learning everything you learned tonight, especially that Wanda had been snitching on your every fucking move. Bitch. 

You nodded, agreeing with Danny. As pissed off, insulted, and sick as it made you, you felt like you had no choice but to agree. “Alright. If it’s for my safety…I’ll stay here. But I’m not going to like it.” You were going to love it, as fucked as it was. “But honestly, how long? You’ve already been paying him off for 7 years…”

“Just until we figure something out. Until we fix your car, then you can disappear and let the wind carry you away, straight to Atlanta.” Danny answered with a true and genuine frown. He didn’t want you to leave. 

“Okay. But I have a couple conditions.”

They both looked at you with puzzled expressions. “You clean your disgusting, repulsive bathroom, and you both wash your sheets. Please. For the love of god.”

Sweet, sexy laughs escaped them both as they conceded, relaxing back in their chairs. “Yeah, okay. Point taken.” Danny said, holding his hand out to shake yours. “It’s a deal, Miss Thing.”

“Good. Thank you. I’ll even make dinner tonight, for your troubles.” You offered, knowing there wasn’t much in the cabinets, but you were confident you could whip something up. 

Jake stood from his chair, still looking a little pekid from whatever he noticed about the calendar earlier. He held his hand out to shake yours, too. “One clean bathroom, coming up.”

You began searching through the cabinets and refrigerator, finding a few potatoes and some bologna. Hmm, when all else fails, fry it. 

You pulled some oil from the cabinet, and laid out six pieces of the almost-expired bread hidden away on the counter. This will have to do. 

You’d come into this shop two and a half days ago, feeling uneasy, anxious, and unsure…and now you sat here with two of your oldest classmates as they transformed their home and business into a fortress for you to stay in, using themselves as a protective shield from the bad guys who were vying for you. 

But it didn’t feel wrong staying with Danny…you liked him. You liked him a lot. And with Jake…you felt…drawn to him. Both of them. But there was something about Danny’s touch that made you crave him; him leaving you hanging in the motel room earlier was enough to make you so sexually frustrated that you resented him for a second. 

The image of him lying on top of you under the covers was all you could think about, and you were absolutely dying to get him back in bed. The way his long, dark locks laid across his shoulders and reached all the way down to past the middle of his back, his defined features and strong jawline…the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled… all of it was stuck in your brain, burning little images that replayed over and over. 

He felt different than Peter, that much you could tell even after just the brief encounter you’d had. Like he would let you be in charge instead of only trying to appease his every little fantasy. 

And his lips on yours? Like the buzzing end of an electric wire, you could physically feel them still when he parted from you. The way his tongue felt in your mouth, his hands gripping your hips… yeah. It was decided. You wouldn’t be joining Jake in his bed again tonight. 

—

JAKE POV

The smell was familiar. One you recognized deep down in your bones. A smell that transported you back in time. You pulled your sheets from the washing machine, the lid black and dirty which was kind of ironic. You tossed them into the dryer, starting it up as the smell lured you into the kitchen. You can’t remember the last time someone that wasn’t you made a meal in this kitchen. 

You wiped your bleach-scented hands across your pants, the smell of lemon bathroom cleaner and Comet stuck in your nose. You realized your hands were cleaner than they’d been in probably years, after scrubbing away at the black ring in the bathtub. You could actually see the whiteness of your fingernails. 

As you rested your hands on a kitchen chair, you peered over to the stove watching Y/N finish frying up a pan of diced potatoes. Your stomach growled and your mouth watered as you watched her, completely unknowing you were standing behind her. 

Danny steps out of the hallway and into the kitchen, his voice startling both of you. “Damn, it smells good in here. I’m starving.” He walks up behind Y/N, peeking over her shoulder as his hand squeezes her hip. He turns to grab a few paper plates, placing them on the counter for her before taking a seat in the old wooden chair. 

You swung around and sat yourself in your own chair, once again letting your eyes drift over to the calendar on the wall. Seven years today. Seven years, Ace. You lean on your fist, twirling the worn metal zippo between your fingers. Rubbing your thumb over the engravings, hand carved by the man himself. It was all you really had left of him, taking it from his pocket that day, giving it a home in yours ever since. Your heart sank the more you thought about it, which is why you didn’t ever let yourself. You always did everything in your power to forget this day, never give it the chance to crush you like this, but this year, lucky number seven… It got you. 

“Alright, it’s ready!” she said, spinning around with two paper plates filled with fried potatoes and fried bologna sandwiches. That was it. That was the smell. Fried bologna. Your dad’s fucking favorite. Of course, today of all days. 

“Shit this looks good, haven't had fried bologna in forever!” Danny says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite. She grabs her own plate and sits between the two of you, stabbing her fork into a potato as you just stare down at the plate in front of you. You’re stuck. Frozen. Your stomach telling you to eat but your mind suddenly rushing with memories you’d pushed down for years. It hurt. They hurt.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself you picked up the sandwich, and held it to your mouth, slowly taking a bite as Y/N and Danny chatted about nothing. You wished you could turn off the instant replay in your mind of the last time you sat at this table eating with your dad. It hit you like a ton of bricks that now felt as if they settled in the pit of your stomach. 

The thing about Ace though, was that he never really told you how to live your life. He just let you live it watching him, and hoping you’d learn from his mistakes. What you didn’t expect, was that his mistakes would in turn become your own burden. You hated him for what he did. You hated that he left you to clean up his mess. You hated that you no longer had a family of your own. Just Daniel, and Daniel, you. That was okay though, the two of you had each other and that was better than nothing. You weren’t sure you’d ever forgive Ace, not for leaving you, but for letting your mother leave you before you ever even got a chance to know her. That was unforgivable.

You finished the last bite of your sandwich, completely spaced out as you stared off at the wall, just letting the memories ravage your consciousness, when suddenly it all just felt like too much. You started to feel suffocated by the thoughts, the room you were in suddenly feeling too hot, and too small. Your chest started to tighten and your throat felt small. You pushed your chair back and snatched your plate from the table, tossing it in the trash can as you offered a quick ‘thank you’ to Y/N. Your feet carried you out into the garage, as your hands found the light switch.  

The buzzing of the fluorescent lights calmed you a bit. Your eyes caught sight of Valor, and huff of air left your chest. A pristine 1968 Chevrolet Chevelle SS. Hardtop, Tuxedo Black with a standard 396 Horsepower engine, all hidden under a dusty beige colored canvas tarp.  

Just keep your mind busy. Do what you know. You walked over to the covered car, letting your hand hover over the cover, grabbing a fist full of the fabric and yanking it off with a scream. Your eyes took her in, she was pretty, you’d give her that, but hell, maybe you would be too if someone spent all their time fixing you up. Ace sure did. Throw the football? ‘No son, we have to get Valor running. Don’t you want to hear her purr?’ You can still hear his voice perfectly, as he says it. 

You slip your hand into the polished chrome handle, pulling the door open and sliding into the white vinyl bucket seat. It hugged you in just the right way, making the driver feel like they were part of the car. One with it. You grabbed the keys from the center console, sticking them into the ignition and twisting. The engine roared to life. He’d at least gotten that far, and he was right, she sure did sound pretty when she purred. But the problem is that she wouldn’t stay running. She’d run for a little while, and out of nowhere, she’d die. And that’s where he left her, sitting right here in the middle of this garage, covered and ashamed. You could barely look at it most days, leaving the cover on for months at a time until the feeling struck, and you needed to get your anger out. You’d completely tear apart the front end, combing through every single piece searching for something, anything that could be wrong, but every time you came up empty. 

Like clockwork, she died. The smell of the carpet and old vinyl filling your senses the way it always had. A suffocating blend of raw gasoline and rich exhaust, with overtones of hot Castrol. You lived for it, in fact it was all you ever really knew. It brought you to life most days, the process of working on cars satisfying your need to fix. To tinker. To solve. You ripped the keys from the ignition and slammed the door shut behind you. The black paint was so perfectly shiny you could see your own reflection. You tossed the keys into your pocket and let your legs carry you up the metal steps to your desk, opening the till, and fingering through the stacks of cash.

You instinctively grab for a twenty, knowing it’s more than enough to cover your usual selection but shit, tonight was a celebration right? You’re getting the good shit tonight. Just for you Ace. Just like you’d do, right? You snatch a fifty from the register, slamming it shut with a ding as your feet stomp down the metal stairs and back through the house. As you cross through the kitchen you grab your keys from the counter, with the fifty still in hand, receiving puzzled looks from Y/N and Daniel. 

You meet her eyes as you watch hers drift down to the cash in your hand, an instant look of confusion crossing her face. You crumpled it up in your hand as soon as you knew she saw it, stuffing the bill in your jeans pocket. 

You know what Daniel wants to say, but you know he’s not stupid enough to say it. Her though, she has no idea, and you know she’s not afraid to speak her mind. Your eyes meet hers again for the briefest second and you wonder if she can see the pain in your eyes before you look away and head for the front door. 

—

It’s not long until you’re pulling up at the QuikStop, pulling the barred door open as the bell chimes overhead. “Well then, what’ve we got here Jacob?” old man Johnson says, taking in your appearance. “Need you a top off tonight, son?” he snickers. You tip your chin in acknowledgement as you make your way to the back wall lined with a small assortment of different liquors. Your eyes scan over the offerings, stopping short when you catch sight of the good stuff. You grab the red waxed neck of the Maker’s Mark, and make your way to the counter to purchase your poison of the evening. You were typically a Seagram’s 7 man, but tonight you were pretty much feeling like a Maker’s man, considering your body was about to filled to the brim with it. fucking anything to stop the noise in your head.

“My my, this’s not ‘chur usual, son.” he grins, knowing you’re about to fork out a pretty penny. 

“Should get the job done, you think?” you remark, pulling the fifty from your jeans pocket.

“Mighty fine this one is. Quell yer troubles, it sure will.” he says, taking it from your fingers. He gives you back a few small bills and loose coins that you shove into your pants pocket, snatching the bottle from the counter before he even has a chance to place it in a paper bag. “You have yeh’s a good night Jacob.” he calls out as your foot steps out the door into the thick humid air. 

 —

HER POV

“Thank you for dinner.” You felt Danny’s breath on the back of your neck as you scrubbed the frying pan. “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had a cooked meal in this place?”

His lips were trailing soft kisses down your neck onto your shoulder, making your neck crane sideways. “S’hardly a meal, Danny. Just thought you might’ve wanted somethin’ hot for a change.”

You turned to face him, scratching your nails up his pecs before wrapping your arms around his neck, hands still wet from the sink. “Mmm, I do want somethin’ hot.” His hands were under your thighs, fingertips burying in before lifting you up to sit on the countertop. He was just the right height to pull you forward a little, pressing himself directly against your core. Just that feeling alone made you weak, and hearing his harsh inhale from the contact spurred you on even more. 

You kissed him, hard, feeling that want from earlier come crashing back into you again. His hands stayed on your thighs, his finger span covering almost the entirety of your skin. You both allowed yourselves time to explore again, letting things heat up like they had before. His hand moved up to grip your hair, pulling it backwards as he trailed his mouth down your throat, nipping and biting tiny marks as he did so. 

Suddenly the temperature of the room increased tenfold and you felt your body begging you to do something, make another move. You maneuvered your hips to press yourself against him, his length feeling hard and stiff against you now. The guttural moan that escaped him sounded so carnal you could’ve taken him right then and there, but the risk of being caught was still heavy in your mind. 

“Wait… Jake could be back any minute…” you choked out, glancing to the metal door. 

“Guess we better fuckin' get to it, then.” He buried his face in your neck as he lifted you from the counter, carrying you through the kitchen and to his bedroom with ease. He kicked the door closed behind him as he drifted slowly to his bed, your mouths and hands still ripping at each other. 

His knee hit the mattress and he lowered you down with a bounce, immediately reaching for the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head. Without disconnecting your mouths, your hands anxiously fumbled around at his zipper, unbuttoning his jeans. It was like all shyness had left your body as you felt no shame in letting your hand grip his shaft, your hands burning to know what he felt like without the barrier of his boxers. 

“Fuck Y/N…I want you so bad…” he almost laughed at himself, pushing your shoulder back into the pillows. 

“Mmm, I can tell.” You grinned as your hand moved up and down his length, growing harder by the second. He rolled over and pulled his jeans off before towering over you again, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra in one swift motion. Your hand found him again, and this time you noticed just how much you were about to be dealing with. You weren’t sure your ever had someone his size before, and it made you fuckin' excited. 

Your mouths were connected in such a way that you felt like you’d never separate; both of you completely taken with the way the other tasted. Your hands came up to grip his face, running your fingers over his cheeks. “Can you please take that fuckin' ring off your finger? If I’m gonna fuck you I don’t want to be thinkin’ about you and another man.”

Shit. You’d completely forgotten you even had it on. You hesitated a second, knowing that it didn’t mean shit to you anymore, but something told you not to throw it away. You slid it off and placed it on the nightstand, out of sight and definitely out of mind. 

“Thank you. Now…let me see your body again, baby…” he mumbled, sitting back on his knees to pull your jeans and panties off. “You’re fuckin' stacked, you know that?”

Your mouth contorted into a devious grin, having never heard a man talk about you like this before. Peter never praised you, never complimented you or your looks, only took what he could get then fell asleep. 

Danny made you feel beautiful, made you feel empowered…his eyes stayed bewitched as he scanned from your thighs to your tits, all the way to your face again before leaning his mouth down, licking directly over your mound and up your stomach. 

His hands gripped around your hips, his fingertips gripping your asscheeks while his thumbs reached all the way to your groin…his hands were massive. He tilted his hands so that you were forced to arch, inadvertently spreading your legs apart a little as he did so. Just that movement alone made you feel used and in charge at the same time; just the sight of your body was sending him over the edge with want for you, and you liked it. 

His eyes met yours again, rushed and frenzied as he silently asked permission. You nodded a little, halfway unsure of what he was asking. 

“You taste as good as you look, baby?” He began to lay his body flat on his stomach between your legs, his hands pressing your muscles in that special way again, to make the display all the more visual for him. “You’re fuckin' soaked, god I bet you’re so sweet…” he muttered, running his tongue up and down the insides of your legs. 

You held back a little. You were absolutely dying for him to bury his face in you, but again, this was something that Peter had only done once or twice for you, and that was only because you’d asked him to. Essentially, this was new territory. A brand new experience, really. Coming from someone who actually wanted to do it. 

His tongue was traveling around still, teasing…exploring. “Can I taste you?” He asked, his deep brown eyes flickering up to yours as you anxiously let a hand down to grip in his hair. You nodded quickly, a barely audible ‘yes’ slipping from your lips. “Please.”

When his tongue finally buried in between your folds, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced in your life…obviously Peter had been doing it all wrong. His tongue buried, his lips enclosed around you…hitting all the right spots with such precision you felt like you were in the clouds. The burning, fiery, thunder-storming clouds. Your hand gripped his hair tighter as he pushed inside you, lapping his tongue side to side and up and down and pulling out again, then working tiny circles around your clit. 

You realized you’d been holding your breath the second Danny popped up, laughing a little bit. “Breathe, baby.” You could feel the peach fuzz around his mouth scratching against you as he smiled through his words, but it felt good. An added bonus, the slightly painful irritation making it feel even better as he glided side to side. 

You listened to his instruction as you let yourself inhale, his low growl giggle vibrating through your body. “God damnit, Danny…what the…” your knees came up around his ears, your thighs squeezing him together as you neared that sweet feeling beginning to take over your entire body. His hands were still gripped tightly around your hips and ass, holding you steadily exactly where he wanted you. 

Fuck, you loved feeling out of control.

But then, suddenly, you wanted more. Needed more. He began to bring his hand around to add his fingers, lightly toying at your entrance with his fingertips. 

“No, no.” You commanded, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What’s wrong, you okay?” He perked up. 

You pulled him up by his hair, urging him to kiss you again. “Yes I’m fine. Didn’t want you to do that, yet. I wanna feel you. It ruins the surprise.” You muttered through exhausted pants, kissing away the wetness that covered his face. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, an impressed look of intrigue flowing over him. “Oh, fuck…alright then.”

You pushed him off you to lie flat on his back, completely caught off guard by the switch. “Take them off.” You demanded, but also reaching for the hem of his boxers yourself, to speed up the process. 

Once they were in a pile beside you, you hopped to all fours and placed one hand on either side of his head as his hands drifted from your back to your hips again. He was fighting himself, bucking his hips up into you as he tried to make contact. 

“Let me do it. Wanna feel every inch.” You spoke again, letting him know you were on top, you were calling the shots. His facial expression was already fucked out, still shining with the wetness from your arousal…you could tell you had him right where you wanted him. You reached between you, gripping his considerable length in your hand again as he tossed his head back with a groan. Your eyes caught the way the ink danced across his neck as it pulled tight. The spider web that stretched across his throat was so intricate, you felt caught in the web yourself. He clenched his jaw together when he finally looked at you, reaching a hand up to grip your hair back away from falling in his face. 

“Wanna see your face, baby. Do it, please, fuck…” he was writhing beneath you, and you could already tell he was going to be the lay of a lifetime. You teased your own entrance with his tip, tracing your wetness all around. When you finally lined up, you prepared yourself to take him in, knowing it had been a while, and this was going to be a stretch. 

You went slowly, feeling every centimeter enter you, the pain so sweet and so engulfing. When you finally bottomed out, he choked out a huffed sound so beautiful you wished you had it on film, the feeling of him all the way inside you so snug, he felt like he belonged there. 

“Jesus Christ Y/N…my god…” he purred, his tongue sticking out to wet his lips as you sat back up, slowly beginning a pace that you knew was going to absolutely kill you. He was unlike anything you had ever felt before, the perfect size, attached to the perfect body…his eyes finally looked up at you long enough to share a moment. His abdomen crunched in on itself when you bottomed out again, the top of his head resting on your shoulder as his hands guided you up and down. 

You finally let yourself find a rhythm, leaning into him and flicking your hips back as you sped up. You let your cries fill the room; suddenly you couldn’t care less if Jake walked in on you right now. It was heavenly, perfect in every sense of the word, and your insides were swirling and begging you to never let yourself stop. 

“God, please don’t stop, Y/N…right there…” he purred again, gripping your hair back as you rode him into oblivion. You leaned back a little, resting one hand on his thigh behind you while the other one balanced on his sternum. Your fingers danced dangerously close to another tattoo, one you hadn’t seen before. A scattering of words in German sat delicately over his heart. You wanted to ask him what it said, but you were scared to know, based on the location.

You felt him deep inside, simply rolling your hips forward and back as you let him take a look at the show. You felt him hitting you deeper this way, eliciting a whine from you that you were borderline embarrassed about. His hand shot to your core, his thumb rubbing over your clit as he bucked up again. “So fuckin’ beautiful, Y/N…I swear…” 

His praises tightened the knot that was already building inside you, the sound of him coming apart beneath you was enough to get you off by itself. Just as you were about to let it all go, you leaned down over him again, your mouth burying in his neck, biting into him as your sounds became more and more strangled, the overwhelming feeling of pure pleasure ripping through your body. 

The buildup was insane, it felt like it lasted for hours. You guessed he could tell that you were close as he began thrusting up into you, too. “Yeah baby…go for it…let me have it…”

The white light that encompassed your entire being came flashing before your eyes, your teeth clenching into the skin of his pec as you came undone, shaking with what had to have been the most intense orgasm you had ever had. You wanted to say his name, scream it into the air, let him know how good he felt inside you, but you couldn’t form a coherent word even if you wanted to. Everything went numb and dull for a split second as you came down, panting and crying out choked sounds as you relaxed. You continued riding him, though…wanting to bring him to his delicious climax too. 

“I’m close baby please, please don’t stop…” he begged, and suddenly his stomach was clenching, his dick twitching deep inside you still as he pulled you up off of him, grabbing himself in his hand to let his release flow over his hand and onto your stomach. You watched as his hand worked over his length, his eyes fixed on you as he came down, and slowed his hand. 

His eyebrows shot together as his facial expression showed you how good it felt, how pretty you looked with his cum on you… it wasn’t something you had ever let a man do before, but you swore in that second that if he made you feel that way for the rest of forever, you’d let him do just about whatever he damn well pleased. 

When you finally caught your breath, you smiled at one another, laughing and completely out of breath. 

“Christ, you were even better than I imagined, baby…” he huffed, letting his hands fly to either side of his body, careful not to drop the mess that was in his right hand. You laughed as you plopped down beside him, grinning from ear to ear as you left the afterglow set in. 

“I’ve never had a man make me feel so good in my life, Danny. I swear.” You admitted. 

“Really? Even when you did that to them?” He perked up in disbelief. 

You nodded. “Yeah, really. There were a couple of firsts in there.”

His eyebrows raised up. “Fuck… Well, I’m telling you, I never would’ve guessed that, baby. You are spectacular. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop wanting you like that.” He brought his face close to yours to lay a sweet, passionate kiss to your lips. 

You smiled sweetly back as he pulled away, looking back at you with the sweetest smirk as he made his way to the bathroom, and you suddenly found yourself completely unable to pull your lust filled eyes away from the perfect roundness of his ass. 

——

“This one okay?” You asked Danny, pulling an oversized t-shirt from his drawer. It was a dingy white and filled with holes and rips, but the fabric felt soft and comfortable. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” He smirked, laid out across his bed in nothing but his loose-fitting gray boxers, strumming away on a black acoustic guitar. His eyes had been transfixed on the wall across from you before you interrupted him…his fingers mindlessly crawling across the 6-string, plucking out a solemn little tune that wasn’t familiar. 

You crawled back up next to him on the bed, reaching across him to his nightstand to grab his box of smokes. “What are these, anyway?” You asked, opening the top flap. 

“…Not what the box says they are.” He let out a sweet laugh. “I roll my own. I blend together a few different types of tobacco to get the flavor I want.”

“Hm. That’s why yours always smell so much better than Jake’s, then?” You asked, pulling one out and running it underneath your nose. “They smell sweet…”

“Mmhm. Taste good too. Try it.” He let go of the neck of the guitar for a second, reaching to his table to grab his lighter. He flicked the ignitor and produced a flame for you, watching you intently as you brought the end of the cigarette to it, inhaling the sweet aroma into your lungs. Damn, he was right. 

“That’s really tasty…” you licked your lips together. “Even the paper is kinda sweet.” You hit it again before passing it back to him. 

“Yeah. Took me a while to get it just right. Came from stealin’ Ace’s half empty bags mostly.” He laughed at the memory. 

You tucked a pillow up under your arm as he began to play again, the cigarette hanging from his lips as the ash grew longer. His inked hands looked sinful dancing across the strings, and he was so natural at it. You caught a glimpse of the red and black triple’s 7’s tattooed on the inside of his pointer finger, and for some reason, you were sure you’d not seen it before. 

“Triple 7’s, huh?” You thought you had a pretty good idea of what it symbolized, but you wanted to see what his reasoning was. 

“Yeah, symbolizes good fortune and luck.” He pulled the smoke from his lips, tamping it out on the ashtray on the table. “Doesn’t really seem to be doin’ the job too well, does it?” He ended his sentence with a wink. “Not til’ you waltzed through the door at least.”

You began fingering with a loose string on his boxers. “I thought it meant the Holy Trinity...” 

“Means that too, I guess. But I stopped bein’ religious a long time ago.” 

The two of you were quiet a while, just the occasional sound of Jake banging around in the shop mixed with Danny’s tune to fill the air. 

“How long you been playin’?” You asked. 

His voice was getting groggy, sleep threatening him as the minutes ticked by. “Since I was 5 or 6 I guess, one of my foster families had one and I remember realizing it made a really pretty noise… I’d pick it up and run to my room and strum away on it to drown out the sound of them fighting. Seemed to help me not hear it. Then I started to actually like the way it felt in my hands…”

You were quiet for a second. “That why you play your music so loud now?”

His fingers stopped altogether as his eyes met yours. His face slowly contorted into a million different emotions at once before he looked back to the wall again, gently picking up where he left off. 

“Fuck, yeah…I guess it is…”

“Jake play guitar too?” You tried to change the subject once you realized you had maybe hit a little too close to home with your question. 

He shook his head. “No, he plays harmonica like the damned devil, though. Only does it every once in a while, but shit…he’s good at it. Every now and then we’ll get on a good drunk and play together to a big audience of ourselves.” He smiled sideways as he turned to look at you. 

“Maybe y'all can play for me sometime.” Your fingertips were sliding along the hem of his boxers. 

He sucked his bottom lip in through his teeth. “We’d love to play for you…” his eyes had started bouncing around each feature on your face, taking you in again as he moved himself closer. He pressed his lips into yours again, sweet and soft and mellow. “You know I’m gonna be thinking of you on top of me all the time now…gonna want it all the time…” he groaned through broken kisses. “Fuck… I don’t think you even know how gorgeous you looked…” 

You pressed your tongue between his lips again, the sudden new movements hitting the strings of the guitar causing them to make a crazy scratching noise. “I’ll ride you whenever the hell you want, Danny…” you breathed, huffing a breath into his mouth. And you meant it, too. 

Just as things started to get heated again, you heard Danny’s radio in the bay shoot up to 11. It was followed by a loud metallic bang, and the sound of a loud engine starting up. It startled you, and you sat up to look at the door. 

“Fuck.” Danny said shortly, rubbing his hands through his hair. 

“What was that? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, no. No, he’s not. But, we’ve just gotta—” he sputtered. You slid yourself across the bed, moving toward the door as you heard another loud thud echo through the bay. 

“What is he doing?!” you urge.

“He’s drunk. He’s trying to fix Valor.” He explained, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Valor? The fuck is Valor?” you ask. 

“The fuckin' car his dad left em.” he answers. “Only touches it when he's wasted.”

“How do you know, does he do this often?” You stood at the foot of Danny’s bed, throwing your hip out as you crossed your arms. Suddenly you heard Jake’s loud voice yelling along to the first verse of ‘Turn the Page’ by Bob Seger. “My god, is he singing?!”

Danny sat up and crawled to sit on the edge of the bed. “Y/N, listen. Every so often, Jake will go on a bender, and when he does it, he does it right. It was Ace’s dying wish for Jake to fix that car, and the only way he can bring himself to touch it, is if he’s out of his mind intoxicated. So, we just gotta let him do it. He’ll be fine, just gotta get it out of his system.” 

Wait. “So he has to be fucked up before he can even pop the hood?” This wasn’t making sense. 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, he’ll be fine, this is just how he works through it.”

“Danny, that is an extremely unhealthy way for him to be dealin’ with this…” you said quietly. He shrugged his shoulders and huffed out a breath, his expressions saying nothing more than it is what it is. 

Another bang and more loud sing-shouting bellowed off the walls again, and you decided you’d had it. You yanked the door open, and made your way out into the shop, seeing Jake looking a complete and total mess as he dipped his head low inside the belly of Valor. A cigarette rested between his lips as both of his hands disappeared deep down in the engine. 

“Ain’t it unsafe to have an open flame that close to motor oil?!” You yelled, grabbing his attention. He perked up, his eyes a deep dark black that you hadn’t seen before. There was a scowl on his face and his nostrils flared when he looked at you, absolutely absorbed in the hatred and madness he must be currently full of. “Why are you out here makin’ all this racket?” You yelled over the music. 

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the floor and stomping it out as the smoke drifted from his lips. “None of your fuckin' business.” You watched as his eyes glanced toward Danny’s room. “Get back in there and let your boyfriend serenade you to sleep.” He slurred, pulling a socket wrench from his kit. 

“Agh!” You had a knee-jerk reaction to his words. “He’s not my boyfriend…” you crossed your arms across your chest. Who the fuck does he think he is?

Jake raised his hands into the air. “Whatever! Don’t care!” He shoo’d you away with a flick of his wrist, and buried his face back into the engine, screaming the words loudly again. “Here I gooooo, on the road again!”

You decided that seeing him like this, for the reason he was like this, wasn’t going to fly if you had anything to do with it. You stomped over to the other side of the hood, standing until he felt you watching. 

“God damnit!” He yelled, dropping the tool to the floor beneath the car. When he stood back up he met your eyes again. He reached down beside his foot, pulling up a large glass bottle of liquor, taking it straight to the head. 

A handle of Maker’s. He had gone to the liquor store earlier…but where did he get the cash for something like that…? 

Oh, fuck. The fifty you saw him shove in his pocket. With the red X over Grant. 

“You used my goddamn money to buy that, didn’t you?” You spat as he swallowed, wiping the excess drips from his chin with the back of his dirty hand. “The fifty you had earlier, you took it and spent it on this?!” You were enraged. He was supposed to be using that to buy your parts. 

“Again, it’s none of your fuckin' business, Y/N!” He was spitting and slurring his words, his face red with anger and drunkenness.

“No, it is my business! That’s my money you’re drinking away right now! That’s so fucked, Jake!” You were yelling at him now. “What do you think, I’m just gonna slide you an extra fifty for your trouble?!”

He snarled his nose up, taking another swig. “Screw you, Y/N. Get the fuck out of my face.”

You stepped toward him now, your entire body raging with madness that you just couldn’t qualm. “Why don’t you yell at me, Jake. Huh? Yell at me. Take it out on me, instead of the void. You want something to be mad at? Try me…” you hit yourself in the chest a couple times, trying to get him to have the reaction you were hoping for, probably looking mighty intimidating standing there barefoot in nothing but Danny’s t-shirt. 

He stepped back away from you. “What? Why…”

“Jake, almost half of the bottle is gone. Did you go somewhere and drink before you came back? Why are you—“

“Y/N, nobody fuckin' asked for the twenty questions. Can you go the fuck back to Daniel and let me do this?! Please.” He ignored you again, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he had tears welling in his eyes. There was a long pause in the conversation. He just needed to talk…

“What if I don’t want to?” You said, your voice as meek as possible over the volume of the radio. 

That confused him. “What if I want to stay here and help you?”

“You can’t help me, Y/N.” His face fell as he slammed a wrench back into the top drawer of the kit. “Nobody can.”

“Can you let me try?” You pleaded. 

He looked directly at you, and you watched as his face softened a bit. He shrugged his shoulders and let them fall again before taking another big swig of the liquor. You leaned in, yanking the bottle from his hand, tilting it back and taking a long shot, yourself. You winced as the hot liquor went down your throat before leaning your elbows down on the panel of the car, looking down inside it at what he was working on. Thankfully a slower, quieter song had come across the radio. 

“Now, what are we dealing with, here?” You asked, hoping he’d catch the double entendre. “Tell me all about it…”

He replaced his dirty hands back down into the front end, twisting something loose as he cleared his scratchy throat. 

“It’s been seven years. Seven years today.” He said quietly as his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

“Seven years since…?”

“Since my dad…died.” He was biting his cheeks in over and over. 

“What happened, Jake?” You leaned in a little closer, brushing some dust off the top of the engine. 

Jake leaned back, reached into his pocket and pulled out a few sheets of folded up notebook paper, dirty and torn from being in the hands and pocket of a mechanic. You took it gently from his hand, and slowly opened it. 

‘April 22, 1975’. You read to yourself before scanning the rest of the hand-written note. You felt your heart sink as the words clicked in your mind. 

“Jake, is this?”

“My dad’s suicide note. Yeah. Wrote it seven years ago today.” He replied, turning a socket wrench over and over as he avoided eye contact with you. “Left it for me on my nightstand while I was asleep.”

Your heart began pounding in your chest. Fuck. You hadn’t realized that was how he passed. You swallowed hard before even trying to speak again. “So you…you found him?” 

Jake brought the bottle to his lips again, swallowing it down before passing it to you. You tilted it up, and did the same. He nodded, barely any movement in his body now. “Yeah.” His eyes were blank as they stared at the block in front of him. 

You took a chopped breath. Maybe…maybe he just needs to get it out…hell. You were no psychologist.

Finally you spoke barely above a whisper. “Where was he?”

Jake was biting the sides of his cheeks in hard, his gaunt face pulled into itself as the dark circles shadowed even more in the dim light. His eyes looked dead into yours, deep and blank, before flicking up to the ceiling behind you, then back to yours. 

You turned around slowly following his line of vision, seeing the high exposed rafter in the lofted ceiling. 

Fucking hell. 

You turned back, your eyes closed as your hands found your face, tears fighting to spring out as the image of the rafter sat burned in your brain. Jesus. 

“Jake, I-I’m so…I didn’t mean for you to have to think about that again, that must have been…” you could hardly find the words to apologize, to empathize with him, with what he must have gone through that day, finding his dad like that. Gone through every day since. There were no words. There never would be any words. “I’m so sorry, Jake. Truly.”

“S’okay. In the past, now. What’s done is done.” He shrugged, nipping the bottle again. 

“But you were just a kid, Jake…”

“Yeah, I was. Not a damn clue in the world. Had to do the growin’ up a man does in twenty years that very day.” You watched as a tiny tear escaped the outside corner of his eye, and he quickly wiped it away. “Left me with absolutely fuckin' nothin except a couple thousand dollars, that note, this fuckin' shit hole building, and every bad debt he ever had. But I had Danny with me. And Bubba. Danny was only…only fourteen.”

You felt your heart physically breaking into a million pieces for him, for both of them, thinking back to them being young teenagers and having to deal with that basically on their own…

“I’m glad you had them with you.” You agreed. 

He nodded, his eyes turning red. “Don’t know what I would’ve done if Danny wasn’t here. Hell, his voice had barely even changed and he was helping me plan our dad’s funeral after he got home from school. But you know, he never even faltered. Kid took care of me better than I took care of myself those few weeks after. Forced me to eat, kept my mind busy…” you watched as he replayed the memories, probably running through them all in his head like watching them on an old projector screen. 

“He basically kept the shop running while I stayed away from the world in my bedroom. I don’t even…” he shook his head as he collected himself. “People brought us food, Bubba was here every single day making sure we were okay…but Danny did it all. I don’t even know how he did it, he was a baby. Fuckin' workhorse…always has been.”

He took a second to rub his dirty hands over his tired eyes. “I don’t…we don’t have anybody, Y/N. No family at all.”

You reached out and cupped your hand over his, squeezing it hard as you let him talk. “Danny’s your brother.” 

“In everything but blood.” He licked his lips, turning his hand over to hold yours back. You smiled, letting him know you were still here to listen, if he wanted to continue…even if it was just the whiskey giving him confidence. 

“So you basically raised Danny, after that…” you relented. 

He shrugged his shoulders in agreement. “Yeah, I guess, kinda. I dropped out of school right before graduation, but. Made sure he made it through senior year and all that. Honestly he raised me more than I did him, if I think about it.” He smirked a little. “We learned it all together.”

His eyes completely closed and he leaned his entire body weight down on his elbows. “Teddy…Teddy was uh, in love with my mom…before I was born.” His eyebrows raised and he laid more information out on the table for you. 

“What?!” 

He swigged the bottle again. “Yup. S’why he hated my dad so much. They were both vying for her at the same time…guess Ace swept her off her feet somehow.”

“Is that why he hates you so badly?” You were starting to put the pieces together. “He sees your mom in you?”

He nodded again. “Exactly. He’s still punishing me for what my dad did to him. Or my mom, whatever. I never asked for details. That’s why he’s still after me for my dad’s money. Still heartbroken and fucked up over somethin’ that went down before I was even born. The son of a bitch.”

“That’s not fuckin' fair, Jake.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, babe.” He clicked his tongue and sent you a wink.

He squeezed your hand a few times before releasing it, and walked over to plop himself down in one of the dirty lawn chairs against the wall of the shop. You followed suit, sitting beside him in the other chair as you curled your legs up and pulled Danny’s shirt over your knees. 

“Tell me about Ace. Was he a funny guy?” You asked, trying to get him through his anguish. He grinned a little, hastily wiping his eyes again. 

“Yeah, when he wanted to be. He was always full of dumb jokes and one-liners. But he stayed quiet most of the time, buried himself in his work. Till things went south with my mom, they got into drugs for a little bit. Nothing too serious but enough to count. My dad stepped away from it but mom didn’t. Then she just…disappeared. Before I was even out of diapers. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“What’s her name?”

“Stella.”

He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to sit out here and talk to me, ya know. I’m a fuckin' drunk mess. And I ain’t real sorry about it.”

You smirked. “Hey, just keepin’ you company.” You tilted the bottle back again, almost choking on it when it hit you. “Oh my god, Jake…the other day you said Ace died the day before your eighteenth birthday, that means…tomorrow is your birthday…?”

He nodded. “Yep. The big 2-6, I guess.”

Fuck. Now you understand why. His rage makes sense…

“Well that means we gotta have you a party!” You squealed, standing from the chair. 

“No no no, it’s just another day. I don’t need no party.” You grabbed his filthy hands, standing to your feet and bringing him with you. 

“Birthdays are the most important day of the year, silly!” You started dancing around to ’Cinnamon Girl’ as it blared from Danny’s speaker high on the shelf, holding Jake’s hands as you spun yourself around. “I saw your Neil Young poster on the wall, I know you love him. Come on, dance with me, birthday boy!” You couldn’t help but to try and act and candidly as you could, anything to try and make him feel just a little bit better on the anniversary of the worst day of his life. Even if it was just making him smile for a second. 

“You see us together, chasing the moonlight, my cinnamon girlllllll.” You sang out loud. 

Which you did, kind of. He grinned a bit and rolled his eyes at you, his sticky hands gripping just the very ends of your fingertips. You didn’t know if Danny knew what you were doing out here, but you didn’t really care if he did. It was his best friend’s birthday, for Christ sake. And no one even cared. 

Jake was stumbling around, his eyes heavily hooded and red. You realized maybe the alcohol had hit him when you stood him up so fast. He stepped his feet around a little bit, hardly much of a dance at all while you swung his arms around. It did manage to bring a little bit of a smile to his face, though. 

“I do love Neil Young, you’re right. And I’m impressed you know this song.” He chuckled. “Hmm, I’m fuckin' drunk though, too. Sleepy.” He said as you dropped his hands back to his sides. “Think I’m gonna go crash out.” He looked at you through one eye, and you realized how drunk he really was. 

“Shit, are you gonna be sick?” You asked. 

“No no, just sleep. Wan’ ma bed.” He mumbled, walking over to the shop sink to wash his dirty hands. 

“Okay, let me walk you.” You offered as he finished, walking backwards as you pulled him along toward his bedroom. 

When you got inside you flicked the light on, watching as Jake kicked his coveralls, jeans, and boots off as he waddled through the room. My god, his thigh tattoo, you hadn’t seen it up close, fuck…it was a dragon. Big and black and blue with fire coming from its mouth leading directly to…

He threw himself onto the mattress, his pile of freshly-washed sheets still laying a mess on top. 

“Mmm, they smell so good I just wanna…” he curled his arms and legs up in them, wrapping up like a cocoon as he buried himself in them. 

You laughed. “Is this what having clean sheets does to a man?!”

“They’re still kinda warm from the dryer, Y/N! Come feel, come here…” he reached his hand out, pulling you down into the bed with him. You bounced a couple times from the force, but you landed directly in his arms, face to face as you ended up tangled in the sheets with him. 

“See? Still warm, aren’t they?!” He was like a giddy school kid, but what he didn’t notice was how close your faces were. You could smell the heavy liquor emanating through his pores, on his breath, and swirling through the air, but his hand that pulled you down never let go. It gripped hard on yours as you laid beside him, both of you staring at each other, feeling each other’s chests rise and fall as your heart rate skyrocketed. 

Suddenly you felt the light touch of his other hand barely grazing across your back. “Are you still scared of me?” He asked, his voice hollow and needy. 

You thought a second, realizing that if you were truly scared of him, you wouldn’t have faced the monster he was, head-on earlier. By yourself in your panties, at that. 

“No.” You said simply, and that was the truth.

The corners of his lips tilted up just slightly as he whispered. “Good.”

You got ahold of yourself, turning your face away as you fought the demons that began circling in your mind, being this close to him. 

“I know what I want for my birthday.” He slurred, rolling his head into his pillow. 

“What’s that?”

“You ta’ read me more Maya poems.” His eyes were already closing as his words barely slipped out. You knew it wouldn’t be long. You were getting tired, yourself. You reached to his nightstand where your book still sat, opening to a passage of one of your favorites. 

You began reading out loud, just louder than a whisper, watching as his eyes drifted closed, his pink lips mouthing the words right along with you. 

And without even knowing it you fell asleep there, curled up in his pile of sheets, one hand on your book, and the other wrapped up in Jake’s. 

—

JAKE POV

Even through your drunken slumber you could hear the pounding on the door. Your eyes blinked open, trying to register if it was really happening or if you were dreaming. Surely you had to be as you looked over and saw Y/N asleep next to you. She was here, in your bed, with you. Your hand rested on the skin of her stomach and you could hardly tear your eyes away from her as you took in the way she felt beneath your hand. You wanted to pull her close, smell her hair, let your fingers glide over her skin, but instead you heard the knocking on the front door continue. She began to stir from the noise, rolling to face you as you realized you needed to get up. 

You pulled the blankets off of your body, your eyes searching furiously for where your gun ended up, finally catching sight of it on the dresser. You grabbed it, and bolted through your bedroom door to find out who the fuck was knocking on your door at four in the morning. You cocked your gun, and held it behind your back as you unlocked the front door, pulling it open slightly to see who it was. Bubba? The fuck?

You pulled the door open more, “What’s wrong?” you asked in a panic. This was unlike him. He never showed up like this unless something was wrong. Your eyes glanced behind him, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. 

“You got that girl here, son?” he asks, raising a brow. 

You furrow your brows and shift your weight into your hip, “Yeah, she’s here.”

“Good. Keep ‘er here. Don’t let ‘er outta your sight. Ain’t safe for ‘er.” he warns, quietly. 

“Joey was sniffin’ around up here earlier today, askin’ questions and shit. Asked where she was, so we went and got her from the motel. She’s not goin’ back. I knew he was up to some shit.” you answer, setting your gun down on the table by the door. 

“I don’t know what exactly is goin’ down over at Teddy’s but, might be best for her to just lay low here for a while. You boys don’t let them snatch that girl, whatever you do, you hear?” he says, crossing his arms. “That’s not why I’m here though.” 

“Alright, why are you here…” you ask, wondering what couldn’t wait until the morning. 

“Got a meeting set up for you two, ‘round 3 o’clock tomorrow. Down at the old sawmill.” he answers with a gleam in his eye.

“A meeting? The fuck kind of meeting Bubba?” you ask defensively. “Three’s in the middle of the work day, I don–”

“Yer gonna wanna take this meeting, son, promise yeh.” he nods. “Just trust me. You and Daniel better go. Don’t make me look bad, boy.”

“What should we expect?” You asked. 

Bubba stepped forward, placing his hand directly on your shoulder. “Just trust me.”

“Shit, alright.” you say, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Thanks.”

“Get you some rest.” he says, tipping his chin and heading back to his car. 

The hell…

You shut the door and lock it behind you, grabbing your gun from the table, and heading towards Daniel’s room. You rap your knuckles against the door, before twisting the handle, but as you push the door, he pulls it open. “Who the fuck was that?” he asks, a slight panic in his voice.

“Bubba.”

“The fuck does he want at four in the morning?” he questions, resting his hands on the door frame. 

“He set up a meeting for us tomorrow out behind the old Willits Sawmill. No fuckin' idea what for, but said we need to be there. 3 o’clock.” you answer. 

“A meeting?”

“S’what he said. I don’t fuckin' know…” you quip.

“Whatever, we can deal with it in the morning. Where’s Y/N?” he asks, looking down the hallway. 

You run your tongue over your teeth as you huff out an answer, “My bed.”

He raises his eyebrows, “In your bed…” he pauses, hardening his jaw, “Why’s that…”

You shake your head, and look past him for a second, before letting your eyes meet his, “Why don’t you let her tell you in the morning. Get some sleep, sounds like we’ve got a long day tomorrow.” you say, clapping your hand against his back with a smug grin. 

He narrows his eyes at you, and shuts his door as you step across the hallway to your room. As you open the door you see her sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest as she picks the skin on her thumb. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” she asks nervously.

You step into the room, shutting the door behind you before placing your gun on your nightstand. She just stares at you waiting for you to answer as you let out a deep sigh. You motion for her to get back into the bed, watching as she scoots back over to the other side, letting you slide back in where you were. You pull the clean smelling blankets back up around your shoulders before grabbing her waist and pulling her close to you. You settle your head on your pillow, finally able to breathe in the scent of her hair as the words fall out of your lips in a quiet whisper, “Nothing you need to worry about tonight…”

Her body relaxes beneath your arm, and you let your eyes close, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad after all.  

—

DANNY POV

You rolled the creeper from beneath the old GMC as you heard the garage door shut and two pairs of feet shuffling across the bay. “Well, here we are again…Like deja vu.” you quip, cutting your eyes to Y/N, as she approaches. 

You pull yourself up to meet her as Jake opens his tool kit across the bay. You let your eyes linger on him for a minute before flicking them back to Y/N.  “Thought you’d be back last night…”

She drops her shoulders and lets out a defeated sigh, “I know. I know, I was trying, I swear, but…” she pauses, looking over her shoulder at Jake, who was now in his own little world beneath the hood of the Chevy. “I went out to talk to him last night, right? Well he kinda…opened up to me a little bit, told me about his dad… about his mom…” she says, a slight lilt in her voice. “He was so drunk Danny, he even cried a little bit.” she said, almost a whisper. 

“I know. I peeked out and saw the two of you talking. Talking more than he’s talked in years. Figured I'd let him get it out. Think he needed it.” you answer truthfully.

“You saw?” she asks, and you nod your head in response. 

“Anyways, I just wanted to make sure he made it to his bed, that’s all. Asked me to just stay and talk a little more and I fell asleep. I had no idea it was the anniversary of his dad’s death. No wonder he was so messed up. Oh– and it’s his birthday today. Did you know that?” she asks. 

Oh shit, you forgot. “Oh, um, yeah I guess you’re right it is. Usually we don’t do anything. Kinda just another day around here.”

“Just another day?” she asks, face painted with shock. “Danny that’s so…That’s so sad. I wish there was something I could do…” she says with sad eyes. 

Your eyes flicked over to Jake and you caught him, seeing him flick his head up in acknowledgement, a small smile on his face. You look back at her, resting your hand on her small shoulder, “Baby, I think you did...” both of you turning to see him gently singing along with the music playing through the speakers. 

—

“So this meeting…” you start, leaning on the frame of the Chevy. Jake turns to you, setting down his tools. “Yeah, at three.”

“I was thinking, we can’t leave her here, right? Like, what if this is just a set up to get her alone?” you ask, picking the dirt from under your nails.

“Yeah I considered that. Think we’ll have to bring her with just to be safe. She can wait in the truck.” he says, pushing off the frame of the car. You follow him through the bay as he rifles through his kit in search of another tool. 

“I can take the bike, you two take the truck. Do we even know what this meeting is about?” you ask. 

“Nah, Bubba didn’t say, but I trust ‘em. S’only got our best interest, ya know.” he replies, snatching the tool from the box and walking back over to the truck. 

“I think we need to be prepared for any scenario…” you say with the raise of your eyebrows. 

“Well fuckin' obviously. No clue what we’re gonna tell Y/N though.”

“Shit, hopefully this isn’t some stupid fuckin' setup. What we got like an hour?” you ask. 

“Yeah. About. Think we should clean up, or…” he asks, turning to you.

“I mean, we could, but s’not really us, huh?” you laugh, placing your hand on his shoulder, “Hey, happy birthday brother.”

He tightens his lips and nods his head as he looks to the floor, “Ahh, thanks man. Twenty-six. Seems old.” he laughs. 

“Nah, not really, we still got a lot of livin’ left to do.” you smile, watching as he nods his head and his eyes flick over to Y/N who is lounging in a folding chair out front. 

“She was worried ‘bout you last night.” you press, hoping to hear his thoughts. 

“Yeah, came out here guns a-blazin’ and didn’t falter for a second. Talked for a bit, drank too fuckin’ much. Woke up and she was in my bed.” he says, and you feel a little relieved.

You smirk and raise an eyebrow, “She’s a sweet lil thing.”

He scoffs a laugh at you. “Guess you got to find that out for sure when I left last night, huh? Had yourselves a good ol’ time in my absence…saw your shirt must’ve been the closest thing she could grab when I got home.”

You bit your lips in, nodding as you went. “She’s fuckin’ phenomenal, man. Like, I didn’t expect that…” 

He laughed again, blushing a little. “No, she seems like a good girl. Feel like shit for all the hell we’re puttin’ her through.” he admits, wiping his hand on the rag in his back pocket. 

“You order those parts?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

“Yeah, should be here in a week or two.” he nods, leaning on the frame of the truck. 

“Make any headway with Val?” you wonder, seeing it still sitting uncovered. He shakes his head, “Nah, the old bitch still givin’ me a run for my money.”

“One of these days we’ll crack ‘er.” you say, giving him one last pat on the shoulder before returning to your side of the garage. 

—

You stand in the doorway of the truck, watching her buckle her seatbelt as Jake slides into the driver’s seat. “Listen, we aren’t really sure what’s about to go down, but just stay in the truck, lay low, and if shit goes south, get on the floorboard. Alright?” you ask, letting your thumb swipe over her cheek. She nods her head and you tip your chin, turning to head towards your bike. 

The door shuts behind you and Jake pulls out of the driveway in a cloud of dust. You quickly jump on your bike, starting it with a roar, before following closely behind them. Your heart is pounding a little extra hard as you make your way to the old abandoned sawmill, completely unsure of what or who will be waiting there for you.

His truck slows as he pulls into the cracked and pot hot riddled lot, seeing a single car parked at the far end. It’s not a car you recognize from around here and that puts you on high alert. The hair on the back of your neck stands tall as Jake parks the truck, letting you pull up next to him. 

Y/N slinks down in the seat, trying her best to stay out of sight, as Jake steps out of his truck, slamming his door shut. You lean your bike on the kickstand and walk towards him, both of you sending each other a concerned look. “Recognize it?” you murmur under your breath. 

“Nah.” he says, reaching back into his belt to cock his gun. You do the same, hoping it won’t come to that, but around here it wouldn’t be unheard of. 

The two of you walk through the crunching pavement over towards the dark green GMC Sprint, seeing a man resting against the driver’s door. He hears you approaching and pushes off the car turning to face you. The sun is in your eyes as you catch sight of his face, distorting his features until you get a little closer. You notice the car is still running, despite him not occupying it, and that too, makes you uneasy.

“Was at the poker game.” you whisper. 

“Sure was.” Jake replies, stepping up to the man. 

“Hello fellas.” the man says with a smirk. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yep, what uh– what can we do for ya?” Jake asks, with his hands on his hips. 

“Well boys, to be frank with you, I’d like to make a proposition to you.”

“You were at the game the other night. Haven’t seen you ‘round here before.” You say, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“You’re right, I was. Names Oscar, but you can call me Oz.” he says, extending his hand to shake. You stare at it for a minute in contemplation before reaching towards him and shaking his hand. Jake follows, introducing himself. 

“Oh I know who you boys are. Heard all about yehs.” he smiles.

“Heard about what?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. 

“Heard you two were some fighters.” he says, tipping his head. 

“Fighters?” Jake asks, shaking his head. 

“S’what word on the street is. Figured I’d stop in to see for myself. Talked to some folks ‘round town, told me ‘bout your little poker games, and wouldn’t you know I got what I asked for. Saw the two of yeh’s on the side of the house.” he says, tightening his lips. 

“So what, doesn’t mean we’re fighters or whatever the fuck.” Jake quips, standing firm. 

“No son, I think that’s exactly what you are.” he retorts. “That’s why I asked your friend Bubba to arrange this little meetin’. Thought this could be beneficial for both of us.” 

“You gonna get to the point?” you ask, trying to hurry things along. 

He laughs a little under his breath, “I want you two come fight for me. You win, you get a portion of the winnins’.” he says, placing his hand in his pocket. He pulls out a stack of cash, easily five-hundred bucks. “Pay off that debt of yers real quick like.”

“Fight for you? The fuck does that mean?” Jake asks, staring at the money in his hand. 

“You ever heard of Vale Tudo?” he asks, both of you shaking your heads, a little unsure of this man's motives. 

“Alright, how ‘bout… No Holds Barred fightin’?”

“Yeah.” you answer quickly, earning you a nod from him. Of course you’d heard of it, you were practically raised on it.

“Well, somethin’ like that. Real private, underground type of settin’. Think up in those there bigger cities the folks call it ‘MMA’. Got people buyin’ in, bettin’ on these fights. We ain’t talkin’ no small buy in’s neither. This is big cash. Life changin’ money.” he says, raising a brow. 

“Been lookin’ for myself a few boys to travel ‘round.” he pauses. “I think you two got the grit, and the need.”

“The need…” Jake presses.

“I know that Teddy character, he ain’t never gonna let you get ahead. But son, this is yer chance.” 

“So, you want me and Jake to come…fight, and if we win said fights we get paid?” you ask, genuinely trying to piece this together. 

“Exactly. We can work out the details, but roughly, you travel ‘round to these hosted fights, you fight favorably, we both walk home with our pockets lined.” he says. 

“And how do we know, you’re trustworthy?” Jake asks. “I’ve got a life and a livin’ to make here. Bills lined up till kingdom come and they don’t pay themselves.”

“It’d be a fight here and there, every week or two with a rest period to recover yer health and bodies. Yeh’d have time at yer shop, so it’d be unsuspectin’. That’s the point son. Don’t want the heat findin’ out ‘bout it.” he says, and you start to feel uneasy. 

“Seems…I don’t know. Why us? There’s gotta be people better suited than us…” you barter.

“Well truthfully Daniel, I’ve had my eye on you since you was ‘bout 17. Heard ‘bout the fightin’ from some folks, kept an eye on yeh. And Jacob, I know you learned from ‘em. Watched yeh myself just the other night. Ye’ve got somethin’, and I’m willin’ to take a chance on you boys if you’re willin’ to take a chance on me. If it doesn’t work out, well, hell we tried, still let you two walk away with a few hundred each for yer troubles.”

You see Jake’s brow furrow, and you know he’s considering it. You know this debt is crippling the shop, the two of you barely scraping by every week. You know this could be your chance. The only other thing you’ve ever been good at. “We gotta decide right now?” you ask, sending him a questioning look. 

“No’sir. I’ll be in town ‘nother few days, got some outstanding business. First fight ain't for another week ‘er so over in Kirksville.” he says, reaching into his pocket again, pulling out a paper business card. Jake takes it from his fingers, reading over it before handing it to you. 

“Now, you fellas think this over, give me a call once you’ve come to a decision.” he says, tipping his head. “Oh, and, for what it’s worth…” he pauses, “These buy in’s… is in the thousands range. My last fighter took home 4 grand in one night, for 5 minutes effort. Just somethin’ to consider.” and with that he slides into his idling car.

As the car pulls off in a cloud of exhaust Jake turns to you, his jaw slack and his face riddled with shock and question. “What the fuck…What was that? Wh–What do we do?”

You turn to look at him, shoving your hands in your pockets, and sucking your teeth, “Sounds like we fight.”

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