#cops are corrupt as fuck. i would NEVER rat someone out to those fucks

[habitual-creatures]

Stuff we found outside!! (Don't tell the cops)

- 💜 anon and 🩵 anon!!!

NICE! AND I WOULD NEVER! 🤫 THAT SECRET'S SAFE WITH ME...

BUT WHO THE FUCK LEFT A COPY OF MALL COP JUST OUT THERE???

[ REGARDS, HABIT ]

[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes​ who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

[heyheyloki]

No One Important

Summary: You’ve been by Shigaraki’s side since you both were little, you knew everything about him as he did you. When you get arrested, you’re questioned with how deep the relationship between the two of you go.

Shigaraki Tomura x M!Reader

Word Count: 2405

The room was cold, dimly lit. It was your worse nightmare come true. The one time you weren’t careful, the one single time, and now you end up here. In the custody of the police who caught you red handed. You knew you were going to be sent to jail, and while you kept a cool head about it on the outside, on the inside you were freaking. You were never fond of the idea of jail, hell, you don’t know if anyone really is. But jail wasn’t why you started to grip your hands harder together. The simple and short reason just came down to a person, and that person was Shigaraki Tomura. The leader of the League of Villains that have set a seed of fear within Japan itself. 

Your body sat in a metal chair, your wrists cuffed to the metal table in front of you. Seriously, in times like these, you really wish you had Shigaraki’s decay quick. Sadly, yours won’t help get you out of this mess.

For some reason, you thought it would be hours before someone actually comes in to interrogate you. Although, when that single door opened, you were proved wrong. Another man, much older, walked in. His appearance itself was plan and had nothing noticeable about him, but you do remember his face since he was the officer that gave you a look that made you pissed off to your very core when they brought you in.

When he sat down, he just stared at you. You, staring back, held a look that the cop thought could only be held by a killer. It was dark, cold, and distant. One that surged with unbelievable darkness and would swallow anyone whole into an empty abyss if they looked long enough. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you that no matter what, you will be heading off to jail.” He started out saying, even his voice average. “But, if you work with me, we can make you an offer.”

You scowled. “And here I thought the cops don’t work with people like me.”

“Well, if you have information we need, we’ll work with anyone.” He explained.

“Fucking hypocrites,” you uttered under your breath. It seriously took everything in your power not to start grinding your teeth since you knew he would take it as a sign of fear when it actuality, you were just pissed off beyond belief.

The cop took a minute of silence, collecting his thoughts before he opened up a tan colored folder, the contents stock piled with stuff about the League of Villains. It held a few theories in there, witness statements from UA students during the attack, and a statement from Izuku Midoryia. You knew him since Shigaraki couldn’t ever shut up about how much he hates the damned brat. You didn’t care much for kids. 

“Your leader, Shigaraki Tomura, how long have you known him?” He asked. 

Your lips remained closed as you eyed down the cop. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t start talking unless he had something over your head, and jail didn’t seem to be something effective enough. Though, in your mind, you were ready to screw up their investigation. It was the perfect opportunity in the more imperfect situation.

“A few years.” You lied, your words stern as you use one of your best skills. 

The cop took a second to write that down on a new page in his folder, a page just for you. After all, you were the second more dangerous threat to them. First being Shigaraki. 

“He recruited you? Or did you seek him out?” He questioned, his voice a bit more lighter than before.

“He sought me out.” You confessed. “I just so happened to have skills that weren’t being put to use and he was there.”

The cop nodded, writing it down. You thought he would just ask another simple question, but before he did he pulled out a picture from his folder. It was of Izuku Midoriya. 

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

“Did you know Shigaraki was targeting him?”

“Not at all.”

You sat there, watching as the cop’s sights narrowed on your face. It was clear to you he knew something was wrong, but you seemed to genuine in not knowing much about the boy. You could tell it was messing with the cop which only made you to continue this game even more. 

“Alright then, so it seems Shigaraki Tomura was a private person. Would you say that as well?” He questioned.

You couldn’t help but stare at the man for a moment, your brain kicking back to the first time Tomura truly opened up to you. During that time you felt like you were going to explode, in truth, it made you the happiest man in the world to know you could do something like that for him. Especially when you both started to drift apart as he got older, closing himself off from everyone, including you. Seriously, it took everything in you to not to cry when it happened.

“Yeah, he is.” You stated, the first truthful thing you’ve said this entire time. 

“Alright then,” the cop started out, “did you have any part in the attack at UA High School?”

“Nah,” you hummed. “The boss made me stay at the base. I was not allowed to leave.”

“So, he’s controlling?”

“I guess,” you uttered as your mind left you. You could remember the look in his eyes when he told you to say behind. Normally, they were bloodshot and soaked in fear and hate. In that moment though, all you could saw was desire. Desire to keep you safe from whatever may happen while he went to go attack a well-known school. While he went to go kill All Might. He never confirmed anything to you until later in time when he confessed that he just wanted to keep you out of harms way. That he was more afraid of you getting captured by those bastard heroes than if it was him.

“I was more of an assist if needed, nothing more than a tool to use on smaller missions.” You tried to divert, making sure he didn’t see you pause. 

“I see, so, basically his personal assassin?” He asked. Noticeably getting more comfortable around you since his hands were now down on his lap instead on perched up on the table in a dominate manner.

“Yeah, I suppose I was.” You verified.

“Than I guess you wouldn’t happen to know Shigaraki Tomura’s true name?” The cop questioned, eyeing you down.

You let a faint chuckle leave your lips. “He wouldn’t tell anyone.”

While that may be true now, you just happened to know since you both grew up together. You were with him through everything and anything, promising to stick by his side to the bitter end. And you supposed, this was going to be the end on your side. Jail wasn’t exactly the kindest towards people like you. Sure, you could defend yourself? But for how long until something truly horrid happens to your in a place like that. 

“I see,” he uttered before digging through his folder once more. Quick to place a picture of Shigaraki on the table top in front of you. When you looked down at it you tired your best not to let even the most faint smile creep up on you, knowing that if you did, the cop would figure it out. 

He pointed to Shigaraki’s real hands before saying, “Do you know what that’s from? What does it mean to him?”

Around Shigaraki’s wrist was a burn mark, the size of your hand. In truth, he had a lot of them planted along his body, some intentional, some not. That one just happened to be an unintentional one that happened when you both were young and you had no control over your quirk. He used to always bother you when it came to those, but other time he started to pester you less. You thought he had just accepted the burn, but in truth, he just happened to grow fond of it. 

“Well, I mean, it’s a burn.” You said in a deadpanned tone. You didn’t know why he was asking such a question when it was obvious what it was.

“I know, but the hand print,” the cop started out by saying, “who’s hand print is it? Who caused that burn?”

“No one that I know of. It was probably during a fight he had before I ended up joining.” You were lying right through your teeth, and you would do it over and over again if it meant he was safe. Even at the cost of your own head. 

“Ah, I guess I just wasted my time with that one.” The man stated to himself before putting the picture away. In your mind, you truly wished he didn’t. 

The cop sighed. “Now, we don’t have much on you. But, I’d like to ask you a question anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I want to see if you know anyone named, uh, let’s see here,” he hummed as he flipped through his notes. “An [Name]? Does it ring any bells? Has Shigaraki ever mentioned it before?”

Oh, yeah, he has. Many times in many different ways. He loved the way your named flowed out, hell, he adored it so much he couldn’t even call you by your codename at times. He would just spit it out at the base, when you were both alone. You knew he struggled a bit when you both were out on a mission or in public, but he did try because he didn’t want you to get captured. It was odd to you how they got a hold of your true name, but that wouldn’t be a mystery for long.

“The boy who was attacked by Shigaraki, Midoriya, when your leader approached him at the mall a while back he mentioned his name several times. Has he ever said it around the base before? Is it one of the other members?” He revealed.

You knew Shigaraki had that habit. Part of you wanted to be mad, angry even for not telling you that happened, but you couldn’t even if you tried. 

“He has, but it’s not anyone at base. None of us know that guy.” You simply put. In the back of your head, even if you did rat yourself out, you knew they would use you as a bargaining chip with Shigaraki. That reason alone made your belief that all these bastards were sick and corrupt even stronger.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since you did say he was a private person.” The cop stated, his little act good until he said, “Except what he said doesn’t aline with your statement.”

“That so?” You questioned. You couldn’t break under pressure, it’s exactly what they want. You swore you would die before you ever let someone like this have the upper-hand in things. “What did he say than?”

The cop eyed you down, looking for even the smallest bit of sweat to graze your skin. When he didn’t see any, he complied with your request and read quote for quote, “When it comes down to it, I hate basically everything. But the Hero Killer pisses me off the most right now, hell, he even hurt [Name]. I don’t know if he’s native or just so cocky that he thinks he can get away with that.”

The man gazed up at you, wondering if your neutral expression changed at all. It didn’t. In that moment, you were willing to do anything to just have him continue, even mask your happiness.

“When another UA student showed up, Shigaraki made up the ruse that he was a fan of Midoryia after seeing him on TV during the Sport’s Festival. Since he had his hood on, no one could tell it was the leader of the League. Just as he was about to leave though he said,” the cop stated as he cleared his throat, “Oh, you were here with a friend? I didn’t know, sorry about that. I should probably get going too. [Name] will get mad if I don’t show up on time, he’s very picky like that.”

The man sighed as he closed the folder, moving it to the side a bit. He leaned back into his chair before huffing out, “We originally thought that name was just someone close to him, or maybe even just to throw us off our investigative course. But based on several of your statements and the burn marks, I’m starting to believe it’s someone a little more than just a person he trusts.”

“Is that so?” You questioned.

“It is. You stated before he was private, so perhaps you had no idea. But at the same time you stated that it was no one at your base, even though the Hero Killer was a member of the League and supposedly hurt [Name] in some kind of fight or a falling out.” The cop explained. “Now, if Shigaraki is such a private person, it’s hard for me to believe that [Name] wouldn’t be someone who works very closely with him.”

You knew it was game over. You were close, but not perfect enough to pass this level in the game. When the cop placed his hand back on the table, you knew it was really game over. “So, mind telling me who Shigaraki is to [Name]?”

In your mind it raced over so many different points in your life that you shared with Shigaraki. The fights, the late nights, the mid-day talks, everything. Though, the most vivid one was the day he expressed such love to you in a way that words could never describe. You remembered the way his blue locks obeyed gravity, invading his sweaty and memorized face as he gazed down at you. You remember the feel of tears in the corners of your eyes, not daring to fall. His hand soon coming up to your face and wiping it away with his thumb, careful not to hurt you with his quirk. 

You sighed, your gaze hard on the cop as you felt the protective walls you had up start to fall. You needed to say it quickly or else he wouldn’t believe you. You couldn’t hurt Shigaraki more than you probably already have just by being caught. Perhaps he would come for you, but in the end you just needed to tell one more lie. One more lie before you reveal the truth to Shigaraki and only him alone. 

“No one important.”

[bisexualalexclaremontdiaz]

A Very Hoovander Christmas (AKA Just Kill Me Now)

This is my Christmas gift to my wife @phobidawg​ and I hope you appreciate how I corrupted my soul beyond repair writing this. Like,

Anyways, don’t read this unless you’re part of the RCSFU, trust me. If you do read it, finish up your will first cuz ur not surviving this.

Hooty stared down a rat that scampered in front of the door of the owl house, its small toes making a tempting pitter-patter against the ground. He slowly moved closer and closer to it, his mouth watering at the sight of its plump body. It gave its ear a little scratch and Hooty could wait no longer. 

With one swift motion, Hooty scooped the rat into his mouth, swallowing it whole. However, the rat didn’t go down easy and for a moment Hooty began to choke. 

“Hoot, hoot,” he coughed shrilly, trying to get the rat down his throat. His eyes watered and his throat was sore but he managed to swallow the creature.

“Ahem,” a voice came from next to him. He whipped his elongated body toward the noise and found the source to be a red-haired man in a dark green suit.

A very handsome man.

“Hi,” Hooty attempted to say seductively but his throat was still scratchy from choking on the rat and he ended up just sounding strangled. He felt his cheeks warm in a blush but the man only raised a bushy, red eyebrow towards him. 

“Is this,” he pulled out a paper from his green briefcase and read something off of it, “the owl house residence?”

“It is, hoot,” he replied, leaning towards the beautiful man, “Are you looking for someone?”

The man leaned away from him and Hooty felt a small sting in his heart, “Yes, I booked a room here and it says here I need to see Edalyn Clawthorne?”

“I can get her,” Hooty looked into his light green eyes, trying not to swoon. He didn’t break this eye contact as he bellowed out in an unearthly shriek, “EDAAAAA!”

The man didn’t give a start or even break eye contact at the scream and only calmly moved his eyes to Eda when she walked out of the house.

“Are you Edalyn Clawthorne?” Hooty watched his red moustache move as he spoke.

“Are you a cop?” Eda answered, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“No,” The man said but then cocked his head, “Well, kind of. But I’m not here for that. I’m Evander Wade and I booked a room here.”

At this he looked the owl house up and down, pursing his soft, pink lips, “It looks different from the brochure.”

“That’s the magic of editing, kid,” Eda smirked and pushed open the door, “Come on in.”

“Does this place do refunds?”

“Of course not,” Eda scoffed and Hooty watched as she produced the key to the spare room, “What kind of amateur conwoman do you think I am?”

The man, Evander, took the key from her hand, stretched away from him like it was something dirty. He let Eda lead him to the spare room and Hooty watched as he walked away, up the stairs. 

“Who’s that?” King’s squeaky voice came from next to him.

“Evander Wade,” Hooty sighed the name, savouring the way it sounded, “He’s staying here, hoot.” 

“What? Why?” King whined, “I don’t want some leprechaun man staying here.”

Hooty took in King’s comment and realized, yes, Evander did kind of look like a leprechaun, didn’t he? A sexy one, for sure.

“You know Eda, hoot,” Hooty replied to King, “Always looking for ways to make money, hoot hoot.”

“Well, how long is he staying?” King prodded and Hooty opened his beak to tell him he didn’t know but instead Eda’s voice came from the stairs.

“A week,” Eda told them, “He’ll be working the whole time. You won’t even know the guy’s here.”

“He’s staying here on Christmas?”

As King whined and Eda argued, Hooty let their voices fade and looked upwards, to where he could imagine Evander was unpacking his things. A week with this strange, gorgeous man. Hooty couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

--

It had been three days. Three days of Evander staying there, in the owl house. And Hooty had yet to have another conversation with him.

Evander never left his room, not even to eat. Why did he come here if he wasn’t going to leave his room? Hooty eventually decided enough was enough and resolved to bring Evander some food. So he set a plate of fresh rats that he had hunted himself and headed up the stairs.

Evander’s door was right at the end of the hallway and suddenly Hooty began to become nervous. What if Evander laughed at him? Told him to go away?

Hooty pushed these feelings down and knocked on the door, “Evander? Mr. Wade? I thought you could use something to eat since you haven’t left your room in a while? Hoot?”

For a moment there was no answer and Hooty scolded himself for disturbing him. He turned to leave when he heard a creak.

“What’s that?” his voice was rough and Hooty’s breath caught in his lungs.

“Rats,” he managed to hoot, “I hunted them just for you.”

“Thanks,” he took the plate, picking up one of the rats. Hooty watched as Evander brought the rat to his mouth and opened it to reveal sharp, white fangs. The fangs pierced into the skin of the rats and slowly sucked the blood out of their lifeless bodies.

He must have noticed the look of intrigue on Hooty’s face because he clarified, “I’m half vampire. From my father’s side.”

“Your father is a vampire, hoot?” Hooty’s eyes widened, “And your mother?”

Evander shifted uncomfortably, “I’d rather not talk about my mother.”

“Hoot, is that why you aren’t spending Christmas with them?” Hooty asked, then cursed himself for being too forward. But Evander didn’t seem to mind.

“Partly, yes,” Evander replied, “But also because I have work.”

“You’re working?” Hooty hooted, “On, hoot, Christmas? You can’t work on Christmas!”

“I haven’t had a real Christmas in a long time,” Evander said and Hooty’s heart ached for him.

“Well, you can have Christmas with us!” Hooty brightened at the thought, “It will be fun, hoot!”

“I don’t know,” Evander looked hesitant but Hooty had made up his mind.

“You’re having Christmas with us,” Hooty announced, “And that’s final, hoot!”

Evander gave him a small amused smile and Hooty was sure his heart would burst.

“Okay.”

--

“I can’t hooting believe this!” 

“Hooty, it’s not that big of a deal,” Evander attempted to calm him down. But even someone as fucking hot as Evander couldn't calm him down right now.

Eda and King had decided, without telling Hooty, that they would be spending Christmas with Lilith. If it wasn't for Evander, he would have been left all alone.

"Your first Christmas," Hooty now turned to the vampire leprechaun, "And it's just you and me, hoot."

Evander took a step closer to him, "Maybe- Maybe that's how I want it."

Hooty's anger fell away at those words. He and Evander had grown closer over these past few days, with Evander opening up to Hooty about his family and Hooty in turn told him about what it was like to be an elongated owl house thing.

There had been instances, in their conversations, where Hooty was sure Evander would make a move. But the subject would change or they would be interrupted. Hooty was beginning to wonder if the universe was against them for some reason.

But now, with Evander's hesitant words, the way his green eyes held his own brown ones, how he leaned towards him, Hooty was sure that this was finally happening. 

The light streaming through the windows caught in Evander’s red hair and Hooty felt his owl heart speed up.

He opened his beak to speak, “Evander, hoo-”

He couldn’t even finish his hoot because suddenly Evander was kissing him. The lips of the vampire leprechaun felt soft against his beak. For a moment, Hooty couldn't breathe but then instinct took over.

When they finally pulled apart, Evander placed his hand on Hooty's face.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for teaching me the true meaning of Christmas."

"Hoot," Hooty hooted, "anytime. I just wished that you didn't have to leave tomorrow."

"Actually about that," Evander looked hopeful, "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it, hoot?"

"I left my job!" Evander revealed, "I'm no longer a fascist supercop. I have no job now!"

"Wow, Evander," Hooty swooned, "I can't believe you left your job for me, a person/elongated owl thing you've only known for a week. That's so romantic!"

"I know right," Evander grinned, "And to think my mother used to say I wasn't a romantic."

Hooty leaned onto Evander, burying his feathery head into his chest, breathing in the smell of four leaf clovers. He sighed happily as he thought to the days ahead, filled with hope.

This was the best Christmas ever.

[michael3434g]

Tom and the awful Detective Henry

Tom and the Despicable Detective Henry

Written by Michael D. Gutierrez

Chapter 1. Rules and Lies Forty years ago in the town of Eagle Rock, there was a golden age of great detectives. Those detectives ran out all of the mafias and exposed corrupt political figures Everyday reading the Eagle Rock Post seemed like reading an old pulp detective novel. The story’s with all the fighting and the good guy getting the girl in the end. The bomb being stopped when there’s just one second left on the counter.

Good for me, that golden age stuff is long gone over. Most of the detectives sold out and started to work for private companies and secret government branches, instead of helping the locals. Other detectives that wanted to play hero, were hunted down by private mob detectives, then they were killed. The last honest detective out there. He's somewhat of a folk hero in the streets. His name is Harrison Grant. He's still at work trying to put guys like me in prison. I thought he died a long time ago, but our leads say otherwise. He works incognito.

He's hard for any mob's private detective to track because very few people know what Harrison looks like.

He is considered one of the best. I don't feel he would be difficult to capture because he must be old as heck. Harrison must be like in his late 70's pushing 80's.

I doubt he still working. I assume someone’s just pretending to be him. Probably just using Harrison brand makes sense. I doubt he still working himself.

My name is Tom Dime, I run with the Grump Street gang. I am one of the three people apart from this small task force to capture this sun of a gun. The other Twitter men with are, my right-hand man, Daniel Kan and some private investigator name Henry Shiz.

Detective Henry Shiz is kinda primadonna.

Two hours ago we got a tip-off that detective Harrison was in the neighborhood.

Henry: I hope you boys are armed because this could be dangerous. We are capturing him not hunting him. Harrison is not a man that will not be captured easily. Harrison was an A-rank threat before he went off the radar. Daniel: He's just a wash up old man that can't let go of his the glory days. This should be a cakewalk. Henry: That's not true Daniel, Harrison has busted a lot of our top leaders in the past. This old man is not a pushover, he's a problem. I'm just really surprised it's just the three of us on this mission. Tom: Detective Henry, do you have a history with detective Harrison? Henry: Yes, Harrison showed me most of his old tricks, when I was a young up and coming detective. Around your age, early twenties. We work together in a couple of major big cases back in the day. Daniel: How can me and my buddy Tom, know you won't betray us when we start killing your old friend boy, Harrison? Henry: That won't be the most dreadful thing I have ever done, ok. Trust me I can deal with it. First, I like being on the Grump street payroll. Second, the FBI does not want me anymore, in reason, I won't get into. Lastly, my daughter is going to a scam ridden art college, so I need as much money as I can get my hands on. Tom: I know liars Daniel, and he is not one. Don't get me wrong, he is a cockroach, but he is our cockroach. Daniel: Great because nothing is going to stop me in blowing Harrison's brains out. It is his fault my father went to the slammer. My dad was just selling fake social security account. We got a tip from a store owner that the gang has a connection with. He said he saw detective Harrison leaving and entering the rundown Dude Gum factory for a couple of days. Around 3:30am. All three of us enter through a broken window to get into the factory. Henry: Alright boys listen up. Let's stick together, ok. Daniel: No I can't, Henry. I need to get revenge now. Daniel ran down the hall, with his gun out. Daniel has all focus on finding detective Harrison. Henry: Dumb kid, he does not know who he is dealing with. Your friend is a moron, Tom. We get more money if catch the guy alive. Tom: Sorry, Henry, Daniel has never been the type of guy that takes orders.What is your plan, man? More money if catch the guy alive. Henry: Stealth. It' Stealth. Taking advantage of Harrison age is the best way to get the drop on him. His hearing must not be that great anymore. He probably can’t put up a fist as fight like he uses to.

I and Henry slowly walk upstairs to oversee the factory so we could find detective Harrison. As we walk around the hall I see Henry planting nano cameras on the walls. Tom: I still don't understand why would you want to betray your own friend? Henry: Friend? I have a very small history with detective Harrison. That's why I would not call him a friend. It would be great for me, if he disappeared. I have done some bad things, so maybe someday he may come after me. One less worry on my mind.

Tom: Oh, I see... You want insurance so Harrison won't come after you. Henry: It would make me sleep easier knowing he's swimming with the fishes. A fire alarm goes off all around the Dude Gum factory. Henry and me grabbed our guns out immediately. I would be lying if I said i wasn't nervous. Tom: I really hope that was just, Daniel fucking around with the alarm. Let's run back downstairs. I think I thought I saw a fire alarm there. A voiceover from an intercom shouted saying "I'm not there Henry, I'm in the cafeteria". Henry: Dammit, it is Harrison, Tom!

Tom: That alarm scared the shit out of me. Do you think someone ratted us out and alerted, Harrison? Henry: That's possible, Tom. I think it was most likely Daniel's recklessness that got Harrison's attention. That high school dropout fool. I and Henry entered in the large lunch room and see an old man with a wearing trench coat. Could it be Harrison? He looked a lot older than I imagine. Henry's face looks like he saw a ghost, he is speechless. Tom: You're Harrison, right? The detective? You got the whole trench coat thing.

Harrison: Yes stranger, I am Harrison. Now the young man I have a question back to you. Are you three here to murder me. Tom: No, we... Henry: Shut the heck up Tom, don't tell him anything, not even a lie. Don't give him a bit of info. Harrison: Henry, it's really nice to see you again. It's funny to see you as an old man. Of course not as old as me. I remember the good old days when you were a young man ready to solve every case that popped up. It saddens me to see my pupil working with the wrong crowd.

Henry: The old days were great. I'm glad to see you again in a strange way. It's nostalgic to see you still wear your old gray trench coat. Most elite detective’s stop that fashion trend several decades ago.

Harrison: This trench coat cost me a couple grand. I plan to wear it until I die.

The fire alarm is still ringing over and over, it's driving me insane. Tom: Yo, could you guys stop talking about dress up? Harrison, you turn off the freaking alarm! The ringing is killing my mind. Harrison: Calm down, the alarm will go off by itself in a minute or less. Henry: Harrison, why have you been hanging out in the Dude Gum factory? Harrison: For a couple weeks I've been investigating the link between Dude Gum and blindness. A lot of Dude Gum consumers and factory workers have been getting blindness. Lucky most cases of blindness are temporary.

Tom: Crap. I guess I won't steal a crate of Dude Gum on my way out. Harrison: Since I was honest and answered your question, could you answer mine? Are you boys here to murder me? Because I need to know before I make my next move.

The fire alarm stop ringing, now in the room is a moment of silence. Henry: Sorry, I'm on my client's payroll, Harrison. I could not back out now, they would kill me, my daughter. I really hoped this day would never happen. Harrison: I wished you had the guts to just say the truth. Shame on you, Henry. I trained you to use your detective skills for the greater good, not for selfish reasons. Henry: I had no choice, Harrison. This isn't a black and white issue. Harrison: Don't act like you're the victim, Henry. What happened to you? I remembered when you liked to help the common man. I remember you said something like that once to me. I am aware of all the peoples lives you destroyed, by fooling around with the stock market. You have grown up to be a crook. That’s the legacy I see.

Henry: You know what fine, you're right, Harrison. I don't like to be paid $60 and one cup of sugar a day looking for a damn lost kid. Working for the elite keeps me off the street, ok. You knew, I always hated being poor. I saw a way out, so took it.

Harrison: Just like everyone else, you grew up to be a big disgrace. I feel ashamed of being your mentor. It kills me a little bit every time I find out one of my ex-students are abusing their skills for selfish reasons. Tom: Harrison, you should stop talking to us, like if you had the upper hand. With one small phone call, I could get a small army of gangbangers over here right now. The capital of the Grump street gang is literally down the block. Henry: Tom, I told you already to shut it! Let the detectives talk. You're just simply the help.

Daniel finally entered the same room as me, Henry, and detective Harrison. Daniel has a big bag of stolen Dude Gum. Daniel paused and said.

Daniel: Oh shit is that the detective, Harrison guy?

Harrison: Hi. I just warned your friends about Dude Gum. You should stay away from the stuff.

Daniel: What the heck, it's fucking, detective Harrison. What are you guys waiting for? When are we going to shoot him? You got a gun, right? Tom: We are here to capture him, Daniel. Remember? Daniel: This guy is a folk hero, kill him now and you will be a legend for life. That would be crazy Rad. Tom: If we kill him we won't get paid, Daniel. I only want the paper. Glory doesn't pay the bills dude. Harrison: You guys should kidnap me already, before the cops and the fire department shows up. Remember I pulled the fire alarm three minutes ago? Unless you want to talk to me to death. Henry: Let's go outside gentlemen! An escort van should be on its way by now. Handcuff Harrison and let's head outside.

Ok, great it seems like he won't give up a fight. We just get him to the gang warehouse and then we all get paid.

I could see Henry feels shaken seeing Harrison. I can’t tell if he sad, mad, or happy.

This was way too overhyped. None of us thought this would be such a cakewalk.

Daniel: Harrison, I am surprised you're not crying like a little bitch. You do know you're walking the death march? My boss up the street is going to go nuts when he sees you. Harrison: Only God says when I die, young man. I don't blame you because of your a product of this strange world.

Daniel: You don't know anything about me, man. I am the one who is going to end you.

Harrison: You don’t look like a murder. There is still time for you to turn back. Think to yourself is this the type of world I want to live in. It is not too late for you unlike your friend Henry.

Daniel: Henry, Harrison is talking trash about you.

Tom: Ouch.

Henry: Can everyone shut up the heck up for a second!? Our transportation is here.

A white van showed up across the street. All four of us ran in the back of the van. Daniel put duct tape over detective Harrison mouth. Daniel: I can't wait to see you beg for your life when we bring you to our boss. Henry: I'm surprised the van shown up on time. Also, the driver does not look drunk or stoned. The gangs hiring management department must be getting better. Hey, driver what’s your name? The driver was a young girl That could not be more than 19 years old. She was wearing a green jumpsuit with a name tag saying, Freddy. I saw Daniel's, eyes brighten up with her cuteness. Freddy: Oh, hey, my name is Freddy. I will be your driver for today. It's nice to finally meet you, detective Henry. I’ve heard interesting about you. You found out who burn down the Grump warehouse near Echo Park. Henry: That was my first case with Grump, Freddy. Freddy is normally not a female name. I like it, Freddy. I find it to be bold. Freddy: Thank you. My father picks it out my name. Name after some baseball player. By the way, I'm shocked you guys captured, Harrison. I didn't even think he was still alive. Daniel: Girl, I like your jumpsuit. It's cool you're jumpsuit as Grump Street green. How long have you been in the Grump organization? I've never seen you before in any kickbacks. Henry: Daniel, you moron! Detective Harrison is in the van. Now he knows we're Grump street members. I hope you plugged his fricken ear. Daniel: I didn't but Who gives a shit? He's going to die in an hour or two anyway. It doesn't really matter, man. Henry: Tom and Daniel throw Harrison back in the van and shut up! I hope I won't be paired up with you two numbskulls again. You guys mess up my style. Anyways get Harrison tied up good. I am going to make some calls.

I tide Harrison's feet together and Daniel stuffed one of us dirty gym socks down his face throat. After that, we all went to the van and driven off. Freddy: You guys ready to jam out? Tom: Freddy, where are you driving us? Freddy: We're going to the abandon, Fish Tung factory. Members are starting to show up to see if you captured, Harrison. Henry: That’s strange. I thought we would be going to the Grump compound. Do know if there any reason why we’re not going there.

Henry: Fish Tung factory is out of business? Wow, that is insane, my grandfather works there when, Fish Tung first open, 60 years ago. What a shame, this country is really falling apart. Daniel: Fish Tung, closed down six years ago, Henry. All the jobs got moved overseas. Henry: Another rival fish company must have hired a detective to run out, Fish Tung and other competitors out of town. It a common thing to in business nowadays. Or most likely greedy corrupt unions. Either way very tragic. Tom: How do detectives ruin a business. Henry: Lots of times for small business we would dress up as IRS agents and make up fake tax fines. It gets funny when a stupid owner would pay us, off on the spot. Then we would show up once a week until the business is bankrupt. You got to turn a little soulless to enjoy that type of job. It’s mafioso type stuff. Daniel: Man, Henry, you're ruining America more than lawyers. Henry: Don't get me started on how us detectives use unions on major companies. That's a 30-minute lecture, pretty much, Daniel. I doubt you could comprehend it so I won't waste my breath Daniel: F off, Henry. Tom: Henry, are you going to stick around and watch what happens your old pal? Henry: No, thanks. I don't want to watch, what unholy things Grump has planned for detective Harrison. I just had lunch not that long ago. Tom: I hope it's not dog related. Once a dog tastes human flesh, it's hard for it to respect it's master again. So I have heard.

As I said that I notice, Freddy looked a little nervous. I'm guessing she has not been in Grump for that long. It has taken me a long time for my fear to fall off my back. One day I just accepted that no one cared for me except the gang. That gave me the strength to not fear death. Knowing the biggest gang in the United States of America got my back. Daniel: So Freddy, what are you doing later? I'm just asking if you want to see a movie with me. The fellow that captured the world famous detective Harrison. As long as I know Daniel, he's always been awful in picking up chicks. He also sucks at being a nice guy.

Freddy: Sorry Daniel, I'm going to be a little busy this month. I got to ship a bunch of drugs down Highland Park. Thanks though. Daniel: Ha, that's ok. Hey anyways do you want some Dude Gums, Freddy? I stoled a bunch at the Dude Gum factory. I wish I stole a crate full of the stuff. Freddy: I'm flattered, but I heard Dude Gums are not very good for you. Especially for your eyes. Henry: She rejected you and won't even take your Gum. Just give up already,  Daniel, she's not going to bite. Daniel: Shut up, old man or I'll pimp slap your ass. Henry: What!? Did you even hear what you said? By the way, I am not even that old.

Henry: I hope you two morons won't act like this when we get to the Fish Tung factory. You do know the main boss of Grump will be there as well, right? It will be the first time I’ll probably ever see. I don’t even know anyone that knows his name.

Daniel: Wow What really? The founder of the whole gang will be there. Harrison must really have made life hell for Grump gang. 

Tom: Henry, you should give us a little bit of respected. I and Daniel just help you catch one the greatest detective on the face of this planet. You should recommend us for some type promotion. Henry: Why would respect I low rank gang bangers that couldn't even pass high school? You both failed upwards. Daniel: What the hell man, that's not even our fault the school district went bankrupt three years ago. Henry: You both almost ruined the mission. Freddy, you should have been there and seen it. Detective Harrison thought Tom and stupid Daniel were the biggest clowns. Harrison could tell both of you were all bark and no bite. It was sad. Freddy: Ha. I am glad to see all three of you guys are alright. The Van finally made it to the Tung Fish factory. They parked next to the main dock harbor. It smelled bad.

Henry: Alright boys get Harrison out of the goddamn van. Daniel immediately throws Harrison down on the concrete floor. Harrison left trench coat pocket ripped on the way down. Two of his button ripped off as well.

Tom: Where is everyone? I thought there would be a bunch gangster here already. Henry: I was told if detective Harrison was ever captured the founder would kill him personally. I guess he wants the world to know he captured detective Harrison. Instead of him mysteriously disappearing in history as a hero.

Tom: I assume the founder thinks Harrison, vanishing as a legend is too good of a death for him. He probably wants the world to know Grump organization is not to be messed with. Henry: That is true, Tom. The Grump founder must be on his helicopter flying over here right about now. I sent the founder our GPS location just know. The founder does not live close by, so we’ll all have to be here for a couple of hours. Daniel: It is super wack none of us is going to get any credit for nabbing detective old fart. Money cool in all, but bragging rights would have been great.

Daniel begins going through the van pulling out beers from one of Freddy’s storage containers.

Daniel: I found our consolation prize.

Tom: Daniel, that is Grump street property. That is not a good idea bro. Daniel: Yeah we’re Grump street, So let’s all celebrate. Haha. Freddy: Oh ahh... Henry: Freddy, I apologize on behalf of my goons miss behaviors. Daniel put those beers back right now! If those go missing Freddy can get in massive trouble from the higher-ups. Freddy: Those beers are my own stash. Sometimes I get paid for products instead of cash so you guys could drink up. I was to about to offer them anyways. Tom: Freddy, you're the best. I will try not to look drunk when the founder gets here. Henry: Please don't. It’s the first time I'll get to meet the man who signs my paychecks face to face. I and Daniel began started drinking. It's a perfect time to drink a beer. The alcohol smell covers the rotten fish gut stench surrounding us.

Freddy notice Henry was not drinking. Freddy: Henry, you deserve a drink just much as the other guys. Henry, why are you not drinking?

Daniel: Because he’s a fruit. Freddy laughs at Daniels joke. Freddy: Henry, you deserve a drink just much as the other guys. Capturing the world famous detective deserves a drink.  Henry looks really surprised and happy. So was I. I really didn’t think this underdog operation would work. We capture one of the greatest detectives of the world. He might be been an old geezer now, but he still a legend.

Tom: Henry you sure you don’t want? The beer will make you twice as happy.

Henry: No thanks. I don’t drink liquor at all. It reminds about family.

Tom: Me too man. Before my mom kick out my pope. I and my pope would drink every weekend. We would try to crash every local party we can. He was so funny back in the day.

Henry: Once again no thank you. I can’t even stand the smell of alcohol. So please step three steps back.

Tom: Hey Henry, what about your boy Harrison a beer? He should at least have a last drink. Henry: Harrison,  doesn’t drink.

[queenzufufu]

Soldier Boy (1/?)

Summary: Alfredo only had three main goals in life: earn money, keep his family safe, and to try and one up his parents and make it past the age of thirty.

The Fakes? He couldn't be any further from that world. No doubt he'd love to be part of it but he knows it's never going to happen. There's just no way.

Until one night, and one heist gone wrong, finds him in the middle of a gang war that he finds he has no choice but to get involved in.

Alfredo has never been much of a believer in fate. You got what you were given, that’s what he’s been raised to believe and so far in his short life, nothing has happened to go against or disprove that state of mind.

As far as Alfredo is concerned, there are three things in life that really matter. Family, loyalty, and money. His grandma would tell him nothing was more important than family. That everything he did in life had to be of some benefit for the family. She had taught him from a young age that one day he may be expected to take a fall for someone else, and that he should take that fall with honor and pride. That he should be selfless and be giving at all times, first and foremost - his life would be nothing without those of his family as well.

She said everything he had in life. The clothes on his back, the food in his belly, his bed and the roof he slept under, was all because of the family, and it was up to him to work hard every day of his life to pay them back and provide for the next generation. To do what his dead parents were now unable to.

His Uncle would tell him nothing was more important than loyalty. It kind of tied into the family side of things but loyalty could stretch boundaries. His Uncle would tell him stories of his father - his older brother - the most loyal and fearless man he ever knew. He said where they were now was largely down to him. The respect they still had from other crews was because they remembered his father. A straight up guy. Smart and loyal.

When he was only about five Alfredo once said it didn’t seem very smart to have been shot by a police. The swift backhand he earned was enough to make him shut up permanently on that front.

And his older brother, Denver, would tell him that money was what made the world go round. With money you could be anyone you wanted to be and no one could touch you or anyone you cared about. He’d tell Alfredo when they were really young - going out on the streets to see what cars were ripe for the taking - that money meant power, and the best way to survive in a place that could be as cruel as their city was to make as much of it as possible.

It depended on the day of the week, which one Alfredo felt more attached to at the time.

Either way, he has a place. And for this, he is grateful for. Every day he saw so much pain, so much suffering in the eyes of those who did not have what he has. Who had no family looking out for them, no one loyal enough to always stand by them. And those people definitely had no money.

Is he happy as a person? That is an entirely different question. Alfredo supposes it doesn’t matter. What he wanted… he wasn’t entitled to have a say - at least not yet. He’s a soldier, that’s the most important and defining quality about him. He would live and die for his family.

That morning is like any other. Alfredo awakes from his bed in his family’s basement by his grandma stomping her foot loudly on the kitchen floor above him. Groaning, he slips one leg out of bed, and then the other. It’s always cold in their basement, despite the generally hot climate outside, and getting up is never a pleasant affair.

He can’t afford to dally though, his grandma will have his head if he’s not out of the door by half eight. Time is money after all and money was still important even if it wasn’t always her number one priority. And seeing as Alfredo and his older brother were the men of the house, it was up to them to go out to work every day and bring home the earnings. His grandma had a job too, of course, she wasn’t one to just sit around. She worked as a hairdresser around twenty minutes away. A nice place, fancy, attracted high-end clients. Perfect for his grandma, Especially with their house being so close to the pawn shop. What could he say? It ran in the family, he supposed.

Clambering up the steep staircase on his hands and feet - like he had done ever since he was older enough to walk - Alfredo bounds into the kitchen, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms, walking over to where is grandma is washing up last nights dishes and kisses her on the cheek.

“You’re up late. Your brother was out ten minutes ago,” are the first words she said to him in her heavy Filipino accent, and though Alfredo knew there was no real anger or annoyance behind them, he can never help the little kick in the heart it would give him.

Denver. His older brother. And by far the more capable and adept at living this life of theirs. Alfredo is good, people always tell him that. But Alfredo had always been too soft, more keen on making friends out of their rivals than dealing with them. He hadn’t shot his first man until he was fourteen, a whole two years older than his brother had been. He’d cried as well, a lot, even though the man he’d had to shoot had been a rat for another crew. He’s shot at many rivals since then, hit a lot and killed a few, but it was never easy. No, taking a life, any life, had never sat easy with him.

As he sat at their small breakfast table, he glances up to watch the TV. It was the morning news and shaky camera footage was showing a bank robbery heist that had taken place a week or so earlier - Montgomery Legion, a place where only the wealthiest stored their riches - robbed a small sum of £1.2 million dollars. There was no special prize for guessing who was responsible but there was no need for guessing in the first place, as the perpetrators mocked the cops from the roof of the bank, clad in tactical armour and face masks, before they leapt into a chopper and vanished into the skies above, the authorities unable to keep up or track them down. Yep, that sort of behaviour was typical of The Fakes.

Pausing in her washing, his grandma turns and points a spoon at the TV, nodding in approval. “You see there, Alfredo? That’s what real men look like,” she lectures. Oh Alfredo knew that alright. He’s basically been raised to worship The Fakes - placed in front of the TV when he was a little boy, witnessing the havoc they caused for the rich and corrupt. Told that was what he was to aspire to be.

Alfredo doesn’t know, he’s probably more suited with what he knows. The Fakes… they just seemed too out there, too unreal, Robin Hood-esque characters come to life. Incredible and amazing to observe but not something he could, in reality, strive to be, no matter how much he'd like to.

Not much is known about them. Every so often a name or two is whispered in the winds throughout the city. Golden Boy, Mogar, The Vagabond; they come and go with the changing of the seasons. The most recent one Alfredo recalls, and quite frankly the most absurd, was Rimmy Tim. I mean come on! Rimmy Tim? What kind of dumbass name was that?

Honestly, as much fun as being part of a crew like that sounded, Alfredo knows he'll never get out of his neighborhood, and the few corners that were his. But when his main job is to stand around all day and watch as addicts and dealers exchanged cash in hand, occasionally running from the cops or fighting with rival crews, he often finds his mind wondering to more exciting, but imagined, lands.

So he’s left daydreaming, while The Fakes continue with their grand heists, in their flashy cars with their insane arsenal of weapons and technology. Different lives, he supposes, never meant to mix.

He smiles to himself in recollection of all the news stories that have been the talk of his house over the years.

But what a fucking life, he thinks in awe. What a fucking life.

He meets up with his right had man a few blocks away from a new corner, one they’d take the other day when of of his runners had noticed there was no one on it. As far as Alfredo see’s, it was for the taking. His Lieutenant, Angel Guanzon - sixteen years old and already fully enrolled into a life of crime. He likes the kid, but he sometimes clashes with Alfredo’s preferred method of conducting business. He’s brash and loud while Alfredo’s observant and more cautious, and he’s eager to fuck a dude up for a late payment while Alfredo is always more keen to give them longer and occasionally, for the really young ones, look the other way.

Alfredo doesn’t know if these differences makes Angel respect him any less but he couldn’t complain. The kid was loyal and for the most part listened to Alfredo and did as he was told.

That day was no different than the rest. By early afternoon, Alfredo feels pretty pleased with himself. Business was going well - not booming - especially since they recently lost another couple of their nearby corners in a shootout, but good enough to keep his grandma happy.

No police either so he thanks his lucky stars for that. He’s experienced enough to be able to handle a couple of street cops but damn if they weren’t annoying and put a dampener on his day.

“Just get her some flowers or something, classy like,” Alfredo offers to Angel, who’s telling him about this new girl he’s interested in.

Angel shakes his head, flipping his baseball cap around in his hands. “Nah, nah, dude. This girl ain’t like that. She’s into the hard shit, you see. She wantin’ her man to be a gangsta, not some pussy ass motherfucka with flowers.”

Alfredo shrugs, giving up. He doesn’t fucking know what to say. The most serious relationship he’s ever been in was back in high school and that was only for three months. The girl he’d dated was now married with four kids so… like he was always thinking, different lives.

Commotion down the street. Alfredo is instantly on guard.

“Yo, they’re coming! They’re coming!” Alfredo turns at the sound of one of his look outs voices and sees three members of Pascal’s crew stalking towards him. Pascal’s crew is fairly new on the scene. Ugly looking motherfuckers, the lot of them. But they’re eager and stupidly confident, and that can be a dangerous cocktail.

“Motherfuckers think they looking at?” Angel mutters.

Alfredo holds his ground as they get closer, standing tall as the leader comes right up to him, face merely a few inches from his own. He tries not to laugh at the bandana adorned around the man’s forehead - black with skull and cross bones - really, did this guy know anything?

“Pinoy boy, you done lost your fucking mind. You’re standing on my real estate.”

Ah so it was Pascal’s crew who were slacking. If there was one thing Alfredo can appreciate about his own crew, it was their professionalism. They clocked in their hours every day, no complaint - salt of the earth kind of guys.

“Mine now,” he says calmly. “Took it while you was resting.”

Beside him, Angel hoists up his shirt, revealing his 9mm. “Y’all too late,” he taunts. Alfredo holds up a hand, signalling for him to take it easy. This is a delicate situation, no matter how inexperienced these rivals might be. Alfredo doesn’t feel like having to deal with any needless bloodshed this day.

“Look,” bandana dude gets right up in his face, using his extra couple of inches to sneer down, pulling a dumb expression Alfredo supposes is meant to intimidate him. “I’m’a let you walk off right now. Or we could do it the other way.”

Alfredo peers speculatively past him - at the three other guys with their baseball bats. He shakes his head, laughing a little. “Who you got to do it the other way? Them?” He turns around to look at his own crew - more than double the number, most of them armed with something more deadly than a bat.

He turns back, glaring up into the dark eyes, daring him to take his chances. He can’t show weakness, not one slither. This was a test more than anything, a scouting group sent to see if he would easily roll over. Pascal’s crew had something else coming if they thought for a second Alfredo would dishonour his family. No solider would do that.

Bandana dude regards him and his crew, not saying a word. Alfredo sees his jaw working. Eventually he leans even closer, bumping foreheads with Alfredo. “You gonna see me in your sleep,” he threatens, shoving his shoulder hard as he turned and walked away.

“Yeah, I know. I know,” Alfredo calls after him, waving them off dismissively.

The dude turns back. “Yeah,” he shouts.

Alfredo just laughs, turning his back to him. He gives the nod to Angel, who immediately starts jumping up and down, shoving his gun away again. “That’s right, keep walking, bitch!”

Once he’s calmed down and Pascal’s crew have vanished from sight, he looks to Alfredo, who by now is sat outside the closest house, rolling and unrolling a twenty his in fingers. “They’re gonna come back,” Angel says, sitting down next to him.

“Yeah, way we just punk’d them?” Alfredo looks over, sticking the twenty in the corner of his mouth like it’s a smoke. He nods slowly, observing his once again calm corner. “They got to.”

He’s walking back from the club late at night when he’s cornered. He’s had his money counted for the day, earned his twelve percent cut, will be giving the youngin’s their four percent of that at the end of the week. It’s time to head home and hopefully get some time for himself before going to bed so he can wake up and do it all over the next day.

It’s just as he turns into an alleyway that he often uses as a short cut, that a strong pair of hands grab him by the shoulders and shove him roughly into the nearest wall. Two guys, one tall and bulky, the other shorter and muscular, both with short blond buzzcuts, are facing him down.

The taller guy as a hand around his throat while his accomplice presses the edge of his knife against Alfredo’s stomach. His breath hitches in his chest, muscles contracting and eyes widening. At this moment he wishes more than ever for his natural instincts to kick in, for his upbringing to come in use and help him kick these guys asses, or at least get him the hell out out here. But alas, nothing comes, he is simply a coward - which is almost as bad as a rat in his family - almost hyperventilating, quivering like a leaf.

The shorter guy, who still has his blade pressing against Alfredo, gives him the once over, smiling and shaking his head, as if he expected nothing more than a scared kid and was proven right.

“Denver’s baby brother, right?” are the words the guy eventually speaks, when he’s satisfied he has Alfredo shaken enough.

At the mention of his brother’s name, Alfredo stiffens up. “I dunno… who - who you’re talking about.”

The man leans in closer, tilting his head to the side, lowering his eyebrows and pulling a face like he’s a disappointed parent. “Now, don’t give me that. Do I look stupid to you?” He lifts the knife from Alfredo’s stomach, only to bring it up to his face, sliding the flat edge of the blade along Alfredo’s top lip.

Alfredo swallows, unable to look away from the razor sharp edge only inches away from his throat. “Nah, man,” he chokes out.

“Your brother,” he says again, running his finger along the metal, smiling as he does so. “He took a package of ours to sell, you see. This was, what was it, Georgy?” he turns to the huge man.

“Three weeks ago,” this so-called “Georgy” replies in an even thicker accent.

“Three weeks ago. You see? You see my dilemma here, Fredo?”

Alfredo glares. Only his family call him ‘Fredo’. He doesn’t say so though, he’s not an idiot. “He - he owes you money,” he answers instead. Motherfucker was gonna be in so much shit when Alfredo next saw him. And to think he was the one his grandma was always telling him he should look up to. At least Alfredo hadn’t fucked up like this yet.

The shorter man smiles his sickly grin once more, teeth glinting dangerously like a sharks. “Ah see, Georgy? I told you this was a smart boy.” He pats Alfredo patronizingly on the head. “So smart boy, I need to you to do something for me, yes? You go to that thieving brother of yours and you tell him that Dmitri is very upset with him but not unforgiving. I am very forgiving, am I not, Georgy?”

“You’ve got until Friday to get me that money,” he says before spinning and walking away, leaving Georgy and Alfredo alone. Alfredo stares up at the giant, throat working, eyes wide, just hoping and praying he would leave. He did, after a few lingering moments of pure intimidation, spitting in Alfredo’s face and then shoving him roughly to the ground.

Alfredo stays where he is, palms stinging from the scrape against the rough ground, muscles agonizingly tight with tension. Only once both men were safely around the far corner does he struggle haphazardly to his feet, checking first to make sure he truly was uninjured before letting out a pure noise of anger.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out, pacing between the tiny gap of the alley walls. He aims a well placed kick at a trash can, sending the contents spilling out into the sidewalk. I’m gonna kill Denver, if those Ruski bastards don’t first, I’m gonna fucking kill him.

A throat clears, sounding louder on the quiet street, and Alfredo glances up to see an elderly lady standing on her porch, looking very unimpressed with the mess the boy had just made outside her home. Her disapproving gaze doesn’t look too dissimilar to that of Alfredo’s grandma, and he instinctively puts on his best behaviour.

“Sorry ma'am,” he raises his hand apologetically, going to pick up the can and trash, making a big show of putting everything back where it should have been, and even adding a few extra beer cans he was pretty sure weren’t even in there in the first place.

She appraises his work, not saying a word. When he’s done she gives him a hard stare, but then nods her head, turning around and heading back into her home.

Alfredo waits until she’s shut the door, and then leans back against the wall, putting a hand against his warmed and reddened cheeks. Embarrassing though it may have been, the moment does do something to bring Alfredo back to reality, to allow him a moment to pause and think and collect his scattered thoughts.

Okay, he decided, this isn’t too bad. As far as disagreements went between the crews this was pretty small. Alfredo was just ashamed that he’d acted so meekly back there, not even attempting to fight back or stand up for himself.

After a few more minutes to calm himself, he slowly stands up straight, brushes himself down, and begins the walk home again, all the while plotting in his head exactly how he was going to kick his brothers ass.

He’s two blocks away from home when he sees it. Or rather, smells it, first. Smoke, rising from nearby, crackling. Fire. Without even thinking, he hurries towards it, like a moth of the night drawn to flame.

He knows the building. It’s a small hotel, usually catering for travelling workers. He skids to a halt just outside, where there are already a crowd of people watching in awe and fear. Snippets of their conversations drift by. Firefighters on their way… police too. How’d it start… Some staff still inside… Fire started on purpose… Someone saw people in masks… It was the Fakes… No the Fakes wouldn’t do this… No it was… Fakes… Fakes, Fakes, Fakes.

Alfredo blinks, and everybody around him takes a step back as there’s an explosion from somewhere inside and the extra heat blasts out onto the street.

He almost steps back too, but something stops him.

Shouts.

There are still people inside, possibly trapped.

He runs inside, not pausing to think.

It’s dark inside, surprisingly, the lights must have been cut out by the fire. The only light, of course, comes from the orange and red flames on the curtains and some of the furniture. In the main lobby, however, it mainly seems filled with smoke - the outbreak of the fire must be deeper inside.

Two young women run towards him, emerging from the deadly clouds, dressed in the hotel uniform.

“Is anyone else inside?” he calls to them.

One just runs straight past him, either uncaring or simply too blinded by fear to give him a second glance. The other, however, pauses and looks back. “Only Drew, I think. We tried to get him to come with us but… but, he won’t!” Her face falls. “Oh, God we shouldn’t have left him. We shouldn’t have left him!” She goes to run back but Alfredo grabs her by the arm.

“It’s okay, I’ll get him. Where is he?”

“Staff room, through those doors at the end on the left,” she quickly replies, taking his hand gratefully. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright. You get yourself out of here,” Alfredo instructs before heading quickly but cautiously further in.

“Hello?” he calls out as he nears the destination. There’s a rustle in the darkness. Alfredo steps towards it, and makes out a form huddled on the floor behind a chair. He rushes forward, dropping to crouch next to the man, tearing a strip off his shirt as he does.

“Hey there, are you Drew?”

The man nods, eyes glazed. Red hair plasters to his forehead. He’s young, Alfredo can see, even younger then Alfredo. “Who –” he begins but ends up choking.

“C’mon,” Alfredo tries pulling him. “We’ve gotta get outta here.”

“Can’t,” the man whispers, like a dead-weight under Alfredo’s arm. He can see now how the girls would have struggled with him, but right now Alfredo hasn’t the patience for any breakdowns or panic attacks.

With his greatest strength, he forces the man to his feet, allowing him to lean against his side. “C’mon, this way! Hold this over your mouth,” he instructs, placing his own hand with his torn up shirt across the man’s face.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they make their way to the main doors. By the time they do get there, Alfredo’s own throat feels raw and his bare arms feel like they are beginning to cook. The emergency services are there now at least, he can get out of here, pleased with his good deed of the day.

As he gives Drew one last shove towards the doors and fresh air, he takes one last glance behind him. Nothing. No screams. Good.

But wait…

Somehow, even though it’s even smokier than earlier, he catches the glimpse of a figure disappearing around a corner, down the hall Alfredo had not explored.

“Hey buddy!” He yells. “That’s the wrong way!” he calls out frantically, but it’s no good, the figure has vanished.

Alfredo pauses, torn between taking the sensible option and making a run for the exit - where the firefighters are almost ready to make an exit and are calling for him to come out - or following this stranger for no other reason than he was still nursing his bruised pride from earlier and felt like earning some more praise by being the hero for once. Because he wasn’t naive to believe he would go after someone out of the goodness in his heart. Really, he was a fucking criminal at the end of the day. A low-life. No use pretending anything else.

But, for reasons unknown to him, his feet start moving in the direction the figure had gone, slowly at first, but then quickening rapidly until he’s sprinting full blast through the smoke covered room. When he turns the corner he’s met with yet another narrow hallway, tight and full of grey clouds of smoke. He coughs, which is a mistake, and finds himself unable to stop. Harsh, guttural sounds that shake his lungs and leave him stumbling forward.

Forward, still forward. Why was he still going forward? This is madness. Yet he keeps going, going the only possible way the stranger could have gone, down the hallway. He tries the handles but snatches them away with a hiss instantly. They’re blazing hot. No way they went in there.

Finally, painfully, he reaches the end of the hallway. His eyes are watering rivers and every breath feels like he’s on fire, but blessedly, the air seems to clear here, seems fresher somehow. He looks around, blinking back ash filled tears

A door, ordinary looking but open. Was his mysterious stranger holed up inside? They must be, there’s nowhere else they could have gone.

He launches himself in, already preparing to haul another confused stranger to safety, but instead he’s met with an empty room, or what he thinks is an empty room at first. His eyes quickly dart down at movement on the floor, and widen massively when he realises there is a head.

A head poking up through the floor, brown haired and curly, facing away from him and fiddling about with a large duffel bag, cursing as the zip keeps catching.

“You– ” Alfredo starts, utterly bewildered.

He’s cut off instantly by a gun to his face.

Honestly, his fucking luck this evening.

“Shit! Where’d he come from?” the man on the floor yelps, turning and staring up with dark eyes at Alfredo and the other.

“Must’ve followed you,” the voice answers, muffled slightly. Alfredo realizes the reason when he throws Alfredo to the ground and pushes him to face him. His face was covered in a mask. A monkey mask to be precise, that Alfredo would have laughed at, had it not been for the gun still pointed at his fucking head. “Who are you? You work here?” the monkey demands.

Alfredo shakes his head.

“What you doing in here then?” The muffled voice becomes harsher, the gun getting threateningly closer.

Alfredo swallows, wincing as it scratches his throat. “I- I wanted to help,” he manages to hoarsely say.

A pause. And then the man holding the gun is laughing, lowering his weapon. “So,” he starts, “we’ve got a little wannabe hero here.”

Well… he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The monkey man lowered his weapon and grabs his own duffel bag, giving Alfredo’s leg a kick. “What are you waiting for then? Get your ass down there before we’re all barbecue. I don't want the body of a dumb kid on my conscience.”

Alfredo scrambles down the hole, jumping as he’s met with another mask, some sort of carnival one, belonging to the man with curly hair. If the guy was hoping Alfredo hadn’t seen his face or was going to forget it any time soon, he was hopelessly wrong. Sooner or later, Alfredo was going to find there was no way in hell he would ever be forgetting that face.

Another kick and he’s automatically walking forward, through a tunnel that was quite obviously manmade, and that lead underneath the old hotel. Behind him the curly haired man begins whispering. “What happened in there? Did you see? Who would’a done this? Do you think –” However, he is hardly shushed by the monkey man and the rest of the way is quiet.

What feels like an age but is probably five minutes at the most, Alfredo finally sees the most beautiful sight. Greenery. And the smell… the wonderful smell of fresh air. He speeds forward, unable to help himself, and is justly rewarded by a foot sticking into his path and tripping him up.

He lays there, breathing heavily, before rolling over only to be met with yet another masked figure. This one honestly quite terrifying. The mask is almost all black, and what he finds more interesting, is the smidge of paint that pokes out from behind it. Piercing blue eyes watch him curiously. In the near distance he can hear all the commotion and sirens from the hotel, but right now they appear to be in a small park, possibly the one Alfredo smoked his first cigarette in when he was seven.

“Watch yourself,” the monkey man says with a chuckle as he exits too. “That’s a hero you just tripped up there.”

The mysterious figure doesn’t say anything but Alfredo can almost imagine him frowning deeply behind his mask. Eventually he gives a shrug and walks off. Alfredo tilts his head to try and watch him and see where he goes but a clammy hand on his face forces him to look back.

“What are we gonna do about this kid?” the curly haired man asks to who he assumes is the leader, moving his hand to place it on Alfredo’s shoulder, ready to restrain him if needed be.

Alfredo gulps as - now it’s clearer and lighter and he can see - cool blue eyes look down and judge him, taking time to scan every feature and emotion that crosses his face. He finds he can’t look away, can’t break eye contact, just holds his breath even though his stressed lungs are pleading for air. All the while his mind races at light-speed, a multitude of thoughts passing though and crashing into one another. Holy shit, is the main one. Is this really them? Is this really fucking them?

Eventually something glints in the cool gaze, and the man turns away. “Let him loose,” he instructs. “He’ll keep shut if he knows what’s good for him,” the man says smirking down at him and grabbing his shoulder to pull him to his feet. He gives Alfredo a shove to send him on his way, with a final word of warning. “And if he doesn’t I’ll personally cut his snitching tongue out myself.”

Alfredo doesn’t waste any time and runs as if his life depends on it, tearing through the park towards his home; and not once looking back.

Part 2

[assholemurphy]

Innocent Until : Chapter 4

Also on AO3

The 100

Murphamy

Explicit

Summary:

Sequel to Proven Guilty

Bellamy’s a cop who got the love of his life falsely arrested, Murphy’s a journalist who’s just trying to piece his life back together after the aftermath of his ex-boyfriend turned serial killer’s killing spree, that he’d ended up in jail for. His relationship with Bellamy died when he locked him away, or at least, he thought it had, but now, two years later, after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, they decide to give it another try. But Bellamy’s got a big case that he has to go undercover for, just as his relationship starts going well. Will they last this time around? Will Bellamy survive this case? Will Mbege discreetly poison Bellamy? Maybe, but maybe not.

Beginning

<- Previous Chapter

Murphy spent a lot of time down at the station. He was there almost every day. He’d mainly hang out with Bellamy and bother him at work, but he’d do it under the guise of being mainly there for stories, which is what he told Kane whenever he asked.

Of course, he did get quite a few stories for his blog, which meant he was competing with the bigger papers, because he had eyewitness accounts, too. He got them straight from the cops, and sometimes even the suspects. He hated crime with a passion, but if it got him noticed, he didn’t care. He stayed away from the gorier stories, preferring to keep to things like burglaries or what have you, but his favorites to cover were the ones that crossed over into human and political waters. Corrupt officers, police brutality, and the occasional vigilante, those were where his heart lied. He loved being involved in politics, in human subjects, anything that dealt with the forces controlling the lives of the people in their society. He still chased other stories, but not as often, after all, there’s only so many times you can follow the mayor when he went out of the office before it was called stalking and he got a restraining order placed on him. Things would be different when he got hired by an actual paper, but for now, it was best to stick to things he couldn’t get arrested for asking about.

And it didn’t matter how often he was there. He came around nearly daily and yet Kane never kicked him out, he simply walked past him like he belonged there as much as the desks did. It wasn’t that he really liked him, exactly, it was that he couldn’t really bring himself to kick him out because, honestly, Murphy wasn’t as bad as he’d thought he would be and he still felt a bit guilty for what happened to him. So, he just let him stay, merely shrugging whenever Murphy had asked him if he could and saying;

“Why the fuck not. It's already a circus in here, what's one more clown?”

Murphy had smirked and replied, “I actually think I'd do better as a magician.”

Kane had simply closed his eyes and walked away, shaking his head and muttering about how he needed to start selling tickets to this freakshow.

Murphy was actually pretty well-liked by most, especially Monroe and Miller, and he could be found bothering them whenever Bellamy wasn’t around, or he was shooed off, so Bellamy could actually get his work done. He got a lot of great stories that way. Miller liked to talk a lot and Monroe had absolutely no problem telling Murphy about beat cops who took things a little too far when arresting suspects and due to one of the articles he’d written, the department had actually looked into a case and the cop was now on leave pending investigation, which Murphy assumed didn’t mean jack shit, but he was happy that the public knew about it, at least.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to meet any of the lab guys, yet, but Bellamy had mentioned that he might take him to see the tech guy today, if he wasn’t busy. He looked forward to it. Bellamy had told him a little bit about Monty, mainly the part about him helping to free Murphy and doing potentially illegal things to do so, which, to Murphy, meant a hell of a lot. Not many people were willing to put their careers on the line for him, especially without knowing him. He really wanted to meet this guy.

But, before that happened, he wanted to know about what Mbege had said to Bellamy. Bellamy’d had plenty of time to process it by now and Murphy was curious to know what had gone on, especially since Mbege had somewhat laid off about him dating Bellamy. Aside from the occasional snide comment and frown whenever Bellamy was brought up, he’d been chill. The lectures had stopped altogether, which Murphy was grateful for.

He nodded to himself, deciding that he’d given Bellamy enough time, and walked up to his desk, waiting to be noticed.

“You need something?” Bellamy asked, looking up at him. “Or do you just want to distract me?”

“Both,” Murphy grinned. “Tell me what Mbege said to you.”

Bellamy sighed and put his pen down, “You know, you’re lucky my intel hasn’t come in yet so I’m actually here instead of working my case.” He actually had to go meet up with his rat later that day, but that was beside the point. Until then, he guessed a distraction from his mountain of paperwork was alright. He’d promised Monroe he’d do her share if she stopped telling Murphy embarrassing stories about him, so he had twice the work, even though he didn’t fully trust her to keep up her end of the deal.

“Please, you’re the lucky one. My viewing fell through because somebody else got to it first, so I’ve got nothing to do today.”

“That explains why you’re here at,” Bellamy checked his watch, “nine AM. I’m surprised you’re not passed out right now, you look half dead.”

Murphy shrugged, “I’ve been staying up helping Craig with wedding stuff. I got a full four hours of sleep last night and three the night before.”

Bellamy stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, “That’s it. As soon as I’m off work you’re coming with me to my place. You can sleep there for a while, so Craig can’t keep you up.”

“I can’t just stay the night at your place. I promised I’d-”

“Help Craig,” Bellamy cut him off with a sigh. “Fine. You can nap for a couple hours, then we can eat, and afterwards-”

“We can have that talk about our relationship that we’ve been avoiding,” Murphy said. It was high time they discussed their kinks and limits. They’d toned it down since that Saturday, but with as often as he and Bellamy went at it, they needed to discuss it. There were things Murphy wanted that he needed to ask for and he needed to know what all Bellamy was willing to do. Plus, Bellamy had decided that until they had said talk, he was going to stick to the basics, so he didn’t push Murphy’s limits, and Murphy was more than a little tired of Bellamy playing nice.

“Fine,” Bellamy agreed. “Then, after that, I’ll take you home, so you can help Craig. But you have to promise me you’ll actually sleep tonight.”

“What are you? My father?” Murphy asked, hopping up on Bellamy’s desk. “I don’t need another one of those. My last one died, so I don’t think you want to fill that role. Bad luck and all that.”

Bellamy pursed his lips, “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine. I slept less than this in college. I’ll be alright.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to be in bed by midnight.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll spank you,” Bellamy joked, poking at Murphy’s side.

“Sounds like a dad thing to me. Want me to start calling you ‘Daddy?’” Murphy snarked, trying to ignore the fact that Bellamy was actually caring about his wellbeing and that he had worried him. He was fine. He took care of himself. It was no big deal, Bellamy didn’t need to stress over his health.

“No. It’s not a dad thing, either. It’s a boyfriend thing, but if you keep pushing it, it’ll be a dom thing and I won’t fuck you until you’ve had eight hours of rest for at least two nights in a row. How’s that?” Bellamy asked, letting his hand rest on Murphy’s thigh, not high enough to get him in trouble if someone saw, but enough so that Murphy squirmed.

“Fine. I’ll sleep. I’ll just tell Craig to fuck off and crash. He’ll understand when the wedding’s over,” Murphy sighed.

“Good,” Bellamy said, pleased. Murphy had to take care of himself. Otherwise Bellamy was going to kidnap him from Mbege’s and take him home, so he could look after him. That would actually end Murphy’s apartment search and Bellamy would be able to keep him close. Two birds, one stone. But, they’d only been together for a month and a half, he wasn’t sure Murphy was ready for that step, so he wasn’t going to say anything.

Murphy shrugged, “Whatever. Don’t think you’ve distracted me, I still want to know what Mbege said to you.”

Bellamy sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it. Mbege hated his guts and the more he thought about it, the more he realized Mbege was likely to murder him the next time they were together. “He told me I destroyed your life and that I had no right to be in a relationship with you.” He was right.

“Did he really?”

“More or less. He said I should have tried harder to stop Kane and that this isn’t a romance movie and basically that I didn’t deserve a second chance.”

“That’s not true,” Murphy told him, shaking his head. “He’s just being an ass.”

“He’s right, though.” Bellamy didn’t deserve a second chance.

Murphy looked at him, a little bit of sadness in his eyes before shaking it off and shrugging, “Well, maybe not, but I gave you one anyway. And you’re doing much better this time around. Plus, I love you, so stop being a self-hating bastard and cheer the hell up. You’re so depressing.”

“You’re one to talk about self-hate,” Bellamy snorted. He’d noticed a lot about Murphy, and how he felt about himself was one of them. Bellamy thought he was amazing, but Murphy seemed to dislike himself a lot.

“I don’t know what you mean. I love myself. I’m fucking great,” Murphy lied, forcing himself to sound upbeat.

“Yeah, now try making it sound believable.”

“Fuck off,” Murphy huffed, crossing his arms.

Bellamy smiled at him for a moment before dropping his head to the desk. “Your brother wants to kill me.”

“He’ll come around.”

“He’s going to disembowel me with a shovel.”

“No, he’s not. Quit being dramatic.”

Bellamy just sighed and closed his eyes, not knowing what to say. Mbege hated him and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Honestly, Bell, I don’t know exactly what happened, but whatever you told him worked. He’s laid off considerably since you talked.”

“Really?” Bellamy asked, perking back up.

“Yeah, he hasn’t lectured me at all since then. I mean, he still doesn’t like you, but I think he’s accepted that I’m dating you.” He didn’t tell Bellamy that the freezer was now stocked with cherry ice cream and that there were three packages of different flavored goldfish crackers in the cabinet. It didn’t matter. Bellamy wasn’t going to fuck this up. Not this time.

“That’s good, I think.”

“It is,” Murphy nodded. “Now, weren’t you going to introduce me to the tech guy today? Monty, right?”

Bellamy nodded and stood up, glad for a change of conversation. “Right. As far as I know, he’s not too busy today, so we can go down there. Come on.”

Murphy followed after Bellamy as he led him downstairs into a dimly lit hallway with posters of smiling scientists on the walls. They’d been defaced, as mustaches and giant glasses were scribbled on one of them, the others bearing different styles, all done in bright purple sharpie. “Nice artwork.”

“Monty gets bored a lot,” Bellamy explained, grinning. He loved that little deviant. Between him and Jasper, there was never a dull day. Anytime Bellamy felt bad or disgusted with the world, all he had to do was duck down into the Batcave and those two would cheer him up. Just their presence alone was enough to brighten up the darkest of days.

“I like this guy already,” Murphy said as they came to a stop in front of a wooden door, the plaque reading ‘Tech Lab’ but the word ‘Batcave’ had been written over it in the same purple ink that adorned the posters.

“He’ll probably like you, too. He’s been bugging me about meeting you since I told him we were together again.” Which he’d only done two weeks ago when he’d gone out with Monty and Jasper for drinks after work. He still hadn’t told Clarke, but then again, he didn’t plan to.

Bellamy opened the door and walked through it into the blue lit room. “You changed the lightbulbs again?”

Monty smiled, popping up from behind the desk, a few wires in his hand. “Yes, I did. It looks better, and blue light is supposed to help you stay awake.”

“Uh-huh. When was the last time you slept?” Bellamy asked, glancing at the rather impressive tower of empty energy drink cans balance precariously on the desk.

“Well, I’ve been getting like, two-hour naps, but if you mean full night’s rest, then probably four days ago?” Monty said, plugging one of the wires into the back of the computer. “I’ve been reprogramming the system, so it runs better. Nobody had any casework for me, so I decided to do this, I just didn’t realize how long it would take. Now I’ve got to finish before Kane notices.”

“You think he hasn’t already noticed?”

“Well, I’m not currently a desk chair, so I’m assuming no,” Monty shrugged. Then, turning to Murphy, he smiled, “Welcome to the Batcave! Who the absolute hell are you?”

Murphy grinned back, “I’m Murphy. John Murphy. You’re Monty Green, right?”

“The one and only, much to the relief of the general populace. You’re the one dating Bellamy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well, first off, I’m so, so sorry. I know a great therapist if you need one, dealing with Captain Daddy Issues here can’t be much fun. And second, Bellamy told me you need stories and that you’ve got a thing against the mayor. How would you like a copy of his financial records?” Monty asked, plugging the rest of the wires in as he spoke.

“You can do that?” Murphy asked, eyes wide.

“Not only can I, but I already have. I needed them for a case. Harper was looking into his assistant for something, I don’t remember what, it was boring, but I got into their network and made a copy of all their records. I’ve got them saved just in case she needs them again, but I can email them to you, if you’d like?”

Murphy was shocked. He didn’t even know this guy and he was offering him the mayor’s financial records? “Why would you give them to me?”

“Early wedding present?” Monty joked. “No. Really, I’m going to give them to you for two reasons. The first is because you have made Bellamy so much more tolerable, no offense, Bell.”

“You say no offense, but you don’t really mean it, do you?” Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t.”

Bellamy snorted and shook his head.

“Anyway,” Monty continued, “The second is to say I’m sorry. I didn’t believe Bellamy when he said you were innocent. I told him to drop it. I shouldn’t have.”

“But you still helped him get me out, didn’t you?” Murphy asked. Bellamy had said he did.

“Well, yeah, but I judged you without knowing you. I shouldn’t have,” Monty apologized.

“It’s fine. You helped save my ass. Honestly, I owe you.”

“Write a story about how the mayor’s embezzling funds from his own charity and we’ll call it even,” Monty told him, coming around to the front of the desk. He sat down in the chair and took a sip from a can. “Get him impeached. Or at the very least, keep him from being re-elected. He’s destroying our schools.”

Murphy nodded, “Yeah, sure. He’s really doing that?”

“Yeah. The proof is in the records. I guess that was why they were hidden behind three fucking firewalls. Whoever designed his security system is a genius. I mean, not as smart as I am, but smart enough to give me a nice little challenge. Took a full afternoon to get past them.”

“Monty,” Bellamy began, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You’re not redesigning the system because you want to, are you?”

Monty chuckled nervously, “Well, you see, the records kinda came with a virus attached. Meant to wipe out someone’s hard drive if they managed to steal them. I mean, it’s no big deal, I had everything backed up, but it fried one of my hard drives. Luckily, I downloaded the records to a flashdrive before it could eat them. I ran my own virus software on the drive and cleaned it out before opening them. All I had to do was replace the hard drive and restore everything, but there’s so much information that it’s taken me four days to do it. Well, do that and code a new software that would keep something like that from happening again. I should have just opened the records in the goddamn sandbox.”

“Sandbox?” Bellamy asked before shaking his head. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know. So, Kane doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Kane knows nothing and will continue to know nothing. And if he finds out, I know exactly who I’m turning into a pair of shoes,” Monty threatened.

“I’m not going to tell, don’t worry,” Bellamy assured him. He wanted no part of this. If Kane found out, it wouldn’t be from him. He liked being alive and if Kane found out, he’d probably throw a fit. Or a stapler. And Bellamy didn’t want to be in the line of fire.

“So, Murphy, you want the records?”

“Hell, yeah!” Murphy nodded.

“Give me your email,” Monty instructed, turning to the computer.

Murphy did and watched as Monty typed away at the keyboard.

“There. They’re in your inbox, waiting to be used. I’m giving them to you, so you can write an article, but first thing tomorrow morning, I’m sending them to Wells so Bryan can get a warrant. So, don’t publish your article until around eight thirty tomorrow morning. Just so they can’t say you obtained illegal information, you know? Don’t want you getting blamed.”

Murphy nodded, “Thanks. Like, I’ve been trying to get proof he’s corrupt for the past three years. I don’t know how to thank you, honestly.”

“Write an article. Buy me a drink. Marry Bellamy,” Monty shrugged. “That being said, if you ever need anything you can’t get, well, legally, I’m your man. Seriously, I’m so bored most of the time. I need something fun to do.”

“I did not just hear you offer to do illegal things for my boyfriend,” Bellamy said, crossing his arms. “You’re a fucking cop, Monty.”

“I’m a technical analyst. I don’t play by your rules,” Monty grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, I’m not a real cop until they let me carry a gun.”

“You don’t need a gun, you have a keyboard. I’ve seen what you can do. You can do more damage with that thing than I could with an assault rifle,” Bellamy shook his head. “You’re not getting a gun.”

“Then I’m not a cop and I don’t have to follow your rules.”

“They’re Kane’s rules.”

“Since when have I ever listened to Kane?” Monty rolled his eyes, “Besides, you brought me in. You’re responsible for me.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bellamy groaned.

“Whatever. Get out of my cave, I’ve got a nap to take,” Monty ordered, standing up and stretching. “I’m meeting Bryan and Miller tonight for date night and I need sleep.”

“You’re allowed to sleep on the job?” Murphy asked, curious.

“Please, bitch,” Monty yawned, dropping down onto the couch. “Today’s my day off. I never fucking leave. I live here now.” He groaned and pressed his face into the cushion, mumbling, “I love this couch.”

Murphy laughed and followed Bellamy out the door.

“Come visit again!” Monty called as they walked out.

._-*-_.

“He should be here by now,” Bellamy grumbled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He hated this neighborhood. It was nothing but drug deals and drive bys. He understood why gangs were created, he knew the cops had failed most of these neighborhoods and the people in them, and they continued to fail them, but still. But, even then, it wasn’t really that. It was more personal. He hated neighborhoods like this because the dilapidated houses reminded him a little too much of the one he grew up in. It brought back some unpleasant memories.

Home should have been a place he felt comforted and safe, not a place where he had to be an adult at the age of six. He should have been allowed to grow up and play games with the other kids, not look after his sister because his mom was always at work.

It wasn’t that he resented his mother, nor Octavia, it was his father that he had the problem with. His and Octavia’s both, though mostly his. Octavia’s father had never meant to stick around. He’d never intended to be with his mother except for the night, and though his mother had tried her best to keep it a secret, he knew why he’d been there at all. There had been bills to pay and she’d done her best but working at a diner and sewing rich people’s clothes just didn’t bring in enough. He hated Octavia’s father, but not as much as he hated his own.

He’d just left them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt his mother and in doing so had condemned them to a life of choosing between paying the electricity or water bills. If he had just stayed, things would have been different. His mother wouldn’t have been so sad. He wouldn’t have had to get a job at fourteen and balance that and school and taking care of his sister. If he had just stayed, then Bellamy wouldn’t have had to spend his entire life wondering why he wasn’t good enough. Why he hadn’t been enough to make him want to stay.

Bellamy sighed and looked over at Monroe, who was reading a novel. Something political, no doubt. He wondered if she ever read for fun. “Think he’s gonna show?”

“Of course, he will,” she said, flipping the page. “You’ve got his balls in a vice grip. If he doesn’t show, you turn him in for that possession charge and he gets at least two years, but that’s only with a plea deal and we both know he’s too stupid to take one.”

“But he’s not here,” Bellamy whined.

“Stop being a bitch. He’s only two minutes late. Just because you’ve got a clock stuck up your ass doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, Blake. You’re so anal about punctuation that you probably schedule your goddamn bathroom breaks. Just, chill the hell down and give him a minute. He’ll be here.”

“I don’t schedule my- You know what? Fuck you.”

“Oh? Fuck you? Did you spontaneously grow a pair while I was getting coffee?” she laughed.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” Bellamy huffed. “I just think that people should show up when they say they’re going to. Otherwise what’s the point of being there? Waiting is annoying. Do you know how many other things I could be doing right now?”

“Is one of those things named Murphy?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her, “Don’t be jealous. Just cause Harper froze you out-”

“She didn’t freeze me out, Blake. She’s busy working a case with Miller. She’s dead tired when she comes home, and I respect her enough to let her sleep. It’s called love, asshole,” Monroe snapped.

“Somebody’s touchy. You know what you need? You need to get laid.”

“And you need to shut the hell up before I cram my book down your throat.”

“Imagine the papercuts,” he mused, grinning.

“You deserve them,” she huffed.

“Probably,” he shrugged. “But if you do that, I’ll choke, and you’ll have to find another partner. Do you really want to do that?”

“Might be worth it.”

“Uh-huh. And how many partners did you go through before me? Eight? Nine?”

“Seven, thank you. And it wasn’t my fault.”

“No, there was something wrong with seven other people. I’m sure you, the only constant, were not the problem. You should team up with Taylor Swift to write an album about your victimhood.”

“Fuck off,” she growled, smacking him with her book. “You’re just as bad. How many did you go through before Adam, huh? I’m pretty sure you set the goddamn record for losing a partner. Three fucking days, Blake, he put up with you for three fucking days before requesting a new partner.”

“Hey! Don’t attack me because you know I’m right! And I was the one who requested new partners.”

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“Because they were fucking stupid.”

“Or because they wouldn’t follow your orders.”

“I wouldn’t have had to give them orders if they’d been competent. Do I order you around?”

“No, because you know I’d kick your ass.”

“Or because you’re smart enough to realize that running into a house full of armed drug dealers isn’t smart.”

“Okay, but how many times have you done something like that?”

“He left his weapon in the car!” Bellamy shouted. “He could have died! Do you know how much paperwork I would have had to do if I hadn’t stopped him?”

“Stopped him? You threatened to shoot him if he took another step!”

“And I would have!”

“Because you’re a jackass!”

“Well, you’re a bitch!”

“I never said I wasn’t!”

Bellamy snorted and shook his head, laughing, “Well, then I guess we’re evenly matched.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been your partner for two years, I kind of have to be a bitch to deal with you,” she chuckled.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right. I’m always right.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Monroe was about to say something else when there was a knock on the window. They both turned to look, and Monroe grinned, “See? I told you he’d show.”

Bellamy rolled down the window, the smile disappearing from his face, “You’re fucking late. Get your ass in the car.”

“Bossy, bossy,” the man said, sliding into the back. “You wanted information? It’s gonna cost you.”

“It’s not going to cost us shit if you wanna keep your ass out of jail,” Monroe snapped as Bellamy peeled out. “Now spill, or I’ll arrest you for whatever you’re carrying right now.”

“Fine, fine,” the man huffed. “Alright, so the meetup is tomorrow at five. Johnny will be there and so will Chaz.”

“Five?” In the middle of broad daylight?

“What, you expect it to go down at midnight near the docks? Bitch, this ain’t no crime drama. It’s at five in the parking lot of that old Walmart, down on fifty third.

Bellamy bit his tongue as Monroe took down the information. He pulled to a stop several blocks away, his tires screeching, “Thanks for all your help. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

“Somebody’s grouchy.”

“And the next time you’re late I’m gonna tell your buddies you’ve been spilling their secrets. Then you’ll be begging me to arrest you.”

Bellamy sped off, grinning as he heard the man shout, “Asshole!”

._-*-_.

Murphy flopped down onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair as he watched Bellamy dry his hands on a kitchen towel. He felt better, more awake and alert now that he’d had a nap and Bellamy had made enchiladas for dinner, which he guessed he’d done while Murphy was sleeping because by the time he woke up dinner was ready, and Bellamy was setting the table. He’d walked in and Bellamy had kissed him, soft and sweet and Murphy had melted into it.

Now, the dishes were done, and Murphy was ready to have the conversation he’d been putting off. It wasn’t Bellamy who’d been afraid of having it, but rather Murphy, himself. He didn’t want to scare Bellamy off or make him think he was weird. But, it was high time they got it over with, because Murphy had been dreaming about the way Bellamy’s hand felt around his neck and he wanted him to do it again. And again.

But, first, they had to talk things out.

“So, you don’t have a safe word? Just the stoplight system?” Bellamy asked, cutting to the chase as he took a seat on the couch next to Murphy.

Murphy shrugged, “All the words I came up with either sounded stupid to me or were too hard to remember. The stoplight system is just easier and more efficient. Would you rather a safe word?”

“I’m alright with whatever you want us to use.”

“Okay,” Murphy nodded. “What are your limits?”

“No public play, no bodily fluids, other than, you know-”

“Murphy snorted, “Yeah, I think I get it.”

“No gun play or closed fists. I’m not going to do anything that would permanently hurt you. Asphyxiation is as close as I’ll get to real danger. I won’t lose you just because of a kink.” That was one of Bellamy’s biggest fears, losing Murphy, and he wasn’t going to do anything to put him in serious danger. Obviously, there were risks with everything, but some of those risks were just too great.

Murphy nodded, “That sounds fair.” He was a little disappointed about the gun play, because Bellamy’s gun turned him on whenever he felt it pressed up against his hip whenever they made out while he was in uniform, but he could live without it.

“Your limits?”

“No electricity of any kind.”

“I’ll turn off the lights, then.”

“That’s not what I meant, jackass,” Murphy huffed, poking Bellamy’s thigh before continuing. “Bodily functions are out. No masks, no mummification. If you tie me up, you can’t leave me there for more than a couple hours because I have things to do and I can’t be strapped to a bed all day.”

“I would never leave you tied up without me being there,” Bellamy assured him. That was unsafe. If he was going to keep Murphy tied up, he’d stay with him.

“Thank you,” Murphy said. “No age play or pet shit. I’m a sub, but I’m an adult and I’m human. None of that shit, I’m not going to judge it- Alright, I’ll judge it a little bit, but I don’t want it.”

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not into any of that.”

“Are you into any of this at all?” That was what had Murphy worried. He wasn’t sure if Bellamy did this because he wanted to make Murphy happy or because he actually enjoyed it and he didn’t want to make Bellamy think he had to indulge him if he didn’t like it.

Bellamy nodded, “Yeah. I’ve always been into it since I had a girlfriend who liked it. Don’t worry, I get off on it just as much as you do.”

“Do you, though?”

“Murphy, I need you to understand exactly how much I like having you at my mercy. How much I love teasing you and making you beg and being in control. I love watching you squirm and that night, with my hand around your throat, knowing you couldn’t do anything but what I said, watching you, so desperate and needy, I’ve never came harder. I promise, I like it just as much as you do,” Bellamy told him. He loved ordering Murphy around and he couldn’t wait to do it more. To make him open himself up for him, to make him strip and kneel and fuck his mouth while he called him a whore. The thought was enough to send a wave of heat to his dick.

“Okay,” Murphy said, reassured. As long as Bellamy was enjoying it, too, that was all that mattered. “What about kinks? Things you like.”

“Cuffs, or ropes, anything to keep you pinned down and unable to fight back. Dirty talk, in case you hadn’t guessed that already,” Bellamy grinned.

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” And it was hot as hell. Nothing got Murphy hard like the filthy things that came out of Bellamy’s mouth. “I like it.”

“Good. I’m into impact play, too, and orgasm denial, pretty much all of the basics. I’m open to a lot of other stuff, too, I just haven’t tried it. But as long as it isn’t a hard limit, I’ll do anything you want me to.” Bellamy would never deny Murphy anything, within reason. “What about you?”

“Orgasm denial. I had a boyfriend, well, kind of a dom, I guess, who refused to let me come for a week despite fucking me regularly. It was torture, but I’ve never came so hard in my life as when he finally let me. I like being tied up, spanking, slapping, being ordered around, and if I ever disobey or act like a bitch about it and I don’t say the safe word, it’s because I want you to make me do it.”

“I can do that,” Bellamy smirked. He could do a lot of things. The thought of what he could do to Murphy was enough to get him hard. He was already halfway there, and his pants were becoming a bit uncomfortable, but from the way Murphy kept fidgeting, he figured he was in the same boat.

“I like degradation, humiliation to a point, but don’t like, make me feel less than human. It’s one thing to call me a whore and talk about how desperate and needy I am, but it’s another to call me a fag and knock me around.”

“I would never.”

“Good. I like breath play, a lot, overstimulation and pain, and I’ve got kind of an oral fixation, ya know?”

Bellamy snorted, “Is that your way of saying you like to suck me off?”

“Yes. I quite enjoyed last night when you fucked my face. That was fun.”

“I’ll have to remember that. Anything else?”

“You’ll let me know if I go too far, right?”

“You won’t.”

“Murphy.”

“You won’t, okay? I know you won’t. You don’t have it in you to hurt me that badly.”

“But if I ever go too far-”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

“I swear, Bell.”

“Good.” Bellamy was satisfied now, knowing that Murphy wouldn’t let him go too far. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him.

Murphy sighed, shifting his position and Bellamy noticed the bulge in his pants. If he was right, Murphy was rock hard and ready to go. “I think that about covers the basics. Anything else we can discuss as it comes up. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good, because I’m horny as fuck and I really, really need you to touch me,” Murphy whined, his hand on his crotch.

Bellamy just smirked and stood up, stretching before dropping to his knees in front of Murphy. “Let me take care of you, then.”

“Bell,” Murphy whimpered as Bellamy unzipped his jeans and pulled him out, stroking him a few times. “Are you just going to tease me?”

Bellamy considered it for a moment, he loved teasing Murphy and he’d love to draw this out as long as possible, but a glance at his watch told him it was already nine, so Murphy would be needing to go soon. “No, not this time. Just relax and let me make you feel good, okay?”

Murphy nodded, relieved. He did love the teasing, but he was so hard that he was sure if Bellamy tried teasing him, he’d just come before even getting to the good part.

Bellamy smiled up at him before looking back down and licking at the head of Murphy’s erection. Murphy hissed above him and Bellamy took that as a sign he was doing the right thing. He licked a stripe from the base of Murphy’s cock to the tip before taking him into his mouth and bobbing his head, taking him deeper each time until he was brushing the back of Bellamy’s throat. Bellamy thanked whatever god was in charge of sex that he didn’t have a gag reflex and pulled back, swirling his tongue around the head.

Murphy moaned and tangled a fist in Bellamy’s curls, letting his head drop back onto the couch. Bellamy started slow and slowly sped up his pace, Murphy keening above him and bucking his hips into Bellamy’s mouth. Bellamy hummed around him, his hand wandering to the front of his own pants. He unbuttoned them and pulled himself out, his cock already hard and leaking.

He stroked himself slowly as he pulled back on Murphy’s cock, running his tongue across the bundle of veins on the underside of it before lightly scraping his teeth across it, causing Murphy to buck his hips and let out a curse as his hand tightened in Bellamy’s hair. Bellamy did it again, Murphy whimpering above him, biting his lip and looking down at Bellamy who did his best to smirk up at him. Watching him like this, all hot and bothered, pleasure painted across his face was too much for Bellamy and he sped up the rhythm of his hand, moaning around Murphy.

A few more times of Bellamy bobbing his head had Murphy gasping and telling him he was close. Bellamy nodded and scraped his teeth along the underside of Murphy’s cock as he pulled back, Murphy jerking his hips and moaning. He took him down one last time before Murphy spilled into his mouth, moaning out Bellamy’s name. Bellamy swallowed and pulled back, working his own cock, Murphy watching him lustfully. It only took a few more strokes before Bellamy spilled into his hand with a low groan.

He looked at his hand and raised up, searching for a tissue when he felt Murphy’s hand on his wrist. Before he could say anything, he felt Murphy press his tongue against his palm, licking at it before taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean as Bellamy watched, marveling at him. “Murphy, fuck.”

“I’d love to, but I gotta get home,” he said, regretfully. There was nothing he wanted more than to fuck Bellamy right now, to have him pin him down into the couch and fuck him until he was screaming, but he couldn’t. “I’m free this weekend, though.”

“Then, I guess I’ll have to wait.”

“It’s only two more days. Then you can take me to bed and tie me up and do whatever you want to me,” Murphy said, standing up. He tucked himself away and reached out for Bellamy, pulling him into a chaste kiss. “So, you’ve got plenty of time to decide what you’re going to do to me.”

Bellamy hummed and wrapped his arms around Murphy, “Anything I want?”

“Anything you want.”

That was a lot of power and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it, but they had a date on Friday, which was two days from now, so he had some time to figure out what he wanted to do.

“Okay, then. And next Friday, you can ask for anything.”

“Really?”

“Whatever the hell you want, baby. Now, come on, I gotta get you back before Craig disembowels me for keeping you too late,” Bellamy laughed.

“Ugh, since when do I have a fucking curfew?” Murphy groaned, grabbing his jacket and following Bellamy out the door.

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