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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 months ago

Note

Hai^^ I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could make one about 80s slash x reader? And how the reader’s parents and slash’s mom were friends and forced them to meet each other?

When the reader sees slash - she kinda into him and the more she stares at him the more attractive gets and slash is a bit older than her and finds her funny and weird as he notices that she’s been staring at him the whole time during dinner.

It isn’t until they’re left alone that they start talking to each other and slash makes playful gestures and teases towards her? With smut and fluff of course :P

I hope that’s not a lot^^ anyways whenever you get the time^^

A/n: I wrote this in class and barely finished so the end is kind of shit

Warnings: smut, arranged marriage trope(ish), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

I think I’ve used this before but no I didn’t bc I said so

Ever since you were young, around twelve, there was always this pressure to be with someone, relatives coming by and asking where your boyfriend was. It was annoying and you couldn’t get away from it.

Your parents only got worse as you got older, inviting friends over with suitors. Annoying old men shoving money and power in your face, none of it was ever for you they just wanted to show you what they had. They didn’t care about you.

This dinner was just like any other, you had to get all dressed up to meet some guy your parents knew. He’d be old, creepy and wasting away, just wanting someone to bed whenever he wanted, someone to beat, who he could show around town as he pleased.

You were in your room, getting ready as per usual. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, pristine and proper, white floral dress and golden makeup. Just once you wanted to do something bigger, something harsher.

The doorbell rang and you were called down to meet the guests. You say yourself at the table, ready to meet the next suitor to leave.

A woman walked through, she was gorgeous and had a beautiful smile, behind her came a man with bigger hair than his mother. He shared those big, dark eyes, full lips, but he didn’t smile. He wasn’t dressed up all fancy, he wore jeans and a leather jacket over a Ramones shirt that was torn up and well loved, to say the least.

You weren’t allowed to listen to the Ramones, devils music you were told. This man was the devil incarnate and you were certain he’d be the one to take you away.

Your mother sat down next to you and placed a hand on your knee, leaning into you. “Don’t you dare go looking at this one all puppy eyed, I gave you good men you will not be falling for this monstrosity.” She said through gritted teeth, but her warning was moot, you’d already made up your mind.

The dinner went as every other did, your mother would ask questions and listen closely to the answers, except she didn’t. She didn’t care what this man, Saul was his name, had to say.

You sat idly by and ate, gaze flickering over to him all too frequently, he was sure to notice but he didn’t bring it up or look back at you.

His voice didn’t match his appearance. He was soft spoken and only spoke when told to, he rarely looked up from his plate and when he did he didn’t make eye contact.

Saul Hudson to be wed, you could see it in the papers now.

“I play guitar in a band.” He said, it broke through your day dreaming haze.

“You-you play..?” Your mother sputtered out, unable to even finish her sentence.

Saul nodded, a wide grin on his face and he looked up at you, still not making eye contact. His gaze flicked from your lips down to your shoulders, you didn’t dare guess where else he was looking. “Big band, Guns N’ Roses.” He clarified. “Playing stadiums now.” His mother smiled proudly over at him.

You wiped your mouth on a napkin and stood, quietly excusing yourself from the table. The food was gone and what was left needed to be packed away now anyway, you were just leaving it for other people.

You went to your room and sat down at your desk once more, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something new filled you, you wanted his attention, all of it. You wanted to run with him, to venture with him. He’d take you all over with his band and he’d love you. He was gentle and he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t flaunt his money, only buy you jewelry for your birthday and flowers when he loved you, just because.

You dug through your drawers and tried to find something… big, a statement piece for your face. Your attention snapped to the door as it opened and Saul walked in.

He was hesitant at first, staring at you bent over a desk drawer and digging through it like a mad man. He came over and stood just beside you, placing a hand on your lower back as he looked through the drawers for you.

Saul pulled out a deep red lipstick. He brought a finger under your chin and tilted your head for him to see you properly.

You were struck, in your core a pulse came with a heat, a desire, but you snapped out of it quick enough to wipe the gloss you already had off your lips so he’d have a bare canvas to work with.

He smiled down at you and got to work, using the tip yo outline your lips before filling them in.

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, Saul now stood behind you with his hands on your hips. He didn’t look in the mirror, he stared at you in front of him, the side of your face and how pleased you seemed with his work.

You turned back to him. “Do more.” You asked, drawing a chuckle from him and he shook his head, by god you made him laugh and you wanted to hear it again and again for as long as you lived.

“I don’t know anymore.” He said, bringing his hands to your shoulders and turning you around again. He leaned down to you, his lips caressing the shell of your ear. “You do it, you can’t mess up when it’s just gonna be running down your face in a minute anyway.”

You paused a moment and looked back to him. “Why? Will you make me cry?” He nodded confidently, you looked back to the mirror. “Why would you do that? Will you leave?” You asked curiously.

“More than one way to make someone cry.” He said, rubbing your shoulders. He inhaled deeply, taking in your saddened expression, you clearly didn’t get what he was referring to. He’d just have to show you once you looked the part, well enough the part anyway, you didn’t have the clothes.

“Heavier on the eyes.” He said as you tapped on a bright red, something to connect the lipstick while still being different. You picked up your pencil liner but he took it from you and had you turn towards him. “Gimme a second.” He said with a smile, being careful to not poke you in the eye as he worked.

He was giggling when he turned you back to the mirror. You had a leopard print on your eyelids and whiskers on your cheeks. The print on your eyes was pretty, neat and well done, the whiskers were an afterthought he was enjoying much too much.

You stood up and turned to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, he couldn’t say no to that.

He wasn’t a gentleman, not by a long shot, he was just sweet. The first chance he got his hands were on your ass, pulling your dress up over your head and not caring if he smudged it, not one bit.

Your arms went around his neck and he lifted you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you to your bed and laid you down.

He was laying over you, an arm holding him up by your head, his other hand moved down between your legs, rubbing through your folds and catching your clit, feeling how wet you already were for him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” He asked, already starting to trail kisses up your jaw towards your ear. You hesitated before slowly shook your head, hoping it wouldn’t make him stop. Luckily he didn’t and just sucked his teeth. “Well, I don’t feel like slowing down for you.” He said sitting back up and undo his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his dick to spring free, of course he didn’t wear boxers. “Just tell me if it hurts.” He said as he pushed into you, groaning as he did.

Despite his words he did give you a minute to adjust to him, running his hands up and down yours sides until he felt you were ready and he started moving, slow at first but he couldn’t keep that pace for long.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, tugging you closer to him as his hips slammed into yours, each thrust bringing you closer to an edge you’d never seen before.

He was perfect above you, full lips, bruised just like yours, parted ever so slightly in soft, low grunts and groans. Sweat clung to his curls just around his face, the rest of his mane framing his sharp jaw. His teeth were crooked and he didn’t look right at you, focusing on feeling good, making you feel good.

You didn’t have anything to compare it to, but this was definitely the best you’d ever felt. Free, and it felt so good. You reached down and found your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Saul chuckled over you and nodded in approval. “Just keep doing that, keep doing that.” He said. You could feel him inside you, veins dragging against your gummy walls, cunt pulling him in for more, every time he pulled away you sucked him back in.

You melted into the mattress, vision going white and when you came doing from it you felt something warm spilling out inside you, Saul’s face tucked into you and he kissed over your chest, latching onto your nipple and swirling his tongue around it.

Finally he pulled away and pulled away and sat up, fixing his pants before heading out to your balcony. You saw he was smoking, he just looked so… you couldn’t even describe it.

You got your dress back on and went out to stand with him.

He smiled at you when you came out, he held the cigarette out for you but took it away before you got the chance to get it. “No way in hell am I letting you do that.” He said with a laugh.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you as he took a drag from his cigarette. “It’s pretty tonight.” You said.

He nodded, looking out on the cities lights below. Your house was up on a mountain, giving you a good view all around. “I bet it’s a pretty night for you every night.”

You smirked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you live here, you see it every night.” That’s not what you were expecting.

You looked back out to the city. “I want to see more… with you, Saul.”

He let out a heavy sigh, he wanted you with him too. You were intriguing to him, you needed a chance to rebel and he knew you would never stay with him, not after growing up like this, but he could be the one with you to see the world and that was enough. “Slash.” He said. “If you’re coming with me you call me Slash.”

“Slash.” You repeated. “Slash Hudson.” He might regret this, but he didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything.

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midnighthazee · 2 months ago

Text

Greenridge ABO Series

a/n: I hope my lovely Greenies had a good Thanksgiving! I didn't write as much as I wanted to over the break but I still managed to get this chapter written! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: a little bit of explicit language, pabo behavior

WC: 3931

Chapter 13

It had been a week. Seven days since Reed said he would take you back to Greenridge. Everytime you brought it up, he gave an excuse. He had work, his drivers were resting, he was waiting on visitors, blah blah. Last night, he left for a business meeting at HA headquarters without a word.

Now you were bored out of your mind, wandering his mansion in the late afternoon. You figured you would be nosy since he left you here. You looked in all the bedrooms, realizing he gave you the nicest one out of all the guest rooms. That’s something…you suppose. You turn the corner out of the living room, nearly bumping into one of his men.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

He looked strangely familiar.

“Do I know you?” you asked.

“Uh…no.” he said, hurrying off.

Weird.

You proceeded down the hall, opening doors and finding a closet, or a room with priceless artifacts. Some sculptures, vases, and paintings cluttered the room. You moved on, finding a door with a staircase leading down.

Nothing good ever comes from a basement. You thought.

You found yourself walking down the stairs regardless, a few lanterns on the wall illuminating the dark space. You get to the bottom, no rank smells in the air like the basement you lived in. As you continue on, it’s dark. You feel along the wall and find a lightswitch.

Light flicks on, illuminating the space. You see a kitchenette, a stack of dog bowls, and another door beyond. You open the door slowly, afraid of what’s on the other side. You hear noises as you step in, but from what?

It smells like…like outside or something. Dirt maybe? You proceed farther in the room, noticing glass doors on one side.They looked like cells, just extremely nicer than Lewis’s setup. As you approached, you noticed a shadowed figure inside. You step closer, squinting your eyes.

The figure moves suddenly, banging two paws on the glass and growling. You fall back, screaming and shielding yourself before you realize whatever it was didn’t break free. As you turn back, you realize it was a wolf - a huge wolf. There were several down this hall, a dozen beady eyes looking at you through the glass. You scramble to your feet and hurry out of the room. You get back to the kitchen, only to run into the guy you saw a few minutes ago.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” You pant. “W-why are there wolves?”

“They are Reed’s night patrol.”

“Night patrol?”

“He lets them out at night and they keep watch of his territory, ensuring no trespassers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He finds them more loyal apparently, but I think it’s stupid.” he chuckles.

“You sure we haven’t met before?” you ask once more. There was something about his smile that struck you.

He sighed. “We have.”

“Was it at Lewis’s house?”

“No. Um….it’s me…Hudson.”

You stared in shock.

“Surprise?” he offered with a shrug and smile.

“But…how? How are you here?”

“He found me after mom and dad died and took me in.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I was supposed to leave you alone.”

“Why?”

“He just told me not to interact with you. He wouldn’t give details.”

“But…I’m here all alone…without my pack. Why wouldn’t he want me to know I have more family here?”

“I gotta go. And you should go upstairs to have dinner. I’ve seen you skipping meals.”

You look down. “I’m not hungry.”

“Lies. Go eat, y/n.”

Before you can protest or ask another question, he’s off, back upstairs and out of sight. You sigh, heading upstairs too. You didn’t eat, but you did stay in your room and watch tv to pass the time. Oh how you ached for your pack.

“Ugh, something scared her.” Minho grumbles. “I swear if that prick is torturing her…”

“Wouldn’t you feel the pain too?” Changbin asked.

“I guess. Ugh….I don’t know if it’s good or bad to have this connection to her when she’s not within reach.” Minho groans, running a finger through his hair.

“I would say good. You can keep an eye on her.” Hyunjin spoke, not looking up from his sketching.

“I guess. Ji, you find the address yet?” Minho asks, coming over to Han on his laptop.

“I’m almost in. Just another second….done. Let me just locate the files.” Jisung typed frantically on the keyboard.

Within a few minutes, he’d hacked into the HA database and was looking into the Blackmane pack for an address.

“Here we are. Blackmane Pack. Run by an alpha named Reed Kang.” Jisung stated. “Located on 53790 Woodmill Rd.”

“How far are we from that?” Jeongin asks.

“Uh, it looks like…an hour.”

“Great. Let’s move.” Minho says, rising from the motel bed.

The Greenridge pack, accompanied by the Enha pack, drove to the Blackmane Manor. The sun was setting and soon everything was covered by darkness. The roads were scarcely lit, and the houses were very spaced apart. But in less than an hour, they arrived and buzzed the intercom at the front gate.

“What’s your purpose for this visit?” a man’s voice said on the intercom.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kang. It’s an urgent matter.” Minho spoke, eyeing the gate and what he could see of the front lawn.

“Mr. Kang is not present. Please come back tomorrow.”

“Is there no alpha or beta I could speak with in his place?”

“No. Come back tomorrow.”

Minho groans. He looks at the house, knowing you are here. They back up, driving down the road before parking. He groups up with Enha, suggesting they hop the fence and save you.

“We don’t know how many are guarding the place. If he really isn’t here, he could have left her heavily guarded.” Jungwon’s beta, Jake, said.

“I’m counting on the fact that he would think we know nothing of this place. Or would have taken longer to find it. Let’s go.” Minho explained.

“Min, can’t we think this over?” Changbin suggests.

“She’s in there. It’s like I can feel how close she is.” Minho stares at Changbin.

Changbin backs down, following his alpha.

They head down the street, finding a good spot to breach. Quickly, they scaled the brick wall and began running through the yard. They made it halfway to the house when a howl rang out into the night.

“Guys…that sounded close.” Felix noted, looking around.

“Oh, shit. Over there. Run!” Sunoo yelled.

They all looked in the direction he pointed, seeing three large figures headed their way. They took off, running quickly back to the wall.

“Spread out, they can’t chase us all.” Heeseung yelled.

In efforts of getting to the wall, they all spaced out, making the wolves distance themselves and lock in on a target. Niki and Heeseung reached first, leaping and climbing over. Hyunjin and Sunoo were next, followed by Jake, Jeongin and Felix. Changbin helped the rest scale the wall, as the wolves closed in.

“Hurry!” Felix and Sunoo yelled from the other side.

Changbin grabbed onto a vine, pulling himself up. One of the wolves lunged out, grabbing him by the pants leg - their teeth slightly nipping the skin. Changbin tried to pull up, the wolf trying to pull him down. His other leg kicked frantically, fighting off the two other wolves. He managed to kick one in the face before landing a blow to the wolf who had him by the pants.

He heaved himself up and over the wall, falling to the ground in a huff. He sat there a second, catching his breath. Felix was quick to look him over as the others bent down.

“You okay?”

“You good?”

“The teeth marks are shallow. Should heal quickly.” Felix informed.

“I’m alright.” Changbin reached his hands out.

Minho and Jungwon pulled him up to his feet and they all headed back to their cars. Changbin had a slight limp but managed to get there on his own. Minho was cursing himself for not being able to get to you.

“What if we deflect? Cause commotion that draws the wolves attention away, while the rest of us sneak up to the house…” Seungmin suggests.

“We don’t know how many wolves there are. If we don’t get them all in one location, we won’t make it in.” Sunghoon said, leaning against the car.

“How do we figure out how many there are?” Jay asked.

“We could always go back in, run around the yard and hope we can outrun them.” Jisung suggested, earning a glare from several of them. “Or not…”

Meanwhile, you were currently hiding in an alley, checking around the corner before proceeding down the sidewalk. You had managed to sneak out the house before nightfall, claiming you wanted some fresh air. Once you learned about the wolves, you decided you had to make your attempt before nightfall, instead of after. And with Reed not home, you figured today was the day. So you asked to get some fresh air, laying in the grass for a bit, and idling walking around before they finally were distracted enough for you to slip away. The guards were on their phones, not realizing what you were up to. Before they knew it, you were off the property and heading into the local town.

So far, the streets were quite desolate, a few cars driving by here and there. Each one made you tense as you worried it was Reed or his men, hiding into an alley or shadow every time. You also jumped at the howl of wolves heard in the distance. They must be the ones Reed kept at his disposal.

As you walked, you kept your hands tucked under your arms. It was chilly and you regretted not wearing a jacket before running off. It probably would have made it obvious since it was warm before the sun set but you could have made an excuse.

Turning down a street, you hoped to come across someone, anyone, who could take you home. Or maybe you could at least find a place to stay for the night so you wouldn’t be out in the cool autumn air. You followed the sounds of people and came across a pub. There were loads of people inside, loud and boisterous as they laughed and drank. At least they would probably be too drunk to notice you (or remember seeing you). You head inside, thankful for the warmth and keep your head low. You notice a fireplace off in the back and make your way over there. It was warm and cozy so you settled in at the table next to it.

“Hi, what can I getcha?” a young woman asked, startling you.

“Just water…wait, is water free?” you ask.

The girl chuckled. “Yeah, it’s free.”

She walked off towards the bar and you focused back on the fire. Within a few minutes, she returned with two drinks.

“This one is on the house. It’s alcohol free.” She smiled, hurrying off to the next table.

You smiled, looking at the beverage. It looked like lemonade, so you took a sip. It wasn’t lemonade, but it was good. You sipped it while warming up by the fire. You looked around at all the people, trying to find someone who could possibly help you. Most of the people in here were big, burly men that were intimidating. They smelled like alphas, at least from what you could differentiate, and that worried you. Were they like Lewis? Or would they be nice and helpful like Chan?

You finished your drink, now drinking the water as you scoot closer down the bench to the fire.

“Would you like a refill?” the girl asked.

“No. Water is fine.” you force a smile.

“What’s an omega like you doing here all alone?” she asked, whispering as she leaned over the table.

Your eyes widened.

“I can smell you. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.” she looked over her shoulder briefly. “Be careful, they get handsy when they are drunk. It’s not safe for a little omega like you around here.”

You caught her scent - beta.

“Is there somewhere I should go?” you asked.

“There you are!” A guy’s voice interrupted.

“Hudson?” your brows furrowed. “How did you find me?”

The girl walked away, but, unbeknownst to you, she kept an eye on you. She could smell a damsel in distress a mile away.

“I figured since you escaped, you came here. A town with people who could possibly bring you home.” He shrugged, sitting next to you. “Was I right?”

You shifted in your seat.

“You need to come back,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Y/n…if Reed finds out you got away, he will come for you.”

“He can try. I need to get back to my pack.”

“Y/n…”

“He doesn’t own me. I spent thirteen years of my life being trapped. I’m not going back to that.”

“He said he would take you back. Just give him time.”

“Give him time for more excuses? No. He’s your alpha, not mine.” You move to get up, but he grabs your wrist.

“Please. I just got you back…” he pleaded.

His voice was sincere, the pain evident in his tone. You had missed him dearly and were happy to have him back in your life. But it wasn’t enough to stay. You couldn’t live with Reed’s pack. You wanted to live at Greenridge - it’s where you belong.

“Come with me.” you say.

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. I’m sure Chan would let you.”

“I already pledged myself to Reed. I…I can’t…” he looks down sadly.

“I’ll miss you once more.” you say, pulling your wrist from his grip and walking towards the exit.

You nearly get to the door when someone’s arms pull you back, spinning you around.

“Hudson, let-” You started to protest.

“Go out the back. Reed’s men are searching the streets.” Hudson says, nodding his head to the back door.

“Thank you.” you say, embracing him in a hug.

He hugs you back tightly. You pull apart, heading to the back while he leaves through the front.

Out back, you hurry down the alley, peaking around the corner to see Hudson pointing them in the direction opposite of you. They hurry off and you slip down the street in the cover of darkness. It felt even colder now but you pushed on, up the curved hillside.

The street eventually leveled out, only illuminated by the street lamps as you walked. You hugged yourself, pushing through the cold air that bit at your skin. You didn’t know how long you had been walking but your feet were beginning to hurt.

You hadn’t trained with Changbin for long and you were regretting complaining every time. You would sweet talk your way out of it half the days he trained everyone. If you had let him train you, maybe you wouldn’t be struggling so much.

You heard the wolves howling once more, breaking up the silence of the deserted road. Up ahead was an intersection. You noticed a few cars driving through, their headlights briefly illuminating the street ahead. You kept walking, hoping to put as much distance between you and Reed’s men as you could.

You got to the corner, stopping by the edge of the building. Each direction had an incoming car so you waited for them to pass before crossing the street. You looked ahead, squinting from the bright headlights shining in your direction. The car crossed through the intersection and you stepped to the curb, seeing the car going the opposite direction also pass.

Suddenly, the color red illuminates the road, tires squealing. You freeze, noticing the second car stopped in the middle of the road. It looked like the suv Reed’s men drove as it began to back up. You panic.

Shit… they found me, you thought.

Looking to the right, you see the sidewalk is clear, an alley not too far up. You take off running, hoping to turn the corner before they see you. You hear tires squealing again, a roar of the engine following. They were speeding up to catch up to you. You pushed your legs faster, fear fueling you. You approach the alley, cutting the corner and running down the dark path. You see a dumpster and quickly duck behind it.

The headlights illuminate the alley and you curse yourself for not being faster. They must have seen you turn down the alley. You wait for them to pass ready to bolt as soon as they do. The car cautiously drives down the alley, slowly passing the dumpster. Taking a few breaths to brace yourself, you pop out from behind and hurry back up the alley towards the street. You’re nearly at the street when a voice calls out.

“Y/N!”

You freeze.

Slowly, you turn around, seeing two figures walking towards you. It couldn’t be…

“Y/n?” one questioned as you squinted.

“Changbin? Jisung?” you whispered.

As they approached, the street lamps illuminated their faces. You rushed over to them, swinging an arm around each of their necks and pulling them into a hug. They hugged you back tightly and you felt the tears filling your eyes.

“Oh my god you don’t know how relieved we are to see you.” Jisung said, pulling you into his own hug.

“We’ve been looking all over for you. We were about to sneak onto the Blackmane property to rescue you.” Changbin said.

Felix came rushing over, followed by the others. He took you by surprise, lifting you off the ground. You giggle and he puts you down with a pout. “You’ve lost weight.”

You blush, looking to the ground as he looks you over for any physical evidence of abuse on your body.

“I’m fine, Lixie.” you say.

Hyunjin stands next to Felix, smiling at you. You smile back and he scoops you up, spinning you around. As soon as he puts you down, Seungmin is pulling him off you so he can squeeze you into a hug as well. You look over and see Jeongin smiling at you. You open your arms towards him and he comes over, arms going under yours and lifting you off the ground. You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing into him. Never did you think you would be so comfortable with an alpha.

Their scents each engulfed you, relaxing you immediately. You were elated, comforted by their presence and grateful to finally be reunited. It had been a long, lonely week without them and you were happy you wouldn’t have to keep running.

Changbin and Jisung are boasting about how they finally have you back, Felix mumbling about how you look like you’ve lost weight. But you weren’t paying them attention, instead walking away from them to approach Minho who was leaning against the trunk observing the whole reunion.

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight. Everyone stopped talking of course, watching for his reaction. He had been so cold before you left, beating himself up about hurting you. But right now, you didn’t care. He could give you the cold shoulder tomorrow, but right now you wanted the comfort of your alpha.

As you press your cheek to his chest, holding onto him as if this was all a dream and he would disappear, he couldn’t help but smile. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head as he inhaled your scent. His eyes closed as he breathed you in. God he had missed you.

You could feel the bond strengthening, your mark tingling as you both held onto each other.

“Wait, where’s Chan?” you asked.

“Um…he’s fine. He’s safe. He’s just um…” Minho tried to find the words.

“Is he still at the Hybrid Association? But Hyunjin and Jisung are here?”

“How did you know we were there?” Hyunjin questions.

“Reed told me. Then he took me there but he hurried me out as soon as I gave my statement of what happened with Lewis.”

“You were there?! At headquarters?!” Jisung exclaims.

“Yes.”

“That son of a bitch.” Changbin growled.

“What happened to Chan?”

“It’s complicated…” Minho starts. “He’s being detained.” “For what?!” “Murder.”

“What? He didn’t kill Lewis. Reed did.”

“He killed Hayes and Milo…”

“Th-they’re dead?”

“Reed didn’t tell you?” Felix asked.

“Not that part…” you shook your head.

“They wouldn’t let us see him.”

“Why not?”

“It’s the law to not murder a fellow hybrid.” Minho explained. “Plus his past…it complicates things.”

“His past?”

“I’ll explain it later.”

“But-”

Headlights turning into the alley interrupted the conversation. You tensed, noticing the other car.

“It’s alright.” Minho spoke. “It’s one of our allied packs.”

You looked up at him and he smiled at you. His expression was soft as he looked at you, making you blush.

“How’d you find her?” one of the men from the new car asked as he got out.

“She was wandering the streets. We got lucky.” Jisung said.

“Y/n, this is Alpha Jungwon. He’s been helping us.”

“Nice to meet you.” you say, one arm still wrapped around Minho’s waist.

“You too. Glad to see you're safe and unharmed. We were all worried.” Jungwon said with a smile.

“We should probably get out of here.” Changbin noted. “They are probably looking for you.”

You nod.

The eight of you piled into one car, the other pack in the other car. Minho led them back onto the main road, and they got on the freeway, attempting to get far from town before they stopped for the night.

You were sandwiched between Jisung and Seungmin, having fallen asleep on Jisung’s lap during the drive. You hadn’t slept well since being away from home and it was already late at night. Jisung rubbed your head soothingly as you laid in his lap. Felix eyed you from Seungmin’s other side, making sure you were truly okay. Hyunjin and Jeongin were in the way back of the suv nearly falling asleep as well.

Nearly two hours later, Minho decided to stop for the night. They needed to rest up and get some food, so he found a motel to stop at. As everyone shifted to get out of the car, you groaned at being woken up.

“Sorry, y/n. But we are going inside, c’mon.” Jisung said.

You sat up, looking around. You get out, following them up to the rooms. Minho and Jisung decided to share the room with the king bed. The rest of the boys are with you in the other room with two double beds. Jungwon got his pack a couple rooms too and they split up, saying goodnight.

You got into the room, it smelling stuffy and old.

“We will be back home soon. It’s just for the night.” Seungmin placed a hand on your shoulder, offering a smile.

You went to the bathroom, wanting to shower but too tired to do so. Plus you didn’t have a change of clothes. So you just wash your hands and go back into the room.

Changbin pulls you to the bed near the window, insisting you share with him. Jeongin joins in, leaving Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin to the other bed closer to the door. Laying between the two of them made you feel so safe and warm, lulling you to sleep rather quickly. The two of them stared at you in awe before they too fell asleep.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n @stwq2349 @rylea08 @sang-09 @scarlet789 @hxnnielk

Shout out to my lovely beta @cherry-erii

#stray kids abo #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #bang chan x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #lee minho x reader #ongoing #stray kids ot8

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sapphicantics · 7 months ago

Text

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

#regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls 2024 #regina george x fem!reader #regina x fem!reader #regina george 2024 #regina george x female reader

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calaisreno · 8 months ago

Text

Under the Weather

There are days when everything goes wrong. I don't mind, as long as you're with me.

1731 words / Prompt: Weather

When John pushes the door open, he’s hit with a Baltic blast of air from within. This is surprising; it’s a cold day, but generally 221B is a bit warmer than outdoors.

“What’s going on?” he asks the bundle of blankets on the sofa.

“Not much,” Sherlock replies. “Lestrade called with a case. I solved it over the phone.”

John lets out a sigh; it becomes a small, vaporous cloud. “I mean, why is it so cold in here?”

“The temperature outdoors is minus seven degrees. In here, it is four degrees above zero. Eleven degrees warmer. You ought to be asking me, why is it so warm in here?”

“I mean,” John says, keeping his jacket buttoned and sinking into his chair, “Why is it bloody four degrees inside our flat?”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say that? The boiler’s broken.”

“Have you rung someone?”

The blanket bundle sighs. “Mrs Hudson is away, visiting her sister.” He’s using his patient voice, which means that John is going to have to shout if he wants an explanation. “I don’t know how to fix a boiler, and there’s no service tag on it, so I don’t know who to call.”

“You might have looked in the phone book. They do list people who fix boilers, you know.”

Sherlock waves a hand dismissively. The hand is wearing a purple mitten, which probably came from Mrs Hudson’s knitting basket. “This is 2010. Who uses phone books these days?”

“Maybe the internet knows who fixes boilers?”

Sherlock wags mittened hands at him. “Fingers frozen. Can’t type.”

“And all day you’ve been waiting here for me to come home and save you from freezing to death?”

The pile of blankets mumbles.

“What?”

“I said, you’re better at dealing with boilers.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to call someone to fix a boiler, Sherlock.”

“Exactly.” A pair of grey eyes and a pink nose peep out of the blankets. “The electricity still works. Can you make tea? That might thaw my fingers.”

Cursing softly to himself, John fills the kettle. At least the pipes haven’t frozen, though that might be next. He sets it on the base, and flicks it on. The light remains unlit. “What did you do to the kettle?”

“Oh, erm. Why do you ask?”

“It’s not working.”

“It is a very old kettle. They don’t last forever, you know.”

“Oi!” He holds up the base. “Why is the cord no longer connected to the base?”

More mumbling. He catches the word experiment and something about microwave not working either…

Cursing a bit louder, John opens his laptop and searches for someone who will repair a boiler. He casts an evil look at the sofa as he dials the first one he finds.

A minute later he ends the call. “It’s after hours,” he announces. “And the weekend is just starting. I left a message.”

He tries three more numbers, then five more, leaving increasingly desperate messages.

For a moment he sits, eyes closed, and contemplates the long, cold weekend that lies ahead. Maybe the telly works, at least. He takes the remote and presses the power button.

“Cable’s out too,” Sherlock’s voice says. He still in his blanket pod, but knows John well enough to anticipate his thought process. “Ice on the lines.”

“Well,” John says. It’s all fine for Sherlock, who is in a cocoon, unaffected by the weather inside the flat. “I’ll be upstairs putting on my arctic gear.”

“I’ll call for takeaway,” Sherlock says.

John’s room is even colder than downstairs. This is mainly because water has been leaking through a hole in his ceiling. The hole is a surprise, an unhappy one. Not big enough to see sky, but enough to let water in. This morning, before it started to rain and the temperature began to drop, followed by ice and snow, the ceiling was intact. His room was nice and warm—and dry.

There’s no way he can blame Sherlock for the age of the roof, the weather’s bad timing, or the bad luck that hovers over John like a small, dark cloud.

He curses loudly as he opens drawers, hunting for his long johns and wool socks. Finding them, he sits on the bed and curses again as water soaks into his pants.

“Bloody buggering hell! What did I do to deserve this!”

The fates have no answer for this.

Finally, having discarded his wet pants, donned his long johns, wool socks, a pair of corduroy trousers that fit over the long johns, a polo neck pullover, and the warmest jumper in his drawer, he heads down the stairs, cursing at a volume loud enough for the other resident of the flat to hear.

The sitting room is silent, the lump on the sofa unmoving.

“There’s a hole in the roof!” he announces. “My bed is soaked through.”

“We could make a fire in the hearth,” Sherlock suggests. He’s poking his head out now, looking like a curly-headed turtle.

“By we, I assume you mean me.” John grabs the blanket off the back of his chair and wraps it around his shoulders before sinking into the chair. “Do we have any firewood?”

“A relevant question.”

“Look, I won’t mind burning some of your books if it’ll keep me warm.”

“My books are valuable. You might try burning some of those idiotic spy novels you read. But there’s some firewood downstairs, by the back door. I’m sure Mrs Hudson won’t mind us using it. Better than coming home and finding our stiff, dead corpses—”

“Let’s not talk about corpses right now.” Not while I’m thinking about killing you. “Did you order some food, I hope?”

“Angelo’s is closed, due to weather. I ordered Chinese.”

“Thank god.” John leans back in his chair. Every muscle in his back is tight from a very long day, and he’s shivering hard, wishing for a cup of tea.

He hears movement from the sofa and opens his eyes. Sherlock stands, shedding his blankets. He’s dressed in a pair of John’s tracksuit bottoms, John’s Christmas jumper, and wool socks that look suspiciously like they came out of John’s sock drawer.

He’s glaring down at John with concern (if such a thing is possible). “Stop shivering.”

“Involuntary response,” he replies, teeth chattering. “That’s my jumper you’re wearing.”

“I didn’t have anything warm enough.”

“You made fun of that jumper at our Christmas drinks thing.”

“Well, it’s more appropriate now, isn’t it?” He arranges one of his blankets around John, tucking him into his chair. Then he strides out the door.

When he returns with a bundle of firewood, John is reflecting that there won’t even be hot water. No bath to warm him up. Just Chinese food and blankets.

The fire is looking somewhat robust by the time the doorbell rings.

The Chinese food helps, though it’s been in transit long enough that it’s not very hot. Sherlock apologises for the tea kettle. And the microwave. When they’ve eaten, he collects the empty cartons and takes the leftovers into the kitchen.

“Fridge still works,” he calls out. “Just warning you, though. It will probably stop when the indoor temperature drops below freezing.”

“Look on the bright side,” John replies. “We’ll be stiff, dead, corpses by then. Beyond caring about milk for the tea we can’t make.”

Sherlock comes back with a bottle and two glasses. “Here’s something to warm us up.”

He hands John a glass and pours. “Happy anniversary, John.”

John laughs. “Right. One year living at 221B. I didn’t expect you’d care about things like that.”

“Why not? One year is the longest I’ve managed to cohabit with anyone. It’s been… good.” He sits down, his face pink in the firelight.

“It has been good,” John admits. He remembers the first time he came through the door, saw Sherlock’s clutter, and wondered what he was getting himself into. He remembers carefully probing, trying to determine whether Sherlock might be interested…

Well, nothing ever goes to plan. That’s the story of John’s life.

He leans back, all the weariness of the day dragging his eyelids down.

“John, wake up.”

“Mm?” He sighs and opens his eyes.

Sherlock is standing over him. “You can’t sleep in your chair. In the morning your neck will hurt.”

“True, but my bed has become an ice floe.”

“Sleep in my bed.”

“What? Oh, you’ll take the sofa.”

Sherlock shakes his head. “Self-preservation, John. Body heat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We must sleep together.”

“Together?”

“It’s the only way.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

“Science, John. If your core temperature drops too low, you die. And all the firewood is gone, so we have to improvise.”

Improvise, indeed. The bedroom is colder than the sitting room, but the bed is large and, more importantly, not a frozen slab of ice. Keeping their clothes on, they crawl under the covers and move towards one another. Sherlock’s arms go around him, and John lays his head against Sherlock’s chest.

It feels like something they do all the time. Or something they should have done months ago.

John shivers a bit, not from the cold. Sherlock smells like kung pao chicken and expensive scotch.

“Skin-to-skin might be warmer,” Sherlock says. “We shouldn’t take chances.”

John giggles. “Is the boiler really broken?”

“Of course. Did you think I was only trying to get you into my bed?”

“Sherlock.” He feels Sherlock’s nose with his own. It’s like an icicle. “You could have had me in your bed a long time ago, if that’s what you wanted.”

Sherlock is silent. He buries his face in John’s shoulder. “Really?”

“I didn’t think you wanted that.”

“Neither did I.”

“Do you?”

“Everything went wrong today,” he whispers. “And then you came home.”

“This was an especially bad day.” John snuggles into him. “The surgery was full of snotty kids and over-protective parents. Nothing interesting, just mucus and vomit. I didn’t get any lunch. The bus was late. And when I came home, it was freezing. But you were here.”

“John.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t mind all the things that are wrong, as long as you’re with me.”

“Not that I want more misery, but…” John kisses his nose. “You’re the one I want to share it with.”

Sherlock kisses John’s nose, then his lips, lingering. “Let’s get these clothes off before we freeze to death.”

#mayprompts2024

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edosianorchids901 · 26 days ago

Text

Reciprocity

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "cold"

“Really, old man, I’ll be all right.” Watson sneezed again, which didn’t help the look of near-panic on Holmes’ face. “It’s nothing, just a cold.”

“You have sneezed sixteen times in the last five minutes, and with considerable force,” Holmes said, hovering by the bedside and rubbing his hands together compulsively. “I hardly call that nothing. Shall I fetch a doctor?”

“I am a doctor.”

“A very sick doctor.”

“I am certainly not very sick, only a little sick.” Sick enough that he did not have the energy to get out of bed at the moment, but even so. “I do not need another doctor to attend to me.”

“Very well. Then I see I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” Holmes twisted around and swept out of the room. “Mrs. Hudson!”

Watson winced at the volume of the yell, which made his head ache. Of course, his head already ached, congested as it was. He’d felt a bit run down before bed, but had hoped it was just his ordinary fatigue after a long stretch of being particularly busy.

It seemed that wasn’t the case, however. He’d awakened today feeling even worse, his head stuffed up, his throat aching, and a deep exhaustion blanketing him. He might be running a slightly fever, too.

All in all, he felt terrible. He had little desire to do anything other than sleep, but the sneezing was making that difficult. It was the sneezing that had alerted and alarmed Holmes, too, and which meant that Mrs. Hudson was likely being jostled out of bed at a far too early hour in order to care for him.

When Holmes flung back into the room, Watson tried to give him a stern look. “You should not ask Mrs. Hudson to care for me. I am perfectly capable of—”

“My dear Watson, you wound me!” Holmes set down a basin of water and a towel. “I have merely roused her to start a pot of soup, warm some broth, and make tea. I intend to care for you myself.”

Watson stared at him. “But what about your murder case, Holmes? Surely you should be attending to that.”

“It is a commonplace murder. And besides, what does such a thing matter when my Watson needs care?”

“Murder always matters to the one who has been murdered.”

“Well, yes.” Holmes pursed his lips, looking irritated at the fact, and then dampened the cloth. He sponged Watson’s face gently, wiping away the sweat. “But it is the sort of case that can be solved without much difficulty. I dispatched a telegram last night and am merely awaiting the reply. Once it is received, I shall pass along the information to Lestrade.”

“All right, but what about your health?” Turning away, Watson coughed. This did not help his throbbing head at all.

“What of my health?”

“It is terrible, Holmes.” Woozy, Watson laid back and gave him a bleary look. “I am not prone to falling ill. You fall ill at the drop of a hat. You should not be near me when I am sick.”

“Well, well.” Holmes waved a dismissive hand, then smoothed back Watson’s hair. “If I fall ill, then you shall tend to me. But for the moment, it is I who must tend to you.”

“It really isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. You are always most attentive and caring when I am in poor health, whether of mind or body.” Holmes briefly rested his hand on Watson’s shoulder and gave his usual flash of a smile. “Please permit me the privilege of doing the same for you.”

That wasn’t fair at all, but Watson softened anyway. “Well, of course. If you’re sure.”

“Entirely certain.” Holmes shot an impatient glance at the door, then twisted around and hurtled off again. “Mrs. Hudson! Where is that tea?”

Watson chuckled, then succumbed to coughing again. His head spun, and he struggled to catch his breath.

The coughing had was not helpful for his aches, either. He found himself sore everywhere, and the restless night had worsened his usual pain in his shoulder and leg. That, in turn, had worsened his sleep.

Holmes charged back in with a teapot and flicked an apologetic smile in Watson’s direction. “There was a slight delay in preparation, as Mrs. Hudson is not at her most sprightly this early in the day. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. And proper ventilation in a sickroom is important.” It was strange not to be able to attend to all this on his own, but Watson did not feel much like getting up right now. “If you could crack the window.”

Holmes did so at once, then carefully helped him drink the tea. He set the cup aside once Watson had finished and sat, taking his hand. “My dear Watson. Mrs. Hudson is preparing broth for you, and will of course make any other food you require. Is there any other way I might be of assistance?”

There was such anxiety on his face that Watson’s stomach twisted. He patted Holmes’ hand and managed a hopefully reassuring smile. “Not for now. And don’t worry, old man. I really will be all right.”

“I hope you shall. I admit it is a little disconcerting to see you ill, Watson.” A few tears glistened in Holmes’ eyes, and he ground his teeth. “You will let me know if I may help in any way?”

“Yes, I will. I just need to get some rest for now.”

“Ah.” Holmes sat there awkwardly for a moment. “Would you prefer that I left you in peace? I can return later with your broth.”

Watson very much suspected that if he said yes, Holmes would simply go sit on the stairs outside the bedroom. “There’s no need for that. Why don’t you stay, and then if I need you…”

He started to cough, and Holmes nodded vigorously. “Of course, my dear fellow. Now, you ought to cease conversation and sleep. I shall be right by your side.”

Watson smiled at him, then closed his eyes and relaxed. He suspected that Holmes would have to be ordered to leave eventually, or else he would not sleep at all. For the moment, though, Watson was glad to have someone so attentive watching over him.

#granada holmes #sherlock holmes #john watson #sickfic #sherlocktember2024

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djloveyou3000 · 2 months ago

Text

Belladonna

Chapter fifteen

Gif by : @alexxmason

Bell chuckled softly, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. They leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his temple, and whispered, “Morning, you grumpy old man.”

Careful not to wake him, Bell slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. By the time they finished their morning routine and came back into the room, Russell was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with a cigarette in hand. His sharp eyes met theirs, and his lips curved into that familiar smug smirk.

“Morning, trouble,” he greeted, his voice still husky with sleep.

Bell rolled their eyes playfully. “Good morning, Mr. Golden Retriever.”

Russell huffed, flicking ash into the tray on the nightstand. “I’m not cute, and I definitely don’t fetch,” he muttered, though the small smirk playing on his lips betrayed his annoyance.

Bell grinned but let it go. After a quick breakfast from room service, the two packed their things and hit the road again, the warm morning sun bathing the world in a soft glow.

As they drove, Bell couldn’t help but poke at Russell, their fingers prodding at his cheek repeatedly.

“Are we there yet?” Poke.

“No.”

“Where are we going?” Poke.

“Still not telling.”

Bell huffed, crossing their arms but quickly recovered, a mischievous grin spreading across their face. “You know,” they began dramatically, “there’s this very true story I heard. It says if you tell your spouse where you’re taking them on a road trip, you get good luck, cold pillows, and refreshing water. But if you don’t…” They trailed off for effect.

Russell glanced at them with a raised brow. “Go on.”

“You get bad luck, warm pillows, and lukewarm water. And”—Bell paused dramatically—“you go bald. Like Hudson.”

The car screeched to a halt as Russell slammed the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. He turned to Bell, his jaw tight and eyes narrowed, his tone deadly. “What did you just say?”

Bell froze, their eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” they whispered, then bolted out of the car.

Russell was out of his seat in an instant, chasing after them. “Get back here, you little brat!”

Bell laughed as they ran, darting around the open area. “I need stairs! Your arch-nemesis will defeat you!” they shouted dramatically, their voice full of mock defiance.

Russell growled, his pace quickening. “You’re about to regret every word that came out of your mouth.”

“Na-na-na, old man! Catch me if you can!” Bell teased, but their laughter turned into a yelp as Russell caught them by the waist, lifting them off the ground.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” Russell growled darkly, carrying them back to the car.

Let’s just say, Russell made sure Bell thoroughly learned their lesson in the backseat, his methods ensuring they wouldn’t dare mock his hair again anytime soon.

Back on the road, Bell sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat, their face flushed as they shifted in their seat, clearly sore. Russell, however, was the picture of smug satisfaction, one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cigarette. He glanced at Bell, blowing out a puff of smoke with a wicked grin.

“Feeling sore, sweetheart?”

Bell glared at him but refused to answer, pouting as they turned to look out the window.

Russell chuckled darkly. “Did you learn your lesson?”

When Bell didn’t respond, Russell reached over, gripping their chin and forcing them to meet his gaze. “I said, did you learn your fucking lesson? Or do you need me to pull over and remind you again?”

Bell quickly shook their head. “No, sir. I’m sorry,” they mumbled.

Russell’s smirk deepened as he let go, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to their lips before pulling away just enough to blow smoke into their mouth. Bell coughed, glaring at him again, but Russell only laughed.

“That’s my Bell,” he murmured, patting their thigh.

Hours later, Bell’s discomfort was replaced with excitement as they began to catch glimpses of the ocean. The sparkling blue waves stretched endlessly, the golden sun making the water glisten like diamonds.

“Is that…?” Bell leaned forward, their eyes wide as they tried to get a better look.

Russell smirked, pulling into a private driveway that led to a stunning beachfront property. “We’re here,” he announced, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Bell stared in awe, their jaw dropping. “What is this place?”

Russell got out of the car, walking around to open Bell’s door for them. “It’s my beach house,” he said casually, as though it wasn’t the most impressive thing ever.

Bell turned to him, their mouth opening and closing like a fish. “You have a beach house?!”

Russell chuckled, grabbing their hand and pulling them toward the front door. “I’ve had it for years. I just never found the right moment to bring you here—until now.”

The beach house was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the ocean. The sound of waves crashing and the salty sea air filled the space, creating a perfect sense of serenity.

Bell turned to Russell, their eyes shining with excitement. “This is incredible.”

Russell smirked, wrapping his arms around their waist. “Told you you’d love it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to their temple.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, the two stood together on the balcony, watching the waves roll in. For now, all teasing and banter were set aside as they soaked in the beauty of their surroundings, the promise of a peaceful getaway stretching ahead.

#russell adler #call of duty #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #black ops cold war #fanart #bell #cod #adler x bell #adlerbell #yandere russell adler

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cloudyappleart · 14 days ago

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that line where Jonathan steps out of a case like a well dressed flamingo. Flick is a robin because i say so.

#strangeworlds #strangeworlds travel agency #ld lapinski #digital art #jonathan mercator #flick hudson

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hotvintagepoll · 10 months ago

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Propaganda

Regina Linnanheimo (Kaivopuiston kaunis Regina, Katariina ja Munkkiniemen kreivi, Levoton veri)— Nicknamed the Garbo of Finland for her beautiful and expressive eyes, Linnanheimo was a huge movie star in the 40s and 50s. She's especially known for her leading roles in historical romance movies but she also acted in grittier movies where she got to explore new kind of female roles in Finnish cinema.

Jane Wyman (All that Heaven Allows, Larceny, Inc., Magnificent Obsession)— I dare everyone to watch All that Heaven Allows and not MELT at Jane Wyman's gorgeous smile ("a silver-tipped spruce?" ugh, what a moment). And also just enjoy her literally playing a MILF opposite Rock Hudson, and in beautiful a Douglas Sirk Technicolor flick, what more could you want?

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Regina:

Jane:

#jane wyman #regina linnanheimo #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

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praxcrown5 · 2 months ago

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Doc Fanfic Sneak Peek #3

Lightning revved his engine once more for good measure and turned quickly down Clinic Road, towards Doc’s garage.

The light was on, meaning that Doc was up, so Lightning just nosed open the heavy, wooden door without knocking. “Hey, Doc! Ready to eat my dust…?” His voice trailed off.

The garage was empty.

“Huh?” He wondered, looking around. There was a warm can of copperoil next to Doc's workbench, a USPS box along with a book and some paper on the bench itself, and a newspaper on the floor that had been opened to the sports section. But Doc, himself, was nowhere to be seen.

Lightning shrugged, turned, and headed back outside so that he could check the clinic. It was an easy thing to forget that “Doc” wasn’t just a nickname: The Fabulous Hudson Hornet was an actual doctor with degrees in internal combustion AND clinical aerodynamics. More than one training session had been interrupted by a medical emergency in town, and he would sometimes travel out of state to attend medical seminars and conferences and the like.

But he always made sure to communicate stuff like this to Lightning as far in advance as he could. And, failing that, he’d at least tack a note to the door.

Lightning peered in through the Clinic’s front window.

No Doc.

He checked the doors to the clinic and the garage for a note.

Nothing.

Maybe there was a note in the garage, and he just missed it.

He quickly made his way back into the garage and considered the contents of the workbench. The USPS box had been opened and was empty, except for a yellowed newspaper clipping dated June 22, 1954. The title of the article read “Kentucky moonshiner, Diesel O’Twill, killed in Knoxville Crash While Evading Lawmen.” Next to the box was a tattered, leather-bound journal and a letter printed using some sort of voice-to-text tech.

There was no note that he could find, and that left him feeling both stumped and concerned.

It was NOT like Doc to just disappear without telling him…and he wasn’t at Flo’s.

Where could he be?

He reconsidered the contents of the workbench. Maybe the answer was right in front of him

His gaze first fell upon the journal. Lightning had never seen the item among Doc’s personal effects, and as Doc really wasn’t the sort of person to keep one…

Nodding determinedly, he flipped open the cover and scanned the first page. The writing was similar to Doc’s, but different…fancier, and, much to his annoyance, the entire thing was written in cursive.

Lightning sighed and closed the book. He never learned to read or write in that style; his parents considered it “old fashioned.”

He moved on to the letter.

“Hey, Hud,” It began. “It’s good to hear from you…” There was a long pause as evident from a string of periods. “Look, I know it’s been a while, and I gotta admit, I was mighty cross when you left town without so much as a ‘goodbye’. But, y’know what: That’s water under the bridge. I’m just glad your engine’s still running. So’s the rest of the gang; Louise especially. Pretty sure she still has a crush on you, despite your preferences...” Lightning paused. The personal nature of the letter made him feel uneasy, like he was prying into Doc’s personal life…the taboo parts that he never talked about despite them both being pretty open with each other about a lot of things.

He considered not finishing the letter out of respect, but perhaps there was something here that would shed light on Doc’s disappearance.

“As a way of burying the hatchet, I’ve sent you something that I should’ve sent you a long, long time ago… your ma’s personal diary.”

Lightning’s eyes flicked over to the journal, then back to the letter.

Yet another long pause. “I read it.” Another pause. “I read it out of anger…but there’re some things in there that you should be aware of. And…look…If you need to talk, I’m here to listen.” The letter was signed “Smokey.”

A bit of fear began to creep into the racecar’s brain. He didn’t know who this “Smokey” person was…but the tone of the letter didn’t sit well with him (and given Doc’s empty garage, he had the feeling it hadn’t set well with Doc either), and he reversed out the door fully intending to speed over to Flo's.

But he hesitated.

Doc was a father figure to most everyone in town, Lightning notwithstanding. If he were to speed into Flo’s lot, scared, shaking, and asking a bunch of loaded questions regarding Doc’s whereabouts…he was pretty sure everyone would panic. And as much as he was concerned about Doc, it wasn’t a five-alarm fire…yet.

But where could Doc be?

To be continued...

#cars fandom #pixar cars #cars #cars pixar #disney cars #disney pixar cars #cars 2006 #doc hudson #cars headcanons #cars fanfiction

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choosingdelulu · 4 months ago

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💎 me and who? 💎

#choosingdelulu #me and who #wholesome meme #cute meme #couple meme #romantic comedy #andy anderson #how to lose a guy in 10 days #kate hudson #romance movies #chick flicks #just girly thoughts #just girly things #im just a girl

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months ago

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Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.

Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)

With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!

Previous chapters - One Two

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,300

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.

“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.

“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”

“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.

She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.”

Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.”

Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?”

“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.”

She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?”

“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.

Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.

“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”

Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.

“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”

“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.

Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.

It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.

She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict.

Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.

“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”

“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?”

That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”

“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.

It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.

She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.

What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake?

He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.

“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat.

“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet.

“Oh, alright. When will you be back?”

He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?”

She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.”

His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”

As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.

How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him.

Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.

“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it.

“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?”

She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”

Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.

“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”

“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.

Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer.

Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.” Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.

“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.”

“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back.

“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”

Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.”

“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked.

“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”

Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.

“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”

It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”

Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”

Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close.

“Tell me more, sugar!”

Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”

The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?”

She nodded.

“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!”

Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?”

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.”

“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show.

“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.

“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”

Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,”

The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.

“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”

“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?”

His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.”

He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.”

“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”

Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?”

“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”

That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons.

“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.

Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.

With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”

“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.

“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.

“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.

Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.

The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.

“Luca?”

He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”

He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.

Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’

It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.

He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her.

He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.

But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.

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