#crowd control frames are basically dead

[necirusalka]

i really can't say anything abt dante's nerf bc i barely played him and i do think the wf fandom has a habit of grossly overreacting about everything. sometimes nerfs are necessary and healthy and raging against every nerf that happens is stupid. that being said. the nerf has brought up a lot of genuinely important conversations about how wf's balance is really not in a good place right now and i hope the devs do actually approach that in a meaningful way at some point

[walnutcookie]

can i ask what cheddar's curse is :333333333 3 33333 :333 :#3333333333333333333333333333 :3:#3333

HI I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKEDDD. :33 THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK /GEN. you have unleashed hell i am about to write so many paragraphs /silly /pos

ok to rb!

I need to draw a picture of them without the shadow sometime but. basically that glint in the shadow over cheddars face?

thats not their eye. they dont have an eye there anymore. instead it is a jewel :]c a cheddarstone to be exact. And it is very cursed!

still need to figure out exactly how it goes but when the blue cheese manor burned down they reached for the cursed jewel that their family had and They survived! They technically cannot die! but living isnt exactly easy

inside of them is a ton of Dark almost ink-like goop,, its like. Anti-life force. It seeps through their skin slowly and if it seeps out too much cheddar has to fight for control. if it gets really bad they lose control entirely. the only way to keep it from seeping out is by absorbing pure life force. they can obtain it through being around someone as they die, but more effectively they can kill people themself. Which is pretty easy since!! touching anti-life force kills a person IMMEDIATELY literally all cheddar needs to do is touch someone and theyre dead.

of course, if people knew that she was doing this, theyd be arrested immediately so theyve found ways to be sneaky about it :]c

for one, they cover themself up as best as possible. Literally from the head down its completely covered - giant coat, gloves, boots, etc. plus the hat covers not only the jewel in their eye but the anti-life force goop growing on his face!!! They avoid being in crowds or tightly packed spaces and theyre careful not to ever touch someone - while the clothing helps, it doesnt completely negate the curse, so while a brush of the shoulder may not kill the person itll at least drain them which will look suspicious.

obviously this quote wasnt related but shh its about Universe A. to me

cheddar has basically made themself untouchable (both metaphorically and literally).

say, theoretically, they need to take another victim. theyre travelling with macaroni on oh, say, a train, and they find a random cookie isolated in a train car with nobody around to witness anything. they peel off their glove and put their hand on the victims mouth, muffling their scream and killing the person instantly, and then they gently lower the body down so it doesnt make a noise as it hits the floor. next they use a knife to stab the person a few times - theyre already dead, but since touching them wouldnt give any indicators toward the cause of death, they have the perfect opportunity to create a false story behind the murder of this cookie and frame someone else for it. all they need to do after that is call macaroni to come see and he'll practically do the work for them!!!

ive mentioned this on one of my posts before but i headcanon that macaroni. cannot. stand. mysteries. he has to have them solved ASAP otherwise he CANNOT rest easy. he wont be able to eat or sleep very well at all. it makes him so anxious as much as he loves mysteries

Cheddar uses this to their advantage! theyve created a person in macaroni's head - someone whos lazy, who doesnt put much effort into their work, someone who doesnt rely on real evidence very much. How would someone like cheddar manage to frame someone else for a murder theyve committed and get away with it? especially since cheddar is around macaroni 24/7 and hed never expect them to do something in like the five minutes that they sneak away. not to mention cheddar has been working for the cbi even longer than mac and why on earth would a cbi agent kill someone for (seemingly) no reason??? In reality cheddar is actually much smarter and observant than they make themself seem but mac is in HEAVY denial about it because he doesnt want to have to think about his work partner being a murderer. Better to come up with other solutions (which cheddar so generously offers to him by framing people) than to point the finger at cheddar and raise dozens more questions that may be left unanswered. Plus the thought that all of the deaths cheddar caused would technically partially be macs fault. And as much as cheddar annoys him, mac has grown pretty attached to them.

someone could literally yell at mac and say LOOK!!! CHEDDAR HAS BLOOD STAINS ON THEIR COAT OH MY GOD!!!!!!! and mac will just laugh and say Haha that must be from lunch yesterday :) LIKE. cheddar has just made the perfect alibi for themself. they can never be accused of any crime because mac will defend them no matter what just to keep his own sanity

all of the killing and murder and crime aside cheddar is. Fucking miserable. shes so insanely touch starved bro they havent had a hug since like 1806 (except for like one person CCOUXGGHT COUCGHE GOUCGH ROUCYEO CAPPUCCINO COUGH COUCGH SPUTTER COUGH thats another post entirely though if anyone sends an ask abt it ill talk about it) and they try to make themself seem unlikable towards macaroni and try to distance themself from people and avoid relationships because even just a high five or a brush of the shoulder could be fatal. its too much of a risk, and its not one theyre willing to take.

he is fucking Smitten for macaroni theyre so head over heels for that girl but they just! CANT!!!! they cant get close to him because then he might DIE and not only would they lose the person they love but that would mean that their precious alibi is gone and theyd have to be extra extra sneaky about things to make sure that nobody catches them committing crimes. not to mention because of the way they act macaroni fucking HATES HIM. one sided yuri my beloved

anyways yaay ill stop there before this post gets too long X] theres more stuff about these two (including actual yuriful fluff NO WAAY) if youre curuois or have any other questions just shoot me an ask id love to answer!!!!

as always i dont think this is canon by any means it is all just my silly headcanon au because i think cheddar should be fucked up As a treat👍have a nice day If you read all of this i loveyiu so much /p

[thoughts-and-gayers]

i heard the song You Only Know by PhemieC a while back and now i can only think about how well it maps onto Jon Sims and the plot of TMA in general

more specific analysis / amv idea under the cut

(note: this is obviously not fully thought out, and i basically copy+pasted from my notes app, so do not expect much coherency please)

Who are you, : jon sitting in his office, with a statement on the desk

and to what end? : 'statement begins' he starts reading

Are you the doting brother, : tim seeming cheerful, maybe a one frame flash of him being scared with stranger-esque background

or the devoted friend? : sasha and tim talking with each other, probably each holding something

Are you the wing-man, : martin bringing jon tea, blushing a bit maybe?

the helping hand, : rosie sitting at her desk, doing secretary things

the one left over? : silhouettes of tim, sasha and martin on the top layer, with a focus on jon who is standing behind them and looking a bit left out

The watchful eye, : elias in office, with an eye opening behind him.

the butterfly, : annabelle cane silhouette, with maybe partial-opacity spider legs on her?

the rarely sober? : michael being all distortion-y

So, what are you? : jon trapped with martin during the prentiss attack

Who’s playing your role? : jane prentiss running through the archives

Are you acting, : gerard keay and gertrude standing together, context unclear. the camera is focused on gerry who looks bored

or directing? : the camera switches focus to gertrude, who looks determined.

Who’s in control? : camera on lower half of annabelle's face. she's laughing

The spoiled son? : peter lukas on his ship, fog all around

The killer clown? : spotlight on nikola orsinov

The voice that whispers? : michael is leaning down towards jon sitting at his desk, grinning menacingly

Your therapist? :

Your arrogance? : basira gives jon one of gertrude's tapes

Your dead twin sisters? :

Were they lost in the dark, : callum brodie in the church

did they fall from a great height? : simon fairchild falling from the airplane, smiling

Were they chased and torn apart, : the british and american hunter in the woods

by wolves and ravens in the night? : the infinite hunt thingy

Were they taken, :

were they tortured, :

through the water did they wade? :

You only know that you’re alone now, :

you only know that you’re afraid :

(You only know that you’re afraid)

You only know that you’re afraid

(You only know that you’re afraid)

You only know

(You only know)

You only know

So, what do you fear? : jane prentiss bursting into the archives

Is it snakes or roaches? : jon killing a worm w/ martin

Do you shake, : tim bursts into the office

are you scared, : sasha getting replaced

when the storm approaches? : A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED (gertrude)

Is is boys with blades? :

Girls with guns? : basira and daisy, back to back, looking badass

crowds: that lonely episode where gerry wears a tropical flower shirt

caves : lost johns' cave

or cliff-sides? : smth smth vast

Yeah, they all sound fun…

Well then, who do you hate?

Is it girls who gossip? : not!sasha

Is it boys, big and brave,

who make you their hostage?

Is it friends who you miss, : tim with his arms crossed, glaring at jon

who defy description, : not!sasha overlayed on sasha

who wont fight,

who wont kiss,

who pass out in kitchens? : tim pressing the detonator

Were they lost in the dark, : jon touching the dark sun

did they fall from a great height? : jon falling w/ mike crew

Were they chased and torn apart, : daisy holding the knife to jons neck

by wolves and ravens in the night? : basira stopping her

Were they taken, : jon tied up w/ nikola

were they tortured, : she smiles menacingly while holding lotion

through the water did they wade? :

You only know that you’re alone now, you only know that you’re afraid

(You only know that you’re afraid)

You only know that you’re afraid

(You only know that you’re afraid)

You only know

(You only know)

You only know…

Tell me, what have you done, : jon reading the trick statement

where did it go wrong? : martin seeing the world go bad

Were you kidding yourself all along? : jon and martin huddled together in the cabin

Tell me, what will you do, : jon sitting on the bed, surrounded by tapes

if you can’t be saved? : he presses play on one

If the girls don’t gossip : tim and sasha talking. "im unforgettable!"

and the boys aren’t brave? : he goes up to martin, with a backpack

You will be be lost in the dark, : night street

now you’ve fallen from a great height : vast domain (ladder)

You’ll be chased and torn apart, : trevor herbert

by wolves and ravens in the night : were-daisy

You’ll be taken, : dr david

you’ll be tortured, : helen

through the water you will wade : swampy domain from when they get separated

But at least you’re not alone now, : jon looking at martin before leaving to kill elias

soon you wont be so afraid : jon kills elias

(What do you fear? : jon becomes the pupil of the eye

What do you hate?) : martin comes in and looks upset

Soon you wont be so afraid : jon looks guilty

(I hate myself, : jon and martin hug

I fear my fate : camera focuses on the still-bloody knife that jon used to kill elias

Soon you wont be so afraid : jon collapses to his knees from the strain of the eye. both jon and martin are crying

(What do you fear? : martin kneels down

What do you hate?) : he pulls jon close

Soon you wont be so afraid : they look at each other, scared, worried, desperate,

(I hate myself, : martin raises the knife as he kisses jon

I fear myself) : the screen is black except for a splash of blood that matches what a stab would be like

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Only Living Thing

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Language.

Synopsis: You’ve been friends with BIlly Russo for as long as you can remember. Then, on that one night in New York, feelings get mixed up with the liquor that burns and everything spins out of control. So much for being the only living thing that Billy Russo has ever cared about... Or is it?  A/N: This just sort of happened. I may be writing more if you guys want, I think I can definitely take this further? I have a pretty hectic schedule but I might make it happen x

Song : Adam French - The Only Living Thing

New York, November 2019. 
 

Breathtaking. 


You are breathtaking, like the most beautiful view from atop the mountain or his biggest fear coming alive under his stare. 
 You’re a mix of excitement and terror, and you are enchanting enough to keep him on the tips of his toes, second-guessing everything, his every decision and every word... 

You are meant to leave him wanting more.

The night New York has never looked so good on a woman before.

Billy’s vision goes blurry for a second, his stomach hot and heavy.

You are glowing.

You radiate a kind of a warm sepia glow, so beautiful and genuine and so fucking effortlessy...

Smooth and unapologetic.
 


Messy strands of hair framing your face, your blushing cheeks, as you laugh your heart out, throwing your head back. Your pearl teeth flash in the dimness of the bar. Your thin black tights are torn at the thighs, your lips are red and irritated as you sink your teeth in, again and again.

Your laugh is flamboyant, intoxicating. Raw.

You are something else...

When suddenly, you see him, your black eyelashes fluttering as you wink at him. Billy’s chest feels too wide, too fragile and too hot. Do you see those unspoken words shining out of his drunken eyes?

When you make your way to him through the crowd, he’s paralyzed, afraid to move forward, afraid to scare you off, but mostly, afraid to let everyone see how desperate he is for your touch.

This is wrong, so fucking wrong, but why in hell when you come over, throwing your elegant arms around his neck, your cute perky nose touching his chest - it feels so. fucking. right?! Like you were custom-made for each other?...

Before he can stop himself, he slides an arm around your waist. You say something to him, something funny, for everyone around him snorts and chuckles, but his mind, his entire world - suddenly comes down to that spot just below his cheekbone where you plant a soft peck of your velvet pouty lips.

“Those twenty bucks we bet on? I win,” you half laugh, half exhale in his ear, your lips brushing against the lobe. “Madani is fucking obsessed with you”.

“Ah,” Billy smiles, both of his hands snaking around your waist now as he looks down at you.

...And I am fucking obsessed with us.

“And you just enjoy rubbing us - this! in her face right now, aren’t you?” he mutters instead, his temples buzzing with the gin and tonic he has been downing all night. 

God, he hopes you’re too buzzed to have noticed his slip of fucking epic proportions.

He promised himself he wouldn’t drink, not with you still around - because whatever it was that he felt for you mixed with liquid that burned equaled a very bad outcome. 

He might be well into the tipsy territory by now but Billy isn’t delusional. The chances that you would go back to his place or even kiss him back are entirely too slim.

Because friends don’t do friends.

Friends might as well become a new f-word for all Billy cares at this point.

When you throw your head back in an explosive laugh, Billy’s distracted. He gets an extensive view of your elegant neck, your delicate collarbones, but mostly - of the swell of your mouthwatering breasts, as your black silk top tightens over them. 

Fuuuuck him.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you echo his thoughts somehow as you wink at him once you’ve restored your breath, not stepping away from his embrace, however, letting him keep his hands on you. 

It’s always like this between the two of you. You’ve known each other for a while now - four, five years? After Billy bumped into you at a brunch at Liebermans’ and spilled his frappuccino all over your gorgeous rack. He wasn’t even going to come - but boy, was he glad he did - even though you wasted no time opening that sassy mouth of yours and verbally eviscerating him.

This wasn’t a love at first sight. 
 For you, at least.

“At least buy me a dinner first,” Billy barely manages, his vision a tad blurry.

He notices you giving him an unimpressed stare. Feeling stupid all at once, Billy blinks quickly and lets go of your waist...

Only to tremble on his feet and almost fall on his face.

“Heyyy,” he registers your breath on his cheek before he hears what you’re saying, your small hands holding him in place. Your touch burns through the fabric of his button down shirt as your palms slide up his sides to his shoulders. “You okay there, Russo?”

Billy squirms, chomping on his bottom lip as he grabs you by your elbows.

‘’M fine”, he says quietly, but doesn’t let go. When he lowers his stare to meet your eyes, he almost wants to cry. There’s concern in their bottomless depths, worry for him and desire to make it all better. He just wishes there was more heat there, and less of that f-word that ends with -riends.

“You don’t look fine, lover,” you retort, wiggling and pushing and pulling onto him until you’re snug under his arms and carrying his dead weight to the exit. “Let’s go get some fresh air, come on.”

Billy utters something half-heartedly, his head feeling like it’s filled with cotton. He didn’t even drink that much, as least he doesn’t think so. Must be your fucking intoxicating perfume, sweet but voluptuous and so fucking tempting...

Pure sin. 


Even drunk out of his fucking mind, he’s still the envy of every guy at that bar because he’s with a stunning, breathtaking, prettiest woman in the whole damn world that is you.

“If you were able to stand right now, that line might have gotten you laid,” you inform him with a laugh, basically carrying him to the exit on your shoulders.

Through the drunken haze, Billy realises he might have spoken those words out loud, but the terror is quickly replaced by...

“Are you shitting me?” He slurs, trying to stay vertical. “Are you saying you want me?”

By the time the words escape his mouth, you have pushed the exit door wide open and nudged him to step out. Losing his balance, Billy crashes into Frank, Stein and Madani, smoking outside.
 Dina’s eyes flash mischievously as you step out of the bar, immediately throwing your arms around Billy protectively, helping him to steady himself.

“Oh, so it’s common knowledge now, then?” Dina ventures, licking her lips bloodthirstily, her eyes never quitting yours. “You’ve finally admitted you want to drag that fine Caspian ass in your bed?”

The running joke aimed at Billy looking like a Disney prince feels out of place; all conversation is silenced out as you narrow your eyes at Madani, your grip around Billy’s waist instantly becoming tighter. Frank clears his throat in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness, but doesn’t intervene.

And Billy is... well, happy. Over the moon, actually, and still drunk off his ass.

Apparently, you have been wanting to drag his ass into your bed for a while now!

That does mean you see him more than a friend, right? 

What if... What if all this time you were just as hung up on him as he was on you, but neither of you had the balls to say anything?

In his picture perfect drunken world, Madani makes sense and his heart sings.

You want him.

If it were a Disney cartoon, animals would be singing and dancing around praising your couple. 

Frankie would have probably made a sick unicorn.

“Oh Dina”, suddenly your voice cuts right through Billy’s happy fantasy, and there’s way too much sass in that voice for it to belong to a Disney princess. “Just because your friend Sam here and your own desperate fan-girling ass carry a boner for some fucked up teenage fantasy that involves boinking Prince Caspian, doesn’t mean all women have that same one-track mind. Some of us can actually look past a dick and see a friend. So why don’t you lay off that Cosmopolitan and fuck off, vodka-cranberry sure ain’t making you brighter”.

Billy frowns, deep lines creasing his forehead.

Frank snorts with laughter, not even bothering to conceal his reaction. 
 
 You hold Dina’s hateful stare.

“Whatever, bitch” the latter one finally utters, throwing her cigarette away. “I never fucking liked you. Maybe after this your little fanboy here will see you for what you really are - a fucking coward and a tosser”, Billy’s stares at her in disbelief, his mind still foggy. Madani’s dark eyes flash dangerously in his direction. “Of all women, Russo... Karma is a bitch, isn’t she? Your little princess here only loves herself, lover. Get out while you fucking can”.

Smashing her shoulder into yours, Madani goes back into the bar, leaving equally dreary and awkward silence behind.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Frank isn’t laughing anymore as he folds his hands on his chest, giving you a questioning eye. 

You roll your eyes dismissively. 

“Well, she’s obviously shit-faced,” you shrug, sliding your hands off of Billy. “What, you’re surprised she hates me?”

It’s a whole another world there, in Billy’s head. Have you just distanced yourself from him after what Madani said? What, you thought he’s so drunk he wouldn’t fucking notice?

“...so just because I have basic restraint and actually appreciate a man as a friend, I’m a damaged bitch with a twisted sense of humour? Look, I don’t know, Frank”, you rub your eyes tiredly with the back of your hand.

“I do,” Billy suddenly chimes in hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot and dark, darker than usual, as they narrow at you. “Know. I know.” Billy stutters, then takes a deep breath. “That’s all I am to you then, sweetheart? A friend?”

Billy wavers a bit as he speaks, but his words are deadly. Your eyes pop wide open at his words, like Russo has just grown a penis on his forehead. Frank’s mouth forms a silent O.

And just like that, the tension is back.

“Well, of course you are my friend,” you say slowly, stretching out your hand in an attempt to grasp Billy’s wrist. Your eyes are searching his face, but he’s locked, like a goddamn prison cell. “You’re my friend and I love you”.

Wrong answer, if Billy’s expression is anything to judge by as he recoils  from your touch. His face is a mix of disappointment and anger, his lips a thin line as he turns away.

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath as he turns on his heels and makes a tentative step towards the bar. Only his body is ruled by gin and whatever shit he chased it with, so his feet get mixed up together. Billy trips over his own shoes. 

“Hey, easy there, tiger”, Frank, who’s been standing closer, grips Billy by his arm to help him keep his balance. “What’s gotten into you, man?”

Billy chuckles, throwing his head back, and that has got to be the most bitter sound you have ever heard. You shudder involuntary, watching Russo like a hawk.

“I would have given you the fucking world, you know that?” Billy stares you dead in the eye, grabbing the door handle in front of him. “You just keep fucking with my head like a fucking sadist, and I live by the shit you give me!” you blanch as Billy goes on with the program, hurt dripping from his mouth. “Must have always thought that should be some spectacular pussy you’ve been packing, totally worth all your shit”.

“Bill!” Frank calls him out sharply, his expression terrified. 

But the damage is done. 


Your eyes are brimming with tears, but you stay silent, unblinking. Your chest seems a little caved-in, but you hold your chin high as your trembling lips start to move.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you spit, “Fuck you, friend”.

The next thing he knows, Billy explodes in a fit of bitter laughter - even though all he wants to do is fucking cry.

This just goes to fucking show there’s no such thing as Disney fairytale in real life, is there?

“Oh don’t worry, friend, somebody will,” he promises you, swinging the door to the bar wide open. “Gonna go help Madani fulfil her teenage fantasy. While you can stay here, think about us fucking like rabbits and feel better about yourself”.

With those words thrown over his shoulder, he steps into the crowded bar, the sound of the door shutting behind him sounding final. 

Plot twist. Curtain falls.

Frank can’t even venture a look at you - he doesn’t even hear you breathing.

“He’s just piss off drunk, that’s it. He doesn’t mean it,” Castle attempts to do some damage control, even though he knows that that ship has most definitely sailed.

“Thanks, Frank,” he hears you say quietly, and as he raises his eyes, he catches the sight of you wiping your cheeks quickly.

You inhale slowly, closing your eyes and fisting your hands.

“Tell Karen and the guys I wasn’t feeling so hot, okay?” you ask, and there’s definitely pleading in your voice.

You never plead.

Before Frank can ever mutter anything about Karen having his head if he lets you walk away at night all alone, you wave at him dismissively. 

“I’ll see you”, you say as you collect your hair in a ponytail and walk off, your silhouette soon lost in the bustling New York night.

[keouil]

some things never leave a person

“how does it feel knowing you got captain america wrapped around your finger?” rated t. 2k+. steve/nat. also on ao3 / twitter / cc

“You’re staring.”

Steve snapped his eyes back up, nearly giving himself whiplash. He sat up straighter. “No," he insists. "No, I’m not.”

Sam gave him a knowing look. The tips of his mouth curled upwards, an amused glint in his eye.

“Look, man,” he began casually, running his fingers over the rim of his beer. “I get it. Recovery ain’t easy and it’s a big new world you woke up to. If I was in your place, I’d probably take all my chances, too.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve drawled unsurely, taking a sip of his drink and regarding him. Asgardian mead pleasantly made its way down his body, warming him up to more liquid courage. “What do you mean by recovery?”

Sam opens his mouth to elaborate, when a loud clang from somewhere behind them interrupts their conversation. 

They look back and see Darcy with a mournful look on her face, holding on to the flute of an otherwise shattered champagne glass littered on the floor.

“I can, like, totally pay for that,” she mumbles sheepishly into the crowd. 

Pepper is by her side the next second, already picking up fragments of glass and disposing of it just as quickly. Tony just laughs it off, and just like that, the party continues. 

The overhead skylights from the makeshift bar he assembled in the Avengers Tower glistened under the wide sky. Pop music wafted all over the bustling partly, filled to the brim with a generous number of people enjoying themselves. Thor with his hand clasped on Jane’s waist, whispering something that made her laugh; Hill and Rhody on an animated conversation by the end of the bar. All of them, in a rare moment, loose. 

Steve locked eyes with Natasha from the corner of the room. 

His grin, then, comes just as embarrassingly easy. He waves. She gives him a small smile before turning her attention back to Barton. Steve frowns.

“Jesus,” he hears Sam hiss. “You got it bad, Cap.”

.

.

.

It’s not a gradual thing. 

Steve isn’t someone who minces his words or plays diplomatic charmer. His vitality burned, in a way foreign to a world that had long been too jaded of proper men and archaic chivalry. 

Captain America, back from the dead, yes: but also, and it was growing easier and easier to see, he himself ushered in a resurgence of basic morality stripped from ages of misuse and abuse. It was a basic thing, human decency, and he had simply reminded the world of exactly how easy it could be.

Steve came to carthage burning, but he flamed the embers of fire without ever having to wield a weapon. It was his nature to simply walk in the line of fire. And Natasha knows, if she is ever as sure of anything, that: he would no sooner rot in hell than let someone else walk over the flames for him, he had to be made to.

“Steve,” warns Natasha, a steady hand clamped over his shoulder against the fracturing landscape all around them. “Let me handle this.”

It was then he would turn to her, sometimes, and it scares her: the naked vulnerability he displays, the unyielding confidence in his frame, the complete and utter surrender of control. It is a ghastly little thing, the weight of his unburdening, but it only ever dawns on her when the ringing in her ears have stopped and the guns have mellowed: “Okay,” he nods once. “I trust you.”

.

.

.

Natasha should have seen it coming sooner.

It’s not that Steve hangs on her every word, is on her beck and call, or does whatever she tells him to do at the drop of a hat. He doesn’t tail after her like a lost puppy, because for all intents and purposes they were evenly matched at almost every pace; he was the commanding officer, she the shadow leader.

But maybe what tears at her conscience is that it also goes like this: hey nat,  he would say, thanks for having my back out there, or been awhile since i drank with someone, or i’m here if you need to talk too you know? or, and perhaps most damning, is: how about a friend?

Steve was acclimating slowly to the surface, in a way that he knows best and works for him. It is an intimate baring of his soul, and the stripping of her own to make sure it doesn’t totally push him over the edge just before he learns to plant himself on the ground again. It’s easy, then, to play a part: if only he didn’t blindside her with improvising the script every so often it leaves her breaking character more often than she likes.

Because Steve was not of the divine kind, the one measured up to the greatness of gods. He had such grounded faith; and Natasha, for all she deemed herself worthy, had already started carving herself a place six feet under. 

.

.

.

“It’s a transference thing,” Sam tells her one day in a low voice, when they’re waiting for transport and Steve is somewhere behind going over the mission details again with Fury. “But he means well. If it’s any help, this is actually an important breakthrough in the recovery process.”

Natasha feels herself ruminating over his words, because Sam would know about it best, working at the VA and all. He would probably know, too, then: “But,” she falters, her entire body in knots. “Why me?”

Sam doesn’t take a beat to answer. “Why not you?”

.

.

.

Steve loves so nakedly, both unforgivingly kind and passionately earnest: it is like fresh mildew unfurling from earth, dusk creeping at dawn; a silent but steady little thing. It is comforting, the rhythm of his heart: but oh, does it burden.

.

.

.

“How does it feel knowing you got Captain America wrapped around your finger?”

Natasha staggers a little, stopping the momentum of the sandbag just before it hits her square in the face. Her eyes flitter over the ring, making sure Steve was still busy testing the limits of Sam’s misery by boxing, before turning back to glare at Clint on the other side of the bag. So much for a sparring partner.  “What?”

“Come on, Nat,” Clint returns, sounding a little too cocky for her taste. He pushes the sandbag to her side a little. “He’s like a dog with a bone around you. It’s cute, really, if not a little stalker-ish.”

“That’s not—he’s—” Natasha stammers, trying to reign it in and getting her breathing under control. “Steve is just adjusting. Fury assigned me to make sure he does that as smoothly as he can.”

“Right, of course,” Clint doesn’t drop the knowing look on his face, but the edges of his eyes soften a little. He ignores the way Steve glances at their direction none too subtly, a worried frown on his face. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”

That sobers her up instantly. 

Natasha nurses her features into steeled determination, squaring her shoulders and tightening her jaw: but just as telling, however, is the slight crack in her voice when she says: “I’m fucking terrified.”

[yejiroh]

Runaway Bride

Yandere! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Part 3

Authors note: Hello everyone! Thank you for being here for the (most likely) final part of the Runaway Bride story!

Tag list: @yanderes-are-the-best @ejeeart @misskuudere-chan @fatherrrora

***

It was a race against time. As the news reported false information, Chrollo and his subordinates continued to search for the Nen user they needed. Meanwhile, Y/n continued to change her appearance, running farther and farther away. 

A rough hand slammed against the table, a chewed bullet resting beside it.

Gripping his hair, Uvo screamed in frustration as they had lost another person. It was amazing how many people had such a good sense of smell, yet died the second they smelled Y/n’s belongings. 

“How many does that make?”

“I think that was the 19th person. “

“You’re kidding.”

“Uvo, there’s literally bodies behind your chair. “

Kortopi walked in, messy hair hiding his face like usual. He did not say anything, but a curt nod to the two made them stand up and follow him out of the hotel room. 

Feitan stood in the hallway, knife in hand.

“Anything new?”

Shalnark shook his head ‘no’ with a sigh.

“The boss isn’t going to like this…”

Scratching his chin, Uvo pondered aloud “Why doesn’t he just take their Nen and use that? Doesn’t he take Nen abilities that he likes?”

“Doesn’t work like that, and Uvo, how come you’re the one coming up with all the ideas?”

‘I’m not sure. All I did was drink a case of beer this morning.”

“What are we gonna tell the boss? It’s already been some time- oh god, what if Y/n, you know- committed-”

“She wouldn’t do that unless it would be fun. It’s not fun when you’re scared.”

“Maybe she’s not scared? Huh, what about then, Uvo?”

“Would you two please shut u-”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”

“Hm?”

“Call the boss now, I just figured it out! Ooh, Y/n is smart!”

“No shit Shalnark.”

“Just call Chrollo.”

***

Dark eyes stared back at each other, the only thing separating the pur reflection was the spider web cracks of the glass mirror. Phone ringing, a gloved hand went to pick it it up, pressing the speaker icon.

“Any new-”

“BOSS! IT’S INTOXICATION! EVERYONE’S DYING BECAUSE OF INTOXICATION-”

“Explain Shalnark.”

A deep breath was heard in the other side of the phone, and the younger man began to speak rapidly.

“Okay, so basically, everyone- besides us, or people who have generally been close to Y/n for a while, are either passing out or dropping dead like flies right? It’s her! A part of her Nen- I think. Some sort of precaution since she was always on the move, ya know?”

“How does that help us find her?”

“Well, we just need someone who can sniff her out without any damage- so back to our original idea, we just need to smell her out! We had the wrong scent cause we were tracking her by her stuff, not her!”

Chrollo looked at himself, mouth slightly open. Of course! How had he not seen it before? Hadn’t Y/n mentioned something like that before? Smacking his head, he began to laugh, a wicked smile plastered on his face.

“Oh god, thank you Shalnark, I can do this on my own now- let everyone know to return to the hotel, and clean up the mess. My runaway bride is coming  back.”

“Understood.”

Hanging up, the man hurried out of the bathroom, grabbing a black bag, laughing maniacally. 

Now all Chrollo had to do was get ready.

***

Sweat dripped down the side of her nose, hitting the countertop. It was to be expected that running from Chrollo of all people would be difficult. Y/n shook her head, refusing to think of why it was a bad idea to run. The bastard had too much control over her already. A hand in her hair, Y/n looked up, having forgotten that she had cut quite a bit off earlier. Eyes on her hair, Y/n inhaled deeply, calming herself as she tried to stop the tears before they could come.

Gray eyes shone like jewels, boring into her own, soft strands of ebony hair framed his face beautifully as he looked down on Y/n, arms around her, a smile on his face.

“You’re so beautiful love, smile for me?”

“Chrollo, I’m nothing special- we both know that.”

“Ah, but you are; to me, you always look like you’ve just fallen from the heavens, just for me!”

A playful chuckle from Chrollo as he blushed. It was a cold night, and the secret visits he would make just for Y/n were treasured. Holding her closer, he moved a stray strand of hair from her face, pecking Y/n’s nose. Ticklish as it was, she let out a giggle.

“Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you love.”

“WHAT THE HELL! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ASSHOLE!”

Y/n hit the table, grabbing her keys. If she was going to dream about the man, it wasn't going to be now.

***

Various parts of red roses lay scattered on the floor thorns, petals, leaves, and if you looked very closely, pollen.  Various gifts lined the walls, all wrapped up nicely. Soon, guests would be filling the seats, and Chrollo would once again stand at the altar, and once again he would expect Y/n too walk out those doors oh so bashfully. But this time he would take her hands into his own, tell her how utterly beautiful she looked, and skip the vows- the faster, the better. 

Why was he even going through with marriage if he already had Y/n tightly wrapped around his finger, under lock and key? It’s not like they pay taxes, and he never wanted to marry- and Y/n didn’t care for it. 

‘Because it’s poetic you fool.’

This whole ordeal, just to add another story to his vast collection? Chrollo let out a laugh; to think that he had wasted precious months for the sake of poetry amused him. 

Sliding off one of the silver bands off his ring finger, he set it on the pedestal, messing up his silky black hair. 

“Why waste time slicking your hair back if you have such pretty locks?” Y/n looked up, eyes wide as her hands raked through his just washed hair.

“Gets in my face too much. And it gives me a cool vibe when I slick it back.”

Y/n stopped, bursting into laughter as she uncoiled the hair dryer’s wire. Plugging it in, she sat on the couch, grabbing a comb.

“Let me dry it properly- you're gonna get sick!”

“If you insist- there’s no need to though.”

“Sure there is! Now come on, sit here.” 

Between her legs, Chrollo hummed in content as the hair dryer blew hot air all around and the comb’s teeth raked through all the little knots. 

“I seriously can’t believe you're this pretty, Chrollo. I feel like seeing you like this is illegal!”

“Well, thank you.”

Chrollo leaned back, head hitting the couch cushion. Grabbing Y/n’s thighs, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, basking in the soft warmth.

Heaving a sigh, Chrollo adjusted his tie, and headed out to retrieve his bride.

***

The T.V. blared as the flashy icon of the station appeared, the host and hostess of the night smiling proudly as they set their papers down on the prop desk. 

“It’s 10 o’clock, do you know where your children are?”

“Hello everyone, I’m Raiyah Ourani,”

“And I’m Bobby McOkazawoo.”

“It has now been 4 months since the disappearance of Y/n L/n. In that time authorities have been conducting investigation after investigation, but no new news has yet to be released. However, the Grungingham Ball House assures the people of Yorknew that their organization is completely safe, and for any future customers to not be shy as they have updated the security, granting the safety they desire as well as the fun time they want.”

“Coming up: Are DonaldMc’s really everywhere within 5 miles? Now, a word from our sponsors.”

“NEW! Scrubbing bubbles foam tastic-super mega ultra is THE cleaning solution to all of your dirty needs! Skin safe to use as a lubricant, and a natural cleanser! You can use it on windows, counters, and so much more!”

Y/n turned the T.V. off, rubbing her temples. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was now 0:45 p.m. Who knew so much time would pass by just from a commercial? About to grab her phone, Y/n suddenly froze; her phone was on, a text notification on the screen. 

‘Where are you, darling?’

A hand on her mouth, she quickly grabbed her jacket. There was no time, she'd have to leave everything behind now or never. It’d be too risky to go out the door- there could well be innocents or perhaps Chrollo himself.

“Please tell me he sent Uvo…”

After the first escape, she couldn’t possibly go out the window; they’d expect that. The door, or  the window?

She looked around the room: too big to go into the vents, too risky to go out the window or door. So how do you escape?

Another ping from the phone, but Y/n didn’t dare look at it. Paranoid, she steadied her breathing; can’t have them sniff her out too easily. 

But…

If Chrollo wasn’t at the door, then she could use her Nen...everyone would either die or pass out, but it would be a better fate then having to deal with Chrollo’s or any of the spider’s blood lust.

A deep breath,  she released her ability, and opened the door, running as fast as she could, not bothering to see who would have been near the door.  She could hear laughter, crunches, dancing feet- all innocents, but there had to be someone, anyone. There was no way Chrollo wouldn’t have sent someone. 

‘It’s like last time…’

Pulling her hoodie over her face, she scanned the crowd before turning around. About to scream, she covered her mouth, looking up at the man who she had bumped into.

Chrollo smiled kindly.

“Nice hair. Where have you been?”

"Chrollo, please n-"

With a flick of his wrist, he had knocked his former fiance unconscious, putting her on his back as if she had just fallen asleep- not like the locals would know. It wouldn’t matter anyways. 

He had gotten his runaway bride back, and this time, he would have his wedding and poem complete.

[sammysera]

What happens in Madripoor, stays in Madripoor (SHORT READER X BUCKY ONE SHOT)

Synopsis ~ It’s winter! You have lived in the outskirts of Madripoor your whole life and met Bucky partial way through, he was busy off saving the world until he had to come back. As he walks in the door your heart flutters, reminding you of the forever-teenage-crush you seemed to have on him, his personality, his eyes, his laugh, his hairs, his lips, You both decide to spend a bit of time together away from the crowds of avenging, what’s the worst that could happen?

Warning: profanity, drowning/death, mild sexual content, blood, murder, knives, 

Word count: 3254

This has only other been posted on my Twitter. It should NOT be posted on any other accounts apart from @/imgodbtchesmrvl on Twitter and this tumblr.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The cold gusts rushed through the cracks of the window, begging to be accepted into the warmth of my home. Door creaked to the rattle of the wind’s pushes and shoves trying to get in and infect my home with the spiteful bite of raw frost. My body draped over a small coach in the corner of the living room in front of a dark-screened TV was my hands nestled book pages between each finger. 

My breath was short. The tensity of the book’s situation increased, pokes and prods of the cold dotted my skin heavily beneath my thin sweater. Dancing through the pages of the book my eyes glued to the lettering, each printed meant something which helped to create this world of murder, in the simple nook of my two hands. 

Blood splattered, knives thrown, glares of the dead and skulls of the living crept images into my mind of the entirely different century and world, sat between my palms. Rattle.

I tilted my head as my eyes slipped to the small handle of my front door. Blasting wind impacted the thing for the hundredth time in the last hour so my head shook away the thought of entry, the creep of reading this mysterious dark, world in front of me didn’t help the anxious-confidence of curiosity bugging my mind. Rattle.

I tilted my head as my eyes slipped to the small handle of my front door. This time I shivered as my right hand removed itself from the small portal in my hands and scratched up my bookmark off the couch, beneath my right thigh. I never removed my eyes from that blasted door handle, they stayed locked onto the threat. The bookmark noted the chapter of the book I reached prior to the interruption and I placed the paper-back down on a miniature grey table beside my current seat. Rattle.

My irises still locked onto that handle, I shifted upwards and still not unlocking my gaze I grabbed a little knife from the table beside me. You see, being the best friend one the one and only Winter Soldier doesn’t necessarily gain you any more confidence that you’ll “always be protected”. No. In fact it did quite the opposite, it exposed a weakness. One which could be exploited, especially is said-weakness had no defence techniques and was incapable to do a thing to defend themselves. On the other hand, there is me, Buck taught me basic ways to defend myself from predators and weakened parts of the body that could help me to take someone down if I needed to. Rattle.

My body thrusted against the wall in series with the door as the handle clicked. Shit. The wooden opening creaked as it threw itself around the hinge in an anti-clockwise, slow, manor. My body shivered to the hug of the frosty wind. Footsteps started to sound as a dark body started to enter the frame. I shot my knife towards it but their arms performed an ‘L’ shape, blocking my attempt, my eyes slowly looking upwards.

Bucky ‘Buchanan’ Barnes.

“Bucky.” I smirked at the tall, handsome loveable-stranger. “Hey, Frosty.” His relentless grin stole his features hastily, suddenly he thrusted himself forward onto me- shocking me I slipped backwards onto the hard, wooden floor and he fell directly on top of me but his hands slammed down either side of my head.

My eyes widened, glistening into his. I felt my heart start to palpitate at the sight of his features directly over me, just an inch or two from my own face. His chiselled jaw laced with a thin dark stubble, thin lips parted but soft, lower lip grinningly bitten slightly by an upper tooth, pearly whites staring back at me as his smile revealed at my flustered face. His eyes never left my own from our first conversion of words when he arrived.

Hesitantly his body came down on top of me, throwing a wave over my own body, of desire for my ever-long crush to just kiss me. As his entire body lie over my own, my legs already spread from the fall with his own placed between them, he halted. Mouth beside my ear. 

“A little weak on our defence, huh?” He groaned into my ear, his deep voice soothed the tension of my yearning body. A little laugh left his voice as his body lifted upwards and he settled between my legs, one knee led flat and the other pointed upwards, he never let the grin leave his face as a large hand offered help to my own. 

I grabbed it and smiled as we stood up together and he ripped me into a hug, squashing our body together. My body relaxed under the handsome scent of his, pine from the woodland next to my home, cologne, gun powder and fire. The best scent of all, all of this combined. Buck’s large arms engulfed half of my body and he smiled into my hair, not saying a word, just living in the moment of current affection. 

I pushed my arms around his waist and cuddled into his solid chest, his muscles were easy to feel through his thin shirt, how could he be wearing such a thin shirt in this weather? I blushed a little again under his groan of joy from our glued bodies. I missed this. I missed him. 

Finally after five minutes we parted and he gripped my shoulders with his humongous hands, I smiled at the hold, his eyes stared through into my soul and I felt almost naked from that gaze of his,  “How are you?” I smiled a bit more at the question, “Better now that you’re back, Buck.” I patted his arm and he let go as I left for the kitchen, him plodding his large soldier-body behind me. 

“I assume you’re hungry, Bucky?” my head turned as I started to walk backwards into the kitchen, making it through the doorway then turning back so I would walk forward to the fridge and pull out some ingredients for one of my best recipes: a sandwich. 

“If you wouldn’t mind making me something too, I’d appreciate that.” I looked up to the super-soldier as he plopped his body into a breakfast-bar chair in front of the bar while I shifted around in front of him making two sandwiches for the both of us. 

-=-=-

Time skip: 4 hours later.

catch-up: after the last few hours of talking we discussed life, love, The Avengers, how Bucky was, how I was, what we want in future. We talked about so much half of it I couldn’t even remember. But we decided that now we are going to go out in the snow to just have some general fun. It didn’t snow a whole lot in America this year so when Bucky came here, to Madripoor, he was wanting to at least enjoy the bite of snow at his skin while he was here. 

-=-=-

I shot down the hallway of my little bungalow, darting past Bucky’s door and he chuckled at the sight of my body running round the smallest home he had to ever of been in, as if it was some sort of incredibly important emergency. 

“Seriously, you can chill out Frosty, it snows here about two-foot a day in winter. It isn’t like we are going to miss it.” he cackled lacing his foot with a dark thick boot when I jumped in front of him. I grasped both of his shoulders and made him look directly into my eyes as I explained, “No you don’t understand, tonight’s sunset is going to be the most gorgeous one of the year. You need to see this one.” My face flourished emotionlessness as seriousness stole my features. Again, a cackle left his mouth while he stood up, placing a thick coat over his torso and zipping it shut to encase the heat of his body. 

I nodded to him, eyes wide in question of if he was finally ready to leave and he returned the nod which indicated for us to go. I squealed, almost launching out of the front door and I creased the perfection of the snow which had settled on my front-door-step. 

As I placed one foot into the candy-floss-snow my feet raced through the infinite acres of snow and I raced my body through the trees of the woodland placed in front of my bungalow, running from the calling of Bucky’s voice to stop. I giggled at my head start and hid behind a tree, circling a ball of snow into a snow-ball.

Footsteps crept closer alongside heavy breaths and more calls for his ‘Frosty’. My hand laced my mouth to stop a little giggle escaping at his confusion of where I had hidden, as his back turned towards me I ran out and launched a fist of snow into the centre of his back. 

He spun around, a smirk gaining his features at the sight of me running away from him, no more snow in hand. His body thrusted towards me at a heavy speeding pace while I ran directly towards frozen lake I know of local to the woodland. As I shoved branches out of my path, hearing the gaining footsteps I chose to take a detour from my original path.

Before Bucky realised, I managed to take an arm of snow and climb up a tree, I was then sat up on a thick branch draping across to entwine with another arm from another tree halted proudly upwards, my eyes chased Bucky’s movements below me. A small smile flourished on my face, watching Buck struggle to find my where-a-bouts. 

He spun in circles directly below me, his jacket creasing over his muscular arms, his dark hair being discoloured by the snow falling on top of the short locks of hair, his stubble starting to also discolour. He started to sputter as some snow must have landed on his lips or in his mouth and he slapped his face over trying to get the snow off his stubble and out of his mouth. Forcing my laughter to try to contain itself even more.

My self-control started to lack as I giggled aloud a little bit but not enough to make him notice my location. 

He paused for a moment, squinting in the distance and a breeze overcame the air, dancing his hair forwards allowing from him to use this as an excuse to then run his hand through his hair and pull it from his eyes, this act, although not intentionally flirtatious or arousing, caused that same prior desire for him to just kiss me and be with me returned to my feelings and thoughts.

To contain this, at least for right now, I encased a ball of snow in my hand and swung back my right arm, preparing a throw down towards the back of Buck’s head. Perfect shot. Perfect aim. Perfect target. Perfect everything. I swung it but as my arm came forward and released the ball of frozen water, it slapped into the direct centre of Bucky’s face and I gasped.

Eyes widened. 

Buck’s hand and cyborg moved upwards towards the snow encasing his features and as he wiped it off I released the loudest laughter I had ever had. My laughter captured Bucky’s attention and his face shot upwards towards me, allowing me to admire his beauty through tears of laughter. 

While cackling uncontrollably I suddenly lost my grip, grabbing some snow on my fall down through the air instead of a branch. Everything was in slow motion.

“NO!” Bucky’s voice bellowed as my body dropped from the branch of the tree and my hand grabbed a fist of snow. 

Falling.

Bright images of my parents drowning in the local lake appeared in front of me, I relived each and every moment of that trauma within seconds that felt like hours. The experience of not being able to save them engraved my memory and this must have been my “white light” that everyone talks about seeing when they die.

My hair danced in the pull of gravity versus the light-weight of my hair, it flowed upwards and my body fell through the layer of frost-bitten air, slowly getting closer and closer to the white-bedded grass.

My eyes closed.

Warmth.

My eyes opened and I felt two arms wrapped around me. One under my upper torso and the other under my two legs, shock overcame me as I was sure this was the moment I’d die. My eyes turned to look at my knight, Bucky.

Bucky grasped me in his arms, worry embedded his features as he let go of a breath and closed his eyes bringing his forehead forward into my own, he was scared. Scared he’d lost me. Scared he was going to lose me. “Don’t ever do that again Frosty.” I giggled a bit and brought my forehead upwards. Our mouths centimetres apart, lust for kissing his claimed my mind as we both looked at each other’s lips, my eyes slowly looking up into his, “I planned on doing this everyday, darling.” I smirked and pulled away, shooting out of his arms and running towards the lake.

As I launched from his arms I saw a slight grin claim his lips again, replacing the worry he once had. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the snarky comment and sarcasm which claimed my personality like slave, or whether it was because I called him ‘darling’. 

My thighs pounded against each other as I slid across the opening and onto the ice, I locked down onto one knee, skimming across the soft ice allowing it to slide me as far as it could. I turned in circles across the ice hearing small cracks as I danced, I slightly caught Bucky appearing through the opening and standing on the verge of the ice, smiling at the sight of my let-go. 

Dancing allows my body to let go, I love to dance. It sets my soul free and I love to do it on this lake, when its frozen, or in this opening to honour my parents. They loved my dancing, they loved me dancing. Bucky loved to watch me dance. I’ve seen so many smiles lace his face whenever he watched me dance, it made me feel alive to see him enjoy watching me do something I enjoy. It only made me love him more.

I turned in a circle, several times. Feeling the gushing wind spin out from my speeding rate of turns and and I brought my arm down, a hand gripped my right waist and my left hand. I looked into the depths of who had taken my hand.

Bucky sincerely smiled and started to dance with me. We rushed around the outskirts of the lake, spinning and turning, so many moments where all we did was lose ourselves in each other’s glistening eyes. The snow only emphasised the aura around us. We both love winter so it only feels absolutely perfect whenever we are together in this weather and season. 

Bucky looked deep into my eyes as I stared into his with an equal smile, his ocean-eyes glowed even more in the shimmer of white around us. He spun me round and I fell into his right arm as he brought me down towards the ice with my leg hung upwards in the air, his face following my own.

Our faces, almost parallel following each other at every moment. He brought me up, an even deeper and emotional smile gathered across his entire face, his stubble creased under one of his numbered smiles. 

Bucky doesn’t tend to be joyful too much because of everything he went through so whenever he is around me I tended to do whatever I could to make him smile. Even if it meant doing something incredibly stupid, as long as a smile graced his features, thats all that matters. 

I stood directly opposite him and he spun me before bringing me back down into and identical position to our last, except now our faces were directly parallel. My leg strung up in the air again, assuming a dance pose. 

His deeper emotions surfaced, “I don’t know why it took me so long to do this.”

I tilted my head at his comment and he thrusted forward. Our lips crashed, perfectly. We kissed, our lips smothered each other passionately and there wasn’t a single regret in that moment from either of us. 

If passion could be physically shown, there would be mass fires surrounding our bodies as they pushed together under the heated love through our simple kiss.

Bucky’s hand clenched my ass jokingly and I chuckled at his cheeky grab as he chuckled at my laugh. I pulled my arms around his neck and tugged him closer as our bodies brought upwards. Never once did our lips part. 

Buck’s arms wrapped around my lower back as mine stretched around his lower neck and his little laugh escaped, parting our lips from the struggle of reaching completely around his neck.

“Who’d have thought such a short-ass would be the one I fall for?” he giggled down to me.

“Who’d have thought you’d finally kiss me?” I chuckled back at him sarcastic and not once did my smile hesitate or leave my lips.

“Hey, this is 2024. You could have been the one to kiss me.” He replied with a sarcastic-serious face, cupping my right jaw.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for old fashioned.” I returned the sarcasm and he pushed his lips back onto mine.

“I love you, Frosty,” his words pulsed through my mind on loop. I couldn’t get enough of those four words in his voice, from his mouth.

“Happy birthday” He smiled more and pulled out a small burgundy box. I looked at the box then up to him and slapped my hand onto his torso lightly with a wide smile of joy from the comment of his love. I didn’t need some sort of gift, I just wanted his love.

“Bucky, I-”

Crack. My eyes widened. Crack. My eyes looked into Bucky’s, fear overcoming. “love”. Shatter.

My body was engulfed by the cold wet. As I fell, I couldn’t even finish the four word sentence I aimed to tell him. Would this be my death? Is this how I die? I saw Bucky’s eyes start to fill with tears as I fell and when I dropped through I was smashing my hand onto the thick ice. 

I couldn’t swim.

I pounded and pounded and pounded, but nothing. Deafening silence.

I watched Bucky’s eyes drain of the passion that once resonated, now all I could see were tears. Panic. Sadness. Anger. Fear. He dropped to his knees, letting go of the burgundy box as it hit the ice beside his knee.

Time passed slowly, but I felt the life paling from me hastily. 

My hair flailed around my head, beneath the surface I was screaming but I didn’t want to show Bucky that fear. If I showed fear, he would be scared. I don’t want him to be scared. He forced his fists into the ice but it wouldn’t give. He just kept punching, his knuckles growing scarlet. 

I just smiled. One of his tears dropped onto the surface of the ice. I started to fall from the surface of the ice.

“I love you.”

Darkness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! This was originally inspired by a simple prompt I got on twitter and was mucking about making a mini commentary-short-story but then morphed an idea in my mind!

Let me know your thoughts <3

Thank you for reading!

TWITTER: @/imgodbtchesmrvl

[junglekookbook]

Papilionem

Yoongi × reader

Genre: crack, yandere, angst

A/n: I write for my one muse and one muse only, I am scared to be posting again but it really helps to have a friend always have your back and support you. Hopefully I don't disappoint people with my writing. @cosmostae

Prologue (for context)

The human species as Y/n would soon come to understand was extremely selfish and pompous. Not a week had passed since she had crashed onto this planet and suddenly it became her job to save them. Like she owed it to them, when she barely managed to survive there was not one huan that worried about her but only criticsed her and called her incompetent and said that she was bad at her job. Duties aside, she did not deserve this. Why was babysitting this ungrateful species her responsibility. Her duty was to protect earth, the planet not it’s inhabitants. Maybe she should let these pitiful creatures just freeze to death. She hated Yoongi, but somehow she had grown to loathe the human species more. She had managed to secure a home in a rundown building far away from the city. Really far away. Something called ‘radioactivity’ or something was present in the area. She found it funny. ‘Just another one of those superstitions’ she thought. Her large crimson wings shimmered in the golden light of the setting sun. The warmth soothed her skin and helped her take away her attention from the pain from all her injuries that she had sustained while duelling with Yoongi. Her species was really not equipped to handle the cold. A cold dry laugh escaped her lips, finding it comical how over the years while the species of other planets focused on evolving traits that could be weaponized, hers had focussed on peace and aesthetics. Look where that got them. Cryonovians had evolved a trait to specifically destroy her planet and win the long cold war while her planet focussed on stupid things like ‘what is the meaning of life?’ “Mass extinction” She blurted out bitterly. Whilst it was true that her loyalty would always be with her home planet she could not help but be filled with disdain at the pompousness of all those philosophers. Sounds of cracking glass shook her out of her thoughts, straightening her back she poked her head from the sill to survey the surroundings. It definitely was not a human, they were very rigid with this superstition. Swinging her legs off the window sill she floated over the floor to the source of the sound. Her hands were already preparing a small ball of energy. 

Yoongi stood leaning against the door frame, a plastic bag in his hands. Y/n was in no shape to fight and he knew that. If she chose to fight now, she could die, only he wouldn’t let her. He had always found them to be like lamb and lion. There was no winning chance for the lamb but he found it cute how it still tried. His amusement had developed into an infatuation that he had denied for a very long until Hoseok, his closest friend from the neighbouring planet had made him realize that he was smitten with the lamb. It was from then that he did everything in his power to get the two of them together on Earth, away from all the dirty politics, of course he did not want the annihilation of her planet, but then that Jimin showed up and suddenly that planet needed to go. The first time he saw her on this filthy planet, looking so vulnerable, he was ready to recite the confession he had spent days preparing. He expected her to be angry or cry but he really did not expect the way his throat constricted and heart raced at the sight of her. His words formed a lump in his throat that made it hard for him to breathe.  That night she had knocked him off his feet, in every sense of the phrase. The days that followed seemed like a fun show to put on. He realized that watching her lose made him happy. This part of himself he was still battling with. How could he enjoy hurting someone he loved? Was it the fact that he hurt her or the fact that he never killed her? He enjoyed the control and the act of mercy he showed her everytime they duelled. It felt like a bonding activity to him.

“What? What are you here for? You are going to kill me aren’t you?” Y/n asked when she saw him leaning against the door. Yoongi took in her bruised body, and ripped wing, the bruises on her knuckles when she had had the grand idea of using physical attacks with him, it had felt like punching a brick of ice. It pained him to see her like that, knowing that he was the reason for it. That is not what he wants their future to be, when they do get married he would not be caught dead hurting her. “Why would I do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow. Y/n’s lower lip jut out in annoyance, eyes glaring daggers at him. “Oh, right I forgot, you prefer to mock me publicly everytime we fight.” She spat. “Mock you? I-” Shaking his head, he chose not to talk about it, “I came here bearing gifts.” He said raising his hands and showing her the plastic bag, the act making her flinch and making a dull pain settle in his chest. She did not feel safe around him, but he would fix that, starting with these juice boxes and packed potato chips. “I want nothing from you.” she said, moving away to create distance between them. “No, don’t say that! I had to freeze the cashier for these!” He protested, walking towards her again. 

“I don’t have a home to go back to. Do you know what that is like?” She blurted out, her eyes welled up and voice broke at the end of the question. Yoongi felt his heart constrict, “I would not go back either, I will stay here with you.” He offered, he did not want to see her in more pain, he had already caused her enough of that. His offer was met with the faint feeling of getting hit by her energy blasts on the arm. She did not have the strength to hurt him, it felt like a slight tap on the shoulder at best. “You have people to go back to. People who love you, care about you, who are waiting for you. I- I am alone on this planet, trapped with no where to go, their stupid atmosphere feels like a glass jar. I have no one to go to and no one who would take care of me! I can’t live with this loneliness forever!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face, she hid her face in her hands, falling to her knees, cutting them against the glass shards. Green blood dripped from her wounds, unlike the humans it was nitrogen her species needed. Most species relied on nitrogen and helium, luckily earth had enough nitrogen to sustain her. “You’re right, I don’t know what that is like.” Yoongi finally admitted, he took slow steps when approaching her, with great caution he wrapped his glacial arms around her “but I am willing to understand. We are away from all the war, away in a world of our own, maybe sometimes we just don’t have to fight,” He cooed at her, running his hand through her hair. He did not receive an answer from her, but as the sun set, Y/n cried herself to sleep inYoongi’s embrace. 

When she woke up in the morning, Yoongi was not around, a cool sensation lingered on her arms but it wasn’t the kind that caused discomfort, it made her understand why humans used ice on wounds. After breaking down last night in front of the man she had sworn to kill, she felt the pain fade and dull in a manner that fomentation with ice could only do. His words played in her head “A world of our own” he had said, no one would know if they fought or not, last night she felt a comfort she had not felt in a long time, but then again, she had not been shown kindness in a long time. It was the bare minimum on Yoongi’s part, she brushed it off as basic courtesy, as for what he said, she would give him an answer once her wounds healed. In the words of the human philosopher, Taylor Swift “Band aids don’t fix bullet holes” and she had just endured air bombings. 

The wings took the longest to heal, it took great patience to see them come together and for the scar to disappear. She took a day for herself, tried those potato chips and almost gagged at the ridiculous amount of sugar in that litchi juice box. Given that she hated sugar so much, she figured that she would use it to address Yoongi. She was growing tired of using that Cryonovian name. She wrote him a letter that day, to be fair, she wrote him at least thirty but sent only one. 

“Dear Yoongi, Yoongi, Suga,

What happened between us, nothing happened betw Maybe it is easier for you to ask for a few moments of peace, you have not lost everything that you had known to be true about your existence or purpose. With my planet no longer existing, I have often questioned why I must still keep the promises of an extinct species, but I understand it now. You froze a man to death for some edibles, something I could never do, these humans, they are so fragile… they need my protection, I must protect them from people like you who simply take and take and take. You took my home and my love, you are taking from these people too. I may not be strong enough to defeat you yet, but I will never stop trying, so long as humans can see that I am good and you are not, I will fight. When next we speak it will be as rivals.”

They did meet as rivals again. High above in the sky, a crimson winged fairy fought a white haired cryokinesis wielding assassin. With new found motivation coursing through her veins, she fought Yoongi. A part of her acted impulsively, filled with denial for finding comfort in his arms. She was relentless in her rain of energy on his figure. She knew that she was doing better than she ever had, she might just win, maybe she would mock him too. Let him live to be defeated again. Make a spectacle out of him like he did everytime. She allowed herself a small glance at the crowd gathered below that cheered for her today. That believed in her after so long. Only… they didn’t. They hated her for doing well against the mysterious bad boy villain with ice powers. They hated her for trying. They hated her no matter what she did. A sudden sense of despair consumed her, making her mind go numb, a window that Yoongi used to gain the upper hand. He had not intended to hit her heart, he aimed for her arm, he watched with dread filled eyes as her unconscious body started falling through the air. In his panic and desperation he reached out his hand to hold her, letting her survive that fall. Losing control of his powers in his state of distress he watched the icicle impale her heart in horror. The screaming of the crowd died down and the sound that echoed in his head over and over was the thud that had accompanied Y/n’s fall. He had killed her.

[horrorslashergirl]

I have a request, since they're open! Anything with the Collector x Reader x Chromeskull. I love that pair! Surprise me with what happens. Preferably angst.

The Collector x Reader x Chromeskull- Hazardous Toxicity

Authors Note: Getting some practice with angsty scenarios and these two see to fit the picture, because what’s not toxic about being in a relationship with a serial killer, neverthless with two of them.

Warning: Toxic Polyamorous Relationship

Words: 2.2k

You had a peculiar taste in men and that went with the fact that you didn't like routine or having a normal relationship with a normal guy with a normal job and a normal hobby. Normal wasn't an adjective or characteristic you were attracted to.

If you could describe what your preference in men was, you would start by saying that you always liked them older, maybe because you had enough of going on dates with guys your age that talked about the same topics; college, sports, nothing that would really spark a certain interest, but alas you were glad at the end of the date they preferred to remain just friends. Easier to get out and not make an awkward scene and probably explain why there was no chemistry.

The past relationships you had were to put it nicely, acceptable. The guys always let you take the lead; you ordered the food, you decided what movie to watch, what to do on a certain date. To be always in charge was tiring and you felt kind of empty. There was no excitement what so ever.

So, imagine the actual relationship you were having now. Never in your life would you predict that you would end up in a polyamorous relationship with two men that were much older than you. It was just a fantasy, one that turned out to be real.

To say that your partners were quite unique would be just an easy saying; they always stood out of the crowd, maybe one of the reasons you were so intrigued by them, but they were that type of standing out like 'He's so handsome and fuckable type'. Well, in your opinion, yes, but in your friends and people that knew you, they were downright intimidating. Possible another plus in your attractiveness book.

They had that certain vibe that if they wanted to crush someone's skull, they would do it, not that you minded because, in a certain twisted way, you felt protected because Lord helps the poor soul that would have the guts to hurt you.

At the beginning of the relationship, everyone said that you should be careful, be vigilant because you don't know them well; they were mysterious to say so, never putting all the cards down for you to see, making your stay on your toes and your mind always to wander to their personas. That was what made you be drawn to them, they excited your mind and the intimacy?

You never knew how much pleasure exists, nevertheless with two men like them. They always made you crave more, your legs turning to jelly and mind a mess, all morals flying out the window and letting your carnal instincts take over.

Everything was perfect because you felt cherished, they always treated you with all kinds of surprises, and sometimes it felt like they were competing for your affection and attention; the perks of having two alpha males.

They also had their differences, despite how similar Jesse and Asa were. Jesse was an extrovert, while Asa was an introvert. Despite Jesse being mute he always found himself teasing you, be it at first using the electronic reader and later on suggestive signing after you got better with ASL. Asa could speak very loud and clear but chose not to, only if he had something to say, which always was accompanied by an authoritative tone, more or less.

Both are very highly intellectual and that showed; Asa being a successful entomologist at the university and the many degrees and diplomas on the wall of his office spoke for him, not to mention how much he knew about history and art. Jesse was nothing less either, with running a successful chroming company, being a highly respected and feared CEO and it always amazed you how much he knew about information technology.

So basically your type was experienced, tall, intimidating, and smart.

After being for some time in the relationship, your known one always said that they were controlling you, which at first made you confused about this statement, wondering from where they deducted that.

Maybe you were a little blind, not able to see how they chose for you what to wear, what to eat, how you should do your hair. You saw them as a suggestion, but the ones outside begged to differ.

There also came a hard time when you were having trouble at your job, the economy was going down, your boss had to cut salaries and you couldn't afford to pay rent, not to mention that you needed to over-work; extra hours staying at work meant less time spending with your lovers.

They suggest that you should move in with them, switching from Asa's house to Jesse's depending on when they weren't working, plus they made you give up on your job, explaining how the money wasn't even covering how much you worked.

You agreed; maybe the lack of sleep, too much frustration, and injustice conducted you to agree with their proposition.

They took care of all your needs, be them material, spiritual or physical; they delivered it. You couldn't argue on that, but slowly, without you realizing it, they made you be dependent on them, seeking them whenever you felt like, but you were always the submissive, they owned the power and you only basked it what they emanated.

The apex of this relationship came when darker secrets came out because your curiosity got the better of you, not going to work that left you a lot of time to think and brown-noose into their stuff and business; the biggest mistake of your life, much worse than entering this hazardous relationship.

The first time your eyes looked over a photo-album of Asa's, you expected to see family photos, since he never brought this subject, you were interested in it, but seeing all the gruesome photos, you never thought a human could be shaped like this? This had to be some sick joke, right? But it wasn't.

You haven't told Asa about it or tried to question him, making sure you put the album exactly where it was. You debated if you should tell Jesse since Asa had to do some entomology related work for the weekend and you stayed by Jesse's house, but he had to go to work too, something about an unannounced meeting, leaving you to spend time all alone into his enormous house, so again curiosity got the best of you.

If you thought that Asa's photo album was gruesome, then the tapes you found in Jesse's Chrysler inside the glove box and trunk were sure going to give you nightmares.

You were pacing in Jesse's living room, drinking some whiskey to calm your nerves because you were sure that a breakdown was going to come, then it hit you. All the missing people, the murders on the news; you played detective and pin-pointed everything.

It all came down to you, the harsh reality; all the false sense of safeness and affection, it was pure-down manipulation, the undercover controlling that you were too blind to see because you were like a love-struck puppy to them.

The solution was simple; break up this relationship.

That's what you did, you wrote down a quick note, not explaining why you were leaving them, you just wanted to getaway. You left Jesse's place and walked for half an hour. Where? You didn't know, you had nowhere to go because all your friends left you; some that decided you were a lost cause, others too afraid of your men.

You had so much money just to stay at a cheap hostel for some days, but it was better than sleeping in a bus station on a dirty bench. Maybe you will go back to your parents? You didn't have a plan in mind.

The first night you couldn't sleep, not only because the bed was very much uncomfortable and the people in the room next to you were making too much noise, but because you felt like they were always watching; you were getting paranoid.

The next day, you managed to get some sleep in the morning, sleeping until it was the afternoon, the growl of your stomach waking you up. You walked to a cheap restaurant across the hostel, and as you took the first bite of the scrambled eggs and a little too burnt sausages, you grimaced.

Too accustomed to five-star meals and champagne, doll?

Alas, you swallowed down, reminding yourself that luxury wasn't an option in your current predicament. You sipped on the bitter coffee, the taste as truthful as the relationship which you ended, the dark liquid waking you up, and everything pouring down on you; it was only a game. The affection was only a camouflage for the twisted intentions, the protectiveness only possession.

After sitting there for hours and the waitress telling you that if you wouldn't order anything else you should leave, you walked back towards the hostel, walking upstairs to your room, entering and closing the door behind you, you were ready to hit the bed again, only to stop dead in your tracks when your gaze meets long black-clad legs, eyes moving up over the black clothes and wide chest and stopping on a bone-chilling chromed skull mask.

The bald head and tall frame of the mad was a dead giveaway to who he was, and when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, you knew who the second person was behind you, but your mind didn't want to acknowledge the scenario.

"Going somewhere?" the calm and familiar voice asked behind you, feeling Asa stop behind you, just a few inches away from his chest to press against your back.

'Piggy has been naughty.' Jesse signed, making your gut twist at the nickname he gave you.

"I-I...." you didn't know what to say, afraid of saying anything when your eyes saw Jesse twirl a large knife, clearly amused by your face that showed fear.

"You what? Trying to break things off without a specific motive?" Asa asked into your ear, gloved hands grasping your hips into a bruising grip, fingers digging into your skin behind your shirt.

Of course, they found out you were sneaking where your nose shouldn't be. Asa knew where everything he owned was, so it was no surprise when he found the photo album a little out of place, and Jesse? You cursed yourself for forgetting that he had security cameras all over his place.

Jesse moved off the couch and stalked towards you, looking down at your form and at this moment you really hated how tall and imposing of a figure he had. You were turned around and pressed to his chest, your eyes ready to meet Asa's face, only to be masked by a black-foam mask, making him look so very menacing, like a very dangerous spider.

You felt Jesse trail the tip of his knife up and down your thigh, his masked face pressing against the top of your head.

"You know what I am most curious about?" Asa asked, pulling out a knife of his own and trailing the blunt edge over your neck, the cold blade making your breath hitch.

"Any person in your situation would have called us in." he answered for you.

That's when it hit you, your eyes widening. Any person in their right mind would have gone directly to the police, telling them everything, you had enough proof to put them behind bars for the rest of their lives, but you hid out like a rabbit, ready for the wolves to find you.

"Aren't you such a loyal pet?" Asa murmured in your ear, the knife nicking your collarbone a little, feeling his hot breath and rough texture of his mask hit your skin.

'Someone has a little crush.' the electronic voice from Jesse's phone spoke, making you more aware of what was happening.

"P-Please....I won't tell anyone." you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt Jesse move his knife up and down on your inner thigh.

"I'm sure you won't. It would be a shame to kneecap you, queen bee." Asa said, sadistic promises behind the cruel words.

You whimpered at the nickname, one it used to make you smile brightly and nuzzle into his chest, feeling so loved and appreciated, but now it made you sick to the stomach.

'Very big shame to destroy such a cute face.' Jesse added, pulling his knife away only for his nitrile covered hand to come up and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin.

"Are you going to come home with us or do we have to train you through?" Asa asked, question rhetorical and by Gods, you didn't want to find out what it means 'training' in his mind.

Swallowing down, you nodded, doe-like eyes on his obsidian ones, his plush lips pulled into a winning lop-sided smile, then his lips pressed against your forehead, making you tremble a little.

Asa pulled away from you, walking towards the door, opening it. You were pushed forward by Jesse, who wrapped one long arm around your shoulder, making sure you wouldn't try to run away, not like you would get too far away.

As you passed the small reception you saw the owner of the hostel dead, into a pool of blood with his guts out.

This was a warning that this was not a childish game.

The meaning was simple; Try breaking things off with them and they will break your legs.

[five-miles-over]

Misery Loves Company (Clay Bidwell x Reader)

Summary: After leaving his hometown and all of its chaos, Clay Bidwell meets the reader at a strange bar and the two of them have a much-needed break from their troubles.

Word Count: 2,262

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (allusions to suicide), and some references to the film Clay Pigeons

If there was one thing that Clay Bidwell could change, it would be his decision to trust Lester Long. I mean, what the hell was he thinking, trusting some new guy in town with a big old grin to keep him safe. That guy's self-appointed nickname said it all: Lester the Molester. What a son of a bitch. What a smiling, cheery, fucking son of a bitch.

He should've seen something wrong when Lester opened his mouth and laughed like a goddamn coyote. He should've seen something wrong when Lester kept a cheery spirit around a corpse floating around in a river. Who in their right mind wouldn't be freaked out by something so creepy? Clay himself vomited at the sight, way before he could even catch any of the stench from the rotting body.

Until his best friend Earl shot himself in front of Clay, he'd never even seen a dead person before. Even though he was from a town so small that everyone knew everyone else and their business, death was always something so…covert. It was a covered-up thing, something private. The family would have their little funeral, and next week the obituary would show up in the newspapers. No one ever really kept the casket open, and it was just assumed that the deceased were off to a better place.

It turned out Earl was just the first one in a morbid domino effect. Next, Clay's ex-girlfriend was shot dead…while she was fooling around with Clay. Finally, Earl's widow, who was fooling around with Clay before Earl died, was found dead in her own home.

And of course, Clay was found to be the common thread linking all of those murders. The cops tried to string together a bunch of bullshit and frame him - Clay fucking Bidwell - as some serial killer with women issues or something like that. He could still hear Agent Shelby interrogating him. "You're dating one victim, you're having an affair with another, and you find the body of the third. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The agents even came into his house one night and conducted some stupid raid for no reason. Right, they thought he had weapons. But hunting was a tradition in his hometown; almost every guy his age had at least one shot gun in their house, even if it was their dad's or uncle's.

So much for having faith in law enforcement to punish the guilty.

Thank goodness they finally came to their senses and went after Lester Long instead. Clay didn't remember much after watching the police cars chase after Lester. All he wanted to do at that time was leave. Leave this small town, and never look back.

So he did just that. As soon as the sirens began to quiet down, Clay jumped into his creaky pick-up truck, stepped on the gas and drove as far from town as possible. He didn't know where he was going, what direction, what road, or any of that shit. All he knew was that he was leaving the town that had nothing left for him anymore. He drove and drove for hours until the sun went down.

It was a long journey, and Clay found himself thanking his past self for leaving a few beers in the passenger seat. They were all empty by the time that twilight turned into night. Though, if Clay was being honest to himself, it probably wouldn't be enough alcohol for him to forget about spending a night in jail on false accusation, or erase all the death he'd seen.

With some of the money left in his glovebox, he pulled over at some gas station and filled up the tank. According to a sign on the road, he was about fifty miles from some city called Great Falls. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, Clay thought to himself as he held the diesel nozzle, to try his luck in a big city. He heard stories about people having their own rags-to-riches story by leaving their small hometowns behind for busier places. And if nothing else, it'd be great to try and drive around the state just for the hell of it.

With a sigh, Clay watched as the meter reached its limit and the gasoline stopped flowing through the nozzle. The price wasn't all that bad for its mediocre quality, though it probably meant that Clay would have to sleep in his car tonight. It was hard to gauge the quality of the motels around this unfamiliar place, but he was sure that it would cost a lot more than whatever spare change Clay had left. Better to buy a drink, and get some sleep in the backseat, than to risk sleeping at some flea-infested room and wake up to a missing truck.

He parked the truck close to a neon sign - probably some saloon founded by a jaded business fellow - and walked inside. The place wasn't too crowded, with a few heads turning as soon as Clay walked in. Some of the guys were sitting around a table playing cards, and a lot of the customers seemed like they were regular patrons. Were they outlaws? Probably not. Based on the kinds of guys Clay saw in the saloon he used to go to, those guys drinking were probably just looking for an escape from their deadbeat jobs.

He almost smiled a little when he saw a pool table in the center, though it was strange to him that there was no one playing at the moment. Nevertheless, it reminded him of the good days when Earl and him would perfect their skills. By the time Clay turned nineteen, he was one of the best players in town. If he wasn't so blue right now, he'd be willing to show this new place a trick or two.

Clay looked out the window for a moment as he lit a cigarette. No cops in sight tonight? Good.

Taking a seat at the bar, he continued to people-watch until the bartender came up to him and asked for his order. Just as Clay told the bartender the kind of beer he wanted, you walked right inside and sat next to him.

While the bartender went behind to get the cold bottle, Clay looked you up and down, his lip curling upwards into a tiny boyish smirk. Maybe it was the after-effect of the alcohol from this afternoon, but you looked gorgeous to him…and almost a little mysterious, but also approachable. And you definitely looked nothing like the other customers in the saloon. Maybe you didn't come here often, or you were from another town, just like him.

"Hi."

"Oh…um, hi," Clay stammered, realizing you'd caught him staring. "Um…"

Taking control of the conversation, you introduced yourself to him and reached out to shake his hand. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine. You come here often?"

"Not like this." You shook your head and chuckled to yourself before ordering a drink for yourself. Clay sipped from his beer, listening to you tell him that you used to come here with a partner, on a Friday night after the two of you were done with work. "We had a lot of fun," you told him. "But things eventually just went south, we started fighting, and…I found them in bed with someone they'd been seeing on the side. So I packed my things and left…straight here. My stuff is literally sitting in my car right now."

"I'm sorry," you apologized casually, taking your drink. "I just met you. I don't even know your name and I'm already telling you about my break-up."

"It's fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "I'm Clay, by the way."

"So what brings you here, Clay?"

"Um…just, rough times. Needed to leave." He lied, not wanting to talk much about the things that really forced him here. "Sorry about your break-up. I know what it's like. It really sucks."

"To sucky lives and leaving shitty things behind." You toasted in a mock-celebratory tone, raising your drink and clinking it against his bottle. Clay's smile grew just a bit wider, and he even laughed a little.

The next hour felt like it passed by in the blink of an eye. Over the course of two beers (and who knows how many songs on the jukebox), Clay felt like he'd known you for years. Just by the way you talked about how you were almost done with school, and how much you hated your own little town just like he hated his…it was refreshing, to say the least. You seemed earnest, decent, and probably not tangled up in some kind of crime.

"Do you, by any chance, play?" He asked you after a bit of silence.

"Play what?"

"Um, pool." Clay pointed to the table at the center.

"No, never tried it before."

"I could…I could teach you if you like," he suggested. Now the beer was really taking his toll, making him want to show off a little for you.

"I'd love to learn."

You let him lead you towards the table, where the balls were already arranged for a new game. Clay was really friendly in teaching you the basics, on how to hold the pool stick (which was called a cue). He came up behind you, carefully guiding your hand to the right place on the stick and telling you to keep a good grip. Placing a hand over yours, Clay told you that a good shot involved getting the right angle. With another hand on your waist, he shifted you around nonchalantly so that you faced the right pockets of the table.

The alcohol was quite present in his breath while he spoke, but his voice…damn, you could listen to him talk all night. It was nice that you could get him out of his shell by agreeing to learn. And the way his hands felt on you was pretty nice. Eventually, you were able to make a few combination shots, and Clay was pleased.

"Damn, you're a fast learner."

"Thanks. You're a good teacher."

"Put enough quarters on a table like this one, I sure as hell have to be a pro." Clay bragged a little before the two of you laughed.

Suddenly, you put the stick down and walked closer to him with a smirk, not sure about what had gotten into you. "I…uh, I like the way you put your hands on me," you confessed in a whisper.

Catching your tone, he leaned against the table with a raised eyebrow "You did?"

You gave him a nod and mimicked his posture, leaning against the table as well. "I kinda like you, Clay."

"Yeah…I like you too." He goofily admitted, saying your name like it was something absolutely precious.

Making the first move, you gently pecked him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. A naughty glint in his green eyes, he took your gesture as encouragement…for something he'd shamelessly thought about since he led you over to the pool table. Boldly wrapping his arms around you, he crashed his lips into yours.

You moaned a little, surprised by how dizzying his kiss felt. "Take this…somewhere else?"

"Fuck, yeah."

The two of you made your way over to a slightly more private booth in the saloon, not wasting any time and continuing your make-out session. Clay didn't hesitate to pin you against the wall, bringing your leg up to get closer to you. Soon, his kisses grew sloppier and hungrier, covering your jawline and your neck. Right now, everything else seemed pretty much like a blur to him.

Kissing him back and lightly tugging at his hair, you painfully gasped his name the moment he got a bit too carried away and sucked at your collarbone. That was definitely going to leave a mark for the next morning…but it was totally worth it.

"Stop," you panted, breaking your lips away from his when you both needed air. "That was…that was...wow."

"Yeah, it really was." Clay agreed, his fingers still brushing your thigh. "You're really pretty. Like movie pretty."

"Maybe you're pretty drunk," you retorted. "A cute, pretty drunk who happens to be great at teaching pool."

"Maybe I'm drunk on you."

"What a line." Giggling, you smoothed your hair before going back to the bar, placing some change for the drink you had.

"You leaving already?" Clay followed you with a surprised and crestfallen expression.

You told him it was almost closing time, pointing out how empty the saloon had gotten since you arrived. "I'll tell you what, Clay." Taking a a pen lying around, you wrote your phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. "It's actually my friend's number, but they'll take a message. Besides, that's where I'm heading to stay until I can find my own place."

"That sounds great. I'll, uh, see you around."

"See you around. Thanks for a great night, Clay." You smiled, leaving him with one last kiss before walking out.

Clay took a long look at the napkin before folding it up and keeping it in his jeans pocket. Throwing some of his change on the bar, he left the bar and sat down in his truck. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the wheel and hoped he'd be sober enough to drive again tomorrow.

[staarshines]

It’s Not All Roses Chapter 1: astra (HighSchool!AU) || P.D.

| It’s Not All Roses Masterlist |

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side. What the hell were the odds?

[A/N]: i haven’t been on here for months but we don’t talk about that❤️ also, the pandemic doesn’t exist here. bonne lecture.

Your Sour Patch Kids and Sprite, Finn’s Milky Way and Gatorade… You look over the items in your hands once more, hurrying through the crowds of kids masked in orange and white, proudly showing off Amidala-Skywalker High School’s colors; a stark contrast to the crowd bathed in red and black on the other side of the podium.

You mentally curse yourself for even wanting to come to the Homecoming game between Amidala-Skywalker and Geonosis High—dragging Finn along with you on top of that.

If Homecoming was this overhyped, you were going to be pissed.

Lost in thought, you unavoidably manage to run into someone, wincing when you hear the crack of your Sprite can hit the ground and open.

“My bad.”

You look back up to see a cute guy looking back at you with apologetic eyes, grinning, while his wild chocolate-colored curls frame his face.

“No, you’re good. It was my fault for running into you.”

“Nah, that was me. Got a little too focused on the game.” Both of you erupt into awkward laughter, bending down to pick up the snacks now lying on the ground. “I’m Poe, by the way.”

You look up once more, breath hitching in your throat because of how close you are to him—had you moved five inches closer, your lips would be pressed flush up against his. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you forget how to speak for a few moments, watching him hold back a smirk.

This fucker knew exactly—

“I’m Y/N,” you quickly blurt out, flashing him a quick smile and grabbing the candy and sports drink, noticing another Sprite can that Poe hadn’t picked up. “I think that’s yours.”

“No, that one’s yours.”

“Even if it is mine, I ran into you, so you should have it.”

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d say that. Rey would kill me if I didn’t come back with her Sprite.” You chuckle and nod, standing up and smiling when he motions for you to go up the steps first.

You’re thinking about where you’ve seen him on the way up to your row, realizing that he was the one who pranked a girl—you’re guessing Rey?—in your english class by removing her headphones from her laptop’s jack while she was in the bathroom. Mr. Kenobi nearly fell out of his seat when he heard “WAP” blaring at full volume.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

You slide into the row Finn is sitting in, throwing him his candy and the Gatorade bottle—the latter of which he nearly doesn’t catch, which would’ve resulted in it hitting the brunette next to him.

“Y/N! Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side.

What the hell were the odds?

You then remember that Finn and Rey are watching you look around like a madman, snapping you back to the situation of introductions and small-talk at hand.

“Right! The girl who—”

“Whose music blared in a dead-silent classroom in the middle of our english class? Yeah, that’s me.” You chuckle slightly, nodding to her and sitting down. Poe’s gaze catches your eye and he quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head.

What are you doing here?

A quick tilt of your head in Finn’s direction, then the game’s direction. Watching the game, apparently.

Raised eyebrows and the hint of a smirk. You following me?

An eyeroll and a bit-back smile. Oh yeah, definitely.

He shrugs with a smile on his face and sits down next to Rey, and you stifle a chuckle when you see her snatch the Sprite and Airheads from him, cracking the can open.

“What, do you two know each other?” It takes you a second to realize Finn’s question is directed at you and Poe.

“I mean kinda, we just ran into each other a while ago. Oh, that’s Poe. Poe, Finn, Finn, Poe.” They exchange warm smiles but nothing more.

“Well, I promise I’m not aiding him in anything,” Rey reads your mind, winking and eliciting a giggle from you. You look over to find him scrolling through his phone, earning a slight frown from you as you resume your normal position and pop a Sour Patch Kid into your mouth, mindlessly watching the game go on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you lazily pull it out, checking the notification.

      Instagram Poe Dam(n)eron (@damndameron) has requested to follow you.

        You look over at him once again, finding him now watching the game. Hm, so we’re playing this game? All right. Opening the app, you accept his request and click on his profile, a bit surprised when you see that he’s private—he pegged you as the type of guy to have a public account. Nevertheless, you hit “Follow”, waiting a few moments before refreshing and seeing that he’s accepted, giving you full access to his profile.

You see about four posts and a few story highlights, but nothing out of the ordinary. You click on his most recent post, scrolling past the beach, a hot tub at a cabin, a picture of him and Rey at Pike’s Peak—was she his girlfriend?—and lastly, a picture of someone who you guessed was his mother and him as a baby. He’s standing on her feet in what looks like their living room and you can tell that they’re dancing, a grin frozen on his mom’s face while Poe flashes a toothy smile—his dad must’ve taken the picture. It was dated November 21, posted almost one year ago. Curious, you click on the comments and start reading through them.

kare_kun_ Thinking about all of you.

r.skywalker you'll always be her flyboy, poe.

snapwexley01 she’d be so proud of you, man.

j_pava  Wish she was still here with us. Stay strong, Poe.

The last comment makes it all click into place, and you feel a pang in your heart. He’d lost his mom. How long ago? He was maybe four years old in that picture. You suddenly feel so empathetic that all you want to do is give him a hug—he was a momma’s boy; you could read it right off his face. You keep the date in mind: November 21st.

“Well, we won.” You look up in a daze to see that the clock was 6 seconds away from halftime, the score being 31-9 in Amidala-Skywalker’s favor.

“How do you kick someone’s ass that badly?” you ask with a sort of wince even though you were on the triumphant side, clicking your phone shut.

“Like that, apparently,” Poe remarks, just before the halftime buzzer rings. “You guys wanna get out of here and go to the baseball fields or something? It’s a lot less noisy but you can still hear the game’s commentary.” You’re a bit surprised at his proposal, seeing as you four just met, but you’re definitely not opposed.

“Why not?” Finn responds, shrugging his shoulders. You four get up and leave the row, nearly getting trampled in the number of kids leaving their seats to either go get food or leave the game entirely.

“C’mon, flyboy, you’re gonna get lost!” Rey yells from behind you. Flyboy. Wonder where he got that nickname.

“Oh my God, please— He did not!” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth while giving Poe a disbelieving look.

It’s pitch black outside now and you four are bathed in the floodlights of the baseball stadium, sitting on the grass just by home base.

“There’s fight, there’s flight, then there’s complete idiocy. Guess which one Poe has programmed into his DNA.” Poe narrows his eyes at Rey, throwing Finn’s empty Gatorade bottle at her which she catches with ease.

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t thinking—”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“—I was panicked! There was a s’more in my hand and I just threw it in the other direction!”

“While not thinking that the bear would come after you for more,” you add, watching him huff, seeing a hint of a pout on his face. “Remind me never to go anywhere near the woods with you.”

“I like her already,” Rey remarks, to which you crack a smile.

“How long have you two been dating?” you try to crack the question as casually as possible, but let’s face it: the anticipation is eating away at you. To your surprise, they both burst out in laughter—so they’re not together?

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t date Poe in a million years. I couldn’t handle being that much impulse control for him—He’s already a liability as my best friend,” Rey laughs, shaking her head.

“I— Rude. But honestly, I wouldn’t date you either. You don’t know how to have fun,” he exaggerates the statement with his hands. You smile at their banter, a bit surprised at their relationship’s similarity to yours and Finn’s. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We’re most definitely not dating,” Finn chuckles, earning a slap to the shoulder from you.

“No need to act like you’d never date me! Remember the kiss on the playground in third grade?” you ask sarcastically, the memory bringing back a bout of nostalgia.

“That was third grade! And I was dared to do it!” You laugh, throwing an arm around him.

“I mean Finn, you seem pretty passionate about making sure she knows you don’t like her,” Poe winks, earning a fake gag from Finn.

“Oh, please. She’s like my sister.”

“Literally,” you add. “I’m pretty sure I saw you more than I saw my own parents during my childhood.”

“You, Ben, Han, and Leia, yeah,” he nods.

“Ben, Han, and Leia..?”

“Ben’s our best friend. The three of us practically grew up together with Han and Leia—his parents.”

“Han and Leia like—Dr. Solo and Dr. Organa? The ones who teach at the school?” You nod, answering Poe’s question. “I don’t think they’re married—are they divorced?”

“Never got married,” Finn explains. “Just two best friends who had a one-night stand and actually stayed civil with each other after learning about the pregnancy. They raised Ben together—and us, too, basically.”

“I miss him,” you murmur. “Why’d his stupid ass have to want to go to that college prep school way over in New York, anyway?”

“Probably just to make Han and Leia proud after all they’ve done. Mark my words, he’ll be back here in a year or two. You don’t get the high school experience at a prep school.”

“Are you talking about First Order Preparatory, the big one in New York?” Rey interjects. “That’s not a boarding school last I checked.”

“Nah, he’s living over there with his Uncle Luke. I mean, we FaceTime and all, but it’s just not the sa—”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Poe, she’s coming over here.” Both Poe and Rey scramble to get up, leaving you and Finn to do the same while you steal a glance behind yourself, trying to see who Rey is talking about.

“Run,” Poe whispers in a panicked tone; Rey grabs his arm before he can take off.

“We’re not running, genius!” she hisses, looking behind you once more. You turn around, finally spotting a blonde wearing an orange shirt and white shorts, stripes of white paint just under her eyes. “We’re walking away. Quickly. Very quickly.” You turn around, finding them nodding to you and Finn; the four of you begin in the opposite direction from whoever the blondie was.

“Who are we r—walking very quickly away from?” you ask, keeping up at a brisk pace.

“Zorii Bliss. She’s been after Poe ever since fifth grade,” Rey explains, picking up her pace.

“Just tell her you’re not interested. Simple,” you mutter, arching an eyebrow.

“You think I haven’t tried? What was this summer, the seventh time I’ve turned her down?” Poe groans, and you suddenly feel terrible. They were actually running from this girl who’d been after them for five years. Couldn’t you get a restraining order or something? “She’s been with five guys—”

“Six,” Rey corrects.

“—six guys in the past four months. All she does is play them then blame them, all while still somehow looking like the victim. The Smoky Mountains trip we were just talking about—the bear and the s’mores? You don’t know how hard she tried to get in on that trip.”

“Sheesh,” Finn starts, “someone needs to—”

“Poe!” you hear someone, presumably Zorii, call out from behind you four.

“—get the hint,” Finn mutters, and the four of you turn around to find her just maybe fifty feet away. What the fuck, did she run to catch up or something?

“Hide me,” you hear Poe whisper, and before you can ask how, he’s already crouched behind you, arms around your waist.

“Long time no see,” she calls out, sauntering now. Aw c’mon, how about you run like you were doing before? Look all desperate for the cameras?

“What—She knows you’re here!”

“But I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“Nope.” You start to argue with him but then stop, realizing he really didn’t want to see her.

“Aw, that’s cute.” Christ, even her voice was insufferable. She looked like a bitch, too.

You really just wanted to punch her in the face.

“What do you want, exactly?”

“Who are you, his girlfriend? Funny, Poe hasn’t really ever dated anyone.” She shuffles a bit to the side and you copy her footwork to guard Poe, watching her raise her eyebrows and laugh in disbelief. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t answer mine,” you quip smoothly, hearing Finn quickly stifle a laugh from beside you. She gives Finn a dirty look, and you swear you’re about to drag her from her hair right now. “What do you want?”

“I just came over to say hi to Poe since we didn’t get to meet too much over the summer,” she shrugs. “Zorii Bliss.” You don’t respond, waiting for her to make her exit. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Couldn’t be more bothered to.” Rey sucks in a sharp breath and you’re worried that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but your stance doesn’t waver. She rolls her eyes and blows a kiss to Poe before turning on her heel and walking away—you’re sure she’s swaying her hips on purpose.

“Damn,” Poe murmurs, getting up from behind you. “You really said ‘no, bitch’ to her.” You laugh a little bit at his statement, shaking your head.

“She just really pissed me off. Hopefully that taught her a lesson and she’ll leave you alone now.”

“We can hope. I nearly fought her in the middle school parking lot once.” Finn raises his eyebrows at Rey but you just nod impressedly.

“Y’know, we should take a picture so we have something to post on Instagram,” Poe suggests. “I haven’t posted for a while.” He’s actually one of the boys who cares about his Instagram? Respect.

“Yeah, neither have I.” You shush Finn before he can start to whine about taking pictures, but Rey seems to have the same reaction as him. “Aw, c’mon you guys, it’s just one picture.”

“Fine,” Finn drawls. “Just one.”

“Maybe two,” you add with a giggle, watching him shake his head as you pull out your phone, opening the camera. “Okay, any ideas on where we should set it? Because the four of us sure as hell aren’t fitting in a square if I take a selfie.”

“If you have a popsocket, you can try to hook it inside the diamonds of the fence.”

“Good idea, flyboy,” you test the nickname out, watching his reaction closely to determine whether you’re crossing a line. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, so you breathe a sigh of relief.

After having set your phone up on the fence—“You’re taking too long. Let me do it.” “Finn, you’re not going to have any more luck than I am.” (He, in fact, didn’t)—you press the shutter button and quickly run back to the four, throwing an arm around Finn and watching Rey neck Poe, earning a laugh from you. It’s a bit too late when you realize the picture’s already been taken, and it takes about three minutes for you both to coax Finn and Rey into taking another one. The second one turns out almost perfect, though, seeming like one of those cliché VSCO pictures that everyone posts around this time.

“Numbers,” you state simply, handing your phone to Rey. She starts adding her contact information, taking a quick selfie for her contact picture and then handing the phone off to Poe. “And give me your Instagram handles, too. I’ll tag you guys when I post.”

“You already have mine,” Poe remarks while not looking up from the phone, and you’re sure that you’re the only one who can hear the slight smugness in his voice. He hands your phone back to you and you see that he’s set the picture of his annoyed face after Rey necking him as his contact photo, which makes you giggle a bit.

After you’d sent them the pictures—Poe had named the groupchat “the avengers”, which sparked a conversation about Marvel (Finn and Poe were arguing over the best Avenger right now)—you edited the pictures slightly to make them better, uploading them to Instagram with the caption, “no friendship is an accident.”.

You four were now walking out of school boundaries towards your neighborhood—yet another thing you four discovered you had in common—but you were lost in the stars, hearing traces of the current conversation on hand (something about Asgard and the Tesseract).

“Hey. Snap out of it.” Poe snaps his fingers in front of your face and you blink, shaking your head and looking back at him.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Staring at the stars?” he asks, looking up at the sky himself.

“Yeah. Found Ursa Major and Cassiopeia,” you point out, watching him genuinely look for the constellations, humming when he sees them too. “You like stargazing?”

“I do, actually. Have a telescope in my room and everything.”

“Oh?” You’re stepping in stride with him, completely forgetting about the other two who are also with you.

“Yeah. Y’know… you need a nickname.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, I just think…” he looks up at the sky then back at you, grinning as if he’s figured something out. “Astra.”

“Astra?” you ask, recognizing the word to be Greek for “star”.

“Astra,” he confirms, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, but you can’t deny that you like it.

“Well, it’s not terrible.” You were understating. You kind of loved it.

“I’ll take that as a win.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity​, @softly-sad, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades​, @arkofblake​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @propertyofdindjarin​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​, @melvls​, @waatermelon-sugaar​, @thedevilwearsbeskar​

Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon​, @poe-damnnn-eron​, @lapilark​, @peterhollandkait​, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​, @twomoonstwosuns​, @writefightandflightclub​, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust​, @legamelo​, @xremember-me-notx​, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, @yourbucky084​, @agents-assemble​, @asianravenpuff​, @daydreamerinadazedworld​

“It’s Not All Roses” Taglist: @marvelous-capsicle​, @fishswimbetterunderwater​, @r2fucku, @missmadwoman​

[mistahgrundy]

If you’re new here this is a reminder that my main thing I do is my own webcomic named String Theory. It, unfortunately, had quite a lengthy hiatus that just ended due to various real life stuff I don’t want to talk about.

Instead here’s a handy dandy primer for new and old!

Comic is about this butthole:

I’ve been drawing this comic for over ten years so he used to look like this.

Dr. Schtein was a little baby child genius that graduated from college with a doctorate super early and then proceeded to just sort of flounder and do nothing of importance but still maintain a “look at me I was a child genius” chip on his shoulder. He had a massive drinking problem. Still has a smoking problem and a drug problem (though these aren’t as bad as his drinking was). The substance abuse problems really ramped up (they were already there) after his wife left him about 13 years prior to the comic starting. If you do the math he got married when he was 20. Which is. not usually the best idea. I mean hey it can work out, but it did not for Dr. Schtein. He was divorced about two months into the marriage. He’d just turned 21.

Anyway he’s made some dumbass decisions that landed him in prison for most of a year recently. He pissed off the wrong people and he was being held without charges and everyone on the outside believed he was dead. He’s now out and about and kinda mad about it!

He’s in love with this woman, Delia Osgood, even though she’s 11 years his junior and frankly isn’t sure how she really feels about him. Also she could kick his ass.

Delia is also a physicist, but hasn’t finished her doctorate yet. She’s currently working in a crime lab for a super secret project for the government.

Delia moved to the US when she was in her late teens from London. Her mother is a librarian and her father is a former boxer, Winston Osgood. She has two brothers and one sister. She loves trashy metal and trashy romance books. She’s prone to making bad decisions in the romance department.

Phineas is a serial killer who’s been enployed by the mob in the past and present. While he was in prison Dr. Schtein met THIS horrible asshole. Unfortunately their lives are now a little bit intertwined. Schtein would really rather they weren’t, Phineas is of no use to him, but he’s the son in law of the guy Dr. Schtein is super fucking mad at, the guy who’s been screwing with his life for a year, so they’re going to keep bumping into each other.

Phineas is really obsessed with getting his wife back, who he hadn’t seen for a decade before recently as they were incarcerated separately. He’s not really capable of love, but he thinks of her as HIS.

This is Dr. Schtein’s best friend, Laurence, they’ve known each other since college. You’d think given the age difference that Laurence would have taken on the mentor role to the younger Schtein, but Laurence ended up being in the more submissive role, letting Schtein bully him into situations he would have normally avoided. They were not good influences on each other at all. They still aren’t, but they’re all each other has.

Laurence dropped out of college after Schtein graduated early and joined the navy (where he got those gnarly leg scars). From there he was kicked out, did a little bit of time in a military psych ward and then was homeless for a few years. He managed to get off the street working his way up the crime ladder, petty crimes, sex work, protection jobs, then working for Eliza Thanatos and then finally for her father, Darius. He was recently fired from that, so he’s at a bit of a low point right now.

Orville von Schtein, Dr. Schtein’s grandfather, who used to be a really respected geneticist. He did a lot of work for the government, he helped cure a virus that was destroying the US, after that he was working in a secret lab creating super spies for the country. He managed to create a handful before the project was scrapped and deemed irresponsible. These would be Cain and Abel, and the less powerful Judith (the frog lady), Eli (the disgusting goo guy), Frank (fire guy), Darren (lightning dude), and others who likely won’t be in the comic only mentioned here and there (a few of them are dead)

Orville’s weirdly sentimental and attached to these people, thinking of them as his own children. Which is odd since he basically put them through hell. The treatments to make them how they are were not pleasant. Judith thinks of him like a father, so with at least one of them the feeling is mutual. Abel extremely hates Orville and is genuinely scared of him.

After that he was working for a company in Chicago on some kind of weird ass fungus that was supposed to have therapeutic properties when he realized he was being framed for something within the company and he flipped his lid and released a modified version of the fungus killing almost the entire city (which was quarantined before the fungus could infect more people) and transforming himself into some kind of mycological lich. He is now basically immortal and having been alone for over 15 years isn’t too mentally stable.

He has recently left Chicago.

Darius Thanatos has been trying to get Orville to come work for him for YEARS now, Orville has been refusing until recently.

Darius Thanatos is pulling a lot of the strings behind the comic, he employs Abel, He’s the one who had Dr. Schtein busted out of the prison he’d been funding. Funding intended to funnel prisoners into his secret research labs as his own scientists futilely attempted to recreate Orville’s work.

Darius is a former mobster who owns a private security company. That’s the public friendly cover, anyway. His company supplies cities and businesses with police forces, does weapons research and manufacture, crowd control, you name it.

He has three children, Denise, Eugene, and Eliza (the baby of the kids). He’s not the world’s greatest father. His wife has been separated from him for over ten years, she lives in Rome. Denise’s mother, his previous wife, is long deceased.

Darius’ health is failing.

[jedimaesteryoda]

The Reader: the Crow’s Eye’s True Nemesis

Lord Rodrik “the Reader” Harlaw is introduced in Asha’s first POV. He is her (favorite) maternal uncle, and good-brother to the late Lord of Pyke (as well as possibly the eponym for Balon’s firstborn son). He is the Lord of Ten Towers, Lord of Harlaw. 

Lord Rodrik was seldom seen without a book in hand, be it in the privy, on the deck of his Sea Song, or whilst holding audience. Asha had oft seen him reading on his high seat beneath the silver scythes. He would listen to each case as it was laid before him, pronounce his judgment . . . and read a bit whilst his captain-of-guards went to bring in the next supplicant . . .  Lord Rodrik Harlaw was neither fat nor slim; neither tall nor short; neither ugly nor handsome. His hair was brown, as were his eyes, though the short, neat beard he favored had gone grey. All in all, he was an ordinary man, distinguished only by his love of written words, which so many ironborn found unmanly and perverse.

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

Rodrik is indistinguishable as far as physical appearance goes. He possesses neither the muscular frame of a warrior like Victarion, a handsome face like Jaime Lannister or even a disability or disfigurement like Tyrion. He is very unremarkable and uncharismatic, a guy who couldn’t stand out in a crowd as opposed to the handsome, charismatic Euron. 

What truly distinguishes him is that instead of being a hyper-masculine warrior who likes to pay the iron price and has a gung-ho attitude towards the Old Way, he is, as his sobriquet suggests, a bibliophile in an anti-intellectual warrior culture that disdains reading, likely due to its association with greenlanders. 

He also happens to be the guy who is always right: stating to Asha that she won’t win the kingsmoot, the Old Way is dead, that Euron’s plans to sail to Slaver’s Bay and attack the Reach were bad ideas, etc. Hell, his advice to Asha to read Haereg actually provides her the tool she needs to effectively overturn the decision of the kingsmoot.

One must also note his sigil: a scythe. While the scythe is often associated with the personification of death in popular culture, Death AKA the Grim Reaper, one must remember that, unlike the sword which is designed solely for war, the scythe is actually a farmer’s tool used for harvesting grain. The scythe stands in direct contrast to the House Greyjoy words “We Do Not Sow.” It fits with Harlaw being the most fertile of the Iron Isles, and the Reader’s more peaceful, constructive approach as opposed to the Greyjoys’ purely martial approach.

"Asha, my two tall sons fed the crabs of Fair Isle."

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

“The Old Way served the isles well when we were one small kingdom amongst many, but Aegon's Conquest put an end to that. Balon refused to see what was plain before him. The Old Way died with Black Harren and his sons . . . his dream of kingship is a madness in our blood. I told your father so the first time he rose, and it is more true now than it was then. It's land we need, not crowns. With Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister contending for the Iron Throne, we have a rare chance to improve our lot. Let us take one side or the other, help them to victory with our fleets, and claim the lands we need from a grateful king."

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

His attitude towards the Old Way is the opposite of the general revanchist attitude seen among Ironborn like the Greyjoy brothers. He sees it as a bygone relic of a distant past that no longer works in the present. He knows the dream of Iron Islands independence is a pipe dream. Part of it is the personal losses he suffered in the Greyjoy Rebellion. He lost both his sons in that war, his sisters ended up going mad after Gwynesse lost her husband and Alannys lost her two eldest sons and her youngest was taken as a hostage. 

Moving from that, and showing keen political acumen, he sees an opportunity for the Iron Islands to take advantage of to improve their situation. He suggests the Ironborn use their fleets as political leverage to gain some land on the mainland, which for millennia had been an Ironborn aspiration. During the reign of Qhored the Cruel, the Ironborn had an empire on the western coast that extended from Bear Island to the Arbor. The reign of the Hoare kings from Harwyn to Harren Hoare had them ruling the riverlands. These conquests provided the Ironborn with the resources that their small, rocky islands lacked with their holdings in the fertile riverlands and Reach providing them grain and foodstuffs, and even the poor Bear Island providing an access point for timber, the essential raw material in shipbuilding. Even Balon’s plan involved that aspect with regards to conquering the North. The Reader suggests gaining land on the mainland not through conquest, which in Ironborn history has always shown to be short-lived, but through diplomacy, a grant via negotiations with a king on the Iron Throne. This would allow them to have holdings on the mainland, but in a more stable and permanent manner than in the past given their dominion would be state-sanctioned. 

Also, let’s look at a scene in Victarion’s last POV in A Feast for Crows. 

In the yard Victarion came on Gorold Goodbrother and old Drumm, speaking quietly with Rodrik Harlaw.

-The Reaver

The Reader is noted to be talking with the Lords Goodbrother and Drumm. What do we know of them?

Gorold Goodbrother is Lord of Hammerhorn on Great Wyk. His fief is removed from the coast of Great Wyk, with much of his wealth being derived from his mines rather than the sea. He holds his maester in such high regard that he refused to let Damphair send him away.

Dunstan Drumm is Lord of Old Wyk. He is also one of the failed candidates at the kingsmoot.

What’s more, the fact that they are "speaking quietly” suggests that they are trying to avoid being heard. Just what could they be discussing? After, they were spotted talking, Rodrik and Dunstan voice their concerns about Euron’s taking of the Shield Islands and inviting the wroth of House Tyrell. The Reader was likely making alliances with other dissenting lords, and building a political base of his own.

Then, there is this scene later in the chapter when Euron proposes sailing the entire Ironborn fleet to Slaver’s Bay. Rodrik challenges his plan with facts. 

"When?" The voice was Lord Rodrik's. "When shall we return, Your Grace? A year? Three years? Five? Your dragons are a world away, and autumn is upon us." The Reader walked forward, sounding all the hazards. "Galleys guard the Redwyne Straits. The Dornish coast is dry and bleak, four hundred leagues of whirlpools, cliffs, and hidden shoals with hardly a safe landing anywhere. Beyond wait the Stepstones, with their storms and their nests of Lysene and Myrish pirates. If a thousand ships set sail, three hundred may reach the far side of the narrow sea . . . and then what? Lys will not welcome us, nor will Volantis. Where will you find fresh water, food? The first storm will scatter us across half the earth."

A smile played across Euron's blue lips. "I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria."

"Have you?" the Reader asked, so softly.

Euron's blue smile vanished. "Reader," he said into the quiet, "you would do well to keep your nose in your books."

-The Reaver

While clearly not the kind of guy who goes looking for a fight, he is no coward either, given it takes guts to basically call Euron a liar to his face in front of everyone. With a simple question, he manages to be the only person to visibly get under Euron’s skin. It’s the only time we ever see Euron lose his cool as he basically responds by threatening Rodrik. 

"Are we slavers now?" asked the Reader. "And for what? Dragons that no man here has seen? Shall we chase some drunken sailor's fancy to the far ends of the earth?"

His words drew mutters of assent. "Slaver's Bay is too far," called out Ralf the Limper. "And too close to Valyria," shouted Quellon Humble. Fralegg the Strong said, "Highgarden's close. I say, look for dragons there. The golden kind!" Alvyn Sharp said, "Why sail the world, when the Mander lies before us?" Red Ralf Stonehouse bounded to his feet. "Oldtown is richer, and the Arbor richer still. Redwyne's fleet is off away. We need only reach out our hand to pluck the ripest fruit in Westeros."

"Fruit?" The king's eye looked more black than blue. "Only a craven would steal a fruit when he could take the orchard."

"It is the Arbor we want," said Red Ralf, and other men took up the cry. The Crow's Eye let the shouts wash over him. Then he leapt down from the table, grabbed his slattern by the arm, and pulled her from the hall.

Fled, like a dog. Euron's hold upon the Seastone Chair suddenly did not seem as secure as it had a few moments before.

-The Reaver

The Reader is able to successfully get the whole room on his side in opposing Euron’s plan to sail for Slaver’s Bay with Euron effectively losing control of the situation, and fleeing the scene. While Euron was always able to effectively dispatch his fellow Greyjoys from his brothers to his niece, Rodrik manages to succeed in politically outmaneuvering him. He managed to go up against the man who decisively won the kingsmoot and win. The Reader is clearly no warrior, but he manages to be a skilled politician. 

Euron has a formidable rival in Rodrik Harlaw. Unlike Euron’s fellow Greyjoys, Rodrik commands his own seat that can be used to oppose Euron. Harlaw being the most populous and wealthiest of the Iron Isles also effectively makes the Reader the most powerful lord on the Iron Isles. Rodrik’s vast store of knowledge from a lifetime of reading allows him to be the man who pulls Euron’s curtain, with actual facts being the antidote to Euron’s tricks. Not only that, but Harlaw has enough skills as a politician to potentially build a coalition to oppose Euron. 

We shall see where it leads as the series goes on. 

[writtenonreceipts]

Heya, absolutely love your writing!😍I was just wondering when you have the time and all, would you consider writing something about rowaelin where basically the same thing happens to Aelin as it did Lyria, but only modern au (Lyria never happened).

Thanks so much, it means a lot that you like my stuff!  Thanks for the prompt.  It kinda got away from me… I got in pretty deep with plot points and stuff, haha.    Based on Characters from the Throne of Glass series.

Warning: don’t let the first half fool you, there’s gonna be tears and pain.

#

All My Love

It started at seven fifty-nine on a Friday night.

Rowan Whitethorn was hurrying through the City Park cursing at the crowds of people standing in his way.  He should have remembered that the city tradition of open mike night at the gazebo by the waterfront would have made the park nearly impassible.  But did people have to stand so close together?

He’d gotten of late from his at the police station and was a short walk away from his small apartment.  Or what would have been short had the park not been infested with tourists and and locals alike.

The sun barely began its descent leaving the sky graced with gold and hues of pink.  Heat from the record high day lingered, despite being so near the lake.  Normally Rowan might enjoy the view, but there were too many people invading his space.  At least he could be happy that he wasn’t assigned the shift to make sure things didn’t get out of hand.

He moved down the stone path that cut behind the gazebo and took a shortcut back to his apartment.  As he dodged a running child, however, something caught his attention.

Actually, it was someone.

She stood in the center of the gazebo; her long and willowy limbs were leaning against a white piano while she laughed at something her companion said.  Her long, golden hair swept down her back in soft waves.  Even a distance he could tell she was beautiful.  The woman patted her friend on the shoulder and moved to sit at the piano.  And then she started to play.

The notes were slow, soft, gentle.  A tune tumbling forth with careful measure.  The song wasn’t one Rowan recognized, granted he knew next to nothing about music.  Yet the longer Rowan listened the more entranced he became by the song.  Slowly, he picked his way around the gazebo so he had a better angle on the woman as she played.

The sight was indescribable.  In all honesty, it looked like the woman had become one with the music.  She moved with each caress of the ivory keys as though she herself were dancing to the song.  Her eyes shut softly and an easy smile moved across her sinful mouth.

It was glorious.

When the end of the song regretfully came, the park erupted into cheers and applause.  A man came forward and began speaking into a microphone setup.

“The ever wonderful, Aelin Galathynius,” the man called out, his words were eaten by another round of applause.

Aelin.  Aelin.  Aelin.

She offered the crowd a dazzling smile as she politely declined to play another song.  A small band replaced her, three guys and a rustic looking guitar.

Rowan watched as she descended the small steps to the gazebo.  She greeted a few people with a wave or a pat on the shoulder.  All too soon, in Rowan’s opinion at least, she was forgotten to the new beats of a guitar and low gravely notes of the singer on stage.

There was something about her that called to him.  Rowan didn’t know what it was exactly, but his eyes easily tracked her as she moved up the path that led away from the gazebo and up a boardwalk that wrapped around the lake.  Before he could think twice about what he was doing, Rowan followed her.

He caught up easily to her and his steps on the wooden planks caused her to turn around and meet his gaze.  Her wide blue and gold eyes snagged him immediately and Rowan wouldn’t have minded drowning in them.

A slow smile slid on her lips as she eyed him. “Hello.”

She was confident.  With that smile.  With that word.  With that stare.  And Rowan found himself dumbfounded.

“You don’t usually play on open mike nights,” he said.

Aelin quirked an eyebrow. “You sound certain of that.”

“I would have remembered,” he replied.

She laughed and rolled her eyes as if his words didn’t mean anything.  But Rowan noted the soft blush rising on her cheeks.  She was flattered.  Slightly uncomfortable, but that could have been from performing in front of a crown.  Everything else about her welcomed his advances and Rowan took care to read each and every signal she sent him.

“Dorian forced me into it,” she said, “told me it would be good business for the shop.”

The way she casually referenced the mayor didn’t go unnoticed to Rowan, but he found himself more intrigued by the second part of her sentence. 

“Shop?”  

“Queen’s Place,” Aelin replied, “my bookshop.  And where I teach piano lessons.”

Rowan found himself smiling at the image of her moving through a bookshop, of her sitting with children at a piano bench, at that smile brightening everyone’s day.  

“I walk by it every day,” he said.  He wasn’t lying, but to be honest he’d never given the shop a second glance.  What a fool he’d been.

“Well, now you have a reason to actually come in.”  

#

Waking up beside her was the one thing Rowan knew he would want to do for the rest of his life.

Curled on her side with her legs tangled in his sheets, Aelin slept soundly.  Her hair was a mess and that was entirely his fault.  As were the growing marks on her neck, her collar bone, lower, lower they descended.  

Leaning up on an elbow, Rowan watched her sleep as the early gray light of morning filtered through his bedroom window.  She didn’t stir.  He watched the rise and fall of her chest, how her eyelids fluttered, and the slight pucker of her lips.  

Those sinful lips.

Rowan reached a hand out and gently brushed her hair out of her face.  

They hadn’t been together very long.  Not when you considered how often Rowan worked and the fact that Aelin ran her own business.  They were often like ships in the night.  But each time they passed by Rowan was filled with inexplicable joy.

Aelin sighed softly and reached a hand out.  Rowan captured her hand with his and brought her fingertips to his lips, kissing softly.  A slow, lazy smile spread on Aelin’s mouth and she cracked an eye open.

“Are you watching me?” she asked.

“Naturally,” he said.  He grinned as she scrunched her nose and grumbled.  When she tried to regain her hand, he tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him.

Humming happily, Aelin tilted her head up to accept a kiss.  A long, deep kiss to be sure.

“I love this,” she murmured against his lips.

“What?” he asked, his hands trailing down her bare sides.

“Waking up with you,” she said.  She threaded her fingers in his hair as she pressed closer to him.  “Mornings like this.”

It was the closest they’d ever come to admitting their feelings.  Even though Rowan was certain he was in love with her.  He had been from the moment he saw her in the gazebo playing the piano.  He wanted to tell her of course.  Wanted her to know.  But he also knew what was keeping him from doing so.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table and Aelin cursed into his mouth.  Rowan swallowed the word, absorbing the disappointment it held before pulling away to check the message.

“Work,” he said.

“I know.”

Rowan looked down at her with her eyes closed and hair a halo on the pillow.  He wanted more than anything to make sure he’d always wake up beside her.

#

Maeve Valg was not the kind of person Rowan wanted to work for.  It took him a long time before he figured out what it was about her that made him so uneasy.  She was driven, dead strong, passionate--all good things.  It took him entirely too long to see her cruelty, her pride, her bloodlust.

“All I’m saying Detective,” Maeve said as she leaned across his desk toward him, “is that your skills and specialties are remarkable.  You’d make a difference to your country if you’d consider my offer.”

Rowan stared at the woman.  She had to be in her mid to late thirties--and yet her long dark hair framed a youthful face, full red lips, and devilish eyes.  This was the third time in as many months that Maeve had tried to recruit him for her independent security agency.  Mostly because his former sergeant Gavriel--damn him--had recommended Rowan for the position.

“I’ll think about it,” Rowan lied.

In all honesty, right now was not a good time to even consider changing jobs.  Not when there was a ring burning a hole in the side table of his dresser.  Not when he’d spent the last four months convincing Aelin to move in with him.  Not when he’d just left her side barely an hour ago and he was already craving her touch, her taste, everything about her.

It wasn’t until later that night when Rowan met Aelin at that fateful gazebo that he was finally able to push all thoughts of Maeve aside.  When he was finally able to smile freely at the sight of her in a pale blue dress that clung to each and every one of her curves.

“Hey,” she said as he approached.

Whatever else she’d been about to say was cut off when he pulled her into a kiss.  His mouth slanted almost urgently against hers and he couldn’t help the way his finger dug into her waist desperately.

“Hey,” he said when he finally pulled back.

Aelin grinned wickedly and he knew she was thinking about breaking into the nearest boathouse to continue that kiss.  But all too suddenly her expression turned serious.

“What?” Rowan asked, heart stilling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

Rowan froze, terrified that she knew about the ring. “I don’t--”

“Lorcan told me about Maeve,” Aelin continued.  She rested a hand on his cheek. “Rowan...that job sounds amazing.”

Blinking, Rowan fought against the rising panic in his gut.  He really wanted to find Lorcan and beat his ass, but he was also concerned by what Aelin thought about it.

“I’m not taking it,” he said flatly.

Aelin scowled. “Yes you are.  It’s higher pay for one.  Better control over your work.  Most of it sounds like a security detail.”

“I’m not taking it,” he repeated.

“Babe,” Aelin insisted, “it sounds like a great opportunity.  Why not?”

Rowan shook his head and pulled away from her.  This wasn’t how he wanted to do this.  Not really.  But with the sharpness to her eyes, the determined tilt of her chin--he had to do it.

“Because of you,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” Aelin said, “don’t put this on me.”

Rowan reached out automatically and grabbed her hands tightly in his. “It’s always been because of you.”

And then he was down on one knee while fumbling in his pocket for the ring.  

Aelin gasped and whispered his name.

Rowan looked up at her, the ring in his fingers and tears brimming in his eyes. “I first saw you here.  And I knew then and there that I was going to love you for the rest of my life.  If you let me.  Aelin Galathynius, will you marry me?”

She let out a small strangled noise that was a cross between a sob and something else that Rowan couldn’t decipher but the frantic bob of her head was enough for him to understand what the answer was.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered.

Rowan slid the ring on her finger and his lips on her mouth.

#

When Rowan took the job he still wasn’t sure about it.  But most of his friends were on the crew along with two kids who had just come back from Pakistan.  They were given weeks on end together to learn how they could become a team.

Aelin liked to joke that Rowan had gained five work wives now.  Rowan tried to tell her she was wrong but his words held no meaning.  Not when five out of seven days a week any of the boys in the crew ended up sleeping on the Whitethorn-Galathynius couch.  Usually Fenrys.

Unfortunately those nights grew few and far between as the year went on.

“How does Aelin feel about you spending your honeymoon with us?” Connall asked through an earpiece as they stood stationed around Senator Erawan’s reelection fundraiser.

Rowan could hear the grin in his voice.

“Yeah,” Fenrys added, “didn’t even have time to--”

“Stop talking.” It was Gavriel who spoke this time.  Rowan could see him across the hall walking behind the Senator and his wife. “Especially about my niece.”

The twins cackled.

Rowan shook his head and contained a smile.  As much as he’d been unsure about this job--it had given him some of the best friends he knew.

A gunshot rang out through the hall.

Immediately Rowan had his gun unholstered and turned to the source of the shot.  Out of his peripheral vision he saw Gavriel and Vaughn cover the senator and his wife.  Lorcan cursed over the comms.

“Lost him!”

“Got it,” Rowan replied.  Up on the second floor, a glass balcony overlooked the rest of the hall and a shape darted out of eyesight.  Running to the nearest stairwell, Rowan instructed his team on what he saw.

“Wait for backup,” Gavriel ordered, but Rowan was already gone.

#

He arrived home three days later to a royally pissed off Aelin.

Rowan knew it was bad when he walked into the kitchen to find three perfectly frosted chocolate cakes sitting out of the counter.  One had strawberries lining the top, another almonds, and the third a chocolate cookie crumble.  He was utterly screwed.

“Fireheart?” he called out hesitantly.

He heard the bathroom door shut down the hall and Aelin stalked toward him.  Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and bright red splotches colored her cheeks.  Tears rimmed her eyes.

“Baby,” Rowan said as he stepped toward her.

She shook her head and walked around him to the cakes.  There was already a piece missing from the one with strawberries and she cut another piece off and flopped it on a plate.  

“I am so mad at you,” she said as she stuffed a large bite in her mouth.

“I know,” Rowan replied.

“Fenrys told me what you did.  Gavriel told you to wait and you went charging after the man.”

“I know.”

“You could have died.”

“I know.”

Aelin nearly broke the plate when she threw it down on the counter.  Rowan stared into her brilliant eyes and waited for his next reprimand. “Stop saying that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Rowan said quietly.  He set his bag on the floor and crossed into the kitchen until he stood across from his wife. “We both knew what the job entailed.  And I had to catch the man.

“I was terrified Ro,” Aelin whispered.  She ran her fingers beneath her eyes and sniffed loudly.  “We can’t lose you.”

“I know,” he said, moving so he stood just before her.  He was going to say something else when Aelin’s words caught up to him.  “We?”

Aelin let out a strangled laughing as fresh tears washed down her cheeks.  She looked up into Rowan’s eyes, one hand going to her belly.

“We.”

#

Despite the chaos of his job and despite the chaos of his pregnant wife--Rowan Whitethorn knew that everything was going to work out in the end.  

With Aelin being nearly eight months along, they’d decided together that it would be best to start over.  For Rowan to leave his risky job behind and find something closer to home.  They’d both spent weeks thinking about it, talking to each other, and they’d come to the same conclusion.  They needed their family to stay together.

Of course, Maeve didn’t understand why Rowan would want to leave.  Not that he could make her understand.  Not that any of them could.  Even the rest of the team had understood the decision.  Rowan needed his family.

“Fine,” Maeve relented one day.  She sat behind her desk looking absolutely bored one day.  Running her hands over her desk she sighed. “I’ll let you go, Rowan.  But I just need you for one more job.”

Rowan stiffened at the sheer pleasure in her eyes of what was to come.  She tossed a folder at him.  He opened it and frowned.

Archer Flynn.  

A high end hooker for hire.  Known especially for sleeping with Senator Erawan.

“I need him arrested,” Maeve said.  She sounded as though she were requesting he buy lettuce from the store.

Rowan continued staring at the picture of the man. “I thought we were keeping an eye on Cairn.”

“Don’t worry about Cairn,” Maeve said.  “Mr. Flynn is far more troublesome.  Besides, Cairn is going to be taken care of.”

Rowan didn’t like the dismissive way that Maeve addressed him.  Nor did he like the smile that rested on her lips.

“And just like that,” he said, “ you’ll let me end my contract?”

“Absolutely,” Maeve promised.

For some reason, Rowan believed her.

He left with Lorcan the following day, assuring Aelin everything would be alright.  It was only an arrest after all.

When he and Lorcan found the apartment that was serving as Flynn’s hideout, Rowan should have known something was wrong.

The door was broken in, wood splintered across the floor.  A pool of blood was rapidly growing beneath a form tied to a chair.  Rowan and Lorcan rushed to room to the young Archer Flynn.  His blonde hair was plastered over his brow with a mix of sweat and blood.  The stab wounds in his legs and side were less than ideal.  Looking at all the man’s injuries, Rowan knew there was nothing that could be done for him.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Lorcan muttered while Rowan continued tending to Flynn’s wounds.

This wasn’t right.  This couldn’t have been right.

When Flynn began to speak, Rowan almost thought it was the man’s dying breath.

“S’lied to me,” Flynn rasped, his words to muffled to understand, “to all of us.”

Rowan lifted the man's chin. “What are you talking about?”

“Cairn was always the problem child,” Flynn whispered.  And then with a final breath--Flynn died.

Rowan let Flynn’s head fall.  What the hell was going on?

His phone rang in his pocket but he ignored it.

“Lorcan, he’s dead,” Rowan called out.  His phone continued ringing.

Lorcan reentered the room, phone pressed against his ear.  The man’s dark eyes were wide and a frown deepened his already deep scowl.

“Lorcan?” Rowan asked.

Clearing his throat, Lorcan shook his head. “We gotta get back home.”

#

Rowan had never liked hospitals.

They were death traps in his opinion.  Everyone he loved would always go in and never come back out.  So for the first time in a very long time, he found himself praying.  Praying that for once, he would be wrong.  That for once, something good would come of the hospital.  That for once, he wouldn’t be left alone.

“She was stabbed multiple times in the chest,” a doctor said, “they’re working on her now.  But you need to prepare yourself.”

They baby.  What about the baby?

The words never left his lips.  He couldn’t bring them too.  Or maybe he did say them and the doctor ignored him.  Either way, Rowan’s mind was churning too much.  Something had gone wrong.

“It was Cairn,” Gavriel said from beside him.

Rowan had no idea when the man showed up but he didn’t really care.  He stared at a wall advertising things for sale and brochures for various recovery programs.

“He got to her somehow.”

Maeve was supposed to take care of the man.  She’d said so.  Rowan didn’t say the words aloud.  They wouldn’t do much good.  Because as much as a bitch Maeve was, there was no way she could have predicted this.  No way she could have known that Aelin would be dying.

And where had Rowan been?  Off doing a damn job that didn’t even need him.

It wasn’t until three o’clock in the morning that Rowan learned that his wife was dead.  The baby too.

It wasn’t until three o’clock in the morning that Rowan allowed himself to cry.  Silent tears.

It wasn’t until three o’clock in the morning that Rowan heard the snip-snip of heels across linoleum.  Echoing through the halls.

“Oh, Rowan,” she crooned. “I am so, so sorry.  You have to know I never imagined this to happen.”

“Do you know where he is?” Rowan asked.

Maeve’s brows shot in the air. “What?”

“Cairn,” Rowan repeated, “do you know where he is?”

A smile spread over Maeve’s cherry red lips. “I promise, I will help you find him.  No matter what it takes.”

It wasn’t until three o’clock in the morning that Rowan said good-bye to his wife and made one final vow to her.

He would never forget.

#

as always, thanks for reading my dears!

tags:  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

[jaywritessmut]

Weiß Chapter I- Business & Pleasure

*Weiß- White in German

Florian Munteanu x black female reader (All my fics are with black women in mind!)

Warnings: mentions of death & drug use, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!)

Authors note: Sorry this took so long yall! I moved to a completely new state and that came with its own challenges and adjustments. Things have calmed down since but I’m about to start job hunting and house hunting which is exciting but also stressful AF! Pray for me! I apologize for any mistakes!

Word Count: 4.3K

Something about the smell of a hookah lounge drove her wild. The subtle sweetness in the air had always brought her peace, sometimes a bit of arousal. She found it much more tolerable than plain old cigarettes. But then again, cigarettes didn’t come in flavors like Blue Mist or Double Apple. She scanned the drink menu, impressed with the newer selections listed. Of course there were the outrageous names to contend with. Oil Spill? Typical Klaus she pondered. He’d always had an eye for the dramatic and it was one of the things she loved about him. How sad it was that she’d never hear one of his energetic, albeit coke fueled, rants again. She decided to pay homage to her eccentric companion and order one for old times sake. Her usual order of Jäger would have to wait.

The server took her order, fumbling over his pen as he scribbled it down. He was intimidated by her. She radiated authority and confidence. He had no idea who she was  but the level of service she was receiving let him know that she was definitely a VIP. Making a mistake could cost him his job.

He must be new. She smirked at the thought. How cute.

Most everyone here knew who she was. Her table had been closed off and ready for her with her usual selection. Sex on the beach with a deeper freezer hose. They even made sure to put it in a mango just how she liked it. As soon as she stepped her Manholo clad foot out of her pearl white BMW, she’d been escorted into the club. Tamir gave her a salacious grin while he watched her strut into the building. Yeah, he was still hoping for a piece of that. The line of impatient party goers stared on in envy as she was given preferential treatment. But she was the boss. And bosses waited for no one.

She thought about letting loose tonight. Lord knows she needed it. But tonight was all about business. She needed to think. And surprisingly she was able to do just that as the bass from the clubs stereos shook the room. They had a deal, she and Klaus. She provided the money and kept an eye on the financial and legal side of things while Klaus was the face. He managed the club events, payroll, employees, social media presence, you name it. He was good at being the center of attention while she worked behind the scenes. But he also handled the grittier parts of it all. He dealt with the foot soldiers, making sure they were moving product. And then with suppliers to make sure they weren’t getting screwed them over. Turf wars and partnerships were all handled by him. It was a messy arena that Klaus shielded her form. And it made sense.

She was a sheltered daughter of an American diplomat. Her experience growing up in Berlin was quite different from his. While he fought to escape the crime infested slum and shady gangs, she vacationed on glamorous yachts in Malta. As a kid, he’d learned about the proper price to charge for a kilo while she was taught French and art history. They came from two different worlds yet managed to build a successful enterprise together. And now with him gone, she had no idea what to do. Just why the fuck did he have to piss off the Russians?

From across the club, Florian studied her closely in amazement. Annalise Roper in the flesh. ‘Lise’ was what she went by with family and close friends. But to her secret associates, she was Snow, the cocaine queen of Deutschland. He was surprised to see her here tonight. He had had the pleasure of meeting her on only a few occasions but knew that it was rare for her to be at the club. And with the circumstances surrounding Klaus death, he would’ve thought she’d lay low and increase security. But her face was unknown in the underground circles. When rival gangs talked about taking out Snow they were expecting a blonde hair blue eyed type. Not the melanated beauty he was currently admiring. The whole thing was ingenious really.

He watched as she threw back a shot, the club lights reflecting off her deep mocha skin. Her all white ensemble gave her an ethereal appearance, as if she were floating above the crowd. The effect she had on him was evident from the noticeable bulge in his pants. Full luscious lips, sultry bedroom eyes, flawless skin. All of her features drove him wild. And that was just her face. The white midi dress she wore, clung to her curves sinfully almost like a second skin. He knew she worked out. A body like that had to be properly maintained and cared for. And he wanted to explore every inch of it.

Florian adjusted his pants before approaching her. She’d just finish placing another drink order, a Jäger with ginger beer. The already skittish server rushed from her table almost running straight into him. When he glared stoically at the poor kid, he took off faster than before, desperate to get away from the two of them. Her almond shaped eyes gazed at him curiously while she took a pull from the hose. She admired the way his clothes fit on his body. His tailored shirt accentuated his impressive biceps. and the first two buttons were undone, showcasing his signature gold chain. He had style, that was undeniable.

Florian fought the urge to look at her lips but they were too hard to resist. The image of them wrapped around the hose was enough to fuel his already wild imagination.

She let out the smoke she inhaled while maintaining eye contact

“Wusstest du nicht, dass es unhöflich ist zu starren?”

He couldn’t help the smirk that fell upon his lips. Sarcasm was her defense mechanism, but it only made him want her more.

“Ja. Ich bin nur überrascht dich hier zu sehen, Schnee”

Her eyes flashed in anger at his nickname for her. She hated the way it sounded in German. Schnee. It was nowhere near as sexy as Snow.

“Darf ich mich setzen?”

“Wirst du mich nerven?”

He took a seat next to her, ignoring her question. Asshole she thought to herself. But a very sexy asshole nonetheless. The jittery server returned with her drink and skittered off to help the next patron.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He leaned into her, pressing a muscular leg onto her. She’d always been in awe of his large frame, even daydreamed about being pinned underneath him while he did unspeakable things to her body. But she was his boss. And she didn’t fuck her employees.

“I don’t hate you. I’m irritated by you” she went to take a sip of her drink to take the edge off. Whichever bartender made it went heavy on the Jäger . She was grateful for it.

“Why? Because I turn you on?” She almost choked on her drink as he brought his mouth to her ear.

Composing herself, she turned to glare at him. But he remained unfazed by her anger.

“Who said you turn me on? And how do you even know what me being turned on looks like? You’ve never had me to know”

“We could change that tonight.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned away from him. He was a typical playboy, used to getting what he wanted with a few charming words. But she wasn’t falling for it.

"Don’t be like that. You know you want me”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Basic science. Your pupils dilate whenever I come around. And you think I don’t notice but you look me up and down while biting your lip. It’s really sexy by the way, makes me want to lean forward and nibble it myself”

She crossed her arms in indignation trying to prevent his words from having an affect on her. His eyes wandered low to admire the way her breasts were pushed together.

“You also clench your legs together when I speak to you. Just like you are right now. And if you let me, I can give you the friction you desperately need. All you have to do is say yes”

He softly strummed his finger against her thigh. The sensation made her dizzy and she struggled to compose herself. It had been a while. Her last relationship ended a year ago and the Tinder dates just weren’t cutting it anymore.

Florian leaned closer once more and brought his mouth to her ear.

“Want to bet on how many times I can make you come in one night?”

Her resolve weakened and she closed her eyes as she fought for control of her libido. This was not what she had in mind when she made her way to the club.

Fighting past her bodies screams for release, she sat up straight and scooted away from him.

“Flo, I’m here to think. I can’t be distracted. Not now”

He picked up on the solemn tone of her voice. Maybe he was coming in a little too strong. Her friend was just killed and now she was left with an illegal business that she felt ill equipped to run alone. His attempt at seducing her didn’t really help.

“He cared a lot about you, you know? And he respected the hell out of you”

She nodded as she took another pull from the hose, trying to fight back the tears that would undoubtedly come. Klaus truly was her friend. And because of some stupid deal that she didn’t even want him to take, he was dead. She’d never hear his infectious laugh or be on the receiving end of one of his bear hugs again. A chill ran through her as she blew out a plume of smoke.

“Snow, did you hear me?”

“What?”

“I said, let me take you home. This is the last place you need to be”

“I can’t. I need to be here”

“No you don’t. Elias has the club under control. We’ll figure out the rest ourselves, okay?”

Maybe now wasn’t the right time. She’d always prided herself on being rational and calculated. It was hard to be that way when so many emotions swirled through her heart and mind. Fear being the biggest one. What if this was all going to collapse? What if she was next?

She nodded, focusing on fighting back the unshed tears that blurred her vision. This was not how the night was supposed to go. But it was for the best. The business could wait. Right now she needed a distraction. She handed Florian her keys and let him guide her out the club, ignoring the curious stares that followed. Fuck them she thought. It was none of their business who she took home.

They rode in her car in silence. She was careful who she let drive her baby but she trusted Florian for some strange reason. Occasionally his eyes would wander over to her seat so that he could admire her toned legs. He imagined them wrapped around his waist while he drove into her. Or maybe over his shoulders while he pounded into her. Snow smirked to herself as she caught him staring in the mirror.

“Drei” she blurted out. He turned to her as best he could, a curious look on his face.

“You wanted to bet how many times you can make me come tonight. Die antwort ist drei”  

Surprise registered on his face as he took in what she was saying. She was giving him the green light, and he had no intention of passing up on the offer. Florian drove like a mad man, weaving through traffic with a fierce determination. The sounds of blaring car horns filled the air as he made his way to her apartment. When they finally pulled into the parking space outside, he turned the car off and turned to Snow. The tension in the air was thick and he fought to compose himself.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked

“Since when did you become such a gentleman?”

“I just don’t want you to regret this. If you say yes, I won’t hold back. If you say yes, then I’m going to make it my mission to explore every inch of your luscious body. Willst du das??”

With an unmistakable nod, she gave him the answer he wanted. She gazed into his hazel eyes, and found that his eyes were slowly flickering down to her plump lips. Florian leaned forward to kiss her, relishing in the feel of her soft lip against his. Her brought up a hand to tenderly stroke her cheek, causing her to gasp. He took the opportunity to slip in his tongue, gently coaxing her to deepen the kiss.

Something came over Snow as she unbuckled her seat belt and climbed over to straddle his lap. Without breaking the kiss, he leaned his seat back to give them more space. His hands lowered down to her ass which he held a tight grip on.

He broke the kiss, bringing his lips to the tender spot underneath her ear and began to place open mouth kisses there. The feeling made her head fuzzy with need and she felt her wetness drip from her center.

“Flo” she moaned, rocking her hips against his. She felt the substantial bulge in his jeans and it made her even more desperate for release. He chuckled against her skin before bringing his lips to hers and planting a hot open mouth kiss.

His hands moved strategically over her body, as if he was studying every spot that drew a response. He committed it to memory, trusting that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to taste her. He took both her hands in his and pinned them above her head and he continued to kiss her which she returned with fierce determination. The inside of his car began to fill with the sounds of her moans as he slid his hands up her right thigh.

His talented fingers began to glide between her legs. Much to his delight he discovered there were no panties to remove and his fingers found the source of the wetness sliding down her shapely mocha legs.

"Enjoying yourself are we?" he teased as he circled her clit. She moaned and shook, unable to formulate a response.

"Gut" he said as he slipped a finger inside and massaged her g-spot. She shuddered and felt himself hardened as her walls clenched his thick fingers.

He kissed her and continued to massage her inner walls while stroking her clit. The sensation of his mouth devouring her while stroking her most sensitive spot, caused heat to spread through her body. She knew her orgasm was close and she didn’t even care that they hadn’t even made it inside her apartment.

“Fuck, Flo, I’m-”

He pumped his fingers into her, stroking the soft spongy part of her with a wicked speed while coaxing her to her release. With added pressure on her clit, she detonated around him, her warm center tightening around him with a vice grip. He placed soft kisses on her neck, which she exposed to him as she threw her head back in ecstasy.

“That was one” she purred, coming down from her orgasm. She saw the flash of persistence in his eye and immediately knew she was in for a wild night. The gauntlet had been thrown down and he was more than ready to pick it up.

“Let’s get you in the house, jetzt” he growled before crushing his lips to hers.

They stumbled into the foyer of her apartment, a tangled mess of hands and lips. The ride up to her floor was nothing but him pushing her up against the elevator wall and teasing her already sensitive flesh. And right now, with them finally having privacy, she felt a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he grunted, pulling his lips from hers.

“Upstairs, second room on the right”

With no effort, Florian picked her up and made his way up the steps. She began teasing him, suckling and nibbling on the soft flesh of his earlobe. His skin broke out in goosebumps making her smile with satisfaction. He made his way to her bedroom and crushed his lips onto hers, slamming the door behind him with his foot. They remained locked in a deep kiss, her legs wrapped around him, grinding on the front of his jeans. He tossed her onto the bed and she fell with a squeal of delight. After giggling and catching her breath she looked up at him.

He couldn't remember wanting anything so badly. He watched as she crawled on her hands and knees to the front of the bed and started to unbuckle his belt. Taking off his shirt, he measured the gorgeousness of her feminine curves as they lay before him. The gentle arch in her back, the slight hourglass form that widened into the luscious, full heart shape of her butt.

He needed to devour her; to put her in the ecstatic trance that drew him like a magnet to her in the first place. He needed to taste this irresistible creature.

She had succeeded in the arduous task of loosening his belt and had her little hand down the front of his boxers grasped gently around his thick member. He saw her eyes widen and her tongue trace across her lips in anticipation. He pushed his jeans to the ground so she could get an easier grip but when she went to take him in his mouth, he stopped her, took her hand off his member and kissed it.

"You first..."

Florian shoved Snow back onto the bed. She tumbled over with a giggle and a sigh as he crawled over the top of her. He teased her swollen clit with the tip of his shaft for a second and felt her shiver at the contact.

He began at her neck kissing slowly and biting gently, savoring her smell and every inch of her flavor. He made his way to her toned belly and grazed his lips over her navel, watching her toned tummy rise and fall as her breathing became more erratic. He positioned his shoulders under her thighs and gazed at her glistening pussy, laid open for him. Kissing the inside of her right thigh, then suckling the inside of her left, he reveled in her scent. It reminded him of citrus and honey.

With a long, flat tongue he tasted her.He groaned in appreciation at how sweet and juicy she tasted. Craving more, he  wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled her closer to his face, burying his mouth in her delicious folds. He could feel her wetness soaking his lips but it only made him more excited. His tongue danced around the sensitive flesh as he responded to her gasps and moans.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop” she begged.

His dick throbbed painfully, wanting in on the action. But this was for her. And he loved making her moan. It was such deep satisfaction to feel the power he had over her. She followed his lead, grinding her hips against the entirety of his mouth, using the friction to get closer and closer to her destination.

He flicked his tongue across her clit in a fluid motion and inserted two eager fingers into her slick center. Her moan rose into a pleasure-filled shriek, he heard her breath come in quicker and knew she was close to her release.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her walls tensing around his fingers as she released once more in a succulent explosion that left his mouth soaking to the bottom of his nose and his hand wet all the way to his wrist. His beard glistened with her juices and it drove him wild to be covered in her scent.

“That was two” he grunted, a sense of pride filling him. He had always been a competitive man and this was one game he was sure to win. She lay sprawled, unable to open her eyes, but with a contented smile on her lips as the waves of her body's aftershock shook her, gently bouncing her breasts. He knew she was more than ready for him.

He quickly stripped her of the rest of her clothing, the white midi dress discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor. He was surprised to discover that in addition to no panties, she’d forgone a bra as well.

“No underwear huh? Well aren’t we nasty” he taunted, as he stroked his dick along her already sensitive clit.

“Shut up and fuck me Florian” she growled, growing impatient. Two orgasms weren’t enough, she wanted more. She needed him to fill her.

He slid his body atop hers, looking deeply into her soulful brown eyes as he sank into her. Her nails dug into his skin as he pulled out before thrusting forward and bottoming out inside her.

He began long, slow, deep strokes wanting her to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock. Her eyes were closed and she was moaning with every down stroke, perfectly in tune with his pace.

“So fucking wet” he gasped as her felt her soft folds took him in deeper and deeper. He had decided in that moment that this was his favorite place to be. He could spend the rest of his life between her thighs and die a happy man.

Her cheeks flushed as the walls of her pussy tightened around him. She knew he was big from the feel of his bulge in the car but she still gasped in surprise when he filled her up. The way he moved within her drove her wild and she was desperate for more. She hooked her leg around his waist, aching for him to be as close to him as she possibly could.

“Please baby, harder” she urged, wanting to feel him fully unleash on her.  Teasingly, he pulled all the way out until just the head was inside her and paused. She opened her eyes and looked at him pleadingly, biting her lower lip hard. He sank his cock back inside her and paused again, causing her to quiver.

“Fuck Flo, get to it!” she cried, causing something inside of him to snap. He picked up his pace, his hips thrusting in her with a feverish need. She was panting as he fucked her and leaned up to kiss him hungrily. His tongue entered her mouth even as his cock penetrated her, hitting that sweet spot. And with one sudden jerk of his hips, he felt her pussy grip him tightly before exploding all around him.

“Oh my fucking God!” she screamed as her entire body dissolved into the waves of pleasure flowing through her. Florian continued to move inside her, softly stroking her face and hair while whispering sweet words in her ear. She was completely shattered, but the hard cock pulsing inside of her told her that the night was far from over.

“And there’s three. Think you got one more for me baby?” he cooed. Her hooded gaze told him she was spent, but he was determined to win this bet. He knew he could push her past the brink of satisfaction one last time.

He pulled out of her and effortlessly flipped her over, leaving her chest pressed into the mattress. He then led her to the edge of the bed, pullingg her lower body up onto her knees. Standing behind her, Florian pushed her head down to the mattress and rubbed the head of my cock against her dripping wet slit.

With a quick thrust forward, he buried his cock inside her roughly, grabbing onto her hips for leverage.

“Fuck!” they both cried out simultaneously.

Snow arched her back, throwing her head back in ecstasy. He grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to pull her back against him as he slammed his cock into her hard and fast. She moaned wantonly, and he felt the familiar tremor of her walls.

“Are you going to come for me again baby?” he cooed into her ear.

She could barely respond but her body answered for him.

“Hold it liebling” he urged, as he pounded into her fiercely.

Her body shook with every thrust of his hips and she wondered just how she would fend off this impending orgasm. As if it wasn’t hard enough, he wrapped both hands around her neck and began fucking her harder.

Her body had no choice but to surrender to his brutal assault and she wailed into the mattress as she fought to stop herself from coming. His thick cock was buried deep inside of her, relentlessly filling her up and staking its claim over her. And just when she thought she couldn’t hold it any longer, he granted her release.

“Fuck, Snow, come! Come all over this dick!” he growled before emptying inside of her, coating her walls with thick ribbons of his cum. Her last orgasm ripped through her, leaving her a screaming mess underneath him. She had never been more thankful for her penthouse apartment that separated her from the rest of her neighbors.

Florian gently pulled out of her before laying next to her. They laid next to each other, both trying to calm their breathing and make sense of what had just transpired between them.

“So I guess I won the bet” he remarked smugly, while taking in her appearance. Her hair stuck to her forehead, dampened by the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out across her body.

“Shut up” she ragged, still struggling to catch her breath. He couldn’t help the chuckle that broke from his lips and pretty soon, they were both laughing hysterically, their arms and legs tangled together.

“What’s my prize. For exceeding your expectations?”

“The nut you got was enough of a prize” she retorted, her head now gently laid on his toned chest. She lazily drew circles around his pecs, relishing in the feel of his warm skin.

“Fair enough”

“But we do have a more serious issue on our hands now,” she continued. The problems she had at the club were still there and a few orgasms wouldn’t be enough to rid her of them. Florian looked down at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain what she meant.

“I need you to walk me through the business. I want to take over.”

Translations:

Wusstest du nicht, dass es unhöflich ist zu starren?- Didn’t you know that it’s rude to stare?

Ja. Ich bin nur überrascht, dich hier zu sehen, Schnee - Yeah, I’m just surprised to see you here Snow.

Darf ich mich setzen?”- May I sit?

“Wirst du mich nerven?- Are you going to annoy me?

Drei/Die antwort ist drei- Three/ The answer is three

Willst du das?- Do you want this?

Gu- Good

Jetzt-Now

Liebling- Darling

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for this story! I hope you like it because I’m so excited to continue writing this!

[one-boring-person]

Swear To It.

Paul (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury

Context: this is sort of a continuation of my last Paul fic (Behave Yourself). Basically, the reader is on duty and has to separate a fight, only to figure out that one of the people involved is their very own boyfriend.

A/N: I feel like I've released a lot of Top Gun stuff recently, so I thought I'd get this out of my drafts, as is started this last week and haven't had time to finish it. I felt in the mood for some angst, so here we go 😂😅

Masterlist

The Boardwalk is unusually busy for a Tuesday night, the normally popular attractions and shops swarming with people, the rides crowded and unpleasant to go on, what with the sheer volume of people trying to get on at the same time, drunk and tipsy gaggles of teens causing insignificant havoc all over the place. A few older visitors have complained over the last hour, but, as always, we ignore them, knowing by now that most of then are exaggerating about the severity of the problems, trying to get the younger population to leave the Boardwalk to them. Thankfully we haven't had to break up many fights, though my chest still hurts from where some screaming girl elbowed me when I had to pull her away from her sobbing "friend", red welts lining my arm from where she managed to scratch at me, the otherwise unmarked skin stinging a little under my uniform shirt.

Having been told to continue my rounds, I pace slowly around the perimeter of the carousel, eyeing the throbbing crowd with a practised eye, taking in the rowdy surfers and punks gathered a little way away, their leaders apparently having an arguement; though I don't see it escalating any time soon, another security guard walking up to them to sort it out even as they start to break apart. Not much is audible over the tinny music and cacophony of voices, but I recognise the general gist of what is being said: we'll finish this later. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, instead focusing on a group of three teenagers surrounded by a cloud of blue smoke, the pungent odour clearly cannabis, joints pinched between shaking hands, their laughter lazy and drug-induced, one of them practically using the others as a crutch. Cracking my neck, I prepare to deal with them, intending to remind them that drug use is not quite legal in the presence of smaller children, hoping to advise them that there are better (more discreet) places to continue their fun. I go to walk over to them, only to be stopped by a sudden shout behind me, the sound oddly familiar.

Turning towards it, I notice a commotion starting near the ticket booth, where a group of curious onlookers has gathered around what I can only imagine is two unruly teens initiating a fight. I start to push my way through the crowds towards them, my pace hindered by the multitudes of people in my way, my urgency spiking as more shouts and curses follow the initial one, the audience starting to chant the word "fight" over and over again, as if they were still in high school, cheering and taunting accompanying the uproar as more of us security guards move in to break it up.

As I approach, I am greeted by a few elbows to the body, feet stamping on mine as I push through the hordes, the riled-up onlookers pushing together into a near impenetrable wall of bodies. Yelling at them all to move out of the way, I manage to force my way through, where I have to take a moment to realise who exactly it is causing chaos at this exact moment.

My eyes lock with David and Dwayne's across the newly formed circle briefly, at which point I take in that they're trying to force their brother off of the cursing rocker beneath him, Marko trying to hold back one of the victim's friends as he tries to escalate the situation. Ignoring the shouts and commands of his friends, Paul continues beating the hell out of the guy on the floor, obviously in a rage over something, fists flying in a relentless volley, despite the hands on his back holding him away. Shock and anger flood me at the sight, noticing that the rocker at his feet is covered in blood and bruises, one of his eyes already starting to swell up into an ugly purple colour, though he hasn't submitted yet, choosing instead to kick and scratch at any available body part he can reach, swearing profusely at the vampire.

Without another thought, I throw myself forwards, being the first guard on the scene, latching myself onto Paul's shoulder, hands propped against his chest as I force my way under his arm, knowing that the most leverage I'll get is if I'm underneath him pushing upwards and away from the other, who is currently punching at my back. I call out to them both, telling them to cut it out, knowing I can't really use Paul's name in case I give away our relationship, my muscles straining under the vampire's supernatural strength, struggling to push him away. After a minute or so, my words finally seem to sink in, the lanky blonde pulling away with a growl of frustration, a sick smirk of pride plastered over his face as he watches another security guard helping his victim to his feet, eyes flashing dangerously at the scent of fresh blood before they flick to me, realisation setting in as I give him a disgusted look. I turn to the others, ignoring my boyfriend completely.

"Get him out of here." I simply say to them, nodding appreciatively at them as they agree, the three of them moving to take Paul away from the Boardwalk, and away from me. Anger and frustration race through my veins as I stalk over to help the other guard with the battered rocker, my own body aching now from the blows it received, though I don't say anything as we carry the guy away from the crowd towards the small building we use as a place to store our stuff whilst at work.

An hour later, I'm dismissed, my feet dragging in exhaustion and dull anger as I trek home, my mind replaying the events of the shift in my head.

He knew I was working today. He knew and he started a fight anyway.

Frustrated sighs leave me every now and then as I walk, subconsciously finding my way back to my home, where a motorcycle is already waiting outside, the sight of which stirs up a feeling of dead and frustration. Ignoring it, I go to the door and unlock it, stepping inside and throwing my bag to the floor, taking my shoes and jacket off as I shuffle further into the hall, going straight to the stairs. Instead of going to my room, I enter the bathroom instead, quickly stripping and getting into the shower, knowing full well that the person I least want to see is somewhere in the house, and that he knows I'm annoyed at him. As the water runs down my body, I try to ignore the fact that I'm going to have to face him, focusing instead on the motions of cleaning myself, finding the actions soothing to do, working the knots out of muscles, wincing when my hands run over the newly formed bruises and welts on my skin.

I take around ten minutes, climbing out and drying off at a relatively slow pace, trying to relax myself in preparation for what is to come, finally wrapping the towel around myself before stepping out of the bathroom. Going to my room, I halt in my tracks when I catch sight of the lithe vampire sat on my bed, a deep frown etching itself onto my face.

"What do you want?" I grit out, turning my back as I go to my dresser, rooting around in my draws for some comfortable clothes, pulling out a shirt and trousers.

"I wanted to apologise for the fight. I didn't realise it was such a big deal for you, and I didn't mean to get into one tonight." Paul responds quietly, audibly standing and walking to stand behind me.

Bristling slightly, I clench my jaw at his words, a spark of anger flaring up in me.

"You know full well how I feel about people starting fights on the Boardwalk." I snap back at him, turning and pushing past him.

"Yeah, I know, but I never meant to get into a fight! I'm sorry!" He reasons, trying to follow me, only just realising that I'm not wearing any clothes.

"It's always the same, though. You didn't mean to start it, you didn't realise, blah blah blah. When is it ever going to change, Paul? I'm fed up with coming home beaten and bruised because I've had to separate people, and then to have to pry my own boyfriend away from someone? It's just not fair to me, and that's something that you don't seem to realise."

The vampire is silent for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on me, mind clearly working to form a response. I don't give him the time, striding forwards to push him out of the door, closing it in his face with some force. Turning, I sigh heavily, hating the hurt look that flashed across his face as I did so, swiftly changing into my more comfortable clothes and collapsing on the bed, my fists clenching in the duvet as I try to control myself, resisting the urge to open the door to him again.

For a little while, I remain there, sprawled on the bed with tears of exhaustion and frustration threatening to spill from my eyes, my anger fading a little until it's just a dull emotion clouding my mind. Internally, I consider quitting my job, considering the factors keeping me there: I'm good at my job, it pays well enough to afford basic needs and it's secure, though the factors pushing me away almost seem to have a greater affect on me - coming home bruised most nights, having to put up with rowdy Boardwalk goers, dealing with verbal and some physical abuse from some of the more raucous visitors. Sniffing, I curl myself up into a ball, barely registering as there is a knock on the window.

Looking over, I let out a sigh of frustration at the sight of Paul crouched on the ledge, his tall frame bent almost in two as he peers in at me, gesturing with one finger at the latch, expression almost desperate. I stare at him, thinking over the options in my head: I could leave him out there, or I can let him in to explain himself. It takes me a couple of minutes to decide, a frustrated growl leaving me as I stand up, my steps slow and calculated as I go to the window, watching as a small smile works it's way onto his handsome face. Approaching, I keep my expression neutral, reaching for the latch and flicking it open, turning instantly and walking back to my bed, where I sit with my eyes fixed on him.

Awkwardly, he forces himself through the window, relief evident in his expression as he finally stands up straight again and closes the makeshift door behind him, hands wringing together, as if fighting the urge to move forwards, body tense.

"Look, I'm really sorry, (Y/n). I wasn't aware that your job was so difficult, and I hate that I made it difficult for you tonight. I'm really sorry that you got hurt because of me, I feel really ashamed that it happened. I know I have to make it up to you somehow, so I hope you'll let me, because I really don't want to lose you! I'll do anything to keep you!" He finally says, voice pleading and laced with shame, teeth biting at his lip as he watches me for a reaction, welts appearing on his pale hands from where he's digging his fingers in.

Eyeing him, I think over what he's said, silently wondering whether or not to accept his apology, the anger within me spiking a little, though I swiftly suppress it again, sighing heavily as I stand up from the bed, having made a decision.

"I accept your apology, Paul, but I need you to understand that saying you're sorry is a different thing to showing me you're sorry. I know I got hurt tonight, but I'm not the only security guard that works there, and I'm sure they'd all rather they didn't come home with bruises every night. If you want to make it up to me, then you have to swear to me that you'll not get into another fight on the Boardwalk, and that you'll make sure the others understand that, too." I explain to him, referring to the rest of his coven, watching as his emotions seem to force themselves put over his face, a variety of odd expressions following my words. Finally, he seems to settle on relieved, eyes bright with happiness.

"Yes, of course I'll swear to that! I'll do anything, (Y/n), you mean too much to me to lose you!" Paul gushes, rushing forwards slightly, as if to bring me into a hug, only stopping as couple of inches away from me, hesitating.

"Do it, then. Swear to it." I prompt him, looking up into his face.

"I swear to you, that I won't start, or get into another fight on the Boardwalk. I swear it on my life." He promises, completely serious for once, meaning it's totally genuine.

"Good." I smile up at him, finally giving in to the urge I've had since I first walked in, stepping forwards to rest my head against his chest, my arms linking around his abdomen.

Happily, he wraps his own arms around me, crushing me against his body as he buries his face in my hair, his familiar scent enveloping me as we stand there. Perfectly content, we remain in place for what feels like hours, neither of us saying a word, just happy to be in each other's company for the time being, my body trying it's best to relax.

The rest of the night is spent cuddling together, neither of us wanting to be away from the other, Paul only leaving when he notices that the sun is close to coming up, cutting it fine as he always does. As he leaves, he promises me that he'll be waiting for me on the Boardwalk the next night, ready to help me deal with troublesome Boardwalk goers.