#did he at least OFFER to bring the step ladder???

[soracities]

I'm 5'2" and I once got a 6'4" guy on Grindr asking me to top him. Like king. I gotta bring a stepladder to the hookup.

omg ok but anon DID YOU????

[kalgalen]

His vampiric vision paints his surroundings in vivid colors, lights shimmering and pulsating in time with the beat of his heart. His other senses give him the same insane level of feedback - hearing sharp and attentive, smells subtle and shifting but bringing a whole other layer of information with each breath. His prey is hiding, and hiding well at that; but he's being intentionally sloppy, leaving a trail of tracks that would have been entirely avoidable if he'd really not wanted to be found.

Daniel smiles, predatory. His eyes flash amber behind his tinted glasses; the hunt is on. He hums a nonsensical tune as he strolls through the near-empty streets, picking up the signs of his quarry passing through the same alleyways with ease. Here, a handprint on a wall, invisible to anyone human and inattentive. There, the memory of a shape in a drunkard's mind. A puddle of water, imperceptibly disturbed by someone stepping in it just a minute ago.

The trail is getting warmer, and Daniel allows himself a moment of satisfaction; he's turning out to be a good hunter. No, scratch that, fuck the pretend modesty: he's a great hunter. His maker will be proud.

He finds himself following the tracks into a dead end, and is stumped for a bit; the hints stop there, between three solid walls and himself. The rules are clear: no flying, no killing, no manipulating passerbys’ memories - at least, not yet. Daniel tests out the wall that's in front of him for grips in the stone; it is brick, and so doesn't lack grooves where someone's claws could find purchase. The scratches are old, though, and not at all in the shape of hands.

Daniel doesn't let it deter him. He breathes in - once to center himself, a second time to scan his surroundings - and here, here's the smell he's looking for. Strong now that he's paying attention to it, familiar, mouth-watering. He looks around, up, and finds a rusting ladder that has recently been pulled up into a fire escape stairway. He can't reach it by jumping but perhaps -

He turns again to the brick wall and fits his claws into disintegrating mortar, then starts climbing.

It isn't easy, and it isn't quick, but he makes his way to the top of the wall and hoists himself up to a sitting position. He takes a moment to marvel at his strength and endurance (not quite new anymore, but it's going to be a long time until the novelty wears out after years of slow physical decline) then carefully stands up and, in one smooth motion, leaps from the wall to the fire escape.

The noise the decaying metal makes as he slams into it makes him grimace, but he doesn't waste time, immediately pulling himself up and climbing the creaking steps, following the intoxicating scent of his prey. It leads him to the roof, and he knows he's reached his goal as soon as he reaches the top.

“Took you long enough,” Armand says by way of greeting. His back is turned to Daniel, and his voice is low - but Daniel hears him loud and clear, each syllable plucking at his attention like fingers on the strings of a guitar. He sighs, smiles easy and fond, and steps forward.

“Aw, were you getting bored?”

Armand half-turns his head. “No. Simply wondering if you'd gotten lost.”

“Ye of little faith,” Daniel chuckles. He's right behind Armand now, and it feels natural to wrap his arms around his maker's waist, to pull him closer. “Got you.”

“You did.” Armand sighs, and his body melts comfortably against Daniel's. His neck bends invitingly, and that's all the encouragement Daniel needs to set blunt teeth on the dark skin offered to him.

He breathes in his sire's scent, loses himself in it for a bit - Armand's smell, Armand's physicality, his presence - then lets his fangs drop slowly, until they're pressing against the tender flesh underneath.

“Well?” Armand says softly. “Claim your prize. Go on.”

Don't mind if I do, Daniel thinks, and although he can't hear his thoughts directly, Armand must feel them well enough. A shiver of anticipation runs through his narrow frame, and his hands cover Daniel's on his hips.

Daniel bites down; the blood floods his mouth, sweet and cool and sticky, sluggish like only a vampire's can be. He drinks slowly, savoring each gulp; so focused on his own enjoyment, he doesn't notice the way Armand has slumped against him until he can hear his maker's breath, coming short and quick, laced with desperate little moans.

“Oh, not bored, then.” Daniel smiles against the punctures he bit in Armand's throat. “Impatient.”

Armand tears himself away, then, and flips around. His eyes are twin flames in the muddy night of the city, dangerous and eager. Without a word, he crushes his mouth against Daniel's in a bruising, bloody kiss.

“I've waited long enough,” he snarls - before dragging them both down to the ground.

[justmightyshadows]

Be Good For Me

Wrote about Jaheira/Lae'zel. This one is NSFW.

If you like it you can give me kudos/comments on ao3

Summary:

Jaheira is sent on a mission to collect information about a hidden book and gets to choose whoever she wants to accompany her. She chooses the best soldier on the team and learns more about the muscled warrior's set of skills during their time together.

“We’re running out of time and I don’t have the skills that you do for espionage and sleuthing. Can you find us more information on Elder Brains? We can’t be going into this flight blind.” Tav leaned back against the stone pillar, pushing her short black hair out of her face as she talked to Jaheira. The half-elf eyed her curiously, the corners of her mouth were down in a semi-scowl. Their alliance was not the strongest - Tav had made more than a few choices that had gotten under Jaheira’s skin but now, now they needed to work together without bringing up the past.

Jaheira looked out at the camp below them and watched the companions working on their chores.

“You can have your choice of who you want on your team. I defer completely to you on this.” Tav offered this olive branch with the hope that Jaheira wouldn’t just turn her down. She was sure the woman would pick Minsc especially after everything they had done to get him. He must be the type of warrior that you needed at your side at all times.

“Fine, I’ll do it. I choose Lae’zel. Have her ready to go by dawn.” She said, lowering herself down the ladder without waiting for a response.

Tav watched the githyanki warrior squatting Karlach in the corner for her midday training. At least now Tav could focus on dealing with Voss without her commentary. She followed Jaheira down and gave Lae’zel her marching orders as she headed back to her own tent. Minthara was sprawled out on her bed, the opening of her shirt tempting and low to show off her chest.

“Who did she pick?” Minthara asked in a slow drawl of words.

“Lae’zel.” Tav answered quietly and watched as her lover’s eyebrows arched upward in surprise.

“Now that is unexpected.” She brought Tav’s head down to rest on her as she propped open a book her eyes scanning the words on the page but her mind deep in thought.

*****

The sun hid beneath the horizon as they left camp - each carrying only the necessities for their trip. Jaheira planned it to take at most two days, which was more time than Lae’zel had spent away from camp in awhile. She trudged along one step behind Jaheira her ears swiveling for any sound that might be out there.

“Keep up, Lae’zel.” Came Jaheira’s stern voice and she smiled to herself as she heard the pattering of feet as her obedient shadow came to stand next to her.

“We shouldn’t worry about an ambush but we could be separated if we are too far from each other, that is what I worry about in two woman groups like this.” Her small nugget of wisdom was met with a curt nod of the head. Lae’zel was content to travel in quiet usually only commenting on things she found extraordinarily different from her home or any dangers she felt she needed to alert the group to. Today, however she looked over at Jaheira and asked

“Why did you pick me? Of course I am the best warrior among us but is this a task for a warrior?” Her voice betrayed none of her worry even as Jaheira saw her adjust her perfectly aligned armor needlessly.

“I don’t trust Tav fully so I didn’t give her all of the details. Where we’re going I’ll need muscle. For this mission you need to be my bodyguard. At the tavern I will get needlessly drunk and get a certain target there to give me information. You need to make sure I don’t get harmed as I do so.” She gave the information like a briefing to keep Lae’zel engaged.

“Getting drunk is a foolish thing you people in Faerun do. It is self-indulgent and shows a lack of self-control.”

“Yes, but not only is it fun it also gives you a job. I thought it was something you could handle, was I wrong?” Jaheira tried desperately to hide her smirk as she watched Lae’zel suffer through wanting to be the best at the job assigned to her and hating the job outright.

“Yesssss. I will handle this task. It will be easy for me.” Lae’zel said with brimming confidence.

“Good because it is just over this hill.” They crested the hill in silence and made their way into a large wooden building at the center of a small town square.

Jaheira found them seats in a booth in the corner but with open sights to the bar. She checked them into a room and stashed their things as Lae’zel settled in - her eyes trained on the various people coming within Jaheira’s vicinity. Soon though the druid was throwing pints back with a tall orc woman and a thin high elf. The three of them chatted and laughed their drinks sloshing around down the fronts of their shirts. The high elf reached for something in his pocket and Lae’zel began to rise from her seat expectantly - it turned out to just be a scroll of some kind that he showed to Jaheira with a smile. They moved their heads towards it and whispered something which made the Orc laugh and blush.

The night continued like this until the two visitors left and were replaced by a hooded man. He moved to sit close to Jaheira and finally Lae’zel went over to her. “Why don’t you come back with me then? A fancy woman like you - we could have a lot of fun.” He was drunk but also had grabbed her forcefully by the wrist hoping to drag her off somewhere no doubt. Lae’zel took his hand and gave a sharp warning “Unhand her or lose the hand.” His eyes widened but he made a mistake. The enemy only ever needed to make one mistake in front of her for her to bring her swrod down over their heads. This one reached for his sword as if he were going to fight her, as if she would ever give him the chance and with one swift motion she severed the hand from his body - tossing the loose appendage at him like a small trinket.

“Leave.” She said tossing Jaheira over her shoulder as she laughed uncontrollably at the scene.

“He should have just let go! HAahahahhaaa. We should have another round!” She said to Lae’zel who ignored her and brought her up to the room.

“I hope that was enough drinking to get our task done.” Lae’zel said as she placed the woman on the couch. Jaheira was still laughing as she dug around the front of her clothing sloppily and pulled out a small bottle. She downed the contents and looked up at Lae’zel completely sober. A feat of druid magic to have her sitting here sober after the number of drinks she had

“Aye - we got what we needed. Our next target is where they keep this book.” She handed the small scrap that the elf before had been waving around. Jaheira had won it off him during one of their many rounds of drinking.

“Good. Then it was not a wasted evening. Should we regroup with the others?” Lae'zel wanted to continue forward and get the book so that they could be done with this brain and the worm in her head.

“After we get a good nights rest here we can meet up with the others in the morning. I’d love a bath without that vampire looking at me.” Jaheira responded her arms stretching up to the ceiling. It would be nice to be away from Tav too, Jaheira thought - her drow lover always seemed to be plotting something and it was tedious to deal with every day. She slid out of her clothes and let them sit on the floor as she prepared the bath.

Lae’zel followed the druids motions aware of the shape of her body and the movement of her breasts as she did so. Usually the nakedness meant nothing to her but as she shed her own clothing she became aware of the differences between them. A part of her wanted to know what Jaheira thought of her - if she saw something worth looking at as well.

The steam billowed off the bath as Jaheira lowered herself in with a deep sigh and stared up at Lae’zel hovering near it, her face in a serious scowl as she tried to avoid looking at her breasts.

“Get in Lae’zel.” She commanded and watched as the soft look came over her eyes and she slipped her body into the water. Lae’zel looked over Jaheira’s body and squirmed as if she had something to say. It was cute to watch the strong warrior become so timid at the sight of her. She could lead her to pleasure or tease her until she admitted how she felt. She could admit how she felt, the real reason she had chosen her to come with her - but maybe that was a talk for another day.

“Your desire is all over your face Lae’zel I am old enough to know it. Is it because we are alone? You don’t have Shadowheart to stare at and now even I am looking good in this light?” She threw her head back and laughed as Lae’zel dipped even lower into the hot water. Her eyes the only visible thing for a second until she lifted just enough to allow her mouth to respond.

“You are an exceptional leader. I have seen it many times before now I simply have not had the opportunity. I want to taste you.” It was almost a pleading that she pushed out - she needed to taste her, to be praised by her while no one else was around.

“So eager.” Jaheira tried to think of a witty thing to say but instead rose and left the bath, the water dripping down her slowly as she looked back at Lae’zel. This wasn’t a new feeling but it had been awhile since she’d let someone get this far - the lust in Lae’zel’s eyes was so tempting.

“Come. I want to know how you’ll do at this task as well.” She put a hand out for Lae’zel, and they toweled each other off. With one sweeping motion Lae’zel lifted her and placed her on the bed coming to rest in between her legs.

Jaheira wove her fingers expectantly into the lacy hair on Lae’zel’s head guiding it to her belly where she received a chorus of suckling and the sensation of sharp teeth playfully nipping at her flesh. She let out a smile, it was a joy to be touched in such a way but her mind had more in mind than cute foreplay. She pushed her lower over the soft silvery bush to the source of her want and Lae’zel obeyed her without a word her mouth finding Jaheira’s clit, her chin resting on the wet want as she did so. Jaheira pressed down on her head, her palm fully on the back of her scalp “I want you here, Lae’zel.” She whispered in between moans. The young warrior was skilled of course, her focus making her an excellent partner in bed, especially for this specific task. Jaheira made herself stop speaking as she rode the waves of pleasure, allowing her most trusted soldier to work. Her eyes went down to fix on Lae’zel and she was met by the full yellowed eyes begging, pleading as they always did for a kind word - one only she could give.

“Gods, you feel amazing.” She cooed and used Lae’zels face to rub against her entrance as reprieve from the feeling of her throbbing clit. There was smirk to those big yellow eyes now and her grip clamped down on the edge of Jaheira’s thighs, stopping her escape as she placed her tongue over the needy mound of the druid’s want. Lae’zel’s strength aided her as she held her close with one hand moved the other upward to the aroused flesh of her nipples, placing it in between her fingers.

Jaheira lurched upward her breath catching and her body writhing as she was worked closer to her climax until she could not take it any longer. Her own hand tried to mimic Lae’zel’s touch on her other nipple and found a strong heat rising up in her. “Lae’zel…” she moaned out in a wet sobbing fashion her body overcome with feeling.

She closed her legs over Lae’zel’s face forcing her to keep going as her climax dulled to nothing. The woman’s tongue lapped over her clit feverishly circling it with precision and settled on teasing her entrance as her heart rate lowered. Jaheira only released her when she could feel the woman struggling for breath. With a great gasp Lae’zel emerged - her eyes hungry for the next words that would fall from her lips.

“That was great Lae’zel. I see your mouth is as good as your sword.” She said wiping the edges of her face as she lavished her with one sentence of praise. Lae’zel fell into her - her head in between Jaheira’s breasts as the druid undid the braids in her hair. Humming softly to herself and admiring the view in front of her. The wet slick between her legs rubbing on Lae’zel’s toned muscles. Yes, she was fantastic and if this was going to be the outcome she’d have to choose Lae’zel for many more missions away from camp.

[imonawholedifferentlevel]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞s - 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏ/ɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴜᴍᴏʀ, ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰʟɪʀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜʏ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ (ꜰʀɪᴇᴅᴀ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ʏ/ɴ ᴏꜰ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴀɴ ᴡᴀɴɢᴊɪ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴏɴ ᴍᴏɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʏ

Y/n felt eyes on her as she was escorted into C-block her hands and feet handcuffed and three Co's surrounding the woman her face remained blank as she put her cuffed hands out the guard jumped a little and she rolled her eyes in her head.

He took the cuffs off her feet and hands before another guard handed her a sack.

"Your cell is C-103" he replied before walking off with the other guards she said nothing and walked forward before she was stopped when some girls stepped infront of her.

There were about five of them but the girl in the middle caught her eye.

She was pretty small compared to her at least she had blondish-brownish hair, dark brown eyes that were behind giant golden framed glasses, and a sociopathic look in her eyes.

"Look who we have here a new cookie to play with it's been a while you must be real scary if you have multiple guards bringing you in here" Carol said.

"Ok let's cut to the chase your gonna be working for me-"

"No" Y/n bluntly said looking down at Carol her face still blank Carol and her girls faces turned into a look of shock before Carol's face changed into a look of anger.

"What did you just say?" She asked clenching her fists and walking closer to Y/n standing on her tippy toes to get to eye level of her Y/n found it pretty amusing to say the least.

She remained unfazed and repeated her answer "no".

"Do you know what I do to fucking bitches who reject my offers I make them wish they were fucking dead!".

Her voice slowly started to raise with each word gaining the attention of everyone as they watch the altercation in silence.

Y/n let out a very silent scoff and just stared at her who did this little girl think she was usually Y/n would have shot her right inbetween her damn eyes for being in her personal space but sadly she didn't have her gun or weapons anymore and was trapped in this place.

"Childish" she replied before bumping past her not noticing the shock on everyone's faces and a look of pure rage on their leaders.

For the rest of the day Y/n could feel Carol's piercing gaze on her the entire time but she just ignored her Y/n was eating her food when a woman with black hair that was tied into two pigtails walked up to her and sat down right next to her.

She turned and looked into her blue eyes just staring at her as she talked about nonsense she honestly looked like she didn't even want to be in this position.

"Let me guess that girl sent you over here?" She asked referring to Carol cocking an eyebrow in her direction the girl looked slightly shocked before she nodded.

"She wanted to know more about you" Frieda said.

"Hmh" Y/n hummed and got up walking away to her cell she still didn't know who her cell mate was but judging by all the scared "good lucks" women were giving her its someone "dangerous".

Lights out was almost near and people were walking away to their cells she took off her scrubs but kept the white shirt on and got onto the top bunk facing the wall and just staring at it when she heard someone enter the cell.

The doors closed and some lights went out the person in her cell was rummaging around silently before It went quiet Y/n sighed and closed her eyes getting ready to go to sleep until.

She heard the creaking of the ladder it was very faint almost but she heard it very clearly as if the person didn't want her to know that they were trying to get up here.

Back when she used to live in China she was taught by her father's on how to hear your surroundings more clearly so she definitely knew someone was working their way up the ladder that and the small outline of a woman slowly rising from behind her.

Y/n waited patiently staring at the shadow intensely and just as it raised something in their hand and brought it down.

Y/n shot her hand up and and caught the arm twisting making her grunt in pain and lose her balance on the ladder.

She got up from my bunk and jumped down taking the weapon which she made out to be a shiv that was scattered on the floor and looked at the person.

To her suprise not really it was the same girl who she had the altercation with when she first got here she glared down at her and wrapped a hand around her neck picking her up and slamming her into the brick wall.

Carol yelped loudly and her hands gripped Y/n's arm tightly "You, again?" Y/n asked.

"Yea so?" Carol sneered before kicking Y/n in her right thigh she groaned feeling the sting of the impact but wasn't stupid enough to let her go it only made her squeeze her throat tighter Carol gasped and coughed her big eyes welling up with tears.

"Tell me why I shouldn't rip your head right off your neck? Because belive me I can" she said bluntly baring her eyes into Carol's.

She said nothing and just struggled to breathe until Y/n let her neck go and Carol collapsed onto the floor desperately trying to catch her breathe.

"Leave me alone" Y/n said before climbing back up onto her bed and going to sleep to the peaceful sounds of Carol's raspy breaths.

Carol should have seen red she should have used her own hands to strangle her instead but for some reason she didn't.

There was something about that woman that instead of thinking of her an an enemy or a threat she thought of her as something much more something romantic.

When she looked into her dull and blank eyes she felt butterflies despite almost dying by her hand literally Carol didn't even fight the feeling after that night she caught herself staring at her every chance she got.

"Carol!" Her head snapped out of her thoughts and she looked away from the woman to look at Frieda who was giving her a concerned look.

"Huh wha-?"

"You were staring at Y/n again for the 150th time" she said giving her a questioning look.

"Sorry just can't help it..."

"Carol!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" She said snapping her head away from the tall female.

"Why the all of a sudden change anyway I thought you tried to kill her like two weeks ago?" Frieda asked.

"Yea I tried but it didn't work that woman is like a ninja and she injured almost all of my girls when they tried she's so different and I don't know why but I can't help falling in love with that strong bitch" Carol sighed making heart eyes at Y/n.

"Too bad she hates you" Frieda stated Carol groaned and gave her friend a pout "don't crush my dreams Frieda" she grumbled picking up her cards and shuffling them out to all of her girls.

Little did Carol know was that Y/n had been feeling the exact same but she knew the reason she knew that Carol was her fated soulmate.

Her father's always told her before they died that in her culture when you got older you would eventually find your fated soulmate and when you did you would feel an instant attraction and feel the need to always be around that person.

Her father's met when they we're teenagers but they didn't get together and get married until after 13 years her parents were polar opposites which made them perfect for each other one was bright and cheerful while the other one was stoic and strict.

And sadly for her other father she would get the stoic and blank expressions.

Y/n sighed at the thought of them she really missed them if only they didn't die in that car crash she wouldn't be here but then she also wouldn't have found her fated soulmate.

Y/n was walking down the hall from the showers until a hand reached out from the janitors closet and yanked her inside catching her by suprise.

She instantly pinned whoever it was against the wall and saw that it was Carol who was staring back at her with a mischievous grin she reminded her so much of her father who was always a trouble maker.

"You gonna try to kill me a second time or?" Carol teased Y/n grunted under her breathe and moved away from the smaller girl.

"What do you want?" She asked lowly.

"Listen I'm pretty sure your tired of being targeted so I'll make you a deal" Carol said.

Y/n cocked and eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.

"I'll stop making everyone attack you if you work for me and..." Carol stepped closer to Y/n and wrapped her arms around her waist and looking up at her with a wide smile.

"You be my girlfriend" She said.

Y/n felt her ears get hot and she looked away from the smaller girl which made her chuckle.

"You'll stop targeting me correct?" She asked.

Carol immediately nodded and hugged Y/n tighter.

"Yep so do we have a deal?" She asked impatiently.

Y/n wanted to be mad but instead she felt happiness? Maybe something more and couldn't stop the ghost smile from forming on her face.

"Ok then" She said.

Carol's smile got bigger and she went to kiss Y/n but a hand blocked her mouth from getting closer.

"I didn't say to kiss me four eyes" she bluntly said her blank face returning in a flash of a second.

"Eh! Four eyes!"

To Be Continued....

[theretirementstory]

Here I am again, bringing you a slice of my life in the beautiful Champagne region. It is currently 14c but I am assured, by Météo, that we will have 26c this afternoon. Unseasonably warm but I am not complaining after having spent a lot of the sunny days of summer in a hospital bed.

The Foire aux Bulles last Sunday turned out to be a successful day for the ladies of the knitting, crochet and patchwork group. Two of my items sold which was a nice surprise. Apparently, they were talking to a lady who is interested in joining the group, she sews as well so we may manage to attract more people if we offer that facility. the more the merrier I say.

While we are onto the good news, I really must pass on the wonderful news that “The Ex Psychology Graduate” received her grade for her dissertation and only went and got herself a first! She is now awaiting one more grade to calculate her overall Masters grade. Huge congratulations are in order 🥳🥳.

“The Trainee Solicitor”, celebrated his birthday and what a wonderful birthday he had. It has continued until the weekend (well why just keep it to one day!)

“The Daddy” has not had his children this weekend, he has been visiting elderly relatives and friends as well as working too. He has “irons in the fire” to make his work life more manageable, at the moment he has a long journey to and from work (I remember those days), to be able to reduce this is so much better, mentally, physically and financially. We will have to see what happens but I wish him luck.

I do believe I have employed my new cleaner 😃, she is coming on Monday and Thursday and I am so looking forward to that. She requested a step ladder, unfortunately I don’t have one and being unable to go out shopping I still haven’t got one. Maybe my neighbour could lend me his for this week so that she can clean the windows and the shutter housing.

I am still reliant upon my friends (and neighbour) to do shopping for me. It is so hard trying to think what to have to eat, at least if I was in the shops I may see something which catches my eye. As most of my friends cook from scratch (no convenience foods for them) one friend seems to not have the faintest idea of portion sizes. She was trying to buy me a 750g shepherds pie 🙄. I have to cook my food and eat it within 15 minutes, it cannot be reheated so I doubt I could have “polished that pie off” all by myself. I have been rather nauseous with no taste so it would have been a lot of waste I reckon. I was salivating this morning as I asked another friend if she could buy me some greek yoghurt, unfortunately the supermarket in town didn’t have any 😩, however, she is going out this afternoon (with her work) if she manages to catch the supermarket before it closes she will look to see if she can get some there.

Anie delivered some hot soup, compote and some jars of another concoction, I hadn’t the heart to tell her I couldn’t eat any of it, but I did send her the information leaflet I was given. She quickly responded saying you cannot eat any of that food! It is so sad because people are only being kind but I really need to keep myself “right” as I don’t want an upset tummy or worse while my immunity is still low.

Another success was phoning the plumber and arranging an appointment for him to service my central heating boiler.

My gardener pulled up outside of my neighbours house on Monday and I was trying to catch him about trimming my hedges. Typically, I turned my back and next time I looked he had gone! I did ring him and all he said was he would ring and let me know when he can come out. Well better than nothing I suppose.

It looks as if this week has been very successful for me, I like weeks like that!

Now let’s have a look at the songs I have chosen. It seems to be a recurring theme of musicians taken before their time but such is life and as I have said before they leave us with some fantastic songs that we can listen to again and again. So my first one this week is by Phil Lynott, the song is back to 1982, “Old Town”.

The second song I have chosen is an album track featuring the distinctive voice of a Middlesbrough (UK) born “lad”. The track is “Weep No More” from the album “Straight Shooter” by Bad Company released in 1975 (I remember it like it was yesterday) If you decide to listen to the album online (or even just want to hear this track) let it play the next track “Shooting Star” as it really was a toss up between these two tracks. Just this week I found out that Paul Rodgers had suffered a massive health scare 4 years ago. Although thankfully he appears to be fully recovered and has just released a new album.

The photos this week should be titled “What a difference a day makes” (cue for another song).

Well that just about wraps up my week for this week. There will be more from me next week!

Bon dimanche!

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Lights - Andy Hurley x Reader

Prompt: L: Lights: (Christmas lights are important! How do they hang them? Around the house? On the tree? Outside? What kind of shenanigans go on?) (from this list)  Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used) Word count: 417

Knowing Andy the way you did, you would never have expected him to be the kind of guy to be absolutely enchanted by Christmas lights. As soon as the first Advent rolled around, he pulled out box after box with Christmas lights from the deepest corner of the basement. Even after months of living with him you had not stumbled across these boxes yet, so seeing him carry everything to the ground floor surprised you, to say the least. Of course you asked what he was up to, but by the time the ladder he had fetched kicked off the lid of one of the boxes, you had figured it out.

Even though you had offered to help him, he insisted on being the one who climbed up the steep ladder to place the lights in the tree and bushes in your front yard. The tree was first, and since Andy had to climb the highest steps of the ladder, you stood at its foot, making sure to hold it, hoping you could avoid the disaster of Andy falling, should the ladder start wobbling.

By the time Andy was done with decorating the tree and bushes it was starting to get dark outside and even though he carried the ladder back inside, he was not done yet. You in the meantime were glad to get back into the warm house without having to feel like you were letting down your boyfriend. Instead you put on a kettle, to make some of Andy’s favourite tea, bringing it outside for him.

Wrapped in a warm jacket, you watched him install the last few, small lamps that now lead along the stony path from the front door to the street.

When he was finished, he stood up, his eyes meeting yours and a smile pulled over his face as he spotted the cup you held out for him. Quickly he wrapped his cold fingers around the cup, and pecked your lips.

“Shall we see what it looks like,” he asked excitedly, nodding into the now dark garden.

When you agreed, he quickly reached his hand inside the house, flipping the switch, and with a flickering of a thousand tiny lights the front yard got lit up in warm orange.

Stepping back next to you, Andy wrapped his arm around your waist, and happily you placed your head on his shoulder. Taking a sip of tea from your own cup, you smiled, already looking forward to seeing the lights every evening.

Taglist:

@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns​ @lookalivefrosty​ @butterflycore​  @omgsuperstarg​ @fivelegance​ @casmustdiee​ @cmtryghoul​  

[umbralsound-xiv]

Sayuri had saught to train with the Commander, and i... Had simply thought to read. My room was quiet enough, but wanting to browse the selection upstairs, i had opted to sit in the peaceful surroundings of bright windows and vibrant plants.

Eir Fellfrost slowly turns a page in the book he held; a little worn and withered at the corners. Silver eyes squint and narrow at the pages, as he slowly sinks his teeth into an apple. A small, almost pensive murmur is given, deep in thought.

Y'khive Xetyalha makes her way up the stairs, a small plate with pastry fish laid upon it in her right hand and a glass with a translucent, yellow coloured liquid in her left. She hums on a little tune to herself, eyeing the room as she reaches the top of the stairs and makes her way over to the bookshelf.

Eir Fellfrost slowly turns an ear at the sound of footsteps. An inhaled breath, as he almost anxiously turns his head over his shoulder at the unfamiliar set of footsteps, brow furrowing at the stranger. He says nothing, yet does not move, quietly watching her from a distance, half reading the book still, but glancing upwards to watch every few sentences.

...I had wagered i would not be alone for so long. But i did not know this woman...

Y'khive Xetyalha squinted at the bookcase, slowly moving her hand to nudge one of the pastry fishes aside to allow her to place the glass upon the plate, too - balancing it as she searches the bookshelf - tiptoeing in an attempt to look over the shelf a slight bit too high for her.

Eir Fellfrost watches still. He sets his book down, as though he was going to move, but hesitates and keeps to himself. A diverted gaze is given, before he quietly speaks up. "The chair behind you is helpful, for the taller shelves..."

Y'khive Xetyalha flinches at the sudden voice, ears swivelling and her humming coming to an abrupt halt as she quickly reaches to hold onto the glass that threatens to fall over in her sudden recoil. She stares in Eir's direction for a moment, blinking.. Then looks to the chair behind her. Her lips curl into a shy smile, ears a little flat in her embarrasment. "Good-.. good plan." She spoke softly and moved over to settle the plate on the table to avoid accidents. ".. Thank you."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Worry not for it." Eir murmurs. He slowly retrieves his book, turning another page with the same bewildered expression. "...You would think with the average company member being less than six fulms, they would have gotten a ladder or some such..." His words were a quiet complaint, bringing the apple up for another bite.

Y'khive Xetyalha snickered quietly, offering another smile as she gripped the chair. "Maybe a request could be put in for it? I.. can't imagine the taller people think on it all too much." She smiled and lift the chair from the ground enough to avoid making noise, settling it down by the bookshelf once more to drag herself up onto it to scour the bookshelf's higher sections-- at least the one she can now reach.

Eir Fellfrost: "...Likely not. Suppose i could ask, the next i find Mist..." He shakes his head quietly, apprehensive about the thought. "...Do you speak with her much? I do not know your face..." He trails, a little apprehensively.

Y'khive Xetyalha picked out a book and gracefully jumped back down off the chair, before once again picking it up and carrying it over to where she took it from. She settles the book under her arm before she collects her plate and glass, opting to step a little closer to Eir. She shakes her head lightly at his question. "Not.. overly, no.. But I get the impression she prefers to be alone." Her ears flickered, head raising a touch. ".. Oh! I'm Khive!" She beamed a smile.

...Not a name i knew, either. She does not seem so rowdy as the rest, and seemed to be here for the same reason i was; to read. Though suppose it was... Nice, to talk to someone...

Eir Fellfrost simply nods at her name, finding it difficult to not return the smile in kind, althought a little more muted than her own. "...I can understand her want for solitude. The house is... Loud, sometimes." A glance is given to her over the book. "---Not that i mind your presence."

Y'khive Xetyalha: ".. It's nice, sometimes.. But I find myself drawn to people a lot, too." She took a step up onto the bench, then further up onto the platform - peering behind her at the cushion to ensure she didn't dirty it before her attention returns to Eir. Her head tilts, one ear perking while the other lowers a little. ".. I've seen some Viera around but.. Who are you?"

Eir Fellfrost: "...Eir." He finally replies, giving his name. He mutes himself with another crunch of apple, looking up to her. "You work here too, then?"

Y'khive Xetyalha nods to you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "I do! I.. joined at a not so great time but.. I don't regret it."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Nor do i. I have been here..." He trails, blinking. "...Almost a cycle, now. Some time. I... Had not thought it so long..." He shakes his head. "...Yourself?"

Y'khive Xetyalha gazes upon you in deep reflection.

Y'khive Xetyalha: ".. Nine moons, I think."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Long enough. To think there are so many faces that i have not yet seen. My work is far from the battlefield; where i prefer it to be. I do not often see others unless it is the rare moments i am home and not in my room... Like now."

Y'khive Xetyalha smiles weakly at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "I do fieldwork but.. Not nearly as often as some others."

Eir Fellfrost: "...You do?" He looks over her, as though in some manner of disbelief. "...I would not have thought it at first glance. Perhaps that is not such a terrible thing." He shuffles to settle the book down to his side, relinquishing the core of his now-eaten apple.

...I saw no scars, but perhaps she just hides them. Perhaps she is new to the whole ordeal. I can see why it appeals, to some... Even if it never could to me.

Y'khive Xetyalha nodded gently, stepping a little closer before sinking herself down on the cushion before him, smiling. "Well.. I'm not.. in the frontlines, so I can imagine it may not seem like it. I'm an archer."

Eir Fellfrost gives a small nod. "...I see. That makes sense..." He brings his gaze to the book. It's written entirely in Hingan; various fruits and flowers decorating the pages. "My..." He trails, as though fighting with a word. "...Beloved. She too, fights on the battlefield. But on the frontlines themselves. Though any place on a battlefield is far from a safe one."

...My own experiences told much of that. I cannot say i... Enjoyed running messages, but even that came with danger.

...There is no safety on a battlefield.

Y'khive Xetyalha's ears droop a little, offering a gentle nod. "She.. works here too, then?"

You nod to Y'khive Xetyalha.

Eir Fellfrost: "...She does." He smiles, softer and warmer than he had previous. "Her name is Sayuri. She is a Miqo'te, much like yourself."

Y'khive Xetyalha tilts her head a little, ears flickering at the familiar name. ".. Oh! The.. icy, white-haired Seeker?"

You nod to Y'khive Xetyalha.

Eir Fellfrost: "That is her, yes." A wistful sigh is given. "...You have met her?"

Y'khive Xetyalha: "Briefly, last cycle.. A moon or so after I had joined. She had fallen and I wanted to help her up but.. she didn't want me to touch her." One ear lowered, yet a smile remained on her lips - not quite seeming to mind the scenario. "I remember she had recently.. come back, and wasn't feeling well."

Eir Fellfrost: "...From the Locket." Eir's voice quiets, giving a small, understanding nod. "...It makes sense. She was frightened. We all were." His silver gaze flicks back up to her own, before his brow knits somewhat upon meeting it. "...I appreciate the want for you to help her. She is not always so... Accepting of it."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Though i wish she would be."

Y'khive Xetyalha nodded slightly, ears drooping. ".. It sounded like a frightening experience, so I understand.." She paused, one ear flickering back up. "..I also understand that sometimes having a stranger try to help you when you've gone through something bad makes one.. wary. I don't hold it against her, and I'll still offer help if she needs it." She smiled.

You smile at Y'khive Xetyalha.

...The girl has a kind heart. To help someone you do not know, especially if the person is... Almost notorious for not being the best at accepting it.

But she tried, and for that i am thankful. And that she would do so again...

...It makes sense, why she is here, now.

Eir Fellfrost: "...That is kind of you. And appreciated still. It is sometimes more difficult to do so, especially if it is not the first time." His expressions simpers, if only a little. "...As i am sure she would to you, in turn." He continues to stare, before catching himself and darting his eyes to the book. "...I simply run messages for Mist. Though she has been quiet with her work, since i returned from the East."

Y'khive Xetyalha nodded understandingly. "It's daunting, to put your trust in a stranger.. But the outcomes aren't always bad ones." Her smile widened a touch, the slightest sign of speaking from experience. She shrinks a little under his stare, offering a curious look in return before nodding as he speaks. "I've heard the East is very pretty, but I've never been."

Y'khive Xetyalha smiles weakly at you.

Eir Fellfrost keeps his eyes firmly planted in the unreadable words of his book. "...It is. It is a beautiful land, full of pleasant people. At least, for the most part. I thoroughly enjoyed my visit, and know that it will not be my last." A small tilt of his head, attempting to pick out the words he knew. "...Daunting to trust, stranger or no. But you are right. It is not always terrible. I came here to a house of strangers. Some few of them are now friends."

Y'khive Xetyalha beams at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "I trusted a stranger and received a group of people who loved me." She murmured, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "I.. have met one Doman. He wasn't.. the kindest, even if that's something they seem to be known for."

Eir Fellfrost: "...I have met several. They have ranged from incredibly kind, to pleasant and polite, to rude and abrupt... And downright horrible." His face scrunches into a small frown, glancing back, and away again, this time to the plant in the window. "...Perhaps i am a little biased, considering..."

Y'khive Xetyalha smiles weakly at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: ".. I'm sure Sayuri is lovely, I just caught her at a bad time.. She wasn't.. rude, she just didn't want to be touched.. And maybe a little blunt."

Eir Fellfrost: "...She is not fond of physical contact by... Most. It is not a slight upon you." He confirms, slowly dragging his gaze back. Head lowered, he peers quietly towards her before continuing. "...I have met many Miqo'te, though... It is difficult to tell from name and look alone." He hesitates a little longer. "...You are a... Keeper? Or a Seeker?"

...It was hard to tell. Her eyes were round and wide like a Keeper, but when the light shone through the window, i could swear they changed, even if it was difficult to see from the brightness of it. Perhaps a trick of the light...

...I had felt almost rude for asking, but... Could it be that... She was like her...?

Y'khive Xetyalha offered an understanding nod. "I know someone like that.. Not a lot of people get to touch her." Her smile remained, ears flickering again as he asked the question. ".. Both." She replied. ".. Part Keeper, part Seeker."

Your eyes grow wide with awe upon seeing Y'khive Xetyalha.

Eir Fellfrost slowly widens his eyes, and it takes all his control not to lean in almost invasively forward. "---You are?" It's half an exclaimation. "...I... I do not mean to be rude. I have never--- It has been so long. It..." Trailing once again, he shakes his head, settling before speaking a little softer. "Someone... Dear to me. She was... The same as you. Both. I have never met another since... At least, until now."

Y'khive Xetyalha smiles weakly at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "It's okay.. I don't really encounter any, either." Her hands lightly pressed against the cushion beneath her. "I mostly pass as a Keeper."

Eir Fellfrost: "...She carried the looks of a Seeker, in most aspects. A little duskier than most, but not enough that people made so much comment. But her eyes, in the dark... So different, from when she was in the sunshine. She minded not for it either way, in the end."

...It was a strange feeling. Familiarity. Comfort. B’nhara was always sensitive about her eyes, at first. She did not like me looking. But back then, i did not know nor care about the differences between Seeker and Keeper.

...Eventually, she embraced them. Her differences. Her mixed heritage. She was unlike any other, and i think... It brought her joy, in the end.

Y'khive Xetyalha smiles weakly at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: ".. You're the first one who has been able to tell, about me." She admitted, her hands leaving the cushion to settle in her lap instead. ".. I don't really mind, though. Keeper or Seeker.. I'm both, yet neither."

Eir Fellfrost: "...You see such eyes for long enough, it becomes... Easy to see, when known." He smiles a little warmer, then. "You are precisely who you wish to be. It matters not for how you look, should people be able to look past it."

...She reminded me of more than B’nhara. Cheerful, a book in her hand, and a single pastry on her plate.

...Lilya’s eyes were much the same, but so few ever noticed, unable to look past her ears or other traits that set her apart.

Y'khive Xetyalha smiles at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: ".. Bexy said the same thing, when I told her." Her head tilted. "I don't really.. feel like either. I spent no time in a Seeker tribe, and my time with a Keeper clan was very.. short-lived." Her ears flickered backwards, her smile once again receiving the faintest tint of pain, despite otherwise appearing bright. A very small crackle of lightning however dances across her right hand, which she promptly seeks to cover with her left.

Eir Fellfrost catches the crackle with a glance, brow furrowing in curiosity. "...But you have found people regardless. I meet more and more Miqo'te who seek some departure from the places they came from, but i wager there are many more who remain." He considers, for just a moment. "You seem... Happy, at least?"

...I hope she is. I hope these differences have not brought her misery as i know they have to others.

...She seems far too kind to have to endure it.

Y'khive Xetyalha smiled softly, nodding. "..I met people who were kind to me, despite not knowing me. They took me in and took care of me. And now.." Her smile widened a little. ".. Most people here have been kind to me, I'm happy to be here."

You smile at Y'khive Xetyalha.

Eir Fellfrost: "...And so too am i. Despite everything... I would not change it. Not for the world." He mirrors her expression. "...I was wounded when i came here, and my employment was... Simply by chance."

Eir Fellfrost: "Was it much the same with you...?"

Y'khive Xetyalha shook her head gently. "I arrived with Pheirrix, and we sought employment together. We had heard of the group from a chatty Xaela and decided to check it out. Been here since."

Y'khive Xetyalha beams at you.

Eir Fellfrost: "You... Did not arrive alone, then?" He asks, hand smoothing over the book before picking it up once again.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "No." She smiled. "I started travelling with Pheirrix - a Wildwood. He's here, too. Also on the frontlines."

You gaze upon Y'khive Xetyalha in deep reflection.

Eir Fellfrost: "...I think Sayuri had mentioned him. She fought alongside him... Recently." He considers for a moment. "...He is well? I know he had made it home, with her."

Y'khive Xetyalha nods to you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "A little bloody but.. He had been taken care of. He's well."

Eir Fellfrost nods, offering a faint flicker of a smile. "...Glad i am to hear it." A long inhale, as he stretches out his arms. "...And now that i am reminded, and not drawn too far into this impossible book... I should draw a bath. She is out training with the Commander... And can imagine she might appreciate one on her return..."

Y'khive Xetyalha beams at you.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "Don't let me keep you! It was nice to meet you, though."

You smile at Y'khive Xetyalha.

Eir Fellfrost: "...It was nice to meet you too. Perhaps, we will cross paths again, hm?" He takes a few paces towards the stairs, book and plate in hand.

Y'khive Xetyalha: "Yeah!"

Y'khive Xetyalha motions joyfully to you.

Eir Fellfrost simply offers a warm smile, departing down the stairs.

...She was nice. Quiet and kind and... Familiar in a way i cannot quite put into words. I do hope we cross paths again, in the house.

...I wonder what she was reading?

[a-drabble-a-dray]

Veilsmoke, Case 1: The Rogue Poisoner. Part 3

The ride was, mercifully, slower. Lake still held on tight, but the need for directions did mean Scarlet couldn’t attempt to kill them again.

“Alright. Here it is.” Volk instructed, voice still a little weak.

“...Volk.” Scarlet called out, slowing down to a stop.

“Yes?” He stepped off the motorcycle, stretching his arms, not quite bothering to look at her.

“There’s… No bounty here. Not yet, at least.” She began, hesitant. “But we should probably…”

“Bring them back alive?” He completed, eyes carefully scanning the few large buildings in front of them.

“...Yeah.” She nodded, pressing her lips together. “Still, keep your…” She paused. “...Where’s your lighter?”

“Oh, um.” Lake blinked, slowly slipping it out of their pocket. “I’m holding onto it?”

“You’re–” Scarlet paused, eyes widening for a second before her face collapsed into an annoyed grimace, groaning as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “...You people make me worry for no goddamn reason, huh.”

Lake flinched. “S-Sorry, I–”

“Over here!” Volk called out, waving back at the two as he approached one of the buildings.

“You–” Scarlet stepped off the bike. “Don’t worry about it. Hurry up.”

“R-Right!” Lake nodded, rushing along, finally feeling able to run again.

The factory seemed as dilapidated as the rest, doors chained up and windows covered. It was definitely larger, however, and, though no light came from inside, Lake couldn’t help but try to take a peek.

Carefully standing up on the tips of their toes, they managed to catch a glimpse of the inside, which seemed adequately abandoned and lifeless, through a small crack in the glass.

“...That’s no good.”

Scarlet’s voice made them flinch, stumbling back, almost losing balance entirely, and only then recovering with a spin, back landing against the wall. “H-Huh?”

“These things are, uh…” She paused, pondering her words. “We need to find a way in that we fit through.”

“O-Oh.” They nodded, before being quickly distracted by a thought. “...Can’t we just uncover a window, o-or break open the door, or something?”

“...That’s breaking and entering, Lake.” She narrowed her eyes.

“O-Oh, that’s, um.” They sank back into the wall, almost visibly shrinking at the accusation. “Y-You’re right…”

“She’s messing with you.” Volk’s voice came as a surprise, causing Lake to jump back up as he approached from their blind side. “We just can’t walk in through a door that isn’t already open.”

“And if you’re here…” Scarlet crossed her arms.

“...The back door’s unusable at a glance, yes.” He sighed, shoulders slumping a little.

“Not from the front, nor from the back…” Scarlet muttered, lost in thought. “Considering you, I can expect our culprit didn’t crawl through a tiny hole.”

“One, rude.” He glared, not noticing himself pout. “Two, probably.”

“Then…” She sighed, tapping her foot.

“...A-Above?” Lake suggested, reflexively raising their hand.

“Above.” Scarlet repeated, eyes widening. “Of course.”

“There is a ladder going up the side wall.” Volk nodded, stepping away from the other two and already leading the way.

“Lake?” Scarlet called out, already on her way behind Volk.

“Y-Yeah?” They blinked, hurrying along. 

“Nice.” She offered a hint of a smile, before continuing onward.

“O-Oh, I… Than–” Lake was interrupted by the near-immediate crashing of their blushing face against Scarlet’s back.

Peeking around her, they saw the ladder– An abomination of rust and corroded metal. There had, perhaps, one inch of safe-looking metal per rung, with the rest already making Lake’s arm itch just to remind them of their last tetanus shot.

They stepped forward, past Scarlet, trying to get a better look at it. “I-Is this really worth it…?”

“If there is a way inside at the top, absolutely.” Volk nodded, fingers running across the rusty steel.

“How can we check, the–”

Lake froze at the feeling of a pair of hands on their hips. They barely had the time to turn around and see Scarlet’s deadpan face before she was already– Seemingly effortlessly –lifting them off their feet.

“Why are you so light?” She mumbled, bobbing them up and down for good measure.

“W-Wh-What are you doing?!” They countered with a squeak, squirming in her grip.

“If the ladder’s risky…” She began. She didn’t have to finish.

“...No.” Lake gasped, color draining from their face at the proposal.

“I’m not going to drop you or anything.” She grumbled.

“Th-This is insane!” They thrashed around. “I–”

“I should’ve brought popcorn.” Volk added unnecessarily, watching with amusement.

Scarlet refused to acknowledge him. “Lake.” She imposed. “Do you trust me?”

Lake bit their lip. Their eyes met Scarlet’s for a second, and that simple act robbed them of the ability to provide the safe answer.

The sensation of sailing through the air, as they discovered, was utterly terrifying. The end of their arc, however, gave them a brief second of near-complete weightlessness. Lake’s senses seemed to stretch on, dilating the sensation into a full experience of simulated flight.

The sight of the ledge moving back up, then, and the realization that they were now beginning to fall back down, were more than enough to bring Lake back to reality. Quickly reaching out, they clutched the edge of the roof as tightly as possible, leaving themselves hanging off with their legs flailing desperately down below.

“Climb up!” Scarlet instructed from the ground, seemingly unfazed by her new hire’s predicament.

“I’m trying!!” They countered, volume reflecting their distress as they searched for some kind of foothold.

After a little kicking, a little adjustment, and a lot of effort, Lake finally managed to climb up over the edge of the building, rolling off the ledge and collapsing down on the rooftop. The smaller section they clambered up to seemed like an exit, flat as opposed to the rest of the diagonal rooftop, with a door leading inside nearby.

“Anything there?” Volk called out from below.

The answer he received was simply a thumbs-up from an arm hung limply off the edge.

The deep, resonant thumping of metal was audible as the two climbed the ladder, though the heartbeat ringing in Lake’s ears overshadowed it quite easily. The rush of adrenaline, and the feeling of their body releasing all the tension from the previous panic, made Lake almost forget the real risk of the ladder collapsing and the other two going down with it.

As Volk found his way up first, though, to the sight of them limply lying on the concrete floor, their worries seemed to vanish.

“...You’re smiling.” He noted, the amusement audible in his tone.

“H-Huh…?” Lake blinked, covering their lips with one hand, and feeling them barely, imperceptibly curve up.

“It’s fine.” He shrugged. “Probably means you’re a good fit for the business.”

“Our door…?” Scarlet quickly followed him up, barely even looking at Lake besides offering them an offhanded thumbs-up back.

“R-Right over…” Lake sat up, pointing at the door they’d noticed, even if it was at a glance. “...There.”

“I see. And that’s…” Scarlet looked the door up and down, scratching her chin.

“Sealed.” Volk nodded. Glancing at the side, he then proceeded to flinch at the sight of Lake rapidly deflating after the wasted trip. “T-The good kind of sealed, though. We can work with this. Alright?”

“O-Oh, that’s…” Lake shook the thoughts off their head, offering a smile. “That’s good!”

“...I’ll need the lighter back, though.” He reached a hand out to Lake. “If you will?”

Scarlet seemed to deliberately step back as Lake searched their pockets for the trinket. Slipping it out, they tossed the lighter back to its original owner– Who quickly had to step in closer as Lake’s throw came out short.

Volk stared down at the lighter, quietly inspecting the object for what felt like a minute.

“S-So, how–”

“Shh.” Scarlet hushed them, motioning to wait.

Volk stepped closer to the door, tossing the lighter over to his left hand and flicking it on. His right hand, then, slowly knocked on the sealed wooden door, leaving him nodding to himself.

“Seven.”

The lighter’s flame turned blue– Or rather, the non-blue light seemed to drain from it. “Six.”

Volk raised his right arm, keeping it steady as black markings spread from his wrist. “Five.”

The patterns, resembling something between circuits and spirographs, seemed to manifest until they gradually covered his entire forearm– Followed by accents in indecipherable text. “Four, three, two…”

“One…” Volk tapped the door and stepped back, retracting his arm, visibly beginning to tense up.

The motion was almost a flash– He seemed to flick something towards the door. Lake caught a split-second glimpse of a spark in mid-air, and a second later the door was met with a burst of flame. The expected explosion of heat seemed to never come– Instead, the flames lingered for a moment, and died down, slowly, to reveal the door blown clean off its hinges, sitting on the catwalk beyond more broken than burnt.

“Feeling better?” By Scarlet’s sarcastic tone and crossed arms, Lake almost felt their astonishment was out of place.

“Hmm… Not really.” Volk flicked his lighter shut, both the flame and his arm now returned to normal. “Too cramped for catharsis.”

“Unlucky you. We’re heading indoors.” Scarlet shrugged.

“I know, I–” Volk glanced over at Lake, still sitting on the floor, just in time for them to notice their jaw was hanging open. “Oh, right.”

He paused for a second, cupping his chin as he thought of an explanation, only to look down at them with an easygoing smile. 

“I’m a wizard, by the way!” He shrugged, casually turning around and walking through the blasted doorway.

“...Wh-Whuh?” Lake blinked, climbing to their feet as their day seemed more and more like simply a collection of reasons for shaky legs.

“Unfortunately,” Scarlet sighed, “he is a wizard. Which means I have to endure him.”

“W-Wizards are real?!” Lake demanded, more a protest than a question, looking up at Scarlet.

“Yes.” She stared back, her presence making her answer more of a shutdown towards any further explanation.

“O-Oh.” They nodded, shrinking back a little.

“...Maybe keep your questions for later.” She stepped towards the door. “Things… Are about to get complicated.”

“R-Right, I…” Lake followed along. “...Okay.”

Scarlet stepped through the doorway, kicking the broken door off the catwalk.

Lake walked along, right behind–

No. Never.

They flinched back from the doorway, the sheer sudden terror leaving their hands clasped over their mouth in order to keep themself from vomiting.

“Lake…?” Scarlet’s voice seemed faint, as if underwater. Lake could not look through the doorway at her.

Whatever happens, that can’t ever be crossed.

“I-I… Can’t…” They tried to explain, voice barely more than a whisper between breaths.

“This kind of rejection… Figures.” She stepped closer to the doorway, her image becoming a little clearer through the non-existent fog. “Listen… You can head back.”

“N-No, I…” Lake found their head spinning less as they looked into their eyes– They were unsure if it was just the haze, or if her face showed actual concern.

“You can’t come along, and you can’t go?” She sighed, crossing her arms.

Lake had no response, eyes downcast.

“Lake.” She called out, cueing them to look back up. “I need to know. Why are you here, really?”

“H-Huh? I-I mean, because…”

“Heads-up.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you say it’s because ‘it’s your job’ or ‘we pulled you along’, I will kick your ass.”

“O-Oh…” They nodded, now feeling a different kind of terror.

“So…” She sighed. “Be honest.”

“...There’s…” They mumbled out, after a moment. “...Something wrong…”

“Louder.”

“There’s something wrong.” Lake found themself blurting out, finding no catharsis in the process. “There’s something wrong with me, and the world, and everyone else.”

Scarlet offered no response.

“Everyone either is oblivious, or they’re pretending they are!” They continued, words coming out faster than they could control. “Even I can tell there’s something missing in the world and they keep acting like there isn’t! Like… Like I could finish college and find a job and live and die with no issues if I forgot about it, but…”

“...But you can’t?”

“I can’t.” They crossed their arms, hugging themself. “I keep seeing what’s wrong and I can’t understand it! But… You can. Can’t you? Is that why you don’t forget me when you look away?”

“I don’t know.” She answered, softly.

“...Huh?” They blinked, the momentum of their ranting dying in their throat.

“It’s news to me, too.” She explained. “But… I’m a detective. I’ll figure it out, sooner or later.”

“...O-Oh.” They dry-swallowed, deflating a little at the response.

“So, do you want to know all these things you can’t understand?” She proposed.

“I-I…” Lake paused as they noticed their ragged breaths. Steadying themselves, and looking up at Scarlet again, they nodded. “I do.”

“Even if it might kill you?” She tilted her head to the side. “Do you think you’ll survive whatever is on the other side?”

The thought had Lake’s heart sink. Something about the air around Scarlet and Volk finally made sense. Genuine danger.

And yet…

“You…” They hesitated, taking a few deep breaths. “You asked if you could trust me.”

“I did.” She nodded, impassive.

“You… Can trust me.” They nodded. “You can trust me to survive.”

Scarlet blinked, caught off-guard, before breaking into an understated, yet reassuring chuckle. “God. You really are full of good answers.”

Lake saw her hand pierce the incomprehensible haze. In contrast to Scarlet’s darkened image through the fog, it burned bright. Arm outstretched and hand open, Scarlet stood waiting for their hand in return.

“Come on.” She smirked. “Into the rabbit hole.”

[drekkavac-moving]

where  at  one  point  their  brother  had  been  someone  she  would  have  run  to  in  this  circumstance , she  couldn't  bring  herself  to  look  at  him  after  the  time  they  had  spent  separated.  it  hadn't  been  spoken , not  by  her  at  least.  the  large  bulk  of  the  reasoning  being  the  shame , but  there  was  also  a  lot  of  what  happened  that  she  couldn't  quite  remember.  things  v  had  told  her  she  did , and  shown  her  through  cctv  footage  that  she  could  only  really  recall  as  having  been  a  dream.

there  was  a  sea  of  confusion  in  her  mind , but  there  was  also  a  hatred  of  herself  for  the  confusions  she  felt.  she  could  and  couldn't  remember  what  she  had  been  forced  to  do  to  jamie.  the  times  their  handlers  would  pit  them  against  one  another  for  the  sake  of  their  own  fucking  agenda  for  climbing  the  ladder  of  success.  she  was  used  as  a  weapon , one  someone  who  was  quite  literally  half  of  her  whole  soul.  in  a  way ... she  felt  like  she  was  attacking  a  part  of  herself.

what  made  it  worse , was  that  she  couldn't  stop.  much  as  she  wanted  to  say  no.  to  fight  it  in  the  slightest , the  best  she  could  get  away  with  was  the  pained  look  in  her  eyes  once  she  had  been  turned  onto  her  brother.

then  there  was  her.  when  the  pain  became  too  much , the  killer  they  had  so  desperately  wanted  her  to  become , she  was  the  one  who  started  taking  over.  she  was  the  one  who  offered  to  hurt  jamie  so  anya  wouldn't  have  to  watch.  and  like  a  coward ... she  thought  it  would  work.  but  it  didn't.  not  even  close.

all  that  had  done , was  made  her  feel  like  she  was  locked  in  the  trunk  of  a  car.  unable  to  get  out  and  help  their  brother.  or  at  best ... like  she  had  run  and  hidden  in  a  closet  so  someone  else  could  do  their  dirty  work.  as  of  now , it  had  been  her  own  little  secret.  something  she  was  too  afraid  to  mention  to  a  single  soul.  ( v  was  the  one  they  could  thank  for  that. )  so  when  the  door  opened  and  jamie  of  all  people  stepped  into  the  room , she  naturally  felt  her  throat  tighten  at  the  stress  of  the  situation.  quickly  redirecting  her  attention  to  the  bag  she  had  been  packing.

"  there's  nothing  to  check ,  "    she  spoke  plainly.  stuffing  some  plain  colored  tshirts  into  her  bag  with  a  bit  of  frustration  with  the  garments.  even  though  that  wasn't  where  she  wanted  to  direct  that  frustration.  there  was  a  small stretch  of  silence.  mostly  due  to  anya  not  really  knowing  what  to  say  to  him.  everything  she  thought  about  saying  she  quickly  shut  down  for  the  sake  of  convincing  herself  that  jamie  didn't  want  to  hear  it.    "  he  still  making  comfort  food?  "  last  she  had  known , bucky  had  mentioned  making  latkes , given  they  had  been  their  favorite  they  had  discovered  in  their  culinary  adventure  into  their  culture. she  could  see  that  as  peace  offering , leaving  anya  defiant  in  accepting  it.  she  didn't  want  comfort  food.  she  wanted  someone  who  understood  what  it  felt  like  to  not  remember.

"  i  don't  blame  him  for  sending  us  away.  "    she  reasoned.  still  not  looking  at  jamie , but  using  the  packing  as  a  distraction  so  she  could  get  the  words  out  without  becoming  uncomfortable  with  the  contact.    "  it's  not  fair  to  expect  him  to  watch  what  happened  to  him  happen  to  me.  i  know  this.  i  know  i  should  be  okay  with  it ...  "    she  trailed  off  in  her  reasoning.  her  logical  brain  haulted  by  the  little  girl  that  had  been  desparate  for  the  person  she'd  always  known  to  protect  her.  their  face  curled  and  scrunched.  her  eyes  wet  with  tears  she  tried  her  hardest  to  hold  in.  her  hair  color  shifting  to  a  dark  blueis  grey  color.  similar  to  the  color  of  the  clouds  before  a  massive  storm  started.  she  lost  the  battle  with  her  emotions.  her  hand  coming  up  to  cover  her  face  and  the  tears   that  now  fell  freely  now  that  the  emotional  dam  had  been  brought  down.

@oozeyboozey

It was INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT to not feel like the world had just settled down, just for it to be swept out from under not only JAMIE'S feet, but also his twin's, as well as Jenny's.

Freedom hadn't been something that he thought was possible for him any longer, for ANYONE that was being held by HYDRA. It felt like no matter if they were PLAYING IT SAFE or not, if the organization that had resolved to use PEOPLE as WEAPONS had a mark...they reached it. It could take a few months, or a few DECADES...but they didn't GIVE UP.

When the ESCAPE had happened, when Jamie had finally been removed from the grasp of Alexander Pierce, it felt like it was a fever dream. IMPOSSIBLE. Only when he met Anya's gaze upon that quinjet, albeit BRIEFLY before she turned away from him, did he really seem to process the fact that their fathers had actually COME THROUGH and pulled the twins and Jenny out of the hellfire that they were trapped in for YEARS...

Yet NOW...they were all three being SENT AWAY. There was some man, some STRANGER that was on his way to pick them all up and take them to some...SPECIAL SCHOOL. It didn't make any real sense to Jamie on its FACE, really, seeing as how it had been within the LESS THAN AN HOUR that Anya and Jamie had been separated from their parents, when HYDRA had managed to recapture them both.

Shouldn't the SAFEST PLACE have been right there, with their dads?

All of it was just...hitting too close to home when it came to the feelings that it elicited in Jamie. He didn't want any special attention from another adult EVER AGAIN if it could be helped. Jamie had much preferred when PIERCE had been too involved in business to pay him TOO MUCH mind at all. When he would be pawned off on whatever handler had been chosen at that time.

The attention he'd received from the OVERLY AMBITIOUS AND MORALLY REPREHENSIBLE MAN, was something that he wished he could ERASE FROM HIS MIND COMPLETELY.

The logical part of his brain had been trying to rationalize that the adults in this situation were correct, but the emotional facets had seemingly PUT THEIR FOOT DOWN about how they were going to cope with this news...and they were apparently going to cope with TIGHT-JAWED GLANCES at damn near every adult that came in his path, and very little else in the way of communication. Unfortunately, he also still felt the residual guilt that came with such a silent treatment. Which only succeeded in compounding the upset that was swirling within his chest. All of those feelings had reached a fever pitch the day that they were all due to be picked up, so he KNEW that he wasn't the only one dealing with anxiety. He'd been able to speak with Jen at least, although there was part of him that had felt compelled not to gripe too much to her.

Now though...he had gathered all of his courage just so he could approach the door of his sibling's bedroom. He could already hear Anya's movement within the room, their footsteps being just as distinct as they had ever been, no matter how light they also were. Hell, if he FOCUSED hard enough, he could hear the sound of her heart beating ROUGHLY in her chest.

He had reached out and retracted his hand a few times outside the door before finally taking a deep breath and completing the task of reaching out to knock. Only when he had the go-ahead did he open the door to her room, taking a couple of steps inside gently and closing the door behind him with the assumption that she had it closed FOR A REASON. He couldn't blame her for any feelings that she was harboring, towards their parents OR towards him.

"Hey..." he tried not to look like he was approaching a feral cat that might lash out at him, "I uhm..." he pulled the fingers of his right hand through his hair, "I wanted t' come check in on you..." He adjusted the weight on his feet in an attempted to loosen some of the tension in his form.

[daydreamingleclerc]

an accidentally perfect labour | mason mount fluff

this is the fourth part to the dad!mason fic, the first three parts can be found here*, here & here* (asterisks incl. smut)

gif creds to @mountsmason​ 

this is so unbelievably long i am so sorry!! grab a snack <33

summary: your surprise baby shower ends up with you in labour, and once the twins are born mason makes an offer you weren’t expecting but can’t refuse. 

warnings: not too many, maybe a swear word once or twice? y/n gives birth in this section so sry if ive got it wrong or it grosses you out lmao. let dad!mason officially commence. 

this isn’t that great and it’s so painfully long. im sorry!! <33 

                                       ***

“i think you’re forgetting something, mate.” 

declan stood in mason’s livingroom, a hand on his hip as he watched mason hang bunting along the walls on a step ladder. mason wobbled when he turned around, with ben now joining mason’s other best friend behind the sofa. ben’s stance mimicked declan’s as the two watched on, and mason frowned, blue coloured bunting looped through his fingers. 

“what?” mason huffed, and declan fought off a laugh as mason wobbled again, threatening to fall backwards and topple onto the sofa. “what could i possibly be forgetting?” 

it was at that point that lewis walked into his brother’s livingroom with an amused grin on his face, standing beside ben with a bag of cheese puffs in his hand as he watched his bewildered younger brother lose his mind over something so small. 

“you didn’t add the S on the end of babies,” lewis pointed out, putting his brother out of his misery. mason’s attention was brought to the big poster he’d spent hours decorating that morning with summer before she was swooped away to go shopping with jaz and sam. “so it says surprise Y/N and babie.. or maybe you could tell Y/N that summer wrote it.”

mason grumbled while his brother spoke, climbing off of the step ladder and moving it to the right, and when it was in position, he scowled across at the three muskateers - he thought bringing them over early was a good idea, but as it turned out they were being more pain than they were help. 

“or, maybe,” mason mimicked his brother, “instead of standing there doing nothing, you could all help me finish the decorations.” 

declan scowled over at him and the two glared across the room at one another, until eventually declan broke concentration and cackled, clapping his hands together and walking towards mason with an amused grin. mason just shook his head and broke out into an amused chuckle. 

“i’ll finish the poster for you if it means you’re gonna stay calm.” 

mason was usually good at surprises, unless they were for you. you always managed to poke around until he cracked, and he always wondered how you did it. he was jealous of how often you surprised him, not least how you managed to surprise him with something as big as the pregnancy and so he wanted to surprise you with a baby shower. 

“i hope they get your height.” mason mocked, watching on like a lover with dreamy eyes as declan pulled the poster off of the wall - ever since the pregnancy had been announced, everyone kept mocking the pair of them after a comment declan had left under the post, and they; even you, had been playing along with it.

declan laughed and flipped his best friend off, dragging the poster around to the back of the sofa, where all of the paints and pens mason and summer had used were tucked away neatly in a little cardboard box. ben returned back to holding the step-ladder, and lewis ventured outside to fix up the rest of the garden furniture. 

the eight month mark had come sooner than any of you had expected, you were now only two weeks away from your due date and it was beginning to freak both of you out. lauren had innocently suggested -- without making it seem obvious that mason was planning something for you -- that the two of you go shopping that saturday morning for the rest of the things you needed, simple things like blankets and teddies for when the twins were born so that you weren’t worrying when they eventually arrived. 

mason stepped back to admire his handywork, shifting one of the wonky pink triangles over declan’s freshly finished poster until he was happy with it, and ben rested his arm on mason’s shoulder. 

“thought of any names yet?” 

mason shook his head, taking a handful of lewis’ cheesepuffs from off of the table and throwing them into his mouth, “we can’t seem to agree on anything but middle names,” he frowned, rocking back and forth on his feet, his eyes never leaving the poster. “mum and dad have said we’ll know what they’re called as soon as we see them but we’ve still got nothing yet.” 

ben patted his best friend on the back, “you’ll agree on something, mate, even if she tells you and you stand there nodding, something’ll come up.” 

                                  ***

“i just don’t understand what’s so bad about calling him mason mount junior.” 

even lauren looked at you with a puzzled expression as she pulled up on yours and mason’s driveway. your hand cradled the bump as the engine stopped, a grumble tumbling from your lips when you shifted to leave the car too quickly. 

“as amusing as it would be to call him mount junior, even for me it’s a vito.” 

“what? c’mon it’s not that bad is it?”

she opened the passenger door for you, and the late may breeze prickled your skin and set goosebumps alight across your arms. mason and declan greeted you from the front door, mason jogging over to help you out of the car and take over from lauren. all you were told by mason was that the pair of them were going to be staying over for the evening, and he promised you could order an indian in order to speed up your labour. 

“hi baby,” mason cooed when you stood in front of him, lips pressing against yours softly. his hands cradled the bump and he pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach, “and hi babies.” 

declan stifled a chuckle and you furrowed your eyebrows in his direction, but before you could question why he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and left a big, wet kiss on your cheek. “how’re my god-children doin’?”

“they’re almost about to kill mummy if they stay in there any longer,” you grumbled, rubbing declan’s back with your palm and prodding at your stomach with your free hand. he chuckled and mason helped lauren get the things from the boot, “i don’t think i can last two more weeks, dec.”

he chuckled at your dramatic nature, ruffling your hair and taking mason’s spot at the back of the car. 

your boyfriend looped his arm through yours and the pair of you followed declan and lauren through the house, arriving at the closed livingroom door. your eyebrows knitted together when you got to it, the usual open plan of your house nowhere to be noticed and you turned to face your boyfriend, “what did you do?” you asked, and watched as he feigned sheepishness. 

“don’t be mad, okay?” 

“oh, god, mason, what did you do?” 

he gripped at your arm as declan and lauren opened the livingroom door, and much to your shock and surprise all of your friends and family were standing in the back garden, decorated beautifully with pink and blue balloons. mason’s dad was stood beside a BBQ, and there was a table full of cakes and confectionary on the other side. 

“surprise!” 

everyone cheered when they saw you, and through teary eyes your hands gravitated over your mouth. you scowled up at mason, and he pressed a kiss to your nose. 

“i hate you.”

“i love you.”

he kissed you, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you in closer carefully as he did so, the kiss dampened by your tears. summer broke you out of it, though, tugging on your skirt with her hand in a fist. she’d already opened the brownies, chocolate covering her face and fingers. 

“hi, summer!” you cooed wiping away your tears. mason picked the three year old up in his arms, dotting kisses all around her cheeks and making her laugh. she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and your heart fluttered at the gesture. 

“have you told aunty Y/N how you helped uncle mase today?” mason asked, his lips brushing her cheek with every word. his free hand snaked around your waist and you nuzzled in close, listening to her tell you how she helped mason with the surprise poster. 

as the evening continued, and most people had cleared, you’d been flattered by the amount of presents everyone had bought for the babies, not to mention the big magnum of expensive champagne declan and ben had bought for you to drink when you’d had them. 

you stood in the kitchen watching along as mason subbed himself out of the three-a-side game he’d been playing with the boys to come and see you. “hey, beautiful,” he caught you just before you managed to throw the tissue away, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “crying again?” 

he earned a backhand for that. 

“i just can’t believe it’s nearly over,” you admitted. “they’re coming, mason. we’re gonna be parents in two weeks.”

he nodded, a twinkle in his eye as he admired you with a smile on his face. “i know, baby,” he kissed your nose and brushed some hair from your eyes, “and we still haven’t chosen names yet.” 

your hands found his and you clasped them together, grazing your thumb delicately over the back of his hand. he did the same to you. “i’ll be happy with whatever you choose, mason, i’ve told you that,” despite your love for calling your little boy mount junior, you knew he was never going to agree, and so with a little smirk you pressed your nose against his, “even if you don’t like mason mount junior.” 

“yeah, that’s vito’d for sure.”

you chuckled, and relished in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“fine.”

                           ***

mason, declan, ben and lewis were the last ones left standing, lauren had headed upstairs to one of the spare rooms and left declan innebriated with a soft smile on her face, mason had let ben and lewis crash for the night, and you had curled up on the sofa with mason’s favourite blanket while the four of them yelled and screamed in the games room. 

it was about midnight when you woke up, hot and incredibly sweaty. it was disorientating at first, waking up in the livingroom rather than in your bed, and you wondered what was going on when you sat up in a wet patch. you felt all around you, fearing you’d knocked over a glass of water while you’d slept, and then it dawned on you. 

“oh fuck.” you panicked, planting your feet on the floor only for your socks to get soaked through, “mason? baby come here!” 

it took a few more attempts, but eventually your boyfriend came into the livingroom, and watched as you braced yourself against the edge of the sofa, breathing heavily through your mouth. he knitted his eyebrows together at first, thinking you were just pranking him like you’d been taking so much pride in doing for the last few weeks, but then he heard you cry out in pain at what looked like a contraction, and he panicked. 

“baby, are you--?” 

“--my waters have broken, mason!” 

the look in his eyes turned from one of concern to excitement, and then switched to fear, knowing that within the next twenty four hours he would become a dad. “oh fuck,” he hissed, snagging his car keys from the kitchen counter, “wait there, i’ll go and tell the boys we’re going to the hospital.” 

within minutes, ben and declan scooped you into the car while lewis helped mason pack up the bags in the backseat, hyping his little brother up at the prospect of being a father. 

“please make sure you call my mum,” you whined, grabbing onto declan’s hand, but directing the words to ben, “she’ll kill me if she finds out i’ve gone into labour and not told her.” 

“--yeah, baby and our midwife will kill us if she finds out you’re giving birth in the passenger seat of a mercedes, we need to go.”

the three of them waved you off with the promise of calling your parents and you cried out at the pain of another contraction, squeezing mason’s hand as he placed it on your leg. 

on the drive to the hospital, you did everything you’d been taught, counting between contractions no matter how long they were, breathing through your mouth when the contractions happened, and never pushing even if you felt like you’d hit the ten centimeter dialation. 

mason, in his haste upon leaving the house, had forgotten to bring his wallet which meant he couldn’t pay for hospital parking once you’d gotten to the machine, but at that point parking was the least of his worries -- “it’s twelve forty-five in the morning, Y/N, no one’s gonna check me for a ticket!” -- and after shoving you down into a wheelchair he took the first elevator to the floor you were supposed to be on. 

“are you okay, baby?” he asked, once you’d been set up in your private room. the nurse had left the two of you alone and told you to wait for the midwife, and you laid back on the pillow trying to steady your breathing. 

“contractions really fucking hurt,” you grumbled, bracing both hands on either side of the bump, and mason kissed your forehead, pulling at the hairs that stuck to your skin, “maybe we should’ve opted for a water birth.” 

he chuckled, and kissed your forehead, “i’ll be here the whole time, sweetheart,” you looked up at him and clasped your hands in one anothers, and mason squeezed it between his fingers. “promise.” 

what felt like hours later -- ironically enough, during a contraction, the midwife arrived, and mason was fighting every instinct within him to not complain at the strength you were squeezing his hand, and the midwife laughed at him as he bit his lip. 

“please tell me i’m ready to push,” you whined, “i genuinely don’t know how much longer i can hold off.” 

the sun was beginning to rise now, the clock reading five fifteen as the light rays of sun peeked through the curtains. your midwife crouched down and checked your dialation, and returned to face you with a smile on her lips that told you it was time for you to push. 

mason took a deep breath, feeling faint at knowing your babies would be here within minutes, and hopped onto the bed beside you like you’d practiced. his legs caged around your body, and the pair of you sat as if you were bathing together. his lips pressed soft kisses along your jawline and your midwife sat between your legs, gripping at your calves as she urged you to push. 

your head felt light as you did so, and in that moment you wondered whether you could actually do it. “well done, Y/N, go again,” she urged, squeezing your calves gently again. mason held your hands as you squeezed them, groaning and shouting so loud into his ear he thought you’d burst his eardrum. 

“that’s it, Y/N, i can see the head!” 

you pushed once more, head falling against mason’s shoulder as you shook it profusely, unable to contract your muscles anymore than you were. “i can’t do it, i can’t do it,” you cried breathlessly, but with the midwife’s reassurance you were hyped up to push once more. 

there was a short silence before you heard a cry, and it was like music to your ears. you and mason sighed heavily and tears fell from his eyes and onto the hospital gown covering your shoulders. the midwife held up the first baby, proudly announcing that your little boy was born first. 

“Y/N, you’re gonna have to do it all again in a few minutes, okay?” she said, pulling off her gloves and putting on a new pair. one of the nurses held your baby in her hands and you reached out for him, but mason kissed your cheek. 

“he’s fine, baby, they’re just checking him over,” he rubbed your arms in his hands and kissed your cheek. you felt the sudden urge to push, and did so without warning your midwife. she was a step ahead of you already, dipping her head down to gage how much more you needed to push. mason was cooing words of encouragement in your ear, but you grabbed at his elbow in between pushes. 

“you got me into this situation,” you panted, “after all that time we spent trying you just had to score a hattrick and have sperm that eager that you knocked me up with two babies.” 

you didn’t mean it, and everyone in the room, including mason, knew that. they all broke out into fits of laughter, and carefully he kissed your cheekbone, forgiving you for the words you knew you didn’t mean, holding your hand when you pushed again. 

before you knew it, you were pushing again, and again, and a final time several moments later. you heard a second cry after a few seconds and this time your midwife showed off proudly that it was coming from your baby girl. 

mason burst into a fit of tears behind you, his head falling onto your shoulder as yours fell back onto his chest, the two of you completely in awe that you’d just done that. the nurses offered you a baby each, handing you scissors so you could cut their cords before bundling them up into blue and pink blankets respectively. 

mason was handed your little boy, while you were handed your little girl, and you couldn’t believe how tiny they were. his tears were dropping onto the babies blanket, but he wasn’t ashamed to hide it, unable to process that he was now a father to two children. 

“do you have any names?” 

you looked at mason, who’s cheeks blushed a soft pink, and he turned to face you, shifting beside you on the bed. he poked the little boy’s nose softly, “this guy’s an eddie for sure.”

“how long have you been stashing that away?” you asked, a smirk creeping its way up your face as your boyfriends eyes twinkled. 

“i knew the minute he was born.” 

he told the nurse to come back in an hour, once you’d finalised a name for your little girl. when the room cleared you swapped babies, so now you were holding your little boy in your arms and you watched as the little girl wrapped her tiny little fingers around mason’s pinky finger, and the pair of you smiled.

“i like elsie.” 

“hm?” 

“for her,” you gestured to the little girl in mason’s arms, “it goes well with the middle name, and both of them will have names beginning with the same letter, won’t you?” he watched you coo and cry at your little boy with a bright, beaming smile and he couldn’t help what tumbled from his lips next. 

“marry me.” 

you stopped what you were doing and turned to face him, a puzzled expression on your face. “huh?” 

“marry me, Y/N,” he smiled, those twinkly eyes you couldn’t resist coming out to surprise you once more. “marry me and we can make this little family official.” 

you realised then that he was telling you to marry him -- not because he was forcing you, but because he knew there was no way on earth you would say no, and so with a small nod of your head you kissed his lips and brushed the babies noses with your finger, “what do we say, babies? shall i marry daddy?” 

you acted as if you were deep in discussion with them, and mason laughed, throwing his head back and falling more in love with you -- if that was even possible. 

“well? what do they say?” 

“they say yes.”

his eyes twinkled, and after looking down at them briefly with a soft smile on his face, he looked at you. “and what do you say?” 

“i do.” 

[writeforfandoms]

Shatter Me 3

Find my masterlist and series masterlist

Your adventure with the Mandalorian really is not improving with time. So far, it is actively getting worse. 

Warnings: General themes of past abuse, Mechanic is very focused on her job, we bypass terror to go back to blase (or at least focused on not dying), physical aspects of exposure to freezing temperatures, no appendages are actually harmed in the making of this chapter, swearing, creepy ice spiders. 

Word count: 3.1k

You woke with a soft groan, shivering a little. The first thing you noticed was the cold, biting at your exposed skin. You shivered, your fingers clumsy as you finally undid the belts holding you in place. 

The frog lady was still alive, but shivering. The Mandalorian was still passed out over the control panel. You bit your lip, anxious but knowing you needed to do something. 

“Mandalorian,” you said, cautiously prodding the back of his chair with your foot while staying as far away as you could manage. “Mandalorian!” 

He jerked upright, and you gasped and drew back until your back hit the wall. But he didn’t pay you any attention, taking a few moments to flip a few switches and look at the controls. Then he turned to the frog lady, leaving his seat to help her up. 

“Need to get you some blankets, keep you warm,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. 

And then the helmet lifted towards you, and you froze, muscles locking down tight. 

“You alright?” he asked, not moving any closer to you. 

“Fine,” you managed to croak. You weren’t, not really. You could feel the ache building in your head where you’d hit it, your fingers were rapidly going numb, and your heart was still attempting to beat out of your chest. But he didn’t need to know any of that. 

“I’m going down to find blankets,” he said, rising to his full height again. “And your eggs.” The frog lady croaked worriedly but stayed in her seat as he stepped past you and went down the hatch. You could hear him rustling around down there, could just hear his voice as he talked to himself. 

You had a dilemma. You could go help him. You could at least start gathering blankets, see what the damage was, and what you could help repair. But then you’d be down in the hold with him, alone. 

The frantic croaking from the frog lady made up your mind. Doing your best to tamp down your shivering, you descended the ladder as well. 

“Found them!” the Mandalorian called. Then, quieter, “I told you not to do that!” A pause as he lifted the container of eggs, surveying them. “How many did you eat?” 

A gentle burp caught your attention. The child. He was talking to the child. 

Then your attention snagged on the hole in the hull. Your jaw dropped, just a little. That was the source of the cold - flurries of snow were drifting in through the hole. 

That was bad. Very bad. 

You scrambled over to your tools. Fortunately, your duffel bag had slid across the floor but was still fine. First order of business - pull on the heavy gloves you usually used for welding and other dangerous work. That would help insulate your hands. 

The Mandalorian pulled out some blankets, setting them aside before starting to shove crates back to where they more or less needed to be. The frog lady descended the ladder carefully, finding a seat down in the cargo hold and taking the blanket he offered her. 

Wordlessly, you started checking on things. You knew before you started that this wouldn’t be good. You just hoped you could figure something out. 

While you worked, the Mandalorian put a tarp over the hole. It at least kept the snow outside and lessened the wind chill. Better than nothing, though you were still shivering as you worked. 

“Hey.” His voice was low and careful next to you. You were honestly too wrung out to even be startled. “What do you need help with?” 

“Get that panel open for me,” you instructed, using your spanner to point. “And bring my duffel over. Please.” 

Silently, he moved to comply. Then he left you to it, pulling out some space heaters and food. 

At least the inside of the ship warmed up, a little. 

“How is she looking?” the Mandalorian asked, hovering behind you. 

“Apart from the hull losing integrity?” you asked, frowning at the wiring in front of you. “The main power drive is not responding. I can fix it, I just need time.” 

“It’s late,” he said slowly, stepping away from you and lowering himself to sit on the floor. “The temperature will drop further after the sun goes down. You can finish in the morning.”

Silently, you shook your head. You were cold and tired and hungry and aching something fierce still, and you didn’t want to be trapped on this planet a minute longer than absolutely necessary. If that meant working through the night? You’d do it. 

He sighed but didn’t argue further. The frog lady started croaking urgently, though. “Sorry, lady, I don’t understand frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.” 

You frowned and bit off a swear as the wire in front of you sparked, just once. 

“Hey. Mechanic.” 

You froze and then looked over your shoulder at him. The helmet was aimed at you, some ice still clinging to the metal despite the space heaters. 

“That’s enough. Rest. We’ll fix it in the morning.” He paused for a moment. “Get some sleep.” He shifted against the hull, crossing his arms over his chest and getting comfortable. 

You sighed. He was potentially not wrong. Much as you hated to admit it. Reluctantly, you set your spanner back in your tool belt, but you kept the gloves on. The frog lady croaked softly in distress, taking off her blanket to wrap around her eggs. 

You hesitated. There was one blanket left, set aside for you. With a soft sigh, you unfolded it and wrapped it around her shoulders. She blinked up at you, and one hand landed over yours on her shoulder. You nodded, just once, and found your own spot to settle down, curling into yourself to try and conserve heat. 

Sleep didn’t come easy. 

“Wake up, Mandalorian.” 

You jolted awake at the mechanical voice, opening your eyes to see the Mandalorian aiming a blaster at something behind you. You cowered down and scooted swiftly to the side, scrambling out of the way. 

But nothing moved.

“This cannot wait until morning. Do not be alarmed. I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.” 

Your gaze shifted to the frog lady, who was speaking into something hooked into the droid propped against the hull. You slumped, just a little, heart still racing from the sudden fright. 

“What the hell are you doing?” The Mandalorian demanded, holstering his weapon at his side again. “That droid is a killer.” 

“These eggs are the last breed of my life cycle,” the frog lady said through the droid, gently patting the container of eggs. “My husband has risked his life to carve out a life on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to.”

Well, you had to give her credit. She was tough. And determined. And clearly smart, if she got past the droid’s protocols. 

“Look, lady, the deal is off. We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives.” The Mandalorian didn’t move, staring straight at the frog lady. 

But your heart ached for her. Slowly, carefully, making as little noise as possible, you pulled your tool belt over to yourself. 

“I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code,” the frog lady accused, though it was flat and mechanized through the droid. “I guess those are just stories for children.” 

Oh, ouch. That had to hurt. You looked at the Mandalorian, fingers closed around your tool belt. The child looked at him too, ears lowered, head tipped a little to one side as he made a sad cooing sort of noise. 

The Mandalorian sighed. And then moved the child away from him, ensuring the child was still wrapped up in a blanket, before he stood. You scrambled to your feet as well, brain whirring back online with the most immediate problems first. 

Main power drive. Then everything else. 

“This was not part of the deal,” the Mandalorian muttered as he grabbed his own tool box and stepped outside, past the makeshift curtain. You followed him quickly. 

Outside was frozen and white. The ship was crackling and sparking softly behind you, but for a moment all you could see was the cave you had landed in. It was bigger than you’d have guessed, soft flurries of snow drifting down and occasionally whirling off with the wind. 

The Mandalorian moved around you silently, surveying his ship. You reeled in your own awe and joined him. Neither of you spoke a word. The damage was… extensive. To put it mildly. Honestly, you thought he was right: you would all be lucky to make it off the planet. 

But you had to try. 

Silently, you buckled your tool belt and got to work. 

You couldn’t say exactly how long you worked in silence for. The two of you moved around each other, neither saying a word. Once, you handed him a tool that he needed before he could grab it for himself. When your shivering got too bad, your teeth chattering together unless you had your jaw clenched tight, he vanished for a minute, only to return with a blanket. He held it out silently until you took it. 

It was hard work. Almost worse than the heat of Tatooine. Almost. 

You very nearly snorted at that. The two times you’d worked around this man had been in extremes. If this is how it always was with him, you were absolutely jumping ship at the next stop. 

Babbling from the child caught your attention, and you looked up, blinking rapidly a few times to refocus your vision. But the kid wasn’t talking to you, he was talking to the Mandalorian. Then he turned and started walking, and the Mandalorian appeared from the other side of the ship. You watched him walk after the kid and take a knee next to him. 

“How long ago did she go?” 

What? Who was he–the frog lady. She had gone? When had that happened? 

But you didn’t get a chance to ask, because the Mandalorian scooped up the child and started walking down a dim corridor in the ice. 

Nope. Nope nope nope. Not a chance. You shook your head and turned back to your repairs. That was officially not your problem, and you were going to ignore everything else until you had the repairs done enough to get you all off this frozen hellhole. 

The sharp report of blaster fire jerked you from your work. You stood quickly, looking around warily, trying to figure out where it was coming from. A roar and a sudden orange light came from the direction the Mandalorian had gone, and then the frog lady came leaping into the main cave again, having apparently abandoned decorum for expediency. Your heart sank like a stone as you saw the Mandalorian behind her, turning to shoot at things behind them.

And then you saw them. Spiderlike, but clearly adapted to the icy climate of this planet, with mouths hanging below their bodies and long, spindly legs they used to scuttle over the ice with ease. Horror rose in your throat, halting your breath for a precious moment. 

The frog lady leapt past you and into the ship, and you followed her lead. Guess you were done with repairs. She took the child from the Mandalorian, handing him off to you. You climbed up the ladder one-handed into the cockpit, looking around for a weapon of some kind with which to defend yourself and the child. The frog lady came up moments after you, her egg case against her back. 

And last but not least came the Mandalorian, turning as soon as his feet were on solid ground and firing into the mass of creatures swarming up the ladder. He hit the button to close off the cockpit, blasting as many of the creatures as he could to get them clear of the door. 

But more still poured through the gap, littler ones, scuttling and climbing up the walls and into the cockpit. One landed on top of the child, causing him to cry and try to reach it. 

Surprising even yourself, you grabbed the spider-thing and crushed it, throwing it at another on the wall. 

Blaster bolts whizzed past you, hitting two more on the walls. You and the Mandalorian both turned to see the frog lady, shaking with fear and cold, huddled against her eggs and holding a tiny blaster. 

That seemed to make up his mind about something, because the Mandalorian jerked his fist, and fire came from his vambrace, setting the creatures alight. They screeched and fled as they burned, and finally, finally, the door slid shut. 

All three of you were still for a few moments, panting still. You swallowed hard, looking at the child to make sure he was okay. 

You’d have to burn these gloves. There was no coming back from the green gook on them now. 

And then the things started to scuttle up the outside of the ship, dinging and clanging as they went. You swallowed against the horror, eyes wide as you watched one make its way up over the transparisteel and on top of the ship. 

“Strap yourselves in,” the Mandalorian barked, throwing himself into his seat and punching buttons. “I’ve got limited visibility, this is gonna be a bumpy ride.” 

Your hands shook as you strapped in again, hoping against hope that you’d done enough, that your repairs were enough. Please, please be enough. 

The engines fired up, music to your ears, even as more creatures screeched as they were killed from the heat. Slowly, jerkily, the ship rose from the ice. 

It was working. You had a chance!

Something heavy fell on the ship, sending it crashing back to the ground, and you all jerked in your seats at the sudden fall. One claw, then a second claw, smashed through the transparisteel into the cockpit, narrowly missing the frog lady. And the horror outside, a gigantic version of the ice spiders, lowered itself to look in. Its mouth opened wide and latched onto the transparisteel, teeth scraping awfully. 

Blaster fire hit it from the side, multiple rounds hitting the creature. It sank and slid off the side of the ship with a wet squelch, and still the blaster fire continued. The Mandalorian stood and set the child on the pilot’s seat before leaving the cockpit. 

You struggled with the straps on your seat for a moment before rushing to peer outside. It was difficult to see through the icing on the ship. But slowly, the red light of blaster bolts stopped. You could just hear voices outside the ship. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could hear them. You could see the lights as the two X-Wings took off and left.

Leaving you there.

You and the frog lady both scurried down into the hold, where the Mandalorian stepped back through the hole in the ship. 

“I’m gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask,” he told you both. “There’s nothing I can do about the main hull’s integrity, so we’re gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit.” 

Joy.

“It’s the only thing I can pressurize. If you need to use the privy, do it now. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

You sighed once and took a look around. Crates would need to be secured for flight, those two holes would need to be patched. It was no small task ahead of you. 

But you started working. Again. Without a word. Without direction. Without even more than a cursory look at the Mandalorian. 

You were a mechanic. His pocket mechanic, as Peli had joked. 

Guess you had to live up to that reputation now. 

The two of you worked in tandem, silently. The frog lady and the kid both kept more or less out of your way, although the kid stayed close to the Mandalorian when he could. 

“Go inside,” the Mandalorian ordered you gruffly, some time later. 

“‘M fine,” you muttered, afraid to move your jaw too much lest you bite through your lip with your shivering. 

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.” You enunciated more clearly that time, holding things in place for him to weld down. Sparks flew, but you couldn’t even feel the heat of them. 

“You need to rest.”

You lifted your head finally to stare straight into his visor. You’d bypassed terrified long ago. You’d been sure you were going to die on this frozen wasteland. In short, you had no patience left for him. “I’ll sleep when you do.”

There was a soft sigh from under the helmet, but he stopped arguing, bending his head to his repairs again. 

Logically, you knew he was right. Sort of. You were working with a head injury, you were so cold you didn’t even feel cold anymore, and you were so exhausted you were honestly a little worried about falling off the ship when you had to get down. 

But you were something else, too. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Determined.

You weren’t going to die here. Not today. 

Finally, you and the Mandalorian both shuffled back into the cockpit. You dropped into your chair, fumbling with the straps until the frog lady reached over to help you. 

“Okay, repairs are all done,” the Mandalorian rasped. “Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.” 

The engines rumbled back to life, and the whole ship shook as it rose slowly into the air. The long legs of the creature slid off the ship at long last, and within moments you were free of the cave, back in the sunlight.

But only temporarily. The Mandalorian wasted no time getting out of the planet’s atmosphere and back into space.

Not that you could blame him, really. 

“Wake me up if someone shoots at us, or that door gets sucked off its rails.”

The frog lady croaked in alarm, and your lips curled. In amusement or frustration you really couldn’t say. 

“I’m kidding,” he said over his shoulder. “If that happened, we’d all be dead.” He faced front again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sweet dreams.”

You very nearly scoffed. Instead, you pulled your legs up as close as you could, curling into your seat. The cold metal was a relief against your throbbing head.

You were asleep within moments.

--

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[dccomicsimagines]

A Shower to Remember - Will Harper x Reader

WARNING- NSFW

Requested by @buffdaddyphoenix​​ - I have been addicted to reading your stuff ever since I started watching young justice !! Could I request some one-night stand smut with roy harper? He is so hot I swear 🤤

Author’s Note - I actually did Will Harper instead. Sorry not sorry. Also this is rough.

***

“Are you almost done in there?” Will Harper asked as he leaned in the doorway of the Bowhunter Security’s front office.

“Almost.” You were on a ladder in the ceiling, carefully hooking up a new router. Will could only see your hips and ass. He smirked, enjoying the view. 

“Good. I can’t bring the guys back in until we get the internet up.” He chuckled, watching you as you went on your tip toes to reach something. “I hate being the only one in this office. Gets lonely.”

You froze before stepping down one step on the ladder to peek out at him. “Lonely, huh?” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. Will just smirked back at you. “Does that actually work for you most of the time?” 

“What works for me?” Will flinched slightly, blushing. Damn, you were quick. 

“Sure.” You went back up the ladder and back into the ceiling. Will happily went back to checking out your lower half. He would have loved to have those legs wrapped around his waist or maybe his head. “I’m almost done.” You whistled. “Got it.” 

Will perked up, coming over to hold the ladder as you climbed down. You were covered in dust from the ceiling. He reached over to brush some off your forehead. “You’re dirty.” 

“You don’t clean your ceilings.” Flinching away from his hand, you went to his computer. “Let’s see if your computer can connect.” You typed away. Will leaned against his desk with his arms crossed. His eyes still lingered on your ass. It was just screaming at him to look at it. “And there you go.” You smiled, turning to face him only to frown when you caught his eyes lower than they should have been. “Stop it.”

Will smirked. “Great job. Did you change the password or is it still the same?” He came over to lean over next to you to peek at the computer.

“It’s the same, but I would recommend a harder password to crack. Using password for your password is like begging at someone to hack in.” You rolled your eyes, moving to pack your things. 

“Well, I feel bad for you getting so dirty.” Will smirked when you bent over to pick something up. He bit his lip to hide the smirk as you turned to look at him. “We have showers here. Feel free to use them.” 

You sighed, looking at the ceiling before you climbed up to move the tile back into place. “I think I will take you up on that. I have to go to an insurance company after this and I know for a fact that they won’t like me like this.” 

Will silently cheered, watching you climb down the ladder with peak interest. His gut stirred. Part of him couldn’t believe you actually took the offer. Now to seal the deal. “Let me help you get this stuff into your car.” He closed the ladder once you were down. You picked up your tools and packed your bag.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, but Will was already heading out the door. He smiled to himself, feeling your eyes watching him as he went. Flexing his arms, he carefully slid the ladder back on top of your car and started to strap it down. “Thank you.” You were suddenly beside him, eyes on his biceps. 

He flexed a muscle. You flinched in surprise. “You’re welcome.” He pulled away from your car. You shook your head and moved to your trunk to put your bag inside. 

“So I can still use your shower right?” You asked, pulling out another bag, which looked like spare clothes.

Will hummed, gesturing for you to follow him back inside. “Of course. It’s the least I could do.” 

You followed him. Will knew he had you. He could feel your eyes on his ass. “Thank you.” Will led you to the locker room. 

“There’s only one shower and it’s a little tricky.” Will nodded to the shower. “Let me know if you need help.” He turned to find you very close to him. A smirk pulled on his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You stared at his lips. “Okay, I don’t do this sort of thing.”

“You don’t?” Will widened his eyes, trying to look innocent. “Shower in public places?”

“No.” You narrowed your eyes. Will’s entire body jolted at the sight. God, he wanted you bad. His pants grew uncomfortably tight. “This.” You leaned forward and sealed your lips to his. Will melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you to him. You tasted like the mint from the gum you had thrown away moments before. 

Will backed you up against the wall. He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He groaned when you pressed against his crotch. “Tease.”

“Creeper.” You kissed your way down his jaw. “I think you planned this.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands under your shirt to feel your bare skin. Soft as velvet. “Not all the details, but I was hoping you would be interested.”

You hummed, sliding a hand up to bury it in his hair. Will moaned and kissed his way back to your lips. His tongue wrestled with yours, exploring before fucking your mouth. You trembled in his arms, pulling harder on his hair while your other hand gripped his shirt. 

“Do you have protection?” you asked as Will set you down to pull off your shirt. He smirked at the sight of your bare chest. 

“I do. You?” Will took off his own shirt, flexing his muscles to make you gasp. Oh, he liked you. 

“Yep.” You reached over to undo his jeans. “Anything I should know?”

He winked. “Safe word is green.”

“Green, I suppose it wouldn’t be red for you.” You smirked at him as you pulled down his pants along with his boxers. He sprung free. “Wow, you were very eager, weren’t you?”

Will blushed. “Can’t help it that your ass is so perfect.” He dropped to his knees, helping you step out of your pants. A moan slipped out of him at the sight of your legs. His hands slid up your legs to your ass, kneading before he buried his face between your legs. 

You gasped, running your fingers back into his hair as he guided your legs up and over his shoulders, supporting your weight as he made you tremble in his arms. You tasted so sweet. He saw stars.

Will glanced up at you, smirking when he saw you flushed and panting. He pulled away before you came. You sobbed, trying to hold him to you, but he removed your legs from his shoulders and held you up until you could stand on your own. “You’re ready for me.” He pulled you into the shower, turning on the water.

“I knew that mouth did more than just flirt.” You kissed him hard on the lips. He pulled you against him, moaning at the feel of your body against his. You were so warm, so soft. Will felt himself grow harder than he thought he ever could. 

Will backed you up so you both were under the water. You shivered against him despite the warm water. Will turned you around and guided your hands to press against the wall.  “Oh god.” You gasped when he pressed his hips against your ass.

“Hold on tight.” He chuckled, reaching down to line himself up with you. “Are you ready?”

“Please.” You panted, glancing over your shoulder at him. He smirked at you again before slamming into you hard. You screamed, fingers curling into your palms. 

Will chuckled, moaning at the feel of you. He held you up when your knees shook. “You okay?” He kissed the back of your neck. 

“Yeah.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. A shaky smile on your face. “Can you move?” 

“Oh, I can move. You’ll feel the aster.” He bucked his hips. His breath became heavy as he nuzzled your shoulder. You reached up to grab the handles on the side of the shower as Will rocked your body with each thrust. 

“Aster?” You panted, reaching an arm back to bury your fingers in his hair. It sent a wave of warmth down to his cock instantly. “Are we making up words now?”

Will sucked and nibbled your shoulder. He wanted to leave a mark on you. His mark. Something to remember him by. “Something my friends used to say.” He groaned when you wiggled back into him.

You hummed in response, pulling his hair hard when he felt you tense. “Come on. Lose yourself for me.” Will kissed his way up your shoulder to your neck. “Scream for me again.”

Will shifted slightly, knowing he hit the right spot for you when you tensed and shivered around him. A scream erupted from you again. Will tightened his grip around your slippery waist as your knees gave out. The water was still warm. “Sorry,” you gasped as you panted and came back to yourself.

“Don’t be sorry.” Will lifted you up into his arms and slammed into you again. You were limp in his arms, still coming down from the high. 

“Come on, big boy.” You tugged his hair again. Will’s hips jerked a few more times and let himself go. You sighed, letting go of his hair to grab the handles again as his grip on you loosened. Will pulled away, panting heavily before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You turned and caught his lips with yours. “Enjoy yourself?” Will asked, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Yeah.” You smirked at him. “But now I really need to shower.” You glanced down at the mess between your legs. 

“I can help with that.” Will grabbed the body wash. 

You rolled your eyes, but you relented. “But we can’t do a round two, I have to be at the insurance place by three.” 

“Three huh?” Will started washing your chest. “Let’s see what we can do.”

***

Will walked you back to your car. You were clean, hair damp. He saw the post-sex glow about you. A tiny bit of pride crept into him at the thought he was the cause of it. “So?”

“So?” You glanced back at him as you climbed into your car and started it. Your car door left open. “Is this it?”

“Well, I have your number and you know where I am.” Will nodded to the Bowhunter security sign. “We should do this again sometime.”

You nodded. “Maybe next time in a bedroom?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “And dinner too?”

“I could swing that.” Will winked. He stepped back from the car to allow you shut your car door. “See you,” he mouthed to you through the window. 

You nodded and drove off. Will watched your car until it turned the corner. He debated breaking his wifi again. A smirk pulled at his lips as he headed back inside.  

[dreamerstreamer]

Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up. 

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.” 

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.” 

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific. 

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice. 

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze. 

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.” 

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?

[the-badger-mole]

zuko & katara (awkward??) flirting/having crushes on each other and aang not understanding

Aang couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him. He was glad that Katara and Zuko had made peace, but this felt...weird.

"Hey, Zuko? I can't get this jar open. Can you help?" Aang was certain Katara had barely tried before she turned to Zuko, with a small almost-smile on her face. "Can you help?"

And Zuko did with a strangely stoic look on his face. The jar lid came off in his hand, and he passed the jar of chili paste to Katara. Why was she biting her lip like that? Aang's brow furrowed at that. He felt like he was dancing on the edge of understanding, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He didn't like it, but he couldn't name it, either.

"You need anything else?" Zuko asked. His rumbly, whispery tone had never bothered Aang before, but now it set his teeth on edge.

"I can't reach that pot," Katara almost whispered, pointing to a high shelf. "Can you bring it down for me?" Aang knew for a fact there was a step ladder in the kitchen. He'd seen Katara use it before when Zuko was out with Sokka to make sure he didn't spend too much at the market. Where was it now?

Zuko reached up for the pot, seemingly unaware of Katara's intense gaze on his torso. Aang squinted, wondering if she saw something on his shirt, but if there was, Aang could see it. When Zuko handed her the pot, Katara's hands closed around his on the handles, and they lingered! Aang cleared his throat, as much to get rid of the sudden lump there as to let the pair know that they weren't alone in the kitchen. Zuko snatched his hands away as if he'd been burnt, and Katara plastered a wide smile across her face.

"Hey guys," Aang said waving at them (why was he waving?). "What's for dinner?"

Katara looked down at the pot in her hands in confusion for a moment, as if she hadn't considered what she needed it for. Then she shrugged.

"Stew, I guess," she said. She glanced around the kitchen at the ingredients she'd started pulling out, and nodded. "Yeah...and I think there's jackfruit, so I can make a vegetarian one for you."

"Great!" Aang said, with far more enthusiasm than he'd meant. "Do you need help with anything? I can...um...chop the vegetables?"

"No! No thanks, Aang," Katara forced a chuckle. "No offense, but I've seen you with a knife, and I don't think anyone would appreciate you seasoning their food with your blood."

"Well...maybe Toph might," Zuko said. He was almost smiling! Zuko never smiled! At least not while Aang had been around to see. Katara threw her head back and laughed, nudging Zuko with her elbow. When, Aang's mind demanded to know, had they become so chummy? A month earlier, Katara would have bitten Zuko's head off for insulting one of her friends. But now...

"Toph is ruthless, not bloodthirsty," she joked.

"What about the rice?" Aang cut in. "Doesn't that need to be rinsed?"

"It's covered, Aang," Katara assured him. "You have some free time before dinner. Go play for a while."

Aang couldn't explain why that bothered him, but having Katara tell him to go play felt like a slap in the face. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be in the kitchen with Katara and Zuko. He wanted to be part of this easy camaraderie between them. He wanted to open the jars and grab the pots. He wanted to be helpful! After all, hadn't Katara been complaining for months that no one gave her enough help?

"I want to help out more," Aang said. Katara rewarded him with a warm, sincere smile.

"That's great!" she exclaimed happily. "We don't really need you for cooking, though. It would be a lot more help if you do the dishes after we eat."

The smile froze on Aang's face. He'd stepped into a trap, and there was no obvious way out. By the time he'd thought to offer to prepare his vegetarian option, Zuko had steered him out of the kitchen with instructions to find Toph to have her get cleaned up for dinner. The door to the kitchen shut in his face, but through the heavy wood, he heard the muffled sounds of Katara giggling and Zuko's murmuring, whispery voice. It was good that they were getting along, he knew. So why did it bug him so much?

[sparkledfirecracker]

Monsters and Heels

Pairing: (Soft)Dark Mob!Andy Barber x (Soft)Dark Mob!Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: The Barbers’ letting go of some steam after being defeated by a loss. What happens when they go after the man whose responsible for all the caused trouble.

Word count: 19,924 (because purrrfection requires time)

Warnings: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit force/torture, angst, talks of unstable mental health, mention of sexual assault (nothing too descriptive), mention of almost sexual assault, unprotected sex, oral (f+m receiving), fingering, blowjob, forced breeding, overstimulation, squirting, cheating for a cause, child loss, choking, so much smut, swearing and to be absolutely safe; DubCon, NonCon and BDSM (because it’s feral Barber). Sorry if I missed any.

A/N: MINORS DNI, PLEASE! DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE GIVEN WARNINGS!!!! Lovely divider by @firefly-graphics​ . Thanks to the lovely @navybrat817​ for partially beta-reading this, all mistakes are still my own and thank you for reminding me that ‘Andy can have whatever he wants.’ Did that spike the word count? Maybe. Was it worth it? In my opinion, 100%, because I’m a sucker for feral Barber. I don’t have children nor am I married, so this might just be my poor attempt at covering that heartbreak nor do I claim to know what the American medical procedures are. ALL characters are legal adults and at least 22 or far over. This idea has been living in my head for at least 10 years and it finally gained some purpose. ENJOY my rusty writing!!

Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

I do not consent to have my works copies, reposted or translated on any other platform. Reposts on any given platform have been posted without my permission or consent. 

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High school sweethearts – young, foolish and in love – that’s how it all started. Married young, early into your relationship, since Andy had knocked you up. Andy had an estranged relationship with his parents, but yours -- yours was much more complicated than his. Your father being the biggest feared name in Boston, ruling all of Massachusetts with an unforgiving iron fist.

He had planned for Andy to be murdered, but you had begged him not to. Andy was never intimidated by your fathers’ threats; he had shut out his fearful emotions long ago. His father was a bully, rapist and murderer, not the ideal dad type. Your father appreciated Andy’s confidence and his willingness to not bow down, it was his strongest trade.

He’d taken Andy under his wing when you married, the mob business becoming his playground. It wasn’t the life you’d envisioned for yourself; it also wasn’t the life you’d envisioned for Andy. Though you had come to an agreement that he’d be the mobster in the streets and a loving and caring husband in the sheets.

Twenty-two years had passed and a lot had changed when your father had died Andy had stepped up the ladder. The board and associates weren’t happy with the new man waving the sceptre. As the first born of the big boss it was your duty to step up as soon as he died. You had rejected their worries and declined their offer. You had dug your heels in the sand and refused to pull the rug out from underneath Andy.

He was the right man for the job, not you. The board had insisted that you’d stay in charge of the family business because Andy wasn’t their own blood. You had done your best to persuade them that Andy was more than capable. It had been their turn to deny your persuasion, meeting halfway to stay on to sign deals and other papers.

Life was good to you in those last years. You raised your daughter and built your empire together. Until cold-aired January came around, bringing you that one unforgiving phone call that made your entire world crumble. It felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, your heart aching. It was then that everything had changed, including your relationship with Andy.

That phone call had you rushing to the hospital. Andy’s Audi raced along the streets like he was a NASCAR driver, swerving the asphalt underneath. Your hearts beat rapidly from the stress peaked adrenaline. The words that came from the other end of the line repeated non-stop inside your head.

Unconscious.

Life danger.

Induced coma.

Sexually assaulted.

Attempted murder.

Eyes followed the rushed scenery, exhaustion clouding your brain from the continuous worry inside your head. Your baby hurt, unconscious and all alone, the thought alone made your heart shatter. A million questions crossed your thoughts: What had happened? Did she run into someone? Where did her friends go? Who would do something like this?

Your thoughts were interrupted when Andy shook your leg, “Pebble, we’re here.”

Thoughts were turned into survival mode as you grabbed your bag and hurried out of the car. Holding on to Andy’s hand, you rushed inside and headed straight for the nurse behind the desk.

Not waiting for the nurse to acknowledge you, “We’re here for Ms. Edie Rose Barber.”

“Mrs. Barber I presume?” she questions

“Yes and this is my husband. We’re here to see our daughter.” Your words are laced with a hint of panic and full of impatience. She was testing your nerves when all you wanted was to see your daughter.

“I need you to fill out some paperwork first.” She laid a clipboard on the desk holding all sorts of forms.

“You can shove the paper work up your ass.” The venom came out harsher than intended, but there was no going back now. Andy stepped in front of you, choosing to overtake the conversation.

“I understand, please, can my wife go see our daughter?” His smile was sincere and calm, yet his body told a different story by the nervous tapping of his fingers on the clipboard. “I’ll stay behind and fill these out.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Barber, the doctors are still performing emergency surgery on your daughter. I’ll notify the doctor you have arrived, but for now I need you to take a seat.” She sounded apologetic as you rolled your eyes at her comment.

You folded your arms across your chest as you walked away from the desk, hugging the sides of your body. Andy walked your way, papers in his hand,  as you paced back and forth. You couldn’t help it with the building anxiety in your mind.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Why did you overtake that conversation?” Your nerves were out of control; you would never bark at Andy the way you did now. Sure, you had arguments now and then, but this felt different. This felt like a small crack ready to separate you.

“Pebble, you weren’t playing nice, you were being – well, uhm – you.” He tried to be nice and not scold you on the spot like a five-year old. Your temper had always been a thing, but never to him. He always had a way of smoothing out your rough edges.

“I just want to see my child and no-one is telling us anything.” You choked back the tears threatening to fall.

“I know, pebble.” He hushed, embracing your body in a tight hug, holding you close to his chest in the hopes to calm you down. His chest flexed underneath your touch when you pushed yourself out of his embrace.

“She’s my baby, Andy!” You exhaled. “She’s my baby, she’s hurt and I just-” tears streaming down your cheeks hugging your body tight.

Your thoughts were raging, wanting nothing more than to comfort your daughter. Andy reaches out for you, tugging you close for a second time and your body is reluctant to give in to his touch.

“Aren’t you angry? I should’ve been there; I should have protected her.” your index finger poking harshly into your chest.

Andy cradles you into his chest, his hands rubbing your back as you fight the tears coming out. He shushes you and kisses the top of your head, swaying gently. Seeing you hurt angers him more than you’ll ever know, he’s desperate for you, he craves you and most of all he never wants to see you hurt. You’re his drug keeping him alive, he needs to stay calm for you. His darkened soul is reserved for the outside world, but not for you.

“She’s my daughter too and I am angry. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this.” He whispers against your temple followed by a soft peck. “We’ll find out what happened and who did this – we’ll take it from there – okay, Pebble?” His words are promising as he calmly rocks you in his arms.

Hours of waiting, it felt like a waste of time and like nothing was happening. Andy was slumped in a chair, eyes closed and small snores escaping him. The magazine in your hands was only for show. Having read the same sentence over and over, not being able to focus.

Your head snapped towards the automatic doors keeping you separated from the human you so desperately wanted to see. A doctor walking your way, you placed the magazine on the seat beside you and nudged Andy.

Mind goes blank the moment the words are spoken out loud ‘We did everything we could’. Andy rubs his face, immediately pulling you in holding you close to his chest. Mascara stains begin collected on the grey blouse clutching the fabric in your fist. Sobbing into his chest, loud wails erupt your body at the loss.

Only single words are processed by your brain.

Asphyxiated.

Extreme hypothermia.

Internal bleeding.

Murder.

Sexually assaulted.

Death.

Sadness overtaking from the constant worry you had been feeling. Anger rising, wanting answers to your million unanswered questions. Wanting to find the person who did this and kill him or her, you wanted to scream and fight Andy with his calm fucking expression.

You wanted to hurt people like they had hurt you right now. You were going out of your mind heaving heavily as you choke on the grief entering your body. Your heart pumping rapidly, crushing you on the inside, leaning into Andy’s body for support.

February; Burying your daughter six feet under. Completely drained from having to keep a brave face and everyone offering their condolences. You felt emotionless and found yourself zoning out and slowly slipping into your own bubble.

March; Shutting Andy out. You were two ghosts living under the same roof, he had taken it upon himself to stay in the guest room. The crack in your marriage was getting bigger.

April; Blocking yourself from the world, watching reality shows with no intent. Just the noise in the background soothing the disruptive thought temporarily.

May; Your brother Nick visited. It wasn’t the social call you had expected and certainly not one you were prepared for.

“Nick, make sure she goes outside today while I’m out.” Andy stated. “It might do her some good.”

“I will, Andy. Have a good day.” Nick confirmed.

“Talk to you later, pebble?”

“Sure.” It was a short mumble, before he gave you a kiss.

A kiss you had missed and one you had denied for too long. You knew Andy had taken his chance knowing you didn’t want Nick to know about your current marriage struggles. He gave you a soft smile, your eyes wandering over the tattoo on his arm.

A large steady growing tree, with deep roots growing underneath. He’d always told you it was your foundation and that nothing would shake that tree. You’d be able to conquer the roughest storms coming. His hand grazed your cheek before he left the house.

He wanted blood for the damage caused, making him a feared man. He showed no mercy on the streets, but was the ever so doting husband who showed nothing of his worries to you, his wife.

Andy had started to be beside himself not knowing what to do to get you out of your rut. He’d never experienced this. He was hurt, too, but you seemed like you wanted a wedge to come between you. Shutting him out, only greeting him when you needed to. You weren’t talking about your emotions.

He heard you every night crying in bed. It had started to feel as if he was grieving two losses at the same time. That’s when anger became his new coping mechanism, becoming a relentless killer on the streets and handling business with brutal force.

With you as the rightful heir to the mobster throne, it had become an issue for most members that Andy was running the show. He had turned into a relentless, vigilant, cold blooded, unapologetic murderer. He had shown no remorse when he had ordered to murder even tiny petty thieves and shoplifters.

“What do you want me to do about it?” You huff at the approval of the things Nick had told you and doubting if you would have run the ship any different way. Probably not - not in this situation.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but Andy hadn’t shown anything at home. It wasn’t that you talked much nowadays. He tried, but your replies were either a shrug, nothing or the shortest answer you could think of.

“They want to talk to you. They have an offer.”

“An offer? Does it look like I am suited for mob conversations?”

“You look like shit and you smell like shit too.” Nick spoke sniffing the air, you whacked him on the head. “You asked for it.” He shrugged, rubbing his head.

“I made myself very clear six years ago, I don’t want the crown, Nick.”

“Tatertot, you have no choice in this matter – you know this.”

“Geez, even the fucking monarch isn’t as uptight with these fucked up rules. At least they can step down and let someone else wave around the sceptre.” You roared. “I never asked for it, I don’t want it.”

“But you do.” Nick argues there is persistence in his tone.

“Please – do explain why I DO want that doomed throne?” It almost felt like an arranged marriage. You had held your end of the bargain for years now, so why did they want to change everything all of a sudden? You looked at the ring set on your finger and snapped your head back up. “I said ‘I do’ once -- years ago, twenty-three to be exact -- to Andy, not to this cursed family business.”

“Intel.” He starts, it peaks your interest and you quirk a brow.

“Intel about what?”

“Who murdered Edie.” Your eyes filled up at the mention of her name, but you were tired, not wanting to feel like this anymore. It shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does, switching your mind to think of happy thoughts, quelling the tears at bay.

“Name?”

Nicks makes a quick observation to see if you can handle what he’s about to say. “None yet, but the bikers over in East Village heard this freaky rich kid brag about some girl being raped and murdered, and said she had it coming for leading his friend on.”

“Huh.” Surprise circling your mind, nodding at the shared information.

You remained silent, contemplating if to go through with the order from the mob board or let them know they could all go to hell and deal with your feral untamed wolf of a husband on their own. One meeting wouldn’t hurt; one meeting would settle their worries about how business was being done.

“Well?”

A long sigh coming from your heavy chest. “One meeting, Nick. I’ll come to settle any worries, but only one.”

He gets up and shakes his legs to straighten out the synthetic material of his pants “Let’s go then.”

“Now?”

“Yes, maybe have a quick shower and put on something nice, maybe even a little make-up.”

“Nick! You should’ve told me they wanted to talk today. It is not like I’ve stopped grieving.”

Nick chose to stay silent, running his fingers through your greased hair before he let it fall back down. “You’d give uncle Pronge a run for his money with this hair.”

The comment made you snort.  It felt good to laugh, but you shouldn’t. You got up and the annoyance at the ‘order’ overtakes, making you mumble grumpily, walking up the stairs.

Nick led you through an old abandoned warehouse, two men nodding at him. Two rusty sliding doors opened and the board was revealed to you. They stood up from their seats and clapped as you walked in.

“Where’s the fucking red carpet, asshole?” You whispered towards Nick, making him chuckle.

The air was thick, filled with too much testosterone, but you kept a straight face taking in every single person in the room. You stifled your giggle with ease. It could have easily been a scene from a movie. Associates with Fedora’s and Lincoln’s resting on their heads, long fitted coats and cigars between their teeth. Was this the shit Andy had to deal with daily?

You’re unfamiliar with the three men in leather jackets, denim jeans and boots. Their skin is covered in tattoos. They intrigued you. The biggest of them all rolled a toothpick between his teeth, another chewing his gum like a llama and the small one with the glasses seemed nervous and agitated, tapping his fingers on the table he sat at.

The sound of your heels hitting the concrete coming from below. You straightened out the fabric of your dress that hugged your curves. Your hair was loose, make-up done to a minimum, but had opted for a bright red lip. You had to present yourself as the strong person you were. You had let her go for a moment.

“Welcome kid, it’s good to have you.” Freezy spoke, patting your shoulder, his greasy hair held in a messy ponytail. You couldn’t help but giggle at the earlier remark Nick had made.

“Thanks, Freezy.” You knew better than to call him by his real name, not in front of strangers. He’d have your head right on the spot. You sat down at the only open spot in the middle.

Taking a better look around the room, you noticed that most of the glass windows on the roof were broken. Ivy crept through the cracks and wrapped around the metal frame of the building and down the concrete wall. Graffiti covering the windows in reach, shattered glass with large bricks hugging the floor. It must have been a factory of some sort, but you had never been here.

Your cousin Curtis stood up and cleared  his throat, all eyes on him. You gave him a gentle smile -- you always liked Curtis -- he always seemed too gentle for the family business, but you remembered your father saying he was a tough negotiator and wouldn’t budge for no-one.

None of your family members ever budged, all strong headed men. That must have been exactly why your dad had turned to love Andy so much. That’s why he had taken him under his wing, that was why he had intended for Andy to take over. His plan had ended before he could have had any approval, but since you refused, the board was left with no choice but to accept.

Yet here you were being called upon, forced into a position you didn’t want and ruling with your own iron fist. Your head felt heavy,the pressure on your shoulders building from the weight to come. You took in deep long breaths, trying to ease the ache in your chest.

“Today we hold this meeting, because we have multiple problems going on in this state.” Curtis started.

“Correct asshole” One of the unknown males shouted, held back by another leather jacket wearing man.

“Jensen chill.”

“Rude unknown male identified as Jensen, noted.”

“How rude of me to not introduce our guests.” Curtis speaks again “Well smart mouth over there is Jensen, the other one shushing the little hot head-”

“Who are you to call me a hot head? I’ll show you a hot head, chump.” He shouted at Curtis, pointing his finger. The larger man of the three stood up and towered over Jensen. He quiets down and sits back on his stool.

“Sorry about Jensen. I’m Steve head of The Smokey Saints, that other one over there is Mace.” Steve spoke. “It is nice to officially meet you, sugarplum, your father was a legend. We were great friends.”

“Yeah and yet you never were available when needed.” Your head whipped to your left, seeing Ari lean forward on the table pointing an accusing finger at Steve.

“I’ve told you Ari, we don’t get involved in petty crimes.” Steve’s voice was calm and collected, he was a tough cookie to break. A trait you could appreciate further down the line.

“Petty crimes, you come here and want to talk about petty crimes.” Ari barked. “Alright, let’s talk about petty crimes then.”

“Ari.” Curtis warned.

“No – No, don’t Ari me -- they show up here, because of the petty attack on their hurt little biker boy. Biker boy Frank decided to wear combat boots to the rally, he’s dealing with the consequences now.” Ari’s face was seething with anger.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Steve’s calm demeanour changed. “You don’t get to blame my men for your wrong doing.”

“Guys, simmer down.” Curtis attempted to calm the vastly rising heat between the riled up men.

It had started to feel like an unimportant 3-year old fight over which shoe should be left and which one right. You chuckled at the thought, but your heart began to sink when you thought of having that argument with Edie. Andy trying to meddle, having ended up with two shoes on the wrong feet. Not wanting to cry in front of all the testosterone in the room, you buried the memory under the sad blanket of grief, tucked away with the other intrusive thoughts.

The shenanigans between the men continued and you had zoned out. Picking at your nails out of boredom and uninterested with the building warzone. You had no idea what was going on here nor did you want to know.

It had been more entertaining than any of the reality shows you had watched over the past few months. On today’s episode of Mobster Crimes; make friends with the biker boys. Ari had already pissed them off enough by the looks of it.

Nick nudged you back to reality and you looked around to see who or what had said something.

“Pebble?” Curtis looked like he wanted an answer, an answer to a question you hadn’t heard.

“Yes? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” You confessed, shaking your head.

“Would you be willing to take over from Andy?”

You scoffed. “Absolutely not.” There was persistence in your tone.

“Absolutely not huh?” Curtis smirked, the deep red leathered book in his hands looks heavy. You’d seen it before; it was on display — a prominent piece — in your fathers’ office. He dropped it in front of you with a loud thump. “Open up pebble, the marked page please”

Your brows nestled together at the confusion, your hands lifting the heavy pages and nose scrunching at the smell of the antique paper. After a moment you locked eyes with Curtis.

“You choose; want to read the paragraph out loud or do you want me to quote it?” He questioned, his lips curling up as he rubbed his hands together. “You know what, I think I’ll quote it so I can watch you squirm in that seat of yours”

“Fuck you, Curtis.” Already shifting in your seat, he laughed as he paced in front of your table. His gaze didn’t leave yours, making you feel uncomfortable.

You couldn’t help but focus on the page below, your eyes scanning it quickly as Curtis recites paragraphs word for word — phrase by phrase.

The first born, male or female, will be presented as the inductee at the appropriate time. Oath is sworn by the current leading head of the business. Bound by blood and sealed with a life.

In case of death; if the novice is not a legal adult, the right hand of the head will oversee the business, until the novice is of appropriate age.

All bloodlines will take oath to swear their loyalty to the organisation.

Females must present two heirs in case of death. If the head is not able to provide, death will rain upon them. As sworn in by the first rule, bound by blood and sealed with a life.

Your eyes widened at the last rule. This was not happening, there was no way they could force you to provide another child. Not to mention two. Your eyes welled up and a lump grew in the back of your throat.

“Fuck you all. An absolute abomination if you think I will become this family's breeding machine.” You angrily squeaked out, pushing the book away, struggling to keep the tears from falling.

“We’re only just getting started, pebble.”

Curtis dropped a smaller book in front of you, the page already opened. The handwriting was immediately recognized and identified as your fathers. Your fingertips traced the signature, in the middle of the blood dried handprint. Emotions got the better of you and a few tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

You had heard of the initiation ritual. Having all blood relatives cut their hand along with the inductee, dropping their blood on the initiate’s hand, blessing them with a long reign. Before sealing it on paper.

Trapped in a corner, an unwanted pressure on your shoulders. A doomed crib to be born in, you had no choice in the matter. It wasn’t a fair battle to start with as you turned the page. Your name was written on it, they had never initiated Andy nor were they ever planning to do so.

“If you can quote the rules, you can obey them Curtis! To hell that I’m providing you all with another child, let alone two.” You saw Curtis’s jaw tick, but he was cut off by Ari.

“If you are so reluctant to take over and follow the order, why are you here then?”

“Apparently you boys –” your finger pointed between the three bikers, “-- know who killed my daughter!” You held strong eye contact with Steve, Mace and Jensen. Making them squirm in their seats.

Freezy had jumped out of his seat. “WAS IT ANY OF THESE FUCKS?” Having grabbed Mace half across the table already. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap his neck.

“Freezy, let him go and sit back down,” Your calm voice instructed. “no it wasn’t, but they do know who.”

“We don’t, little girl” Mace spoke looking past Freezy and directly at you.

Your brows knitted together as the murderous words fell off your tongue. “Who are you calling a little girl?”

“Can I have my way with this meatball already?” Freezy asked.

“No” Curtis’s words were firm as Freezy let go of Mace hesitantly. “Everyone just calm down for a minute.” His gaze circled the room at the given order. “What do you know exactly?”

“No name, but some other rich kid who was bragging about one of his friends.” Jensen informed.

You got up, done with this puppet show. You wanted to go home and get on with life. Your heels clicked on the cement, walking in-between the tables.

“Well I’ll make you all a deal, because I am getting tired of being everyone’s babysitter around here.” You circled around looking at them all. “I’ll take over from Andy, but he can’t know, not now -- not ever! In his mind he runs this shit show, understood? I really won’t hesitate to put you on a piece of plywood if Andy finds out.” Your aggravation was audible before settling your eyes on the bikers. “As for you, I want you to find this spoiled shit and interrogate him. I want to be there when you question him. I also want you as my security.”

Before Steve could respond, Ari chimed in “I have been head of the family security for years.”

“From what I heard it is time for you to retire, Ari.” You hissed.

“You little shit.”

“I really hoped we could’ve sorted this out in a different way.” You were agitated and Ari pissed you off. “You wanted me to run this party of clowns -- taking matters into my own hands -- I want eyes and ears everywhere, the eyes and ears you have failed upon all of us. So you better sit down or know your way out. You know what happens when you choose the latter, so pick carefully Ari.” You could see him doubt, but it wasn’t a loose threat. “So what do you say Steve?”

“Reasonable enough.” Steve nodded. “Want to shake hands on it?”

“If that makes you happy.” You shrugged, taking a few steps towards his table shaking his hand.

The head is heavy that wears the crown, it wasn’t an understatement. You were already feeling pressure, but loved being in control at the same time. The meeting ended with the terms you had concerning the job.

1: You were to be kept in the loop of all Andy’s decisions no matter how bad.

2: Andy could never know that you were running the show.

3: You wanted a decent office in town and not the current dump you were standing in.

4: No more attacking biker boys, become friends, have ice cream, whatever it takes to bond and gain one another’s trust.

5: No questions asked when you choose violence with drastic measures.

You were courageous with a rebel heart. You had fought, died inside and dared to live again. You knew you were strong, a giant among the misogynistic men and had grown with wisdom and truth.

Weary of the eventful day that was taking its toll on you. The drive home was quiet, allowing you to sink into your thoughts. What if Andy would find out? Would he see red? You were hoping he wouldn’t be home; you weren’t prepared to have to force out what you had been up to.

You didn’t want to lie to him, but you didn’t want him to find out either. It was a small price to pay when it came to settling everyone’s concerns. Withholding the truth and let him believe he was the feared man, when it would be you calling the shots.

The excitement of the day had worn you out, the depression haunting you as Nick turned into your street. The house had felt cold with a grey cloud hanging over it. Slipping back in the role of the grieving wife easily.

Andy stood over the grave, the fresh flowers laid down, his prayers said. His fists balled inside the pockets of his grey coat, his jaw clenching together trying to withhold his emotions.

Now here he was, waiting on Ari, apparently he had some news to share. Over the phone he had sensed Ari’s irritation and Andy’s interest had spiked when he had mentioned you.

He turned around when he heard a throat being cleared. Ari stood tall, hands deep in his pockets.

“Why’d you wanted to meet here?”

“I’ll come right out with it, I appreciate you Andy. You treated me well and have been putting food on my table for the past six years-” Ari stopped when Andy holds up his hand

“I asked you why we are meeting here -- this sacred piece of land where the souls have been laid to rest.”

“Alright Godfather. The board made a decision. Plus, you are a hard man to track down.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Andy scoffed.“The board isn’t allowed to make decisions without my presence.”

“Keep thinking you know everything. You still think you’re leading, but are already so far behind.” Ari looked amused at having gained the upper hand in this conversation.

Andy’s brows furrowed as his eyes narrowed “What does that mean?”

“You were never initiated, because you are not blood of our own.” Ari’s jaw clenched, betraying his own family, a broken promise to the oath he’d taken when he was only 15 years old.

“Who even wants this fucking job in this day and age?”

“Your wife.” Andy’s eyes filled with shock and kept an intense stare at Ari.

“Funny, Ari.” Andy snorted, clutching his chest.

“You think I’m funny? I’m not a clown Andy, I’m not lying to you. I’m betraying the oath I took as a fifteen-year-old kid.” His jaw ticked with annoyance and his temper slowly getting the better of him.

“What has my wife done to you to come running to me?”

“The board forced your wifey to step up and go behind your back, she made them swear you wouldn’t find out. On a personal level; she kicked me to the curb to enforce The Smokey Saints as her new security.”

“This is the funniest thing I have heard in weeks. She wouldn’t, she never wanted it to begin with.”

“She has no choice in the matter. Just as much as you both have no other choice than to give us the vowed and promised heir.” Ari’s tone darkened and Andy’s gut told him that Ari was being honest.

“Go on.”

“If you don’t provide the board with a rightful new leader, you both will be carried out of your home on plywood.”

“You’re out of line here, Ari. At least have some respect for the title.” Andy’s tone held a warning, his hand resting on the gun in his holster.

“I didn’t make the rules; they’d always been there. The book says so.”

“So you’re telling me, that after all this trauma of having lost a child, we have to conceive another one?” Andy’s shocked laugh echoed on the graveyard, his eyes falling on the tombstone; Edie Rose Barber, daughter. He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest looking back at Ari. “We own the board shit. You and I both know that pebble is never going to willingly give you what you want.”

“I hoped we could settle this. Not be invited to this fucking reluctant stand-off.”

Andy laughed, a baby would be his way back into leadership. “You know Ari; I’ve always appreciated you. I won’t be leaving on a piece of wood, now I gotta go since I have a wife to breed.”

“You think this is funny, Barber?”

The smile fell from Andy’s face, his eyes narrowing, grabbing Ari by the neck. “On the contrary, Ari.” Ari’s gaze averted from Andy’s “Look at me. Never rat on your family, especially my wife.” Taking a little longer to speak again. Showing Ari who was in charge, a satisfied feeling overtaking when Ari tries to fight his hold. “But you and I will keep this between us. You’ll be my eyes and ears of what happens inside that fucking circle.”

Andy let go and marched away from the current situation. His mind was running a 100 miles an hour, rules and regulations were a thing and, if Ari was right they both had no choice, but to give them the rightful blood to the family.

A plan formed in his head, having to think over every detail, before confronting you. Forcing a baby upon you would mean you had to step down.

Andy had allowed you to slip from his fingers, hating to see you self-destruct on the grief. You weren’t his girl anymore; you had been a ghost and loved pushing him out. The feeling of not being able to talk about what you both were going through was hard enough.

He was done with your self-destructing grieving methods – the result - he made you go to therapy. He was one to talk, killing his way through the state of Massachusetts. You both needed therapy, both of you weren’t grieving the way you should. The process had been a brutal awakening: Were you even still in love?

Therapy had booked some progress, yet you felt like you were taking steps back. The feeling of lying to Andy about your current situation gnawing at your gut already. You kept pushing him out, being completely unavailable emotionally.

Today however had felt different when he walked into the kitchen, your hands deep in soil as you re-potted some plants. You heard the front door open and Andy’s voice talking to someone on the phone. The jiggle of his keys when he shrugged off his coat.

“Thanks Ari, got to go, pebble is waiting for me.” His phone made a thud as it landed on the table. His shoulder leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in fascination.

“What are you doing, toots?” He questioned, you didn’t turn and continued digging holes and potting the plants.

Your shoulders shrugged “Not much,” you took in a deep breath “went outside though.”

“Look at you, I am proud.” He praised, clapping his hands.

“Don’t petty clap me. You told me to go outside and I did.” You scolded.

Andy didn’t want you to worry about the revenge plot being set in motion. He had promised to protect you and shield you from harm’s way. He had vowed his three P’s; Protect, Provide and Profess. He was willing to go as far as he could to prove them if you let him.

“How was it?”

“Ran into Mrs. Hansen from down the road, tried to have a polite conversation, but you know how she is, loving the neighbourhood gossip. Overall conclusion; it was too peopley outside”

His head dropped ever so slightly, raising his eyebrow in amusement. “Too peopley?”

“Yes, I highly discourage it.” You added, your hands patted down on the soil and watered the additions to your greenhouse.

“Alright Morticia, you want to talk about it?” You shook your head, you weren’t ready and you didn’t even know where you should start.

-   How could you tell him that you were the one that had a lead on the murderous abuser, the one that took everything away from you?

-   How could you even begin to tell him that you had taken over from him, because of a fucking rule book?

-   How would he react to the fact that you needed to provide the family with another child, let alone two?

-   How could you tell him that your brain had gotten cold and filled with revenge? That you were becoming a master in manipulation and deception. While everyone was instructed to make Andy believe he ran this ship, while you kept it anchored.

Mind drained from the tough day you had, your shoulders relaxed when Andy had started rubbing them. Your hands clutched the counter at the sensual contact. You allowed him to come close for the first time in months.

“Talk to me, toots.” He whispered against your ear. You smiled at the pet name he rarely used. “Let me in that brilliant brain of yours.”

“Don’t, Andy.” You whispered back, a heaved sob escaping you as you tried to blink away the tears.

“Talk to me.” He repeated. “You’ve been pushing me out for so long.” Worry strung in his voice. His hands rubbed your arms softly. “You used to share everything with me.”

You took a deep breath and pulled the gardening gloves from your hands. You faced your husband, wiping the fallen tears from your cheeks.

“I don’t even know where to start.” You confessed, it wasn’t a full lie and you chose to go in a different direction. “I just miss her so damn much.”

“Oh toots, I do too. I don’t think it will be any easier any time soon.” He soothed, tugging you closer as his arms embraced your body. His lips kissed the top of your head, you both had lost a child, not just you. Both were seeking vengeance, but were not on the same page to who was leading this mission. “I love you.” He whispered against your hair as he rocked your bodies ever so slightly.  

Your eyes shot up looking into his blue orbs. “Fuck me, Andy!” It was more a wanted order than a plea. “Fuck me into oblivion,” you bit your lip, “own me -- ruin me.”

You had rejected him for months now, dodging every attempt. At some point you weren’t even on speaking terms, he wanted nothing more than to drown in your cunt. To have you beg him to fuck you senseless fed his touch starved cock instantly.

Mouths collided in a dirty kiss. Your hands trembled trying to loosen his navy coloured tie, tossing it down. In a quick haste you unbuttoned his light blue shirt, pulling it off revealing his muscled chest and tattooed skin.

He lifted your shirt and unclasped your bra, joining the blue tie on the floor. His calloused hands massaged the free fallen squishy flesh, feeling the curves of your body like he had never touched it before. Your hands rested on his pecks, your cheeks cradled in his large palms, his lips enveloped yours.

The hard kiss felt needy and desperate. He eased his grip and your hands found his belt, popping the button and unzipping his dark coloured slacks. He was just as eager and rushed the process by swiftly pulling down your shorts and panties. He pressed your ass against the counter, your hands gripped the edge when his finger slid through your already dripping folds.

Andy kicked aside the small pool of collected fabrics as you jumped on the counter. His tip parting the lips of your cunt; you had missed this. He guided himself inside your warmth and your legs wrapped around his waist. He grunted at the intimate feeling of being buried inside your pussy.

It had been months since he had touched you and been granted a good fuck session, no time had to be wasted. His width stretched you entirely, your walls lubricating his thick cock. His crown stroked your cushioned jewel, your peak rising too fast. Your legs started to tremble at the blessed sin Andy was pulling from your body.

“I love how you flutter around my cock.” He loved to speak filth in your ear when he was balls deep inside you “Your pussy feels amazing, toots.” He panted, moulding his lips over yours.

His hips pushed into you with force, his balls slapped against your dripping cunt. Your thoughts vanished by the overwhelmed feeling of how good Andy was making you feel. The building pleasure between your legs made you keen.

“Faster, Andy.” It was a shameless beg and he obliged by driving into you with a more persistent force. Nails scratched his shoulder blades from the satisfaction of being pounded on the counter. All business, worries and sorrows forgotten.

You sobbed through the abuse on your cunt, his spend painting your walls. Pure ecstasy washing over you, a momentary happy smile plastered on your flustered faces. His chin dropping to your shoulder, his beard brushed the exposed skin.

You both had missed the affection, the touches, the warmth and your unconditional - yet complicated - love. You pulled back and stared at him with hooded eyes, he rubbed your sides gently. His blissed state made you smile and reconnected the feelings you still have for him.

For a moment he’d made you forget about everything that had troubled your mind. For a moment you connected again on a level of intimacy. For a moment everything seemed normal again.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, the polite knock belonging to your assistant. You absentmindedly replied for her to enter, not breaking your gaze from reading the current papers, signing off on new drug deals and weapon shipments.

“Mrs. Barber.” You raised your hand, cutting her off, knowing exactly who she had brought in. It was a distinct smell, one you had known for years.

“Thank you.” You spoke gently, her que to leave the room. Her feet nervously hit the wooden floorboards.

The quickened patter of her feet suddenly stopped. “You sure cum on top of the list for top places to eat out.” He muttered followed by some other vulgar comments and you scraped your throat in annoyance.

“Pronge!” Your tone held a firm warning - acknowledging his presence - eyes still wandering over the papers in front you. Your assistant scrambled out of the room, closing your office door.

“That’s how you greet your uncle?” He barked your way making you look up.

With amusement you took in the annoyed stare your uncle held. His agitated posture gave away his current mood as his lips were pressed together and his hands tapped the side of his legs aggressively.

“What? You want a Soprano’s greeting?” You questioned tilting your head, pushing away from your desk and walked up to him. Your tough demeanour changed and you cleared your throat “Uncle Prongey, what do I owe the pleasure to?” You put on a fake Italian accent, grabbed his shoulders and pressed a kiss to each cheek. Your arms flying into the air with glee as you gave him a bright smile.

He gripped your jaw tightly. “Stop it, kid.”

“You wanted a fucking greeting, you got one.” You slapped his hands away. “Sit!” Waving at the chairs.

“No, you wanted one.” He corrected you.

He obeyed the order, his lean body slumped into the seat as he folded his fingers. You were used to his intimidating stare, but it never bothered you like it had bothered Andy. Uncle Pronge had been the only person in your family to succeed at frightening Andy.

“Don’t get me wrong, kid, but your man even puts me to shame” Pronge spoke, a glint of joy in his eyes. Your eyes widened at the statement, uncle Pronge didn’t just work for the family, he liked to have his options open when it came to his sketchy ice cream business. “He’s completely gone off the rails and killing people for the fun of it.”

“He’s mourning.” You tried to justify Andy’s actions, but there wasn’t an excuse for him to have gone rogue the way he did.

“He’s doing a little more than just mourning. Bullets inside humans – without thought or reason – will never be mourning. That is just cold blooded murder.”

“You’re one to talk.” You huffed. “Maybe he’s hoping to catch the one who killed Edie.”

“He could execute the entire state and still have missed. I don’t mess with that; I’m not touching it. You need to put some restraints on your husband.”

“Herbal blends are more your thing, yet just as murderous.” Your eyes rolled at his statement. “I can’t exactly lock him up in the basement and have him shackled to the wall.”

“If you have a sex dungeon you could, but no - you can persuade him to…” He stopped, “you know what, not my business.”

“You made it your business, when you, the other board members and associates forced me to take that fucking cursed thrown. I already told Nick; it’s a fucking crown I never wanted, but here we fucking are.” Pronge knew how to push your buttons. “I need your help with something.”

“How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much are you offering?”

“A dead body.” His eyes shot daggers your way. “One to be exact.” You mused.

“Don’t play with me, kid.” He angered finger pointed your way. He always had his ways of just flipping the switch.

“I am dead serious.” You giggled. “See what I did there, thought you could at least appreciate the bad joke.”

“You think this is a joke?”

“I actually do.”

“I asked you how much money you’re offering?”

“None.” The answer was short and simple. “Now, I need your ice cream truck.”

“No you don’t, that is my daytime job.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll have your money for that day. I need to borrow it.”

“No.” He refused.

‘Yes.”

“No, it’s my property.”

“Your property - that has been entirely funded by all the weapon deals and sold drugs from this delightful family business - which makes it shared property.” Your eyes glinted with mischief,  just to see how far you could push uncle Pronge.

“No.”

Now it had been your turn to point your finger with a warning. “Pronge, don’t test me.”

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” He quipped, his large posture hovering over yours, eyeing you up and down. You flinched when he suddenly grabbed your throat, forcing you to stand up as he blocked your airway. You clawed at his grasp, digging your nails in. It had scared you that he didn’t flinch once. “Listen up little shit – you might wear the crown – I don’t take orders from you and if I say NO, the answer is NO,” The image of your uncle slowly blurred out as you gulped for air. He released his hold and you dropped to the floor coughing and rubbing the irritation on your throat. “Got it, kid?”

A murmured choke. “Yes.” Nodding your head. This was exactly why Andy had never liked your uncle, his extreme unpredictability. You had provoked him, the mischief had gone a little too far.

“Now explain why you want my ice cream truck?” He pretended like nothing had happened and it was as if he wanted to teach you a lesson about the cold blooded world you were swimming in.

“Birthday party.” You replied sitting back in your chair. “The guy who knows more is hiring for ice cream vendors.”

“You should’ve said so.” He chided, making you feel like a small child. “When?”

“I told you I needed to borrow the damn truck. Jensen and Mace are on their way to pick it up now.”

“They’ll bring the kid to me?”

“No, this one walks -- it is the name I want.”

“Fine. Give me a call when the punk’s snatched and ready to be delivered to my table for an herbal treatment.” He got up.

“I want him alive before I want him dead.”

“Yeah – yeah, kid, I know. I don’t like it, but I know.” He sneered, all emotion had left his body. “I have to check up on my precious teacup.”

“Stay away from my assistant, Pronge.”

“What if I don’t? You’ll kill me?” You rolled your eyes at the repeated question.

“I might. Stay away from her.” You warned. He raised his hands in surrender and walked out with a snicker.

The gas station was old and almost gave you a feeling of being back in the 80’s. The bikers had owned this poorly maintained dump for years, it had been their territory, the owner had lost his urge to fight them a long time ago.

“Looks like someone needs to get their face washed.” Jensen laughed, Ransom tried to avoid Jensen’s swipe across his cheek, licking off the melted liquid from his fingers. “Vanilla, classic choice.” Jensen nodded in approval.

“Remind me to thank Freezy for borrowing the truck.” Mace laughed at the layer of ice cream that dripped off Ransom’s face. Jensen and Mace dragged him into the restroom as he tried to fight in their strong hold.

The smell of dried urine added to the atmosphere fitting to the under kept sanitaria. The walls were stained, loose strands of toilet paper littered the floor and water dripped from the half broken porcelain sink.

Ransom was thrown in front of Steve’s boots, the boot tapping his chin. Commanding him to look up at Steve.

“I have money.” Ransom offered; his vibe didn’t come off as remorseful.

“Not interested.” Steve shook his head, Ransom looked between you and Steve.

“Why are you looking at me?” You smirked, confused by the pleading look he’d given you. “I’m not planning on helping you. You’re lucky I’m not telling them to bury you six feet under – alive. Luckily for you - I want to direct my power and anger against the people that actually deserve it.”

Steve seemed satisfied with the unspoken permission to proceed with his actions. “How about we have a little chat, shall we?”

“Yeah of course – whatever you want.” Ransom pleaded, hissing at the pull on his hair, coming face to face with Steve's murderous look.

“WHO WAS IT?” Steve barked, kicking open a dirty stall with his boot as he dragged the body with him.

“I don’t know.” Ransom mumbled, his head being dumped in the water of the toilet. His hands frantically waved in the air, before being pulled back up. The water ran from the long streak of his hair down his face.

“We know that you know.”

“I don't.” Ransom mocked, trying to fight Steve’ grasp. Steve just laughed at the failed struggle as he pushed the head back into the bowl, flushing down, Ransom gurgled at his attempt to breathe.

Steve pulled the head back up, Ransom inhaled rapidly. “Want to try again? Who was it?”

“I-I,” Ransom started. Steve had enough, his eyes had darkened, brows furrowed and an annoyed growl coming from his tight lips. He dunked Ransom’s head back in the water, he held him longer than any of the earlier attempts before pulling him back up.

“How about now?” Steve yelled, raging against Ransom’s resistance.

“I could do this all day,” Ransom grinned, “I was the star of the swim team.”

“We’ll see about that.” Steve plunged his head in again, Ransom started to fight the hold on him. He was pulled back up and only half conscious. “Not such a smart mouth now huh? Should’ve made you eat shit - a special breakfast bowl for the birthday boy.”

Mace and Jensen snickered at Steve’s comment. Ransom’s body was tired from fighting the withheld air.

“Should’ve topped it with some vanilla ice cream.” Jensen snorted. You clamped a fist in front of your mouth trying to stop the laugh that was about to escape.

“Sundae swirl special for the birthday boy, coming right up, boss.” Mace tittered, about to drop his jeans, when Steve shot him a look.

“Last time, pretty boy.” Steve warned, the vein in his neck almost popping from the irritation. He was about to force Ransom’s head down again, when he sputtered out the words through choked gasps.

“La-Lan- Langley, Bryce fucking Langley,” He struggled to breath, “Br-B-Bryce.”

“Langley?” Your eyes go wide at the name. The Langley’s were a filthy rich family with too many skeletons up their closet. Everyone knew it and yet they got away with everything that was against the law. Steve dropped Ransom from his hold, his fatigued body slumped against the toilet. “Thanks boys, I want to be updated daily about what that asshole Langley is up to. I have to go.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of the biggest playboy in the state. What had Edie been thinking? What had happened? How had she ended up with the rich creep?

You practically ran out of the restroom into your car, your knuckles turned white from the grip on the steering wheel. It felt like all air had been punched out of your lungs and your gaze had gone black for a second with the rage inside your body.

A loud scream escaped you as you hit the steering wheel frantically. The overwhelming pain from the past few months was suffocating you. Tears streamed down your cheeks freely. You took a sharp inhale and wiped away the tears before driving off.

Andy had watched you leave the gas station; he’d watched your meltdown. He’d been thankful for the intel that Ari had given him. He hadn’t been sure of how to bring it up, but he wasn’t happy about you running around town. Not with all these dangerous creatures that lurked the streets.

He’d lost enough already; he couldn’t afford to lose you. He watched the bikers come out of the toilet. Steve and Mace tossed a broad shouldered male into the boot of an old vehicle and drove off. Jensen came out, adjusting his jeans and lighted a cigarette.

Andy knew this would be his only shot at getting more information. He needed confirmation and Jensen was going to give it to him. His black Audi made its way into the parking lot. Jensen’s eyes narrowed as the vehicle approached him.

Andy climbed out and gave Jensen a nod. “What’s going on, Jensen?”

“Nothing much.”

“Saw Rogers and Mace carry a body out.”

“Oh that asshole, well he’s still alive – unfortunately.”

“What’s my wife’s business with him?”

“Your wife?” Jensen tried his best to keep a straight face, but Andy could see the lie.

“You know, the gorgeous feline in the skin tight black dress, her signature black suede heels. Gorgeous hair and pretty sparkling gems in those eye sockets? Remember her?”

“Was just us, Barber.” Jensen took another drag of his cigarette.

“You can’t fool me, Jensen.”

“Not fooling you, Barber-” His cigarette fell on the broken concrete below when Andy grabbed his collar, staring down at him.

“What was her business with that little cunt? What’s her business with you?” Andy raged, losing his calmness.

“Nothing, just a lead on who might have killed your daughter.” Jensen spoke, fighting Andy’s clasp. The hand let go of the fisted material, Andy turned on his heels and walked back to his car.

“Nice talking to you Jensen.”

He knew he shouldn’t be angry, but Ari’s declaration had been confirmed by Jensen’s forthcoming. He knew the board wouldn’t let you be in charge if you would not provide them with a new legacy to follow in your footsteps.

Two weeks had passed when Steve barged into your office unannounced. Your assistant ran after him yelling he wasn’t on the list and you were too busy. She came to a halt when he threw a threat, or two, her way. The poor girl was too good for the job, but letting her go wasn’t an option unless it was in a body bag.

Your feet were crossed on the mahogany wood, having stopped scrolling on your phone when a file was dropped on your desk. You gave Steve an unimpressed look, dropping your feet from the desk and sat up straight.

“You are apologizing to my assistant on your way out, Steve.”

“No I’m not. I don’t apologize to anyone.”

“Yes you are, you don’t talk to my employees the way you did. To hell threaten them for doing their job.” He huffed at your snarl, rolling his eyes in the process. You opened one of the desk drawers, grabbing a hold on a knife. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.” The knife crashed into the wood.

“Fine!”

“Glad to see my methods still work.” You grinned as you  pulled the knife out, placing it back in its original place.

“We’ll apologize on our way out.” Steve groaned.

“Send her some sunflowers too, she’ll forgive you instantly.” You mused nodding your head in approval.

“Brought you a gift.” Steve ignored your comment and gestured to the brown folder on your desk.

You slid the folder closer, giving Steve a smile. “Good puppies.”

Steve, Jensen and Mace stood in front of your desk, arms crossed as you scanned through the gathered information quickly.

“He visits Juicy Bushes every Thursday, always requests a new girl to entertain him privately.” Mace spoke

“Juicy Bushes? The strip club downtown? Willy’s joint?” You questioned

“Exactly.” Steve nodded

“That’d be the way in.” Your nails tapped the leather surface of your desk.

“How good is your dancing, Queen?” Jensen smirked at his intended pun. You cocked an eyebrow at his question. “We’ve got you a way in.”

“You’re not suggesting-”

“It’s exactly what we are suggesting, sugarplum.” Steve winked, your skin crawled at the thought of having to wear a skimpy outfit and strip for Bryce. The thought alone made you sick to your stomach.

You shook your head. “No!”

To spice up your sex life you had taken up pole dancing classes. But that was for your own pleasure. Not planning on using it as a side hustle at Juicy Bushes, of all places.

“It's the only way.” Mace confirmed your thought.

“I can see you worry, sugarplum, but it is all we have for now. Plus, Willy works for us and is willing to put you in the room with him.” Steve explained. “If it makes you feel safer we’ll be there -- outside.”

“Enjoying yourselves and getting worked up over some plump pussy’s twirling on a pole?”

“Not disapproving of it.” Jensen laughed, licking his lips at the thought, but immediately stopped when you shot him a glare.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, but before you could reply all heads jerked up at the force of your office being opened. Doors almost flying off their hinges. Andy’s look was murderous and barged down with long strides, pointing at you.

“HOW LONG?” He was angry -- very angry -- incalculably angry. It had been years when you had seen this side of him. This was exciting Andy, the Andy who would fight you on anything, but scared you at the same time.

You raised an eyebrow at his question. “What are you talking about, honey?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CALLING THE FUCKING SHOTS?” Then it dawned on you, Andy found out.

Had it been one of the biker boys? It couldn’t be, they had been here for the last hour. None of your family members or associates would betray you like this, knowing it could get their head pumped full of lead or strung from a building.

Intuition told you otherwise, but who could it have been? You had pissed Ari off when you had told him about the demotion. Andy had talked to him a few weeks prior. Or had it been Pronge getting his revenge on you for being a smart mouth?

You shifted in your seat and straightened out your posture. It was only a matter of time when Andy would find out and now Langley had to take the backseat while you dealt with your husband first. You had messed with the bull and now you had to deal with its horns.

“Answer me dammit.” He barked, stroking down on his beard furiously. His normally gentle features had completely disappeared.

Barely above a whisper you squeaked out “What do you want to know?” Mentally preparing for the intense conversation that was bound to happen.

“How? When?” Andy raged, the veins on his neck about to burst under the pressure of his anger, the crease between his brows intensified. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie, I withheld the truth,” your confidence was boosting as the adrenaline coursed through your blood, “big difference, my dear.”

“You lied to me, you made me believe I had taken over when it was you all along -- you were pulling ALL. THE. FUCKING. STRINGS.” He seethed, his tone peaked as he dragged his last words.

His knuckles turned white under the clenched pressure. He paced back and forth, you knew there wasn’t a way to calm him down. The truth would worsen the current situation, you flinched when Andy took large steps towards you.

His hands fisted the material of your blazer. He pulled you out of the leather chair, up to his level, your feet dangled off the ground. Only the tips of your black suede heels touching the floor.

His eyes filled with fury, pupils fully dilated with darkness. You searched his face trying to figure out if it was rage or pure lust.

Steve, Mace and Jensen were about to intervene, but you raised your hand to stop them. Your head turned to the side, breaking the unabated gaze from Andy, when you simply told them to leave you two alone.

“Are you really sure, boss?” Jensen hesitated eyeing Andy’s hold on your blazer.

“Positive – we’re done here anyway.” You gave him a reassuring smile before the three men made their way out of the door.

“What do you want, Andy? A fucking trophy wife? Guess what, I am not one of those. The board forced me to step in and take over, because of your murderous trip around town.” You hissed, trying to get out of his tight grip, your legs failed at trying to find grounding.

“You evil crab.” He surprised you by lowering you back on the ground kissing you roughly. Whatever was on his lips, you happily drank from it.

“There he is.” You mused as his eyes had softened a little. “You love it when I take control, honey.” A petty pat to his chest made him grunt.

Andy looked down at the hand that firmly pressed against his chest. “Don’t belittle me.” He grabbed the back of your neck tightly while the other still held your upper arm. He pulled your head close, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. “I bet this pussy is weeping for me right now, dying for me to split it open with my cock. On your knees now!”

No answer, you dare not to, not in this state. The irritated tone made it hard to read his expressions. He wasn’t wrong, you loved it when he was riled up, but hated it when he became unpredictable.

Your hands quickly undid his jeans, pulling his cock free. He was already too hard for his own good. Your tongue collected the leaked pre-cum, circling his tip. Tongue gliding down his throbbing vein. Your mouth sucked on his balls making him shudder.

His hands fisted your hair and you groaned at the temporary pain. He deserved this treatment from you, letting him have the earned treat, even when he had been the one demanding it.

A salivated lick from his stem upward had your lips curling at his given grunt. You opened your mouth wide as you reached his tip, taking him in, your hand wrapped around his cock with what your mouth couldn’t reach.

The force of his guided hands made you quick to accumulate to the tamped rhythm. One hand pumped him, the other massaging the base of his cock. The saliva dripped down your chin from the vigorous pace.

His hands fell from your head as he unlooped his belt wrapping it around your neck. The makeshift collar guided you on his cock, with every pull you felt the leather tighten around your neck.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth.” The darkened orbs held yours and you spied a hint of awe. He had allowed you your fun and now it was his time to collect his own.

The ends of his belt was clutched between his hands and the thin strip was settled on the base of your neck. He yanked the leather towards him, forcing you down on him roughly, no time getting used to him.

His muscled arms held the belt firmly keeping you strained around his cock. Your jaw already ached from the pain, but you wouldn’t dare to tap out. You gagged around him as he hadn’t allowed you to move an inch.

Relief washed over you when he eased off the belt, but kept the moving perimeter to a minimum. It allowed you to take a quick breather and compose yourself before he grinded back in. Knowing your voice would be hoarse for days with the way his hips bucked into your mouth.

His angered groans made his ruts more ruthless. His abdomen tightened and you knew he was close to his edge. You whined when he lifted you off. You took in a few deep breaths gathering yourself.

He gripped your jaw tightly. “Bad girls don’t get treats in their filthy mouths.”

Your breathing hitched for a second when he palmed your covered cunt, giving it a single squeeze. Your hands gripped his shirt, creasing the textile in your balled fists.

“Your body betrays you every single time.” As he had felt the damp spot through the fabric.

“I like it when you are all riled up for me.” You heaved out your confession.

“I’ve got some anger that needs release and a little brat to fuck.” He bit your earlobe, followed by a kiss to your jaw. The bristles of his beard igniting more lust fulfilled desire.

“I think the little brat can help with that.” You whispered against his cheek. As your hands searched for his cock. He grabbed your wrists harshly.

“You listen to me right now.” He roared, his eyes held thunder.

“If you say so.” You bit back with excitement. You knew Andy would take you apart with his large cock and make you see stars. Leave you ruined for the day, only being able to think about his cock.

Your formal trousers pooled at the bottom of your ankles, his eyes lingered over the lace panties. You held your breath for a second when he pressed your chest flat against your desk like a ragdoll. “Stay down and don’t you dare make a sound.”

His hands collided with the curve of your ass. You hissed at the force he used, pulling you up by your hair. He fanned his mouth over your ear. “I told you no sound, not a single peep. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He struck your ass again and your hands gripped the edges of your desk. “I’m going to fuck a baby back into you and you have no choice but to step down again. I will not have my pregnant wife working in this risqué business”

“No, Andy.” You begged, as much as you loved him, another baby hadn’t been an option. Your knuckles drained from blood turning white from another round of slaps.

“You don’t get a choice here.” He had simply lost his mind in his current rage. The fragile lace ripped under his strong force. “Nice and wet already, pebble. I’d say you are more than ready to get ruined by my cock.”

The tight grip on your hips would leave bruising, you yelped when his cock slammed in your pussy. Your cheek burned against the leathered surface from the rough impact. You bit your lip at the pleasurable feeling inside, trying to muffle your moans.

“You want me to fuck another baby in you?” He knew exactly what he was doing to you. “Taking my big cock so well, want my seed huh?” He praised and taunted you at the same time, he was in charge and it was him that had full control of your aching body. “I’ll make sure that your belly swells.”

He made you whine when he pulled out. He spun you around, ripping the clothing of your upper body. Your heels dropped from your feet and your trousers were removed from your ankles. He pushed you back against the edge of your desk. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands held on to his broad shoulders.

His fingers dug into your waist as he slid his fully erected cock back into your soaked cunt. Andy’s rapid and frantic movements inside your pussy tightened the building pleasure in your belly.

Your pulsating walls sucked up his throbbing cock, milking him straight. Breathing became strained with every thrust. Mouths agape, lips lingered over one another as your hushed breaths grazed your faces.

The coil in your stomach was holding on by a thread, ready to snap at any given second. Andy hadn’t given you the okay yet and you tried your best to keep from cumming.

His raging appearance was untraceable and you knew there would be a punishment if you’d cum without his permission. In his current state it could be anything, his mind shifted with a snap of his fingers.

“Your walls are clenching down on me so hard,” he grunted, “you want to come, pebble?” His tone taunted at your mere desperation for release. “I’m not gonna let you cum,” His teeth scraped the flesh of your neck. “I want you to make a big mess for me, but I am not allowing you to cum.”

He knew your body like the back of his own hand, he knew your sweet spots and all your weaknesses. He was doing everything in his power to make that coil snap without his permission.

There was no doubt that he was out for a good punishing session. It frightened and thrilled you at the same time. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to contain the moaning mess you were becoming from Andy’s actions.

This had been punishment enough; it was exhausting. Having to drag out the inevitable building orgasm further and further. The friction inside you became unbearable and you surrendered to the euphoria. Andy kept his vigorous pace as he took in your fucked out condition.

He looked unamused with your lack of effort and he kept assaulting your core. With minimal force he pulled out another orgasm. He became relentless when you begged him to stop, but he kept on fucking your cunt roughly. Your swollen pussy was overstimulated and your climax became a little painful.

You whimpered at the wide stretch that Andy split you open with. His tip kissed your cervix, not adding any pleasure anymore. You clawed at him and begged him to stop, he just smiled at you wickedly.

“Pretty girls like you should learn not to lie to men like me.” He breathed. You were done for and he wouldn’t stop fucking you until you couldn’t think, talk or walk anymore.

“Andy.” You sobbed.

“I am going to split you open so good.” It had been his earlier promise, one that he was willing to keep. “Keep this weeping pussy full of my seed,” Your mewls continued to spur him on, “make you a mother again.” Your head fell back, eyes closed at the sensation. “LOOK.AT.ME.WHEN.I.FUCK.A.BABY.IN.YOUR.NEEDY.CUNT” He growled, words spoken with every aggressive thrust inward.

Your hooded eyes kept his, only the outline of his eyes contained his blue colour. You hoped he would ease his plunges, you searched for his lips, pressing them onto his. His beard tickled your skin and he willingly parted his mouth when you had licked his lips.

Your tongue swiped the roof of his mouth as he licked the base of yours. Circling around one another for a moment when you felt Andy’s hips stutter. His grip tightened on your waist, he was close, you were close. It didn’t take much before you mewled into the searing kiss. Andy followed behind closely, his white ropes decorating your walls.

You cradled his face, breaking the kiss, looking into his eyes. His bright blue orbs beamed back at you as he leaned back in for a kiss. You let him take whatever he needed from you. You always had! You always would!

He bottomed out, a few hisses followed at the loss. Your pussy overworked, Andy smiling darkly, you gasped when you felt his knuckles pressing on your swollen and overstimulated core and his fingers pushing in. Your body shuddered underneath his touch while he helped you wear off the overstimulated feeling.

Little cries escaped your lips as another orgasm was about to wash over you. He pressed down harder and faster, allowing to work with two fingers from within you. Your body shook wildly as he pulled out the last orgasm left in you. The small fountain from your overworked pussy sprayed down on Andy, screaming his name loudly as he left you a heaving mess.

He pulled his jeans back up, making himself look presentable again. There was a glimmer of darkness still in his eyes. His desire to get you pregnant had scared you, you were not ready for another baby. Not with everything that had been going on.

“You can be liked and respected, but which one would you choose?” You raised an eyebrow at his odd question.

“I’d choose to be respected?” You questioned back, still confused by why he had asked you this, but decided to drop it. “Andy, we need to talk about what just happened!”

“I think I made my point very clear, haven't I, so what’s left to discuss?” A grimace spread on his face. He swiped two fingers through your folds, collecting your joint arousal and forced you to suck it off. “Such a mess, pebble. You need to clean that up. I want you home at five sharp, because I have a pussy and ass to eat.”

You shook your head, there was no way you were going to make it in time. Not with the few errands and meetings you still had to do.

“No excuses, home by five or you’ll regret the punishment even more. It is only fair to oblige to the board’s orders and provide them with another family heir.”

Your eyes widened at the words coming from Andy, this wasn’t just his doing. This had been an order; one you weren’t going to be able to get out of. Being overruled by the majority of men, pleas wouldn’t be heard and rules were set to protect.  

You knew Andy hadn’t been happy with the decision, but he had made peace with knowing that it would be the only way. Glancing at the clock, your leg bounced nervously over the other. Almost time. You were prepared to play this game and decided to approach it as a game of chess. Start small and calculated, end with a bang.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins. One of Willy’s girls had lent you one of her skimpy outfits. It barely covered anything, feeling extremely exposed. You looked like a shimmery fairy with the amount of body glitter stuck to your skin.

You needed to get out of your own head, before the nerves would get to you. The platform heels dragged along the small hallway towards the booth that held the vile creep. Within minutes you would be eye to eye with him. As you grip the handle you took in a deep breath.

“Mr. Langley?” You asked entering the booth

“Bryce”

You nodded at his correction before repeating. “Bryce.”

“Don’t be shy, cupcake. I won’t bite.” His voice mused, his eyes glistened, taking in your body. You felt uncomfortable in the flimsy outfit provided.

The golden triangle top and matching thong sparkled under the dimmed red light, the straps of the mega platforms digging uncomfortably in your skin. You walked up to Bryce, straddling him.

“Tell me stud, what can I do for you tonight?” You stared him down, his hands ran up your body, undoing your top.

“Let me drown in your cunt!” The straightforward answer threw you off.

“Oh I don’t know, Bryce.” You tried to look as innocent as possible. It was hard trying to keep the acidic burn down. Wanting nothing more than to empty your gut over his self-absorbed face. You had to push out all the intrusive thoughts, this has been your only option.

“Oh come on, cupcake.” He grinded his hips, letting you feel his hard length. “At least dance for me. Take off the thong and let me see that pussy.”

“I’ll do you one better.” You got up and swayed your hips to the beat, your fingers hooked the waistband, sensually pushing the golden glittery thong down your legs. Bending your knees, you grind your ass into Bryce’s erected lap. You leaned back and grabbed his hand, pressing his digits between your folds. He grunted and you knew he was hooked.

His hands grabbed your hips, pushing you into him more. For a moment you lose yourself in his touch as it resembled Andy’s so much. Your hips circled on his lap, your bare ass grazed by the fabric of his pants.

Your eyes looked at the pole in front of you, you pushed yourself off on his knees. Grabbing the pole in front of you with one hand. Walking around it, giving Bryce a lustful stare. You body rolled into the metal before pushing yourself off the ground letting gravity take you. Your well-kept bush was on full display as you spun around. You opened your legs letting him take a good look at your pussy.

He licked his lips as you repositioned around the silver object in your hands. Clamping the pole between your legs, twirling around it upside down letting your hands roam from your belly to your breasts. As the music took you to a new level of seduction.

His eyes darkened with desire for you. You could see he was infatuated and intrigued by your sensual dance. It was a small price to pay for the set revenge plot. The music finished and you dropped to your knees, rolling your hips over the floor as if you were riding on top of the dark mystery in front of you.

“I know Willy will send The Saints after me if I fuck another one of his girls in here. Let’s get some food and drinks before we finish this back at my place?” He grinned, your heart beated faster at the proposal.

“I’ll meet you outside.” You gave him a wink as you walked out of the small private booth. Heading backstage, trembling at the feelings that had sparked within you. The thrill of being this close to the killing menace was almost too much.

You took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, your hands undoing the tight strings of the heels. Your calves burned at the relief from the painful dig that the strings had caused.

“You did good, toots.” Your head snapped up and looked at Andy. You hadn’t expected him to be there, but it felt nice to know he had made peace with your decision.

“Didn’t take you as a voyeur, Mr. Barber.”

“I’ll happily make an exception when it’s my wife.” He gave you a small smile kissing you. “I love you no matter what happens tonight.”

“He’ll be hanging off the ceiling by the end of it.” You assured him. “I have to get dressed though, the thug is waiting for me outside.”

“I’ll be following you every step. Steve wanted me to give you this.” He pulled out a small ear bug. “We can hear everything and we will barge in when it is time or when you yell ‘Langley’. We’ll be close by, pebble. Jensen has got his place rigged already, the rich kid has a thing for hackable technology.”

His words made you feel safe and encouraged you to go along with the night even when it terrified you deeply down. You tried to find anything on his features to stop you from going through with this. After the whole ordeal in that private booth, turning back was out of the question.

You gave Andy a soft smile followed by a quickened kiss and parting your ways. You tried to wipe off the body glitter groaning as it didn’t want to come off. The words from one of Willy’s girls popped into your head. "Glitter is the herpes of craft products: it gets everywhere and never really goes away." The only way was to leave a trail of fairy dust.

You got dressed quickly and you took another good look in the mirror. The ear bug was carefully placed inside your ear. You repeated the reminder that you could do this and that this would all be over soon.

You took a deep breath before heading outside, finding Bryce leaning against the wall and a cigarette clung between his lips. As soon as he saw you he pushed off the wall, tossing the cigarette on the floor and crushed it with his black velvet loafer.

“Well if you want to skip dinner and drinks, my car is right over there.” Your eyes followed his finger pointing at the old-timer, an Excalibur Phaeton, only a few feet away.

“Who am I to deny such a straightforward offering.” You teased back, your stomach twisted at the nauseated feeling of the wealthy prick in front of you.

He oozed arrogance and he definitely looked like the type who would take what he wanted and not care about the damage caused along the way. Reminding yourself of what game had to be played.

He deserved everything that was about to come his way, so why shouldn’t you indulge in his little game and play his ways. You had accepted the hand he was offering and pulled you close, placing the other firmly on your ass giving it a full squeeze.

He was the one who had caused your family harm’s way.

He was the one who had ripped every emotion out of you.

He was the one who took your daughter.

He had taken everything from you that was worth protecting.

He had made you the venomous vengeance seeker you were now.

By his attitude you could sense he was a rough man. Even when his touch had been the opposite inside when you grinded down on him. He liked his power and he was confident to get what he wanted. Wealth surely did crazy things to a human.

But Bryce-, Bryce was a different kind of breed. How easily he offered you his bed and how easily he had wanted to skip the foreplay. This man had mastered his sleazy ways to perfection. He could even give uncle Pronge a run for his money.

“How about you open that shirt a little for a sneak peek at those perky tits that I am going to fuck,” you gave him an innocent look, he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, “I am going to make you feel so nice darling. You will never forget the titty fuck I will give you. You'll be so pretty with my cum dripping from your chin.”

He promised you filth and you couldn’t help but wonder how your daughter must have felt. Did he whisper profanities into the ear the way he was doing to you or had he already drugged her? Taking something from her unconscious body, taking something he was never supposed to take. The train of thought clouded your mind.

“You’re quiet, cupcake, am I turning you on?” His ego boosted, wanting you to confirm his question. You squirmed a little in his hold.

“Yes.” You choked out the lie, knowing he was fully hooked.

“How about I make you feel good on my backseat? Have your juices flow all over the soft Italian leather.” He hummed. “I would be smelling your sweet cunt every time I’d drive this beauty.” He squeezed your hip holding it in his tight grip.

“No - no, I want to be able to feel you good when you split me open.” The sultry look is enough for him to grunt. “Delayed gratification, darling.”

His impatience was visible when he replied to your comment. “Not one for waiting, cupcake.”

You hadn’t paid any attention how many steps you’d taken, fully consumed by your thoughts. Calculating the moves you were making in this game of chess.

Air left your body as you were slammed roughly against the outside of his car.  Bryce attached his lips onto your neck nibbling and sucking at the flesh. He started feeling you up, tracing the outline of your shaped curves, cupping your core, your hips bucking into his touch.

“I’m so hungry for you, cupcake.” Bryce purred. He unlocked his car, he pulled the seat forward allowing you to crawl into the backseat.

He crawled in casing your body, he licked his lips before hiking up your tight skirt. He eyes your body up and down, rubbing your clothed pussy.

Your body betrayed you with the excitement Bryce was causing. He smirked, ripping your panties, your glistening folds greeting him. The thrill felt like cheating on Andy, but there was no way out. Not yet, having the biker crew and Andy waiting at his house.

You knew they would hear everything and your chest started to ache. Having to remind yourself why you were doing this.

He guided your legs over your shoulders as he pulled you up by your hips leaning forward. He lapped your cunt, his thumb finding its way to your swollen clit. You felt him smile against your pussy as you keened at his touch.

His fingers slipped in, curling against the spongy part of your cunt. Your legs locked around his head as he played with your sopping pussy. He sucked on your clit as his fingers curled and pumped you.

All game had been thrown out the window, you couldn’t think straight at the sensation burning inside of you. His finger retracted making you whimper in need of more.

He teased your entrance with his tongue only dipping it in lightly. Within seconds his fingers forcefully rubbed your swollen pearl while his tongue feasted on your dripping cunt.

You became a moaning mess in his hold. Bryce pleasured you well, but Andy was better. Andy was the master of your body, playing it like a fiddle. Suppressing the sadness within as you surrendered to another man’s touch.

“Such a good girl.” He grinned, it is evil and dark, the scared feelings started haunting you the longer you were in his presence.

Bryce was a dark mystery and you were trapped in his disastrous scheme. He was the hunter and you were his prey. Shattered by your own ego, left with broken intellect. If only you had listened to Andy and not went through with this absurd plan.

“Don’t lie.” He barked as he tied your wrists to the attached bar of his bed. The hard wooden railing felt uncomfortable on your hips as he bent you over.

“I’m not lying.” You sobbed as he assaulted your ass with firm slaps.

“You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you?” Bryce spoke, holding your body firmly over the bar on his bed. He was spanking the living sin out of you as a punishment. “You look just like her” He whispered in your ear and it made your gut turn. “I’ve been patient enough, cupcake.”

“Shut up.” Tears streamed down your cheeks, anger taking over and you tried to kick him.

“I like feisty women,” Bryce laughed at your failed attempt to kick him. You wiggled your wrists against the tight knots causing burning from the friction, “I like them feisty a lot. Fighting for their lives while I fuck them into oblivion. Clawing at me like the cute little kitties they are, begging for me to stop.” He confessed as he inflicted another raw hit on your ass.

“SHUT UP! LANGLEY!!!” You screamed, he tutted and you had earned another blow to your bare cheeks.

“Your daughter -- she was my favourite, but unfortunately for her own pleasure not awake.” He continued. “I am going to take my time with you, because you might be exactly what I want,” he smirked as he pulled you up by your hair. Mascara had melted from the salty liquid streaming down your cheeks “feisty, fiery and the right amount of struggle when I split you open with my cock.”

He searched around on a shelf by his TV and a red button started to flicker. You cried at the fear that was about to come. Where was Andy? Why was nobody barging down the door? “A souvenir - you want a copy afterwards, cupcake? You know what, I’ll send you a copy. So you can watch it with your husband – you can thank me later.” A wicked smile plastered on his face.

You watched him play around on his phone, the black screen lightened up. He grabbed your hair and held your jaw, forcing your eyes on the screen. You blinked through the tears, your heart dropped as you heard your daughter's voice.

The wild animal inside you started to fight in Bryce’s grasp. Incoherent sentences left your mouth as you’re kicked and screamed for him to stop playing the video.

“Now be nice, cupcake, you want to watch what happens, because I am in the mood for a re-enactment. Don’t get a lot of opportunities to repeat my precious fucks with their mothers.” Bryce ripped your shirt open letting the torn fabric dangle around your tied wrists.

Your eyes were glued to the screen, the scared blue eyes of your daughter. Her fearful whimpers while he assaulted her. Her body was stiff in his grasp and as she pleaded for him to stop.

The sick bastard was now planning on re-enacting the entire show. You closed your eyes and tried to shift your presence and not be present in the room. Your legs clenched together, you fought with every muscle in you. Bryce’s strength won as he unlocked your legs with force. He could snap your legs easily with his roughness.

You were fully exposed to him and you knew you had bargained for too much. The bar of his bed digging into your hips, already leaving bruised marks. The pain was almost unbearable, but you tried to shut your senses off.

His hand ran over your back, the other inspected your folds. He hummed in contentment and you heard a pop coming from his mouth. You gagged at the knowing what he had done. He towered over you, swiping the hair from your face.

“I am going to make you feel so nice, cupcake.” He whispered

You screeched like a territorial cat, trying to hold in the feared whimpers of his actions to come. The panic took over and you felt like there was no way out of the situation. Then suddenly nothing happened, his body dropped heavy on yours.

Your brain hit survival mode and your eyes scanned the room frantically. Andy’s soft eyes greeted you first and relief washed over you yet the panic stayed. Where had he been? Why didn’t he come earlier?

“Get him off—” you tried to push the limb body off you with your shoulder, “—get him off.” You freaked, Jensen and Steve pulled the bare body off you and dropped him to the floor.

Andy took in your panicked state, he had never wanted you in this business. Your father had been his guide into this world, but he never wanted you to take over. He quickly untied your wrists and you crawled away from him, trying to cover yourself with what was left of your torn shirt.

He held your eyes as you rocked your knees. The fearful look of having your life flashed by. Your eyes held his softness and flinched as Andy’s hand reached out for you.

Tears pricked your eyes. “No.” You sobbed.

“Okay.” Andy nodded as he took off his cardigan, sitting in front of you. Letting you go at your own pace.

“Sugarplum, what do you want us to do with the body?” Steve looked at you.

You clamped your body even tighter as you tried to shield yourself from him. Andy had noticed your hesitation and he held out his cardigan when you pulled your legs further into your chest.

You were aware of what this looked like to Jensen and Steve. Fragile, mentally unstable, weak female, no stomach for the job. No words coming to mind as Steve kept looking at you in need of an answer. Full blown anxiety coursed through your body.

Andy sighed. “Just get him out of here. Call Freezy, tell him you are on your way to the warehouse. He’ll know what to do.”

Steve nodded and started helping Jensen to wrap up the body. They almost had reached the door, when you looked up. “I want—” you croaked, both men looked at you, “—I want him alive.” They gave you a single nod before proceeding to carry out the body.

Thirty minutes had passed since Jensen and Steve had dragged out the unconscious body. Andy had been patiently waiting for you to say something. All he wanted was to get you out of this place and bring you back to the safety of your own home.

“Talk to me, toots.” He cooed.

So much had to be done, a cleaning crew would have to come wipe down this hell hole. All your DNA had to be wiped along with the glittered fairy dust that came from your body. The video of your daughter’s assault had to be found by the police. You wanted to burn the tape, but you knew you couldn’t.

The Langley’s had to suffer from this. No apology or large sum of money would ever compare to the horror their monster had put you and your family through. He was meticulous, rich, charming and arrogant. He’d gotten away with it, but he had to deal with the consequences now.

You flipped the switch on your brain and shut off your emotions once again. You were not a fragile bird, you were feared and your family was feared. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

You were going to make sure the entire nation knew that you should be feared. Able to walk away with the murder of your daughters’ abuser, no one should ever try to come for you or your family again.

“I need a shower.” You shivered, Andy looked up at you in surprise. His eyes exuded comfort and safety. “I’m sorry Andy-”

Andy shook his head, interrupting your apology. “Don’t be.” He shushed you scooting a little closer, he held out his hand, you willingly accepted his small gesture. “You did what you had to do, you didn’t know.” He brought your hand to his lips pressing his soft plump lips to your knuckles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered as your body trembled from the events of the night.

A moment of silence shared, you knew what had happened and you knew Andy’s heart had shattered the moment you decided on your plan. Like any other case it would be swept under the rug, pretending like it had never occurred. Never to be spoken of again.

You had mastered this trick and it kept your marriage going, but it felt like the stone built wall was crashing down on you. A heavy weight that needed lifting. How long would Andy be able to keep up with you and for how long were you willing to hold onto your broken lives?

The salty tears had washed down the drain. Letting out a few quiet sobs as the incident replayed in your head. It was Andy that had gotten you through the night. You turned off the water and wrapped your hair in a towel. Your eyes scanned for the soft fabric when you saw Andy’s naked frame leaning against the sink.

“C’mere, toots.” Holding up the towel you were looking for.

You stepped closer and he started rubbing your face gently. On to your shoulders, down to your breasts and stomach. You turned around and melted into his touch when he rubbed your back with the soft material. His brushes were ever so gently making you crave him more with every single stroke.

Your eyes were focussed on the prominent tattoo on his arm, the wide branched tree, with firmly established roots mirroring the tall standing tree. The red line ran through it like an anchored vessel. It was his token to the family he had vowed to protect and serve. It had been a vow to you.

“You want to talk about it?” Andy whispered against your ear, undoing the towel turban on your head. The wet hair fell down on your shoulders, he brushed them to one side and pressed a kiss on the exposed skin, circling you around. “I’m here for you.” He assured you.

You nodded your head as you whispered. “I know.” Your fingers traced the tattoo on his arm overthinking the words you wanted to say. No words could form the apology of what had happened on that backseat. Your feelings of betrayal and dishonesty, it gnawed at you, wanting to throw up. “I just don’t know where to start and I’m so sorry-” Andy cut you off.

“Sshhh.” He soothed, one hand rested on your hips while the other lifted your chin to meet his blue eyes giving you an apologetic look. “It’s okay, I’m not mad and it is okay, I forgive you. It’s alright, you’re safe. Safe with me, that is all that matters.” His tone was calm and you could sense that there was no judgement in what had happened.

His words were making it hard to keep your glossed eyes from spilling. He cupped your face, your tiny hands folded over his hands, he gave you a soft smile and kept strong eye contact.

You drowned in his gaze making your head spin. Thoughts bounced from one end to another, knowing you still had to finish what you had started.

“We have to finish this, Andy.” Barely audible and Andy narrowed his eyes, his glance unreadable to you.

“I know, pebble, but not tonight.” He spoke against your lips before taking you in a flaming kiss.

You broke the kiss and looked at Andy. “Make love to me, Andy. Make me feel safe.” It was a plea, a willing touch of wanting to feel safe, but also wanting to belong to your husband. A need for relief and to feel protected.

The plush lips snuggled between his beard being wetted by his tongue when he kissed you hard. The fire within you sparked and latched on to him like your life depended on it. His strong embrace guided you to your shared bed, falling back.

You straddled him and kissed him as if tomorrow wouldn’t come. His arms held you flush against his sculpted chest, switching your positions. This kind of passion hadn’t been felt for a long time, but it felt so good to indulge in it. He peppered kisses on your jaw, nipping on your skin until he had you moaning and bucking your hips into him.

His thumb rubbed up and down your folds opening them for him, your pearl more visible with each stroke. “I’m intending to make a meal out of this.”

Within seconds he was between your thighs, his tongue lapping you, you keened as his nose nudged your bud. You loved his tongue and the expert swirls he applied.

He was worshipping your pussy, allowing you to surrender and cum on his face. Your juices dripped out, making a mess on his beard. The starved man between your scraped thighs drank from your generous giving honeypot, guiding you through the impassioned orgasm.

He gave you a moment to steady your breathing and laid beside you. Tender fingers brushed your side, leaning in for a fiery kiss. Another pool of lust pulsed between your legs. Your hand moving between your bodies, finding Andy’s throbbing cock. The petite curls tickled your fingertips when you stroked his balls following the prominent vein up his length.

“You’re so pretty.” He purred, he needed your snuggled warmth, he needed to be inside you. “Lay down on your stomach, toots.” He grabbed your wrist and ushered you to roll over.

The soft cotton sheets pressed against your stomach, resting on your arms. Andy straddled you from behind and guided himself into your cunt. Moans filled the serene air as he searched for your hands intertwining them, giving them a squeeze.

This wasn’t the brutal fucking you’d normally do, this was pure passion driven. Amplified by the sickening love you had for each other. Your stomach lifted off the sheets beneath, your body arched into his thrusts, this was a bond reconnecting and strengthening.

The more your orgasm approached, the closer Andy pressed his chest to your back. His beard burned your shoulder as he rested his head. Wailing at the attack on your exposed neck. You rolled your hips along to the rhythm he applied, feeling his cock nice and deep.

Your desperate cries filled the room as his fingers rubbed circles on your clit. You wanted his touch and turned your hand, palm facing up, Andy knew you were holding out for him. He knew you wanted his intimate touch while he took you apart under him.

Andy worked you open with deep, long strokes when the coil in your belly snapped. His name fell from your lips in trembled whimpers. His cock twitched inside your walls, injection completed, your pussy filled with the warmth of his cream.

For the first time in months you felt like you worked through your trauma together. Proving yourself you would be able to conquer all and would always come out on top. The wedge between you cemented back together and ready for this new adventure.

His hold on you was strong and made you feel safe. Your legs tangled as you listened to his steady breaths allowing you to drift to sleep.

All eyes were on you when you entered the gladiator arena. The cold air made you shiver and you grabbed Andy’s hand squeezing it tight. His thumb stroked your hand, calming your nerves.

You glanced at everyone present, uncle Pronge rubbed his hands, Steve gave you a small nod, Jensen focused on whatever technical device he was holding. It surprised you to see Ari, his hands held on to a bat. Nick and Curtis caught up in some small talk. Mace stood in the corner with some other bikers you had never seen before.

The traitor chained, hanging from the ceiling, unconscious, but sleepy time was over. You grabbed a folded metal chair and placed it in front of him. You sat down and crossed your legs.

“Wake him up please, I’d like to converse a little with this piece of shit.”

“My pleasure.” Andy spoke, he caught the bat that Ari threw at him. He took a swing at Bryce’s knee, a roar echoed through the warehouse. “Wakey, wakey my friend.” Andy patted his cheek and pointed your way with a smirk.

You observed Bryce’s face, his lip was busted, his eye socket and jaw swollen, dried up blood under his nose. It gave you satisfaction to know that Steve and his men threw a few punches after they had dragged him out last night. You gave Bryce a little wave.

“Remember me, love? Who am I kidding, you must, it hasn’t even been 24-hours yet.”

“Yeah, cupcake.” He grunted.

“Mrs. Barber for you - Queen Barber if you insist.” You corrected him, his wary eyes had a hard time staying open. “Uh huh, no falling asleep on me here.” You tutted, but he was out. You looked at Andy and he gave you a nod, he took a swing at his stomach. “No falling asleep Mr. Langley, it won’t end well if you do.”

“What are you gonna do? Torture me?”

“Now that would be no fun at all. I’d rather play a game instead.” You hummed in amusement. As much as you wanted to kill him yourself, you didn’t want blood on your hands. “I’ll up you one, I am going to watch all these men take something from you - one by one - until you bleed out. Have you in pieces and send it to your lovely family.”

Your family would appreciate the gesture of having their own way. The thought is confirmed when you hear Pronge say. “I like where this is going.”

“This felt like entering an arena. So why not have some one on one combat fighting. You’d like that won’t you, Bryce?” He replied with a grunt. You knew he wouldn’t be able to stand; his knee had been shattered under Andy’s impact. “Lower him down please.”

The body fell on the floor, the chain removed. You examined the room and all the men looked like starved dogs. You could see the excitement in everyone’s eyes.

“So boys, who wants to go first? Honey?” You glanced at Andy.

Andy shook his head, taking his position behind you. “Let them have a go, it felt good to break his kneecap and a few ribs.”

“Steve?” You questioned looking over at the buff biker in the room.

“We’ve had our fun yesterday, so it would only be fair for the others to have a go.” Steve looked at your family members and they were all eager to get their hands dirty.

It was like watching a hungry pack of wolves, all waiting for their turn. Their amusement was visible and the weight on your shoulders had dropped. Revenge on the grief you had carried seemed to have vanished.

Ari was first to step forward, he looked at you as if to be given permission. You waved your hand at the body on the floor, an open invitation. He walked forward and circled the body as if he’s wondering what he would do. Bryce’s hand reached out to nothing and Ari grinned, stepping on the knuckles, earning a shriek. You could hear the pain in the voice and it made your blood run cold.

Physically you were in the room, but mentally you wanted to run out. Your stomach churned and you swallowed back the bile. Not as tough for this job as you thought. Andy must have felt your changed attitude when you shifted in your seat. The hand on your shoulder gave you a squeeze.

“We can leave if you want?” His question was barely above a whisper. You opted to refuse his offer, but it wasn’t until Curtis cut Bryce’s little finger and blood gushed out. You flinched at the sight of the detached finger. “Let’s go, you aren’t supposed to watch this.”

Andy knew you were too soft and he knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you witnessed all the things they would do to the man who had killed your daughter. He wanted to protect you from all of it. The feeling of knowing that the murderer wouldn’t see sunset satisfied you enough.

He lifted you from your seat, his hand on the small of your back ushering you towards the exit. When another panicked yelp was heard you couldn’t help yourself by glancing over your shoulder. Goosebumps rose at the continuous screams and pleas. Andy tugged you close, stroking your arm and kissed your head.

Everything ended and a new beginning started, a new reign where you were king and queen of the underworld.

You sat naked on the edge of the bed, feet dangled above the floor as you fiddled nervously with your fingers. There was regret of what you had witnessed today, it shouldn’t be there, it had felt good to take something from him. Just like he had taken from you – a life for a life.

Yet the pressure in your chest had you heaving at the pain. You were thankful that Andy took you out. For years it had been something you were shielded from. Something none of the men from your family ever wanted you to witness.

Your tough exterior had changed and the guilt made you crumble inside. Too sensitive for the job, but the sceptre was in your and it was your duty to accept. You doubted if you had handled things the right way.

Queen of the jungle while your king had been demoted. Loose hounds running the perimeter and you had stayed for the show. You came a long way and were absorbing the thoughts like they were reality.

The bed dipped and your body reacted to the gentle beard scraping your skin. Your mind returned to your conscious body. A flood of warmth taken over, a pool of desire for the man that had pledged his unconditional loyalty to you.

Your body leaned back against his chest as his lips pressed soft kisses to your temple. It was a convenient disturbance to your intrusive thoughts. He knew you too well and you couldn’t help but feel consumed by the love and want for him.

“Penny for your thoughts, toots.” His whispered breath made you shudder.

“Nothing much.”

“I thought we had gotten past the lying stage.” His hand held your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Sorry, I don’t, it’s just- I don’t even know, Andy.” You shrugged not being able to formulate your thoughts. His hand fell from your chin as you shifted your body to face him properly.

“You know you can talk to me. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here, I’ll always be here.” You gave him a weak smile. “How about we forget what happened for a moment?”

“Yes please.” He guided you to lay down, hovering over your body.

Your lips moulded his, tongues collided with gentle strokes exploring the inside. It was a renewal of feelings and emotions, melting in his wandering touch. The happenings of the day drowned in the building anticipation.

He bit your lower lip. The electricity flowed through your veins at the given sensation. Your body pressed into him, needing more. He gave you a gentle loving smile peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. He took his time working his way down to your breasts.

His mouth fanned over the sensitive peak, only lightly touching it with his tongue. His hands cupping the outline of your boobs pushing them together. His jaw opening, devouring the nipple of your squishy flesh.

His teeth grazed down on the erected nub. Like a starved man he sucked the other paying it equal attention. His repetitive actions made you moan. Not one spot was left as he ruined you without even having started yet.

Satisfied with your formed nipples he licked and kissed the flesh of your stomach. His hands found their way to your hips kneading them tenderly before he manoeuvred between your thighs. He guided your legs over his shoulders.

His tongue pushed between the plump wetted lips lapping up the juices of your cunt. You writhed underneath him, not able to lay still at the given pleasure. His arms locked your thighs and his hands pressed you down by the waist. Your head pressed into the pillow, you moaned at the lost control of your senses.

“Such a tight wet hole, toots.” He grunted against your pussy. The vibrations added to the forming twist in your belly.

“More, Andy.” You whined as his tongue sank deeper, getting frustrated at not being able to roll your hips into his mouth like you so desperately wanted. The dampened skin of your wrecked body increased as he dragged out the only thing you wanted.

Whimpers left your body with the agony of his current game. One of the calloused hands released its hold, you felt his fingers prodding the sensitive outline of your cunt. You bit your lip at the teasing as tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

His tongue applied rapid kitten licks, feasting from your generous giving core. His fingers had a solid pace of slowly pumping you, pushing you closer to the edge.

The steady rhythm of his fingers and the fast pace of his mouth were slowly ruining you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you allowed Andy to transport you to a new level of bliss. His name fell off your tongue as your body went rigid under his attack.

He climbed up, locking your frame, sucking all air out of your body as he offered you a blazing kiss. His wetted beard left traces of your leaked fluids, letting you taste yourself. For a moment he held you close, but you couldn’t deny the hard cock that pressed against your thigh.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” He promised his pupils blown away with lust. Your gaze unbroken when he grabbed his cock.

He teased your puffed pussy by sliding his tip between your drenched folds. You wailed at the friction wanting to feel him inside. You gasped at the slow insertion, your pussy gratefully swallowed his cock. He granted a few slow thrusts before roughening up the tempo.

His cock applied deep and long strokes to the soft pillow inside your hole. Your body writhed underneath him as he held you. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, lips embracing one another welcoming the full forced crashes and pecks as tongues collided. Drowning in the love from the man that pulsated his width in your soaked cunt.

His groans and grunts were muffled by your kiss, your hips rolled over him as he impaled you. You shook underneath Andy’s strong physique, cumming for a second time that night. Andy followed closely, his spend filling your pussy.

Still inside he crashed next to you, holding your figure in a tight embrace. Foreheads sweaty, breaths uneven as you remained eye contact and observed each other’s blushed features.

For a moment you felt like the giddy high school teenager again, sneaking around and consumed by love for the lover who became your husband. His fingers traced your physique and your arousal returned at the feathered touch on your skin.

He pulled out and you felt his cum dribble out your pussy. It surprised you to find him moving behind you, instead of getting you a wet cloth from the bathroom like he usually did.

“We’re not quite done yet, toots.” You smiled at his undertaking and the nickname he’d chosen for you many years prior.

His arm hooked under your neck, hand holding on to your wrist. His thumb grazed the flesh of your boob, occasionally stroking your nipple allowing it to rise. Your hands held on to his wrist. Letting his lips leave shadow kisses on your neck and ear as his nose grazed the sensitive skin.

He was just as eager as you to go for another round. His free hand tickled down your hip and thigh and lifted your leg over his hip. The anticipation builded and you needed more and wanted to feel him again for a third time.

His cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to whine. His fingers adjusted from your hip to your knee to get a better grip. His beard tickled your skin as your mouth fell open at his first thrust.

“Am I making you feel good, pebble?” It was a low husky whisper unbeknownst to the change in his voice.

“Y-Yes.” You managed to stammer out totally caught up in the pleasure he provided inside your cunt. The overstimulation was almost too much, but god, had it felt good.

“You’re so good to me.” It was a praise, but it was mutual. His stretch was already making you see stars. “I am going to fill you up so nicely and keep you stuffed. Give that family of yours the heir they want.”

“N-No Andy.” You whimpered, knowing exactly what he was after. You hadn’t thought of it; you hadn’t thought he’d bring it up again.

“You wanted to be respected, pebble, you’re going to give me another baby. One to make us a real family again.” His tone had darkened and it held a firm promise. “Keep you filled until you’re nice and round for me and the family. Granting them another when you give birth to this one.”

You clawed at his arm as he fastened his pace. You were stuck in this position, being forcefully pounded. What had been a nice moment had turned into a nightmare.

You knew he was serious, he never confided in you how much it had meant to him to be a father, but you had noticed his interactions with Edie through the years. How he bonded with her, how gentle he had been and how much love he had for her.

It meant everything to him to see his name live on, his legacy - your legacy. Without an heir there would be no legacy, it would be your heads. Tears welled up, you sobbed from the ache in your stomach and cries escaped you from the pleasure.

Your eyes caught glimpses of his tattoo, it had never been an inked vow to you. It had always been a commitment to your family and how far he was willing to go for them. He tightened his chokehold making you gasp for air. His body flush against yours as he speared into you. Your view darkening at the lost ventilation to your lungs.

His lips hovered over your ear, nibbling on the lobe and pressed kisses into the delicate skin. Unwillingly you had become the breeding machine of the family, forced upon you like your opinion didn’t matter. This had been a business transaction from the start.

You became a mess in his hold, your walls clenched down on his cock. Choked mewls left your mouth and your body trembled in his asphyxiated hold as he left it ruined. His uneven breaths alarmed you of how close he was to his release, his way of securing a claim on you.

“You’ll learn to understand the importance of fresh produce in time, pebble.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.