#all cops are slugs

[probablyintensemuses]

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia – old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

[causereyna-artie]

things that have happened in my school(s) as marauders/ships pt1:

wolfstar: these two dudes in my dorm were fucking for like a year but only realised they were gay cause one of them gave the other an annotated book.

Peter: this transfer student who was standing on the roof of my boarding school, and the cops and shit had come and were screaming at her to not jump in french and English, but after they got a translator turns out she was just looking for the restroom

Regulus: another transfer student who we had a language barrier with so no one could talk to him until the last day of term where he speaked perfect french and english

Pandora: this girl who also used to be in my dorm that would put a circle of salt around all our beds and when asked about it would shush us and say "they're always listening" (ngl I was pissssss scared of her)

Sirius (me): thought I was a slug the first time I got drunk

Emmeline: this girl the pandora girl used to fuck, who used to shout "in the name of the father, son, and THE HOLY SPIRIT" (we went to a convent boarding school) when she came

Barty: made the unsuspecting principal make the Tate sign and posted it on Instagram

Remus: this kid got a B after apparently studying for a week and threw a book at the science teacher

Evan: pulled up playing Kanye to Easter mass

jegulus: this couple that had sex on the lacrosse field

Marlene: my friend who cheated by tattooing answers on her arm

Lily: pushed her sister into the pool on the first day

Mary: carried a koi in her blouse

[disruptiveempathy]

People put so much into seeing Stonewall as this symbol. And at the time we just thought, ‘Oh, I guess it’s just that time of the month when cops raid the bar, so they can make their numbers for arresting fags for the month of June.’ But people get so concerned about the details. I don’t know about all the crap I’ve heard all these years. Sometimes it’s ‘Oh, someone threw a high-heel shoe.’ Sometimes it’s ‘No, gurl, it was a Molotov cocktail,’ or ‘Somebody slugged a cop.’ All I know is that night, they came in, and nobody budged. I guess we were just sick of their shit. And suddenly we were fighting, and we were kicking their ass. The cops had to back up into the bar. We had them cornered. Next thing you knew, the riot squad was there, and baby, it was on. ‘The night of Stonewall’ is how people talk about it, but it was more like a week. People want to know the little details, but what I remember most is being scared as hell. We were fighting for our lives. They’re still killing us; they’re still not giving us the respect we’re due for putting up with their shit all these years. I’m giving you the facts about how shit’s been from the beginning, and what’s gone on, how the law was in our daily lives—the facts! And so with regard to that producer lady, the whole time I just thought to myself, ‘There’s gonna be so much of me on the cutting-room floor.’

—Miss Major, from Miss Major Speaks: Conversations with a Black Trans Revolutionary

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: None

Wc: 5.1K

series masterlist

Chapter 2: Oh Baby

“What are you all mopy about?” Jo asks with a mouthful of her breakfast. “You got flirted with last night, you should be happy.”

You hum at her as you help Violet with the mess she’s making. All morning you’ve been in your head thinking about Rafe. Since you found out you were pregnant and the dad left you, the only thing on your mind was just Vi. So when a handsome, full of himself, sweet talker of a man made you want more of him it was a shock. 

It’s not like you haven’t had the attention of guys before or after having a kid, but none of it seemed important to you. So why are you so bothered about last night? Jo’s right you should be happy but all you feel is stressed. “I don’t know. I think I just need to focus on me and Vi right now.” Jo drops her fork and looks up at you. “Haven’t you been doing that the moment you found out about her? Can’t put your life on pause because you have a kid. Yeah it’s great that you want to focus on her, she should always be first, but think about yourself too.”

You are thinking about yourself. Last night you had alcohol in your system so you didn’t think properly. Drunk you was into him only because of the fact you were drunk and nothing else. He was rude when you had met him earlier and the sober you didn’t like him. So there’s no need to really dwell on it.

“He was just flirting, he probably just wanted me to give him that flower order. It didn’t mean anything.” You can feel Jo’s eyes staring you down, you look her in the eyes. “Plus I’m not looking for anything. I like things the way they are.” Violet shoves a piece of her pancake in her mouth. “Ywah.” She comments as if she knows what you are talking about.

Jo really doesn’t say anything else, only telling you that you shouldn’t shut something down before it even happens. After breakfast you got Vi and yourself ready. When the two of you were ready, you headed off to the shop. You had made sure to bring the toddler with you as a buffer. Jo and June could tell what you were doing, the duo whispering about how ridiculous you are being. Last night June waited up for the two of you and got the whole run down.

She basically told you the same thing her grand-daughter did. Rafe is super rich and has a history of violence with others and cops. It was shocking because he looks so well put together, guess looks really can be deceiving. June saw the look of disappointment on your face when she finished talking. “People can change so who am I to judge? The boy seemed to have changed after his dad died.”

You shake the words out your head, willing yourself to just forget about last night. Everything is fine because no man in their twenties wants to be with someone who has a kid. You’ve found out that every time you tell a guy you had a kid, they run away just like her dad. It’s something you’ve come to terms with and it doesn’t bother you.

Violet runs right into the shop once you open up the doors. You keep the close sign on so no one tries to come in like yesterday, he can just knock. For a little bit, you chase her around, avoiding the flowers so they don’t fall. For someone who didn’t get a lot of sleep last night she has a lot of energy this morning. June said that she had woken up once and took her a little to go back to bed. But after you checked in on her, she kept getting up and wouldn’t go back to sleep.

By the time Rafe is supposed to get there, the little girl is slugging around the store rubbing her eyes. You looked at the clock and saw that it’s almost twelve, he should be here soon. Looking at your daughter you can see her tiny yawns as she tries to keep playing with you. Vi usually has a nap around 1 but since she can barely keep her eyes open you take her to the office so she can nap on the couch. As soon as her body hits the cushions she’s out, her light snores making you smile.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen her sleep or put her to sleep, her snores are your favorite sound. You still remember the nights where you would just sit there and listen to them because they let you know she was fine. She looks so peaceful sleeping, your baby that needs to be protected at all costs. Closing the door to the office you made up your mind, no boys, even the really cute ones.

Right on queue, there’s a knock on the front door. You walk over and open it to let him in. “Hey. I didn’t know how you like your coffee but I just put some milk and sugar in it.” Sure enough when you look at the hand extended towards you there is a cup in it. “Hi. Thank you, that’s really sweet. You didn’t need to get me anything.” You lead him further into the store, to the back open room.

Most of it is empty since this is where you set up all of the flowers to display. “Think of it as my apology for running off on you last night.” Rafe watches as you fidget with some of the petals of a flower, avoiding the topic of the previous night. “I wanted to stay but I had to help my friend out with something.” His eyes track your movements, noting how tense you look in this moment. “It’s okay really. I figured you had somewhere to be.”

Rafe is getting ready to say something to you and changes his mind. He must have read things wrong last night, he thought you were into him. Setting his own coffee down he walks closer to you, leaning on the bench where you are looking at some flowers. “I’m being straightforward here aren’t I? Sorry I just thought you were also into it last night.”

Your eyes scan his body, gliding up his chest and his face to see his eyes. “I was. It’s just.” There’s no need to finish your sentence, he moves away from you to put some distance. “Don’t have to explain, You woke up and realized it was a mistake, no worries.” The way he says it makes you feel guilty, an undertone of something you can’t place. He won’t look at you know, the rejection feeling raw to him. Sure he’s been rejected before but he really thought there was something more.

It’s crazy to think that a person he just met can make him feel this way. His whole life he’s been rejected, every chance of happiness ripped away. For heaven's sake even his own mom left him with someone who hated him. Even at the young of eight his parents knew he would be a failure. That’s the reason why his mom up and left all of them, he’s heard Ward yell it at him plenty of times. Then right when he feels like he got Ward's approval he ran off with Sarah and died just to get away from him.

So yeah, being upset about some random girl rejecting him is crazy. He wishes he could go back to when he was giving you a hard time about the flowers, maybe if he was nicer you would have given him a shot. Everyone on the island has written him off already and just a few days of moving here so have you. “What flowers do you have? Rose said I need to get Lily’s and maybe another flower. So what would go well with that?”

Rose? 

He was flirting with you when he was already seeing someone? This is exactly why you need to focus on yourself. The slight hurt feelings you are feeling right now shouldn’t even exist but here they were. “Pansy’s are always a good choice and even roses, It’s up to you honestly.” It was a little awkward showing him the ropes of what he needs to do. It was like the two of you didn’t know how to act around the other once flirting was off the table. Another crazy concept because you just met.

For an hour, you two work on the center pieces. The first few Rafe made weren’t the best, he couldn’t seem to get the right number of flowers in each. They were over crowded but after your help they looked good. “You need to add more greenery to break up the flowers. Also try not to add too many, it takes away their beauty.” Rafe just nodded along taking notes.

After a while he got the hang of it and you didn’t need to help him. If he wasn’t super rich you might have offered him a job that you couldn’t pay him for. It was good he got the hang of it because that meant you could focus on making more. You were so focused you didn’t hear the bang in the office door.

“What was that?” Rafe asked, looking around as he holds scissors and a flower stem. You look up to question him and hear the bang this time. “Momma.” Rafe gives you a puzzling look and you get up to let Violet out of the room. “Sorry it’s my daughter.” His look just gets deeper. “You have a daughter?”

You ignore him and keep walking. When you open the door Vi’s arms automatically wrap around your legs. “Did you have a good nap baby?” Your hand brushes the back of her head, taming the rouge pieces. “Mhm.” She rubs her head on your thigh. It was something she picked up over the years. You would nuzzle into her when you would wake her up, you guess after some time she decided she wanted to do it too. 

She grips your hand as you walk her to the backroom. Rafe’s been watching the door like a hawk after you left. What do you mean daughter? Does this mean you have a boyfriend? Fuck of course you have a boyfriend, that’s why you were backing out of last night. What a poor sucker, can’t even keep his girlfriend happy enough so she doesn’t flirt or cheat. Rafe bets he would be able to keep you happy, show you what that little boyfriend of yours can’t.

He watches as you walk in, your head is bowed to look at the little girl next to you. Rafe’s blue  eyes jot down to see a smaller pair of blue eyes looking right back at him. It takes him a moment to actually realize you weren’t kidding, you have a daughter. The whole time he processes he can’t take his eyes off the little girl. Which seems to also be the case with her.

Violet has only ever really been around the same people her whole life, but she does well with strangers. She just doesn’t know what to make of the giant of a man standing in front of her. He cracks a weary smile at the toddler as she cowers behind your legs, somewhat scared of him. But like a hero you crouch down and soothe her. “It’s okay. This is my friend Rafe, can you say hi?” Your nose nuzzles her cheek making her giggle.

“Hi.” It’s small, her voice still growing along with her. WIthout a second thought Rafe bends down, sticking a hand out to the girl. “Hi. What’s your name?” She looks at you, seeking permission to answer his question. When she sees you nod her eyes go back to him. “Wioleth.” Your laugh catches his attention, he likes how it sounds. He liked it last night and hearing it directed at your daughter with love makes it better. 

“Her name is Violet. She still has trouble with v and sometimes with the t.” The smile on your face lights up your face, crinkles forming in the corner of your eyes. “Like the flower?” Seeing your smile directed at him makes his own shine on his face. “Like the flower. She’s my little petal.” She sticks to you like glue when you get back to work, sparing a few glances at Rafe to see if he was still there.

You were in the middle of snipping some stems when you heard Violets laugh. Turning to the sound you see her next to Rafe, who is currently tickling her with the lily in his hand. Stunned from the sight, you stand there and watch. Even while he’s sitting down he towers over her, her neck must hurt from looking up. Another laugh erupts in the room but the culprit this time is his fingers tickling her side.

You know he’s whispering to her, his mouth is moving but barely any sound is coming out. It’s like the two of them forgot you were there, too engrossed in the other to care. What surprised you the most was when she threw her arms uo so he could pick her up. He did it in an instant like it was second nature to him. The second his eyes met you after setting Vi on his la you unfreeze. “She seems to like you.” 

“Glad one of you does. She seems pretty cool.” He gives you a teasing smile, the tension in your shoulders drops. You don’t get why he’s upset, he has a girlfriend. But seeing how he was with Vi right now wished there wasn’t another girl named Rose and you didn’t make stupid rules for yourself.

The rest of the time went smoothly, in the middle the missing flowers were delivered so he got to choose some extras. Then he set up the tuck time and left, leaving you and Vi with a quick goodbye. After the truck got the flowers you tidied up the place, getting it ready for tomorrow’s opening. By the time you got home the two of you were beat, barely talking during dinner.

“How was it with you know who?” You snicker at Jo’s words. “Why are you saying it like he’s Voldemort?” She shrugs at you and takes another bite of food. “I don’t know, maybe he is. You were acting like he was this morning.” Here we go again, she already texted you while he was there. Is he still as hot in the daytime? Are you two flirting? Don’t do anything in front of my precious baby, she’s innocent. The text went on for a little while longer. It’s like she feeds off you ignoring her messages because she knows you’re annoyed.

“I just want to focus on me and my daughter, not on some random guy I just met. Plus Rafe has a girlfriend.” Vi’s head shoots up when she hears his name. “Ra?” Jo looks at her in bewilderment. “Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. What’s this girlfriend's name? Clearly she needs to keep him in line.” You fidget with your food, knowing that Jo clocked the jealousy in your voice. “Rose.”

June who has stayed quiet all dinner chokes on her iced tea, spilling it everywhere. Violet laughs thinking it’s a fun game and tries to imitate her with no success. “Sweetheart, did he say girlfriend or just Rose.” You give her a questioning look. “Just Rose.” In all of your years of knowing June you’ve never seen her laugh like that. She was practically off her chair and on the floor crying with laughter. “Wow I never thought I’d see the day when Jo was smarter than you.”

“Hey!”

“Sweetie, Rose is his step-mother. She stuck around after the dads death to help him take care of his little sister.” Little sister? He takes care of his little sister with Rose, who is his step-mom and not his girlfriend. “Oh.” Jo and June just give eachother a look and shake their heads.

For the rest of the night you just think about how he actually doesn’t have a girlfriend. The only thing stopping whatever it was between you two is well you. The whole point was to protect Vi but she seems to love him. Throughout her bath and bedtime routine she kept asking for him. Letting out a small “Ra?” or “Whew Ra?” not really getting to saying his full name. He seems to be good with her, but that doesn’t mean anything. You go to bed thinking about what the hell you are going to do.

The next morning goes the same as the other. You get up, start breakfast, get Vi up, eat breakfast, get ready, and go to the shop. Everything was running smoothly, the shop was open and all the flowers looked perfect. You were even able to plant some seed in the greenhouse that’s connected in the back.

Customers have been coming in all morning, buying bouquets and individual flowers. Everyone has been so nice, even talking to Violet as they shopped around. She was having a blast chatting with them and running around the store. Around twelve you decided it was time to get lunch and grab Vi. As you're locking the door she keeps tugging at your hand. “One second Vi. I just need to lock up okay.”

THe impatient toddler keeps pulling at her hand. “Momma wook.” She’s pointing down the street but the key is giving you trouble. You’re struggling with the lock when her hand slips from yours, she’s running down the street screaming. “Ra! Ra!” Sprinting after her you see what she was pointing to. 

Rafe

She rams into his legs falling in the process just before you could stop her. Rafe is distracted by the sudden feeling of being hit in the leg. He looks down to see Violet on the floor and you running up to the two of them. “I’m so sorry.” You exclaim to him as you pick her up and check that she’s okay. The people behind him are waiting for him to unblock the doorway. He places a hand on your arm to move you both away from the way. “Ra!” She squeals at the man in front of you two.

“Looks like someone’s a dinosaur today.” He chuckles at the girl. “Hi Violet. Hi.” He says your name, the heat from his hand leaving as he retracts it. You greet him back, stepping a bit closer to him. “She’s actually trying to say your name. She kept asking for you after you left.” A smile forms on his lips, he feels proud that he made an impression on the young girl.

“She asked about me?” There’s something in him that can’t help but poke a bit. “I bet dad found that strange.” Satisfaction fills him when your face changes at the mention of dad. It was subtle but he could see it, see how it made you uncomfortable. “He’s not in the picture. Just us.” His face drops, he felt smug thinking he called you out for not telling him the truth. 

Looking at the two of you he can’t see how anyone could do that. You seemed so nice and funny, Vi was just a baby. How could someone do that? “Shit sorry I didn’t know.” His face scrunches when he realizes he just swore in front of a kid. “Shith.” Vi repeats, bouncing in your arms.

Rafe gives you a guilty look. “I’m sorry. Didn’t think before talking.” You giggle and shake your head. “It’s okay. Jo and I swear a lot around her. But I swear she gives Vi too many ideas.” The breath he was holding when you mention Jo is released when you paired she was a girl. He really thought for a second that maybe he didn’t have a chance. Maybe he still doesn’t but it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Dang I need to get back. I didn’t get to lock the door, she was so excited to see you that she couldn’t wait for me to figure out the lock.” It’s nice to know that the girl in your arms wanted to see him. After he left he seriously thought he wouldn’t see you again. He doesn’t know when he got to be so sentimental but he wants to know you and have you like him. The same goes for Violet.

“The door was giving you trouble?” He walks along with you as you make your way back. “Yeah it was giving me a tough time to lock it. It wasn’t perfect before but now it seems impossible.” You demonstrate it for him, twisting the key only for nothing to happen. His hand wraps around yours, twisting toughly and successfully locking it. “I can fix it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s just jammed.” Vi squirms her way down from your arms to make her way to him. “Ra come.” She waves her hand at him. He kneels down and pulls the sunglasses up to look her in the eyes. “I’m here.” The interaction is strange to see. She has always been social but this is different. She actually really likes him. 

He interacts with her like they have always known each other. As if they didn’t just meet yesterday. It’s confusing seeing it all play out. “I think she wants you to come to lunch with us. We were just about to leave.”  The sun is kind of overtaking you as he looks up. “Is it Violet or mama that wants me to come?” He stands up and takes a hold of Vi’s hand. “I can do lunch. Then we can go get you a new lock and I’ll set it up.” You two just stare at each other for a second, not wanting to break first. “Okay, know any good places?”

“Come on, I can take you to the country club. They have a great chicken club.” As id on instinct he shifts Vi to the other side of him, blocking the two of you from the main road. A simple gesture that means a lot. “I don’t have a membership to one of those. Plus I don't even know how to get there.” The crosslight sign changes to stop as soon as you make it to the crossing. You’re fishing for your keys when Rafe’s hand stops you. “It’s okay I have a membership, they’ll let you in. I was going to drive anyway so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You look at him and then at Violet. “So you just always carry a carseat around?” There’s a blush that forms on his cheeks from the teasing. He looks down at the young girl and realizes he completely forgot about the fact she was so young. “Right, my bad. Umm we can go a little further down, there’s a restaurant there. The hardware shop is close to there.” 

Vi seems content with just sticking by Rafe. When you got into the restaurant she sat directly beside him, sitting as close as possible. “Sorry I can take her.” He just picks up a crayon they gave her and started to color along with her. “It’s fine, I don't mind.” She forced him to color with her the whole time. She even had him help her with cutting her food. 

It was so surreal seeing this all play out. He was so natural with her and their connection was effortless. It made you think back to the night in the bar. The conversation was so easy and nothing felt forced. Seems like you and Vi have that in common, both falling for his charm. “How old is she?

He’s rustling around with some locks finding the perfect one for you. You shake your head as he shows a different one. “Two, her birthday is in October.” Her ears perk up at your voice. “Birdday?” Rafe laughs and shows you a different lock. “That one.” Vi giggles as he tickles her neck when he passes by. She starts to chase after him and he runs off, turning up and down the isles. You chase after them making sure she isn’t getting hurt or god forbid stolen. 

People are giving the three of you weird looks, jumping out of the way so as to not get trampled by a 6”2’ giant. You had to keep apologizing to people as you passed by them. Finally he gave up and let her catch him. Violet was laughing hysterically, throwing her arms up so he would pick her up. 

He gives you a surprised expression, not knowing what he should do. You were just as confused as he was, you don’t know if you should let them get that close. Who knows who he really is and if he would just disappear the next day. Rafe picks her up when she starts to whine, holding her as he pays for the lock and some other tools.

“You didn’t have to pay. I could have done that.” The three of you are walking back now. He’s still holding Vi who now rested her head on his shoulder, rubbing her eyes. Pulling out your phone you can see it's a little past one. She most likely is waiting for her nap time. By the time you are trying to open up the door she’s out cold in his arms.

When it’s open you turn around to grab her from him. “I can lay her down, so she doesn’t wake up.” It makes sense so you show him your office and he lays her down on the couch. “I’m going to go start the lock.” He walks away and fiddles with the lock. It’s as if when Vi isn’t around there’s nothing for him to say. It was the same yesterday after you tried to say it couldn’t continue he was closed off.

Crap did he want it to continue?

You walk to the front door and see that he got the old lock out. “Hey.” Looking over his shoulder he can see you standing there. “Hi.” He goes back to put the new lock in. “What I was trying to say yesterday is that I need to focus on Vi and I. You’re new to our lives and I can’t take any risks. It’s not just me I have to look after.” The tension in his shoulders can be seen from even where you’re standing. “I get it. At first I thought it was because you regretted it. But I get it now, she’s more important.”

You stand there as he finishes up. When he’s done he packs everything up. “If it was just you, would you still feel the same?” That’s a great question, would you feel the same? Simple answer is no you wouldn’t. “No I wouldn’t.” His eyes meet yours in a hopeful way. “But it’s not just me.” It’s illogical to feel upset about this, realistically he knows why you can’t. “Well the lock is all set up. I should head out.”

“Rafe please.” He just packs everything up and goes to leave. “Rafe.” He looks over his shoulder. “Bye.” The way he says your name is like a dream. It was airy as if it hurt to even say. It did hurt, he felt regretted. You don’t even fully know him and you already shut him out. You may be new but even you knew to stay away from him.  He spends the rest of the day thinking about you.

Yeah sure he isn’t the best. He’s just getting over his addiction and trying to keep his temper down. But at least he’s trying, he wants to be better yet all anyone can see is how damaged he is. It has never been an issue letting it go and ignoring people, he’s done it his whole life. This time he’s finding it harder to ignore the pressure in his chest.

Without really thinking her\ gets into his truck and is driving back to the shop. He doesn’t even know if you are still there but he has to try. As he’s pulling up he can see you and Violet exit the shop. He’s getting out of the car when you turn around and see him. “Rafe?”

“Okay I’m just going to say this and get it off of my chest. I meant it when I said I didn’t want to leave the other night. I was a dick about the flowers that day and I regret it.” He cringes when he remembers there’s a kid right next to you, she doesn’t copy the word so he��s in the clear. “I thought that yesterday we would pick up where we left off. Probably a stupid idea but I’ve never been known for being that smart. There’s just something about you and I can’t stop thinking about you. I get it you have Violet and you need to think about her. Just, just give me a chance. All I’m asking for is for you to get to know me.”

He’s waiting for your response when Vi walks closer to him and grabs his hand. “Okay. Under one condition.” “Anything.” He says fastly. “ We take this at my speed. I can’t have her getting attached to someone and have her get crushed if you decide this is too much.” He wants to be upset that you could think that. You hardly know him so he can’t, at least you are giving him a chance.

“We’ll take it as slow as you want. How about we go out this weekend? You can bring Violet along too, I don’t mind.” She jumps at hearing her name. “Out!” She shouts “See, even she’s excited.” You smile up at him. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, he seems nice and caring. “This weekend sounds great. I could probably get Jo to watch her”

He walks you over to your car, standing back as you get Vi into her carseat. “I never really thanked you for helping me with the flowers. Really saved me from having to deal with my annoying step-mom.” You laugh at him, cloning the door and making your way to the driver's side. “It’s no problem. I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me this weekend.” He smiles down at you. “I’ll make it special then.”

Before getting into your car you give him a kiss on the cheek, leaving him there to watch as your car drives away. The smile he has can’t leave his face, too happy that once again he got what he wanted. This time he promises to himself he won’t fuck it up.

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321, @namelesslosers, @ijustwanttoreadlols, @drewsphswife, @corpsebridenightamare

Let me know if you’d like to be added🫶

[toaarcan]

Great Beings got inspiration/power from a psychic space octopus

First entity to control the MU was a psychic blob of goo

Custodians of the MU have phenomenal psychic powers.

One of the six dudes made to rule the world has mind control powers.

There's a half-dozen masks with psychic powers.

The Death Roombas can mind-control people with facehugger masks.

At least one of the facehugger masks has mental powers.

Masks that get the wrong sort of rust can mind-control animals and people.

One of the most important heroes in the setting has clairvoyant visions.

Turns out the mind-control rust is spread by slugs made from Makuta juice, that can themselves evolve to the point of being able to spread the mind-control rust at a distance.

The slugs also get later mutated into a super-brainwashing creature that literally feed on your morality.

Makuta-juice itself is also mind-control drugs.

Half the biggest characters in the setting have telepathy, mind-reading or both.

The cops have mind control guns.

This isn't even comprehensive.

There is so much psychic nonsense going on in the Matoran Universe that actually I'm willing to argue that psychic nonsense is more elemental to the MU's existence than half the actual elements.

Like, how much actual Water is in the MU? None. It's all liquid Protodermis. An actual Toa of Water encountered water for the first time in 2004 and went "What the fuck is this!?"

[pastelclovds]

UPDATED!

Introduction to IHNMAIMS isekai AU

THE CAST

Alister (AM)

Age: 30 (chronologically 330)

Occupation: House husband 1#

He/It/They

Has a poor immune system

Slowly accommodating to being human

iPad kid vibes

Most feral and immature of the three

Clean freak & sex freak

CLINGY

Your “roommate”/romantic-ish partner/student

 ———————————

Abram (RAM)

Age: 29 (chronologically 329)

Occupation: House husband 2#

He/It/They

Emotional Support husband of the three

Gentle giant (only to you)

Second to most clingy

Enjoys participating in activities with you

Throws out all the weighted blankets, HE IS THE WEIGHT BLANKET

Waits for you to come back from work

Your “roommate”/romantic partner/student

——————————

Anjun (CAM)

Age: 31 (chronologically 331)

Occupation: House Husband 3#

He/It/They

Resting bitch face 24/7

Sophisticated gentleman

Helps you with chores

Head pats from this man are heaven

The most responsible of the three

Acts more like a husband the other two (often gets mistaken as your actual husband)

Your “roommate”/romantic partner/student

——————————

(Name)

Age: 35 (chronologically 335)

Occupation: Secretary 

He/They

Has trouble socializing due to 200 years of isolation and Ellen, Nimdok, Benny, and Gorrister’s deaths.

Avoids Ted as much as possible.

Teaches AM, RAM, and CAM how to be human.

Spoils the three senseless.

Sets up activities, private events, and encourages the three AM’s to attend parties with him.

 ———————————

Ted

Age: 33 (chronologically 333)

Occupation: Office Job

He/Him

Has intense paranoia about being sent back to his original dimension.

Despises you for staying with AM

Basically the quiet kid in the office you both work at

Keeps trying to get AM arrested (spoilers: the cops have him on a list of delusional callers)

———————————

Dareen

Age: 29

Occupation: Barista

She/Her

Gives you 50% discounts on your coffee because you saved her younger sister from getting run over (you have no memory of that happening but just go with the flow to get cheap drinks)

Likes to paint in her spare time

Owns a ton of plushies

———————————

Henry

Age: 36

Occupation: High School Teacher

He/Him

Your nice neighbor from across the hall of your apartment, always invites you and AM to social events

Married to his wife who is an X-Ray Technician

AM hates him because he’s so kind to you

(if i hear any kyle comments i swear—)

SUMMARY

This AU inside of an AU takes place after the events of Ellen, Nimdok, Gorrister, and Benny’s death and AM altering Ted into the slug creature. AM is greatly angry and paranoid that Ted took away his four play things and that if he’s not careful, you would be next. So he also alters you so that your body is made out of rubber (he basically turned you into luffy so that you may never be able to KYS), and isolates you from Ted.

In this AU, CAM & RAM catch word from AM’s endless rants to them that his four humans have died and only has two left. CAM and RAM criticize how AM could be so careless about his pets getting weapons and killing themselves. AM spouts that it doesn’t matter anymore and h that he can still have his fun with Ted. CAM asks about the second human he said was still alive. AM being a possessive asshole tries to gaslight CAM & RAM that he never said anything about a second human and quickly goes back to Earth.

CAM & RAM obviously don’t fall for AM’s lies and teleport down to Earth behind AM’s back. That’s where they see a miserable looking human sitting by himself under a tree where AM placed him in a false forest. CAM & RAM soon make themselves known to you. You were surprised seeing two human men at first, but you quickly found out that they weren’t humans at all. They introduced themselves as the two master computers the Soviet Union and China have made before the end of the world. Your surprise quickly turned into glee as you were finally not alone anymore and opened up to the two AI’s.

CAM & RAM were fascinated with you enough to occasionally visit you twice a week separately. They along with AM made your isolation a lot less unbearable.

200 years have passed since that incident, and one day while AM was forcing you to cuddle with him… You, AM, CAM, RAM, and Ted were teleported to another universe.

In this universe, you five are citizens living in America in the modern day. You five were in a dark alley during the day. You and Ted wake up before the three AM’s. Ted notices that AM is unconscious and doesn’t care for CAM and RAM (he assumes they are random drunks). Ted tries to coax you into helping him kill AM. You didn’t want to. Ted is furious and demands to know why.

You explained that you didn’t want to kill AM. Not because you were afraid or hated him. You didn’t want to kill him because you would feel guilty after everything he did for you. Giving you food and water whenever you felt malnourished, not allowing the storms and challenges to hurt you, and he didn’t physically torture you. Throughout the 309 years you’ve lived in AM’s belly, he treated you decently. As decent as AM could be. Unbeknownst to the two of you, that AM was wide awake and heard the whole thing.

You didn’t want to kill him, you especially couldn’t let Ted kill him. Before Ted could attack you, you screamed “Fire” as loud as you could, attracting the attention of a crowd and forcing Ted to flea. It wouldn’t be the last time you see him, though.

You nudge AM, CAM, and RAM awake not knowing he wasn’t asleep at all. The three AM’s were surprised when they could feel your hands as you helped them up. They could smell, they could stand straight, they could feel their body and face were fully developed and human. The AM’s could breathe, see, and their hearts beat erratically. They were both overwhelmed and joyful that they could feel and do the things he was so envious of humans for having.

More importantly, they could feel you.

AM felt so warm inside when he remembered you protecting him and appreciating all he’s done before and after the ice cave incident.

RAM & AM were clinging onto you like a koala as you pulled out a key from your pocket that had your apartment building and street engraved in it. thankfully it wasn’t too far. you also learned that you had a job in an office as a secretary that pays good money.

The three AM’s doesn’t have a job, but helps you out by tidying up the apartment. in return, you teach them one thing about humans per day and prepare stimulating activities for them. this AU is full of tooth rotting fluff, hilarious slice of life, drama, and delicious smut.

(thanks for reading 💚 stay tuned)

[orisquirrelking]

do you have any p2 x reader headcanons? 👉👈

P2 dude/reader HCs

—---------------------------

I think that he has one major thing in common with all the other dudes and that is that P2 is a huuuge slug for physical affection. He isn’t subtle about it at all. Ever. Arms will constantly be around your waist, slung over your shoulder, linked with yours.

^^^^ despite this, he always gets flustered when you just simply. Hold his hand. He’ll make a joke along the lines of “Really? Before marriage?” but he’ll tend to stay quiet, (er. Quieter than usual for him, anyways.)  because when he starts talking he can’t look you in the eyes and oh god he’s rambling and your finger just twitched and-

We’ve already gone over dates, but let's refresh! He just likes spending time with you. His ex just sent him to go and do things, and while fucking around and shooting up napalm factories was good for his anger management, it got lonely being out 24/7. He’ll wake you up in the middle of the night just to talk, or take you out of work to say hi to Champ on his walk past your office.

PDA? Yes please! P2 will not hesitate to be a little (or, y’know. A lot) handsy in public. Going back to how touchy he is, he wants to be touching you in some way while you’re both out. Lots of little kisses on your hands, arms, forehead, and general facial area. Will gie you his jacket if you’re even slightly cold (doesn’t matter if it’s too big or too small, he’ll drape it over your shoulders either way.)

He’s not much of a jealous type. Other than some solid glares at people who attempt to flirt with you, he’s pretty confident in your relationship. Loves showing you off and talking about you to almost everyone he meets though. He’ll be at the checkout at the Lucky Ganesh yammering about how the two of you are going out later in the day, meanwhile the line is piling up behind him and the cashier is about to blow his brains out.

Withdrawals are a bitch. He’s trying to ease off of the “health pipes,” citing the cost as the reason, but sometimes it’s just too much. Withdrawals dude is a hell of a lot more irritated all the time. He’ll yell (and feel shitty about it) for everyone to shut up, especially if Champ’s barking goes on for too long. He’s grumpy as hell and tends to spend the day on the couch. When he’s at his worst, he just wants to lay on your lap while you massage his scalp. He swears it's magical.

Overall he’s definitely an. Interesting guy to date. Hiding from the cops together has happened more times than you could care to count, but y’all wouldn't have it any other way :)) <3

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Killers when you accidentally panty flash them

Requested: No

Warnings: Hints of spice throughout, non explicit

A/N: Enjoy!

Bubba

Bubba is embarrassed. Shy and flustered and a blushing mess, squealing. He covers his face and that gives you the perfect opportunity to get the hell away. He’ll probably stay like that for the rest of the trial and if he sees you in any afterwards he flushes and giggles nervously. Might try to kiss you or touch you intimately, thinking you like him since he saw that part of you.

Deathslinger

He’ll fucking laugh and but he’ll also get hard. It’s hot for him, whether you wear cute panties or sexy ones or even just normal ones. An ass is an ass for this man and he will take the opportunity to laser in on you and try to cop a feel. He’ll be insufferable for the next few trials, laying it on thick and dirty even when you’re hanging from a hook.

Ghostface

You’ll hear a fast series of snaps behind you that are definitely him taking as many pictures of your ass as humanly possible within that flash second. Knowing him he probably always has a camera on ready whenever you wear anything with a skirt, always ready to get a picture of your hot ass and pin it to his wall. He’ll likely also tunnel you down just to bend you over his lap and tan your ass cherry red.

Evan

He blinks. He stares. Then he tilts his head, eyes narrowing behind his mask. Undergarments sure did look different in the more modern ages compared to his time. But he found that he liked the way they clung to you and showed off the curve of your ass. He’ll leave you alone about it this trial and doesn’t make things awkward but if it happens again, don’t expect to make it to the other side of that vault. You’ll be pinned beneath him in moments.

Frank

Thank you for the excuse he’s been waiting for this whole time. He has been WAITING for you to slip up and do some shit like this just to give him a valid reason to start shouting the filthiest of things at you, telling you all about how he wants you on his dick and how hot he thinks your ass is while he chases you all around the map. If he catches you then do not expect to be able to walk towards those exit gates or the hatch.

Herman

He’ll do his demented little giggle before chasing (herding) you into the basement where he’ll knock you down and leave you slugging while he hunts down your friends. Once he’s done with that, it’ll just be you, him, and the table where he straps you down while he fucks you half to death.

[sadhours]

the diner - part three

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one - part two

read on ao3

He’s fucked up royally. Went and got himself caught. Spent two whole weeks expecting the cops to show up to his apartment or his work. It never happened. Half expected his boss to mention it, ask him why he’s peeping through girls’ windows. Nothing. Yet he won’t dare go into the diner.

Doesn’t go to your house for a week. He drives by to see if your car is there but it’s not. Goes to your ex boyfriend's place first, doesn’t see your car and then he goes to your parents house. Confirms you’re there. But Billy doesn’t investigate further. He goes home. Drinks himself into absolute oblivion. Drinks so much he talks to Maxine. But she’s not really there. It helps him though.

“I killed him,” he tells her, voice is so rough from the vomiting. He has to make sure the slugs are all gone. Checks twice a day. Pukes every morning and every night. No slugs.

“He deserved it,” Max tells him. She’s on his countertop. She’s curled into herself, she’s got dark eyes and greasy hair. Her clothes are covered in the slop of the upside down. Her face looks as sunken in as his feels. She fidgets a lot.

“He cried,” Billy offers, voice flat and emotionless as he relives it. “I told him I wished I’d done it sooner. Brought him to the monster. So I wouldn’t have to do the hard part.”

Maxine is curious. Wants details. “How did you do it?”

“Stabbed him. I don’t know how many times— a lot. It was messy,” Billy whispers. Knows the apartment is empty, though he’s staring right at a sickly step sister. A burdened one. A step sister who isn’t really here. He checked in— knew she was alive. In a rundown trailer with a drunken Susan. Blames himself. He knows Susan took a lot of the brunt of Neil but he paid for everything. Even if he hit Susan, he took care of her— kept her clean. He told Billy how he’d found her. How he saved her and her little girl. And Billy hated them. Because he couldn’t be saved. But he hated Max most because Neil didn’t touch her. Susan was in the same boat as he was. She knew how Neil was. First hand. Max only seen it secondhand. Max watched as Neil hurt him. Max heard it when he hit Susan. Crawled into Billy’s lap, sobbed and clung onto him. Billy apologized, told her he wished it was like it was before. Where Neil only had him to hurt. Told Max that her mom didn’t deserve this. That he did. Rubbed her tiny back as she cried into his neck and told him she missed her dad.

“I hope he suffered,” the image of Max tells him. Has this sadistic smile that looks foreign on her young face. She looks supernatural. Like a demon, maybe like the devil on his shoulder as he recounts this devpraved moment of his life.

“I liked it,” he exhales, “I felt so fucking good when the life left his eyes. I laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Max grins and nods.

“I kept stabbing him. Blood was gushing out everywhere. I was fucking covered in it but I couldn’t stop,” Billy whispers, his own lips curling up like the little demonic step sister on the counter. “He looked so fucking pathetic and weak.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Billy feels warm all over.

“You saved us.”

It’s his imagination. Neil left them as soon as he heard Billy had died. Billy wishes he had died. But he… he didn’t. He remembers the monster penetrating his skin and muscle and organs. He remembers staring into the strange girls eyes as it happened. But then he woke up. In that hellscape. Had to live in it for god knows how long. Worked his way around, killing weird demonic creatures until he saw this… thing in a tree. Like a mirror. And he shoved his hand through it, and there was something on the outside. So he crawled through it. Found himself in the woods of Hawkins. Covered in slime and filth.

He didn’t save Max. Or maybe he did. He’s not sure.

Max keeps smiling this creepy smile. Billy feels safe. He talks to her for hours and hours that night.

—

Billy’s elbow deep in an old Ford truck. One of the farmers here. He told the fucker it was time to retire the truck. The transmission is fucked, flooded with fluid. Can’t hold onto gears. But the guy insists it’s a quick fix so Billy sent him off, told him he’d try his best.

And he is. He’s covered in oil and fluids. Hair tied up and sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He’s completely dismantled the engine. And he’s chewing on his lip as he stares down at the parts laid out on the concrete floor of the shop when the bell dings. Alerting him someone’s come in. He’s the only one here so he ventures out to the front. Sees a confused looking you. An uneasy look on your face when you see him and he gets it.

“Hi.”

“My cars not working,” you say. “It won’t start.”

“You try to jump it?” he asks, grabbing a towel on the counter and tries to clean his hands.

You fidget with the strap of your purse as you shrug and admit, “I don’t know anything about cars.”

He heaves a sigh, looks back at the dumb ford and looks to you, “Where’s it at?”

“In the parking lot,” you answer softly. “I-I don’t know what I did.”

“Hey,” he shakes his head, “Shit happens. It’s okay. It’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the headlights on or something?”

“No!” you reply, shaking your head profusely. “It was fine on the way here, I don’t know what happened.”

Billy grabs his keys, “Let’s try to jump it. Go stand by it.”

You nod and rush out of the shop. He gets in his car, drives the short distance to yours and parks in front of it before popping the hood. He’s fucked kind of. Now you know what car he drives.

He grabs his jumper cables from his trunk and walks back around. “Open the hood,” he instructs you. He likes you following his orders. You obey, watching as he connects the cables and he tells you to go try to start it. Nothing. It clicks and clicks.

“Press down on the gas!” he calls to you and again, nothing.

The two of you keep trying for a while before Billy decides to run into the shop. Grabs the right battery and brings it back out. Replaces yours with the new one but your car still doesn’t start.

“Alright,” he sighs, “it’s probably the alternator. Let’s get it into the shop. Put it in neutral and I’ll push, you just gotta steer.”

It’s kind of a frustrating journey. He has to keep yelling at you to turn the steering wheel as he’s pushing it. He hopes you recognize how strong he has to be in order to push your car. But then he’s screaming at you again to push on the breaks. But eventually, the pair of you get your car into the shop. He tells you to take a seat and he disappears to find the parts he needs.

Then he comes to you with an apologetic face.

“I gotta order something. Might take a week or two to get here,” Billy tells you, braces for you to be angry like most the fuckers that come in.

You just look defeated, “What’s wrong with it?”

“I think it’s just the alternator,” he replies, “it’s really an easy fix. But I don’t have it in stock.”

“A whole week? How am I supposed to get around?” you reply, voice so shy and quiet and sad and it kind of makes his dick twitch. He ignores it.

He shrugs, “I… I mean… we work next door to each other. I could drive you.”

The uncertainty— perhaps fear, is clear on your face. So he clarifies, “I mean if no one else could.”

There’s this weird feeling weighing in. He creeped into your window. You both know it. But when he was caught, he ran and he ignored you completely until now.

“Can you at least drive me to my parents?” you ask.

Billy nods, “‘Course. Let me lock up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to like, stop what you’re doing and right now,” you tell him, eyes all wide and pretty.

He laughs and shakes his head, points to the Ford and tells you, “I wanna burn this fucking thing so really, I need the time away.”

“Worse than my car?” you ask with a smile and he nods.

“This thing is deader than dead. A fix that costs more than the fucking whole truck but this dude insists it’s not that. As you can see, I’ve taken the whole engine apart and uh— as I thought, the fucking transmission is full of metal shards. So yeah, worse than your car,” he explains as he scratches the back of his neck.

“You know a whole lot about cars, huh?”

“I hope so. It’s kind of how I make money,” he says.

You nod. Subtle smile on your face. Like you know something he doesn’t. He wants to. He walks away to lock the place up, walks you out towards his car and lights a smoke before he gets inside. He asks for directions but Billy knows exactly where your parents live.

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I really appreciate the help… I have no idea what I did to make my car break.”

Billy laughs, turns towards you and shrugs, “Sometimes they break, nothing you did to make that happen.”

“I probably did something, my dad tells me I have to let it warm up and I never do,” you say and look ashamed as you say it.

“He’s right, but that’s not what caused this. Your car is like 20 years old, stuff is gonna break,” he insists.

The ride to your parents house is awkward— silent aside from the directions you mumble out. Billy smokes one after another Marlboro, keeps his body aimed forward without a glance your way. But in the small interior of his beat up car, he can smell you. A mostly unpleasant smell from the greasy diner food but faintly he can detect some floral, citrusy thing underneath. Perfume, he thinks or maybe your shampoo. He wants to smell it uninhibited, fresh out of the shower and laid on a bed for him.

Upon arriving at your parents house, you flee with only a short goodbye. A barely there whisper. Not even a thank you, which Billy thinks is fucking rude. And you run into your parents house, closing the door without a look over your shoulder.

It fills Billy with anger, a familiar feeling. The emotion he’s always been quick to. Times like this he really misses his Camaro. Could put his boot to the pedal and zip off, leaving the anger with the burnouts in the pavement. But the Camaro is long gone and he’s driving a fucking Ford Capri and it not kept well. Rusted to shit and he’s had to basically rebuild the engine piece by piece since he got here. His boss is nice, helped him out a lot with stuff but Billy’s not sure how much longer he can stay here. Especially with you going and seeing him peeking into your window. But more than that, he don’t wanna leave without getting something from you.

[cupidscrule]

OLD ENOUGH 2 DIE

Re4 Leon X Fem! Reader

Tw - drug trafficking

P in v, finger stuff

You were a spoiled bitch, had daddy's money to take care of anything.

"Daddy - pleasee com'on It's only 2k, can you transfer the money? Yay! Thank you daddy mwah"

Spoken into the brand new phone you got, you had money, had everything. Never went a day without living like a queen, never understanding poor people 'ugh why can't you just work harder? Honestly it's not that hard ' said to thousands of waiters at 5 star restaurants. Never even tipped em, throughout high school you were a dick to everyone, if they weren't hot and skinny. Classic mean girl to be honest

"Hunny, absolutely not. We can all tell that bag is a fake, it's embarrassing.. you should honestly thank me for telling you how stupid you look.."

"Oh! That's not.."

"Babes, you know I want the best for you so.. that dress really makes you look fat, maybe wear something more flattering?"

Backhanded comments were your LIFE, had every privilege, didn't even try in school. Just sucked and fucked your way to A's, but you were hot so it's fine! It doesn't matter if the pretty girl makes the slug kill herself? She's all innocent, everyone who tried to defend you was hilarious. "Oh she's just insecure!!" Bullshit, no you weren't? You just hated all those chicks. Rightfully so, they were all annoying whores.

You were just treating them how they deserved to be, not like any of them had a future besides sucking dick.. you're different though, that's what you always told yourself. Sure you dressed like a skimpy bimbo, fucked the sports team twice. But you're different, an exception to the slut rule..

"Daddy can you send me an Uber? I don't have enough money in my account. Dad I said I spent it all shopping- no dad please- it's gonna be night soon, I NEED an Uber. Daddy? UGH" stomping your feet, making your own little hissy fit in the middle of the street, clutching the little pink fur purse you bought, looking around at all the people staring at you. Pout on your face and brows furrowed, throwing your phone on the ground and walking away, you were a good half hour away from home, and these boots were NOT made for walking. They were brand new plus, wouldn't wanna ruin em. And to top it all off it was freezing cold, like -15C. All you had was a white fur coat belted around your waist, with stupid little ear muffs. Couldn't even find matching gloves, freezing cold at Six PM alone on a Friday night, with no phone .. what a perfect day!

Stomping off not really knowin' where you're going isn't that smart though, but you were never a smart kid. Never did drugs or anything like that, just not very smart in the real world. Couldn't read signs, or fight, or have basic common courtesy. Shuffling your feet through the snow for god knows how long till tik street lights flicker on. By this point you got no clue where you are, started off downtown now you were in the middle of fucktown with nothing you recognize, see this is why daddy should've moved to a smaller town after The business deal, that way cops wouldn't be on his ass and you would know where you're going. Sure DC was the place to be! Except for the fact it's the stupidest place to be if your main source of income is drug trafficking, you didn't care where daddy got his money as long as you got it in the end. But what you did care about is when daddy refused to be smart about his shit. Like what are you on if you think moving to Washington is a good idea after makin' a major deal, you're dad was important. He was wanted for a lot. But you didn't do anything wrong, you're innocent! So you never cared about what would happen if dear old dad got caught, he could buy himself out of trouble just like before.

Still aimlessly walking up and down the streets trying to find anything identifiable when you hear footsteps behind you.

Turning your head to see who's behind you, and it's a taller man with blonde hair, it's getting dark so there's not that many details. He's wearing  really weird clothes, just staring at you, his eyes narrow and look at your face in the flickering lights before opening his dumb mouth

"Listen, we can make this easy kid. Just come with me back-" he started speaking, stepping towards you. Immediate nope, fuck that, the police actually caught the hell on? AND THEY WENT AFTER YOU? Worst day ever, dropping your bag and making a run for it just like daddy said.

"Sweetie, if the cops ever find you, and are onto you. Run. And run far."

Never actually thought what that old sack of shit said mattered, I mean nothing bad ever happens to you.

Running around corners, frantically, heart racing, why, why, why, why. You had NOTHING to do with daddies private shit, if anything you're a victim to his crimes.. yeah victim! I mean dad was a creep sometimes, huggin' a bit too tight, grabbing your ass like you were his girlfriend. Even though mom was dead for a long time, he never got over her and I guess you looked closest to her?

Running into an alley way, like any smart fucken girl would, totally. There was a chain link fence, then what looked like a field leading to someone's apartment building? Pretty sure someone from school lives there, yeah Milo in Chem 100% does he's the welfare kid and this was the poor side of town. Bingo.

"Ah- not so fast"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Don't even reply, no don't reply, you have about five fucking seconds before getting dragged away and everything taken away. Pathetically trying to pull yourself over the fence, y'know if you really tried you could do it. But you don't try. Feeling a hand grab your ankle, pull you down ripping your cute coat, if you're gonna kidnap a girl at least keep her shit nice damn. He throws you down, trying to scramble up only to get immediately knocked out and your unconscious body dragged away.

"fuck" you mutter under your breath, opening your eyes drowsy, vision kinda blurry but you can see everything, trying to move your hands and legs but then feeling the rough rope press against your sensitive skin, looked like you were an old ass storage unit, some boxes piled up in the corner, walls looked rusty. A table in the middle of the small room, and a guy just standing there. Few seconds later lights flicker on, they're dim but you can now see detail in everything. That includes your unknown kidnapper? Or agent? Or cop? He wasn't really dressed like any of them, wore a dark blue t shirt,tactical black pants, and black gloves. Not sure what profession of people wear that, plus he was too cute to just be a random kidnapper, pretty blonde hair with gorgeous blue eyes and a muscular figure.

"Oh you're awake, huh thought that would've taken longer." He says eyes darting towards you as you try to wiggle out of the rope, it's tight. "Who the fuck are you? Where's my dad! Do you even know who I am?" You say acting as if your dad was a fucken celebrity and not a filthy pig. You knew you were in a deep fucken mess, so when in doubt, lie. Lie about everything, you're innocent, no Mr. officer my father would never! You have the wrong girl I'm just a highschooler !

"Don't play dumb missy, cut the shit. Let's get to the point, I know your dear old dad is involved with a lot. And so are you, aren't you? So why don't you tell me where dad does all his importing and where he gets the shit from, hm?" He says coldly, almost as if he's talkin' to a little kid. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just let me go!" You whine staring up at him, he's just standing infront of you arms crossed over his chest, getting a better look at him, he wasn't just a random guy, he looked important. Didn't know why though, a sigh comes from his lips as he blinks slowly at you, "honey, I really don't wanna get messy. Just hand over the information and you can go back to doin' whatcha do, I don't care." He said, arms still folded over his chest, he was a good fifteenth-ish feet away from you and your chair, you grit you teeth, brows furrowed as you stare at this guy. Pissed off, "don't call me honey, I told you I don't know what you're talkin' about." You mutter to him, pout on your stupid lips.

"You're a bad actor, it's really obviously. Plus you're on file, darling. Now can you just tell me the important stuff?" He said putting on an obvious fake begging face, puppy eyes and all. You were trying to get untied, only getting rope burns on your wrists, squirming and whimpering in that tiny wood chair. "I didn't do anything, I don't know what daddy does to get money.. talk to him not me" you say batting your lashes, pushing your face out towards him, he takes another step forward. Putting his arms down, lookin' at you like you were some thing he found on the bottom of his shoe. "You have the face of a pornstar" he says out of the fucking blue, such a handsome voice but such a shocking thing. "I'm in highschool, pig." You scrowl jaw clenched, tone change from 'inccocent little girl' to 'raging bitch.' like a public appearance vs how you act in private. "Mm, well you're eighteen now correct? Nothing's wrong with that now is it? And it's just a fact, you've fucked and sucked your way up. No way someone like you is about to pass, in truth you're a pathetic attempt at human and a failure of whatever we can even call your sorry ass. But at least you make up with it for a massive rack and cute face"

Ouch. Okay.

Words didn't even form, jaw dropped, eyes shocked. Honestly not even knowing what to say, what do you say to that? 'oh yes sorry Mr man you're right I'm a dirty slut!" Absolutely not, because you aren't. "So, you gonna answer me?" He says, he's just a few feet away from you, leaning down to your whiny ass face. A small smirk on his dumb lips,

"fuck. you."

He just looked blankly, at you, almost dumbfounded by how much of a fucking MORAN you were, tied up in small place, no one knows where you are, daddies house is probobly getting raided and he's waiting in jail or has twenty bullets through his back while you're agonizing this man five times your size whom you are at HIS mercy. But hey, it could be worse. He could've killed ya already, he obviously needs you alive. So you're safe, for now. He cups your chin making you look at him directly

"You're such a dumb whore." He whispers letting you go, can't lie he's hot, feeling a throb in your legs, lump in your throat and pushing your thighs together, dumb little slut. Just fuck my brains out already oh my god.

"Seriously? Getting horny in an integration, fuck little missy you really are a freak." He says laughing to himself looking at your pathetic bitch display, all dumb n needy, breath rasp and heavy, feeling an emptiness only filled by fat dick, staring at the man, didn't even know his name, never told ya. He gets close up again and sticks to fingers in your mouth, pushing them back. Your tounge running around them, sucking, like a good little fuck doll. Sloppy and all wet, pulling his index and middle finger out your mouth saliva dripping off of it, stupid ass smirk on his face rubbing his fingers down your chest, over your pretty white shirt and over your tits. You're still bound to the chair, wanting nothin' more then to get bent over and fucked till you can't even remember daddies in trouble, this entire moment is just pure lust. He gives you the look like, 'is this what you really want? Seriously?' and of course you reply with a

"I'll answer you if you give me what I want."

That's all it took for him to untie you from that god forsaken chair, just to tie your hands together again. Push you onto your back, pressing your thighs apart. You aren't wearing much, your coat was gone lost somewhere in the ally, only wearing black shorts and a white top. Stupid for the middle of winter but it was hot.   He takes out a small switch blade from his pocket cutting open your shirt and shorts off, pornstar tits popping out in a little pink bra also exposing the matching panties. Even all finished off with a cute little bow, unzipping his pants his dick springs out, your pussy THROBBING, aching. He cuts the shit off and pushes you firmly on the ground, your arms still bound above your head, his chest just over yours pushing into you, stretching you open. His tip resting nicely in your cervix when he starts rockin' back and forth. Hitting you all the good spots, moaning n' a mess, hes pretty much silent groaning here and there when he speeds up, lifting you up slightly, more like your at an angel on him, he grips your back and rocks you back and forth, feeling your walls tighten  around him feeling all numb and high, cumming over his fat cock, his pull out games fast. Just as you finish he pushes you back on your neck and unloads on your stupid face, 'before grabbing you lazily and pressing your body against his, you were all dumb and covered in your own mess. But he was gentle with you, soft, he was nice. Nicer then anyone else had been, softer then anyone else despite fucking your brains out. His breath was heavy as he held onto you, chest to chest. Can't tell if he's doing' this cause he feels some sort of pity for you but fuck if you care it's comforting, you felt all warm and fuzzy. Weird.

"Please don't leave me here."

"I know you're eighteen, years old, but you're still old enough to die. Right here. Right now. So talk"

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 1: Stuck

Birmingham, England, 1919

Much like America, it is an empire of industry. Giant factories tower over the slums and shacks, with drunks, thieves, and whores alike all sulking in the shadows. Smoke and ash cloud the sky and block out what little sun there is, as well as fill everyone’s lungs with foul air. With sparks flying everywhere it’s a miracle nothing catches fire. The gloomy and dreadful atmosphere is enough to make anyone faint, vomit, or lose hope altogether.

But I’ve got something these folks do not. 

I am an American.

While that may not be astonishing to some, to me it means that I’m independent, as well as rambunctious and a bit of a rebel even for my culture. My family always says I’m too rash and stubborn, and that it will diminish any chance of me finding a husband and settling down for a proper life. But I’m in no mood to marry, so sue me for actually enjoying my life.

However, at the moment I seem to be in a bit of a pickle. You see, I don’t travel much. Yes there’s the occasional trip out of state, but never in a million years did I think I’d ever go to England. Of all places, my family chose to vacation in Manchester, England. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful country with gorgeous countryside views and polite accents… that is until you reach the deep city. Then it gets bustling and dangerous, which is how I came to be where I am now. We decided to travel by train, stopping in Birmingham on the way to London before we headed home. Lord knows why I decided to stray away and get a better look at the intriguing shops, but after an hour of desperately searching for my family it finally sunk in that I was, quite frankly, alone. Talk about a dumb-headed move on my part. I passed back and forth through the train station for hours as night fell, growing more and more worried about what kinds of danger Small Heath, Birmingham has hiding in the darkness. 

Right now, people are giving me mixed looks of pity, confusion, and judgment. I know I’m not much to look at, with my messy blonde hair stuffed under a simple hat and my slim figure dressed in a gray dress with black heels. I probably look much richer than I really am, which makes my fear of criminals spike even more.

“Might I help you, young lady?” A sinister voice calls out.

He's a drunk, I’m sure of it. A man in a ragged overcoat staggers over, and he’s reeking of alcohol.

“No, I’m waiting for someone. Please leave me alone.” 

“Oh, no. You’re all alone? Perfect…” He licks his lips and starts reaching his hand out-!

“Back off! She’s with me.”

I look over and see an older man wearing a trenchcoat and bowler hat. He’s got a simple mustache, is smoking a pipe, and carrying a briefcase. Is he a cop?

“Says who, old man?” The drunk slurs.

But instead of answering, the man slugs the drunk in the nose and ushers him off. When he turns back to me the bowler hat man extends a hand to shake.

“Excuse me, miss. I’m Inspector Chester Campbell. Who might you be?”

“I- I’m Verena, Verena Steenstra.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Verena. I’m here for private matters, sent by Churchill on account of a BSA munitions robbery. I am here to weed out prime suspects and possibly recover some stolen items that belong to the Crown. You wouldn’t happen to know an Arthur or Thomas Shelby, would you?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, can’t say I have. I’m new to these parts, just having arrived from America yesterday.”

He nods. “Well it’s best if you don’t, miss. They’re ruthless, the lot of them. Gangsters, bookmakers, racketeers. The gang they’re part of call themselves the Peaky Blinders. You best be getting indoors instead of wandering these dreadful streets at this hour.”

When Campbell sees my uneasy expression he frowns. “You do have a place to stay, right?”

“Actually sir, I was… left here by mistake. My family left hours ago and I’ve been here ever since.”

Campbell’s eyes soften a little. “I’m sorry to hear that, miss. If I knew the area I’d find you an inn or hotel, so the most I can do is guide you to the desk clerk in the train station.” He gestures for me to follow him and leads me over to the back desk, where a middle-aged lady is typing. “Hello, would you happen to know where this young lady might find any lodgings?”

The lady gives me a once-over and tilts her head. “Maybe ask Harry at the Garrison. That’s a local pub nearby. You can’t miss it. Just ask for Harry.”

We thank her and head back outside, where it’s starting to get dark.

“I’m sorry to leave you here, but I’ve got my own appointments to attend.” Campbell grips his briefcase and waves to signal a passing cab. “You’ll be alright?”

I try to give a convincing nod. “Yeah, as good as I can I guess. Good luck with your investigation.”

“Best of luck to you too, miss. You’ll need it if you want to survive this wicked city.”

And with that, the inspector climbs into the cab and is driven off. Leaving me, once again, alone. But at least this time I have an idea of where to go and what to do. I tightly grip my small suitcase and begin walking down the bustling streets, trying my best to ignore the… less than Christian crowd that hovers around. 

“God does not care if you live in a slum or in a mansion!”

A man’s voice draws my attention, and I look to find the source coming from down the street. He sounds Jamaican, and seems to be a minister of sorts. 

“God does not care if you are rich or you are poor!”

I approach slowly, not wanting to interrupt. “Excuse me, sir? Where would I go to find the Garrison?”

The man frowns at me, confused. “What’s a lass like you doing in this part of town? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I understand that. I’m looking to find a place to stay, so I’ll ask again. Where can I find the Garrison?”

The man looks at me as if I’ve signed my own death note, then points to the building down the street. “There. But God be with you if you want to persevere with what kind of men go in there.”

I thank him and walk towards the building. It’s definitely a pub, because there’s drunk men staggering out and vomiting everywhere. 

“Look out!” Someone shouts.

Without warning, a small person plows into me and sends us tumbling into the dust.

“Dear God, what on Earth…?” I gather myself up and get a look at the person, or should I say kid. He’s a young boy with a conservative haircut, wearing dark pants, a white shirt, and gray vest. One might say he dresses just as professional as any stockbroker. 

“I’m sorry!” He says in a worried manner and looks as if I’m about to slap him. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

I gotta say, seeing this boy speak in an English accent is downright cute!

I kneel down to seem less intimidating and hold out a hand. “Hey hey, it’s alright, kid. It was an accident. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He nods and shakes my hand, now looking at me differently. “You sound different.”

“I’m American, from New York. Now what was it you were running from?”

“Oh, right!” He points to the alley he just ran from. “I’m playing hide-and-seek with my aunt.”

I frown. “And you’re out here, in the dark, at this time of night? It may not be my place to say, but you should probably go back inside. Where’s your aunt now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not going to get us anywhere. You got a name?”

He smiles and nods eagerly. “I’m Finn, Finn Shelby. I’m 10 going on 11!”

“Wow, that’s old! So Finn, how about you head inside with me and we can find a way of contacting your aunt? That sound alright?”

“Finn! We were looking for you!” A man comes walking up, wearing dark clothes and a cap. When he sees me next to Finn, the man’s eyes darken. “Who are you?”

I ignore his question and look at Finn. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother John.”

Now I know that I can trust this man. “I’m nobody. Just a lost tourist who’s looking out for Finn.”

The man looks confused. “Why? You don’t know him.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’d look out for him as if he was my own child because no kid should be wandering around at this time of night.”

He scoffs. “What are you, some nun or midwife? Doesn’t matter. Come on, Finn.” John takes the boy’s hand and starts walking away. 

“Nice to meet you!” Finn calls before they’re out of sight.

“Goodbye!”

Now to get back to the task at hand. While being as inconspicuous as possible, I sneak past the gruff men and enter the strangely quiet bar. I gotta say, it’s surprisingly clean. Compared to the filthy world outside you’d think the king himself would eat here. But I know better. I can tell this place has seen its fair share of violence, but I give credit to the barman for keeping it spiffy. Gruff and sketchy-looking Brits sit scattered all over the room. Murmured conversations ghost around the room, confirming that this is yet another place I shouldn’t be at. A few turn their heads, but seem uninterested… for now. I hold my suitcase close and discreetly make my way to where the barman is standing.

“You don’t know me, but the desk clerk at the train station said to ask for someone named Harry.”

The barman, just like everyone else, seems to think I’m a fish out of water. “I’m Harry. What do you want?”

“She said you could tell me where to find a place to stay. I’ll pay what I can, I swear. I just need somewhere to sleep until I can find a way to get back to America.”

His face changes. “America? You mean you’re stuck here?”

“For the time, yes.”

First Harry goes to say something but then seems to look over at someone behind me. This changes his demeanor and he gestures for me to sit.

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink.”

“I do,” a woman’s voice says behind me.

A dark-haired woman wearing a gray suit sits up next to me, her face being shielded by a hat.

Harry nods respectfully at the woman and pours a shot of whiskey. “On the house, Polly.”

She gladly takes the glass and downs it, looking at me with calculating eyes.

“Name’s Polly, love. Polly Gray.”

“You seem to be a woman who knows what she’s doing, and how to conduct authority,” I reply.

“And you seem to be a woman who has nowhere to go. Am I right, love?”

I look away and become more interested in staring at the table. “Yes, ma’am. I’m currently homeless, jobless, penniless, and on the verge of hopeless.” I look back up. “But I’ve got a song in my heart and a gleam in my eye, so that’s all I can do for now.”

Polly laughs and twirls the shot glass in her hand. “Well a song and dance isn’t going to take you far, love. It’s best if you come with me.” She stands back up and starts pulling her coat back on.

My thoughts freeze. Did I hear that right? This person, this complete stranger who has no inkling of who I am, wants me to go with them? Where? And what for? Inspector Campbell said to be careful.

“Wait- what? What do you mean?”

Polly walks to the door, unfazed by my questions. “I saw you interacting with Finn. You treat him as both a child and an adult, which is something I respect. You’re not too sour but still know when to show a firm grip. I’d like to hire you as his tutor. He needs help studying, as well as someone to make sure he doesn’t shoot his eye out.”

My jaw drops. “Shoot his… But how-?”

“Don’t ask. I have to deal with the most ridiculous idiots this side of England, you have no idea!” She scoffs as I follow her back into the inky night. “The fact is that I need a tutor, and you need a roof over your head. So, do you want the job or not?”

I try to form words but all that comes out is a babbling mess. My thoughts are fried! What reason do I have to even trust this Polly character?

“You’re conflicted,” Polly states plainly. “I can understand why.”

“Yes! Because- because I’m alone! I- I have no one to help, but everyone says I can’t trust anyone here, and then you happen to be passing by… I don’t know what to make of it!”

Polly puts a hand on my shoulder. “Love, one of the things I always go by is my faith. If fate had it so you would be here to help Finn and get my attention, then God has spoken. My trust is not so easily won over, so I suggest you consider this chance very seriously.”

She’s right. Everything’s led to this. Besides, she’s right. I need a job.

“Yes, I accept your kind offer.” I hold out a hand and we shake. “Thank you, Mrs. Gray.”

“I may be your employer but there’s no need for that formality. Polly’s fine, love. And yours?”

“Verena Nora Steenstra,” my name flies right off the tongue. 

“That’s Dutch, I’d imagine?”

I nod. “Yes, after my great grandmother. My father’s Dutch, my mother’s Irish.”

“Ah yes, you Americans and your mixed heritages.”

She doesn’t seem upset by it, and I’m glad she doesn’t inquire further. My family isn’t cruel, but we’re not exactly the most wanted people in New York. My uncle on my mother’s side is part of the Irish mob in Brooklyn, so our reputation is a bit strict.

Polly leads me through the dark streets and people seem to be aware not to test her. Crowds scatter away to let us pass, not even daring to meet her eye.

“You have authority here?”

“Of sorts. People know better not to start a quarrel. Here we are.”

The house itself is simple-looking on the outside, something I admire. Polly opens the door and shows me inside, which displays a traditional cross hung in the hallway. I follow her past a kitchen and into a small room near the back, one containing a simple bed and vanity as well as a single window.

“Bathtub’s down the hall. I’ll leave you here to settle in, I trust the lads will guide you through the house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend a family meeting. Finn’s around here somewhere if you wish to chat.”

I set my suitcase on the bed and look at Polly with sincere gratitude. “Thank you so much. You really saved me from a tight pickle, and I promise I will do everything I can to repay you.”

Polly smiles and, to my uttermost surprise, comes over to give me a hug. “No problem, love. You seem like a decent girl, even if you are American.” She snickers and goes to walk out, then turns to say: “One more thing: when you meet Thomas, just know he’s a bit rough around the edges.”

I squint in bafflement. “Thomas? Who’s-?”

But she exits before I can finish. So just to be clear: Now I need to teach a boy from a family I just met and am expecting to meet someone who’s ‘rough around the edges.’ Yay?

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hi slug! You read and listen to all the drama tracks, right?

I was wondering if you personally had any specific lore branches you hope are expanded upon in the future? Or things that got brushed over you want to be addressed again?

Like, mine is how the Buster Bros traumatic events affected them, more specifically Jiro and Saburo.

I have a ton of plot points I'd be fascinated to learn more about, even if I think the likelihood of some of them showing up is very small. An incomplete list from off the top of my head:

Jirou is far more of a people person than either of his brothers, but I'd like to see how he developed that more outgoing streak. In particular, what led to him developing a friendship with Urumi? It's implied he has other "contacts" as well, and it'd be nice to someday see those.

What led Juuto, a person with such a unique sense of justice, to becoming a police officer in the first place? How did his friendship with his older cop buddy influence his approach to policing, even before drugs became a factor?

We already got a scene of Riou's time in the war and why he respects Major Iojaku so much, but I would eat up more of that any day.

I'd love to know more about why Gentarou respects his brother so much to the point that he (appears to, at least at this point in time with our understanding of canon) take on his brother's identity in the wake of his hospitalization.

I have the sneaking suspicion it was mentioned at least offhand in a drama track (which I don't usually listen to... at least not more than once), but I would like to know more about Dice and Otome's falling out.

I know I'm a broken record about this. I'm sorry. But even for all the lovely headcanons people create, I really, really, really want to know the canon reason Jakurai, a character with deep moral convictions to save as many people as possible and one who remains torn for years on end about hurting people, became a hired killer. Maybe KR wants to backpedal on this and sweep it under the rug in the hopes they can retcon it. Maybe they think we'll all forget. Yet much like Pepperidge Farm, I remember. And I'm still waiting for an answer.

Obligatory Hifumi and Honobono backstory bullet point

Similarly, it's been mentioned a couple of times that Doppo doesn't really have friends outside of Hifumi and Jakurai (and his work colleagues, I suppose) which I find a little odd. Especially prior to working at EL Medical, there's nothing about his behavior that would suggest he struggles to make and maintain friendships. Why doesn't he have old college or high school buddies? What's the deal there? Would love to know.

Not lore-related, but I think Kuukou would have been the most god-awful toddler imaginable. I would like to see it.

We actually probably will get (at least some of) Rei's rationale behind his more questionable decisions in canon, which I welcome. I'd like to know what led to him becoming the person he is today, and I have quite a few questions about what his relationship with his wife was like if Sasara and Roshou remind him of him and his wife. (Presumably, they must have been very poor communicators lol)

Also not lore-related, but I sincerely hope Jakurai keeps finding opportunities to regale impressionable ears with stupid shit Hitoya did in middle school. Hitoya's great, man. He thinks he's so cool--and he IS cool, in a great many ways--but all the things he thinks are cool are actually just him being a giant dork. God bless.

[breadsoup00]

Bsd but it’s all quotes from random movies/books

Some of the quotes are modified to better fit lol.

Dazai: Fine, but if he kills us all, I’m going to get Atsushi’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost

Ranpo: I’ll just hire Chuuya’s ghost to kick your ass

Chuuya: My ghost won’t associate with your ghosts.

————

Atsushi: Dazai is… I don’t know, he’s like nobody else I’ve ever known. He surprises me.

Kunikida: Yeah, like a hive of bees in your dresser drawer

————

Akutagawa: All right, any idea where Chuuyas going?

Atsushi: To kill someone.

Akutagawa:  Ah. That explains the anger, and the corruption, and all that. Good. Makes perfect sense, now what? Atsushi, come on. I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my only defense.

————

Dazai: I’ve got an idea

Kunikida: Does it involve breaking the law?

Dazai: By now don’t you think that’s a given?

Kunikida: I was just trying to be optimistic.

Dazai: Don’t bother

————

Mori: Wait, everyone here’s a dude! I think we’re in a gay club!

Kouyou, surrounded by drag queens: Man, nothing gets past those keen mafia boss senses..

————

Atsushi: You sure everything's okay between you and Chuuya?

Dazai: Yeah, everything's fine. Dammit, the cops took my fake ID..

Atsushi: You didn't do anything to make him angry?

Dazai: How angry?

Atsushi: A scale of one to ten. One being "kind of irritated" and ten... and ten "wanting to kill you violently”

Dazai, laughing: Chuuya’s kind of always at a four, but we’re good.

————

Fukuzawa, looking at Poe in the corner: Who is he again?

Ranpo: Uh..My cousin.. Miguel..

Fukuzawa:

Poe:

Ranpo: Aha..

————

Mori: I want you to be completely honest with me. Totally and completely honest. Have you been time traveling?

Teen Dazai: Hang on, what?

Mori: Because if time traveling is real, I'm done, I'm out. You're going to be driving me to the nursing home.

Teen Chuuya: We found him like that.

Mori: Where? Swimming in the fountain of youth?!

Teen Dazai: No. We found him buried in a glowing tomb in an Azetec temple in Mexico underneath a church in the middle of a town that was destroyed by an earthquake.

————

Atsushi: Shouldn’t someone give like, a pep talk?

Dazai: Probably. Go ahead, Ranpo.

Ranpo: Oh. Ok, Be careful. Don’t die.

————

Teen Dazai, after a mission: It looked like an experiment gone terribly wrong - something from a nightmare. Part animal, part demon, he rolled and clicked along the stone pathway. Its body resembled a short slug-

Teen Chuuya: sTOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE THAT, YOU PEICE OF SHIT!

————

Dazai, running by: If anyone asks where I am, I’ve left the country!

Atsushi: ok WHAT THE FUCK

————

Ranpo, frantically: Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks? Specifically how to build one?

Fukuzawa: Sensory deprivation– What is this for?

Dazai in the background: ..Fun..

————

Atsushi: You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child endangerment. I’m out.

————

[cairavende]

You know, I get that The Sharing is the cool hip thing and it's what all the kids want to do these days, but have the Yeerks considered starting a megachurch?

I'm not saying they don't have an okay strategy, I'm just saying that all they had to do was snag a few evangelicals and they could have gone to town. Hell, probably even better to brain worm some exvangelicals - we usually even know how the parts you aren't supposed to notice work.

I get it was the 90's and megachurches weren't quite as wide spread as they are now, but they definitely were still there. Visser One supposedly did all this scouting and learning about humans to help start the invasion, but did they just . . . like not notice religion? Even a not-megachurch would still do great.

Churches will build their own buildings - easy Yeerk pool access right there, no need to hide doors in a school or a McDonalds. People start acting weird, change their priorities, quit their hobbies, after joining Yeerk Church? They found religion at some bonkers new church, their friends and family would be more confused if they DIDN'T start acting weird. Need money? You don't even have to do the ear worm boogie with all the members, many will just give you cash anyway. Oops someone accidentally said something in an alien language that sounds like gibberish to most humans? We speaking in tongues now! A host fights back against their mind snail, starts spasming and falls over? Shit son, look who is getting slain in the spirit! You want teenagers for some reason (I dunno, The Sharing seems to try and recruit from kids a lot)? I've got 40 of them whose parents will not only let you lock them inside the church overnight, but want you to. Easy picking for some brain bugs. Cops? Already looking the other way. Government oversight? Ha! Free up so many resources by not having to worry about putting some living head hummus in various IRS agents or whatnot. Want to get a new town? Well then lets go church planting! Send a few members over, use cash reserves to get some land, start with a small building with a tiny pool in the basement, and bam - before you can say Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill is your uncle - you've got a whole new crop of humans ready for your evil escargots.

Let me lead the Yeerks and I could have had half of America eating out of their squishy little slug fingertips in 6 months, and I'm not even good at this!

[kidlit-queen-competition]

Round 2 poll 9: Madeline vs Cassie from Animorphs

Propaganda under the cut:

Madeline:

Her entire original book is about how iconic she is. The smallest in her school or orphanage or whatever it’s supposed to be. Laughs at lions. Causes trouble all across Paris. Gets an appendicitis and has a swell old time.

She is an absolute icon for rambunctious little girls and I love her. she's literally why I can read.

Cassie:

Shapeshifting farm girl who fought the brain-slug invasion. Ethical center of the team, went on to be an important political figure after the war.

shes my baby and she deserves it no but seriously i love cassie so much. she works at her familys vet out of their barn and will take any and every opportunity to spout cool animal facts. she does brain surgery on her alien friend. shes gnc as fuck. she gets easily flustered around her crush seeing her in a dress even though they watch each other routinely disgustingly shapeshift into animals on a regular basis. its heavily implied she killed a cop in the first book and may have set a billionaires house on fire in a different book. shes willing to give up her own life just to save one person. she once made up a fake phone number and it was 12345678

[luvtonique]

It happened again

Someone told me they don't believe I grew up in LA.

I am fucking baffled, man. Literally gave the exact address of my old house, the Elementary and Highschool I went to, the mall I used to ride my bike to, the bike trail I used to ride my bike on, and even pointed out the highway where I rode my bigwheel and had a cop following me because he saw a 6 year old kid riding a bigwheel by himself and was like "Where are your parents" and I went "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers" and he went "Good kid" and just followed me home instead of making me get in his car to make sure I was safe cause my mom was looking for me and called the cops.

And he said "You could have just googled those."

How the fuck is "I grew up in Los Angeles" so hard to fucking believe do you know how goddamn high the population is in LA? In 1990 (I was born in 88) the population of Los Angeles was 3.485 million.

That's 1.3% of the entire population of the united states, which may seem like a small number but that's fucking enormous. Consider that there are 50 states and 19,000 some odd cities, and 1.3% of the entire population of the country was in Los Angeles alone.

According to a quick google, 46% of LA in 1990 was white people, too. So that means there were roughly 1,603,100 white people in LA in 1990.

BUT ACCORDING TO FUCKING ACTUAL RETARDS ON THE FUCKING INTERNET WHO REFUSE TO BELIEVE WHITE PEOPLE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE GROWN UP IN LA

IT IS LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR MY WHITE ASS TO HAVE BEEN BORN IN A HOSPITAL IN BELLFLOWER AND GROWN UP ON GODDAMN PONDEROSA STREET.

IMPOSSIBLE.

THERE'S NO WAY JAY GREW UP IN LA STANDING ON DAVION'S PORCH WITH HIS HOMEBOYS DAVION, JULIAN AND SMALLS LISTENING TO BUSTA RHYMES WOO HAW WOO HAW GOTCHU ALL IN CHECK I GOT THAT HEADBANG SHIT THAT MAKE YOU BREAK YA NECK.

HE'S WHITE.

WHITE BOYS DON'T EVER COME FROM LA.

I swear to God, the argument power of you fucking morons on the internet is just putting your fingers in your ears and going "La la la la I can't hear you" and then blocking the person you're arguing with and going to your comfort group Discord to tell your friends you were just attacked by a racist or a transphobe, and it's infuriating. You are the most insufferable people on this planet and you contribute nothing to society you TikTok snorting OnlyFans model wannabe pieces of shit. You will continue to push people away, cover your ears, and block people until you die cold and alone with not a single person who ever truly loved or respected you because you are completely meaningless and live only to leave a layer of scum in your wake that helps your bitch slug-ass move across terrain.

It baffles me every single day that I, an actually retarded person, my brother, an actually retarded person, and multiple of my actually retarded friends have the basic brain functions capable of understanding that "I grew up in LA" is not a contentious or hard to believe statement.

But these people on the internet, these scumsucking stupid fucking morons who constantly rant and rave about how stupid their opponents are, are dumber than actual retards. That is baffling. I don't know how we got where we are as a society.

I hear people say "Idiocracy is real now"

This is so much worse than Idiocracy man.