#guess it's gettin sold

[little-eye-guy]

daaaaang

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

It never gets any fucking easier does it

[kcggggg]

Licensing is Fine (repost from patreon)

Folks, It's happening. After 10 (11 now) years of the "This is Fine" meme taking over the world slowly, I have asked politely if now would be a good time to license the shit out of it. And the crowd shouted "YES!"

Not only do we have this Brand New Talking Figurine coming out soon (designed by Grayson Evans, who is taking commissions right now) (the figure goes on sale 4/2 and is now available for preorder. It will also be available wherever books are sold), but I am also working with several other companies on buttons, pins, patches, calendars, and etc. Basically, the next time you go to Hot Topic or FYE and see all those patches and pins at the front, near the registers, you will most likely find some OFFICIAL This is Fine merch hanging out there too.

We also have some specialty soft enamel pins coming out (or possibly already out) from Zen Monkey Studios featuring panel pins and cooler designs of Question Hound in both of his moods. I believe you will find these in the same physical places as the other pins Or you can order em online!

Plus a lot more we're still working on/waiting for. New shirts comin' at ya soon that you can find AT A MALL! I got an agent and he's doing his best routine of e-mailing folks on my behalf and asking if there's interest in "this is fine" and most of them say "sure!" so I guess there's some room for me after all.

All of this is to simply inform you, the public! Yes, there will always be bootleggers. But they don't matter in the long run. And Yes, I still have my Topatoco store of "This is Fine" merch as well. That won't go anywhere either. I'm just expanding my scope, cus this little dog is gettin' bigger than I ever expected to be in charge of. But don't fret, for my hand is GLUED to the wheel.

Okay than you for your time!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[starshideurfics]

Ring my bell, part 6

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, there’s plot now, in the smut, mdni 🔞

Part 5

Steve wakes to the sound of the phone ringing. The sky is still pre-dawn purple, and Eddie’s arms are tight around his waist. He hears Wayne shuffle to the phone and answer with a tired, “Munson residence.” Barely two seconds pass before he continues, sounding much more awake, “Kid, slow down. Eddie’s sleeping, s’early. — Yeah, I’ll get him.”

The receiver taps as it’s set down on the counter, and Wayne doesn’t bother keeping his steps quiet as he heads down the hall and pokes his head into the room. “Ed, get up. Got one of your friends on the phone and he’s barely gettin’ a word out that I can follow.”

“Be there in a second,” Eddie grumbles, squeezing around Steve’s waist. “Just gotta grab pants.”

“Morning, Steve,” Wayne adds as he retreats.

“Morning!” Steve calls back, flushing hot. Wayne had Eddie invite him for dinner back in January, told him the only ground rules were no sleepovers on school nights, and practically welcomed him to the family. Doesn’t mean Steve isn’t embarrassed to be caught naked in bed with his boyfriend.

Eddie pushes himself out of bed, gropes around for a pair of ratty sweats that he tugs over his pasty ass, and slouches out to the kitchen. “Yello!” Pause. “Lucas, hey, slow down, dude.” Pause. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Shit, no—Are you safe?” Long pause. “Okay, thanks for the heads up. Do you need someone to come get you? Are your parents gonna freak?” Pause. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

He jogs back to his room, plucks a shirt from the “still good” clothing pile, and struggles to dress quickly.

“What’s going on?” Steve mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Something fucking bad happened, Stevie. Lucas is freaking and Chrissy Cunningham’s dead.” He bites his quavering lip.

“What the fuck?”

“I *sold* to her yesterday, Steve. She was good at hiding it, but she was terrified of something. And Lucas sounded real messed up on the phone.”

Steve swings his legs over the edge of the bed and searches for his clothes. “I’m coming with you.”

“Puppy…”

“Lucas has seen enough bad shit as it is. I’m coming to check on him.”

“And yet you claim you didn’t birth these kids.”

Steve tugs his henley back over his head, and grabs Eddie’s hand. “Now you’re just wasting time.” As usual, he’s the one taking charge and he grabs his keys. “We’re taking my car, you drive like a maniac.”

“Puppy! I’m not that bad!”

“And we’ll look fucking suspicious showing up in your van.”

“…Yeah, okay.”

Steve doesn’t bother saying Eddie is jittery as all hell, that he knows he wouldn’t pay enough attention to the road. They just say bye to Wayne and hurry out to the Bimmer.

“The basketball team started partying out at Benny’s old place when Hargrove moved here… I’m guessing that’s where we’re going?”

Eddie nods, suddenly quiet. As soon as Steve starts driving, Eddie starts shaking his knee so hard that Steve needs him to stop—he’s bouncing too much in his peripheral vision. His right hand shoots out and grabs Eddie’s thigh, squeezing twice. “Ed, hey. We’re gonna get Lucas and get out of there. That’s it.”

“It’s not that… There’s more—we both know Lucas would call you in an emergency over me. But I wasn’t the backup. He called because my phone number is still written on Chrissy’s hand.”

“Eddie…”

“She wanted something stronger than weed! I figured I’d give her some options later! I didn’t think whatever she was scared of would leave her d—” He chokes in the word. “Steve, I hate this.”

“I know, Puppy. Me too.” Steve lifts his hand, holds it palm-up, and Eddie takes it, lacing their fingers together.

When they pull up to Benny’s there are cop cars everywhere, blocking in the cars of the basketball team. Most of the guys are standing around or sitting in the grass, all with the same haunted look, but Lucas is talking to Chief Powell.

Steve parks, and he and Eddie get out together, hands finding each other again.

“I told you,” Lucas says as they approach, his back to them, “There was no screaming. I was one room over and I didn’t hear anything.”

“But you did recognize the phone number written on her hand?”

“Yeah, I noticed it the night before, because it’s my friend’s number.”

“Oh? And who would that friend be?”

Eddie lifts his hand in a quick wave. “That’d be me, Chief. Chrissy loaned me her History notes, told her to call me when she needed ‘em back.”

“Munson. You staying out of trouble?”

“Trying to.”

“And where were you last night?”

“At home, with my boyfriend.” He lifts Steve’s hand, showing their laced fingers and drawing attention to him.

Lucas’s eyes bug out.

Powell shrugs. “We’ll call if we’ve got any more questions.”

[persephonememes]

* (  GUTS BY OLIVIA RODRIGO /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ i pay attention to things that most people ignore ❜

❛ i'm alright with the movies that make jokes about senseless cruelty ❜

❛ i feel for your every little issue ❜

❛ i know just what you mean ❜

❛ i make light of the darkness ❜

❛ i've got sun in my motherfuckin' pocket ❜

❛ you know me ❜

❛ i forgive and i forget ❜

❛ i know my age and i act like it ❜

❛ i've got what you can't resist ❜

❛ i got class and integrity just like a goddamn kennedy ❜

❛ i'm a perfect all-american bitch ❜

❛ i know my place ❜

❛ i don't get angry when i'm pissed ❜

❛ i'm the eternal optimist ❜

❛ i scream inside to deal with it ❜

❛ i'm grateful all the time ❜

❛ i'm sexy and i'm kind ❜

❛ i'm pretty when i cry ❜

❛ haven't heard from you in a couple of months ❜

❛ i'm out right now and i'm all fucked up ❜

❛ i'm sensing some undertone ❜

❛ i'm right here with all my friends ❜

❛ i know we're done ❜

❛ i know we're through ❜

❛ my brain goes 'ah' can't hear my thoughts ❜

❛ i cannot hear my thoughts ❜

❛ i should probably not ❜

❛ seeing you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? ❜

❛ it's a bad idea, right? ❜

❛ fuck it, it's fine ❜

❛ yes, i know that he's my ex. but can't two people reconnect? ❜

❛ i only see him as a friend, the biggest lie i ever said ❜

❛ i just tripped and fell into his bed ❜

❛ now i'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans ❜

❛ i know i should stop, but i can't ❜

❛ i told my friends i was asleep but i never said where or in whose sheets ❜

❛ i'm sure i've seen much hotter men but i really can't remember when ❜

❛ how's the castle built off people you pretend to care about ❜

❛ i see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when i close my eyes ❜

❛ i loved you truly ❜

❛ you gotta laugh at the stupidity ❜

❛ i've made some real big mistakes but you make the worst one look fine ❜

❛ i've made some real big mistakes ❜

❛ i should've known it was strange you only come out at night ❜

❛ i used to think i was smart but you made me look so naïve ❜

❛ the way you sold me for parts as you sunk your teeth into me ❜

❛ bleeding me dry like a goddamn vampire ❜

❛ every girl i ever talked to told me you were bad news ❜

❛ you're so convincing ❜

❛ how do you lie without flinching? ❜

❛ how do you lie? ❜

❛ what a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked up little thrill ❜

❛ i can't figure out just how you do it and god knows i never will ❜

❛ you went for me and not her 'cause girls your age know better ❜

❛ you said it was true love but wouldn't that be hard? ❜

❛ you can't love anyone 'cause that would mean you had a heart ❜

❛ i tried to help you out ❜

❛ i tried to help you out now i know that i can't ❜

❛ how you think's the kind of thing i'll never understand ❜

❛ aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell? ❜

❛ did i ever tell you that i'm not doing well? ❜

❛ i linger all the time ❜

❛ i linger all the time watching, hidden in plain sight ❜

❛ i try but it takes over my life ❜

❛ i see you everywhere ❜

❛ the sweetest torture one could bear ❜

❛ i'm losing it lately ❜

❛ i feel your compliments like bullets on skin ❜

❛ aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? ❜

❛ my stomach's all in knots ❜

❛ you got the one thing that i want ❜

❛ people are people, but it's like you're made of angel dust ❜

❛ it's like you're out to get me ❜

❛ you poison every little thing that i do ❜

❛ i just loathe you lately ❜

❛ i despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you ❜

❛ i despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you ❜

❛ i don't think i get along with anyone ❜

❛ i'm on the outside of the greatest inside joke ❜

❛ i hate all my clothes ❜

❛ it feels like my skin doesn't fit right over my bones ❜

❛ so i guess i should go ❜

❛ the party's done, and i'm no fun ❜

❛ i broke a glass, i tripped and fell ❜

❛ i tripped and fell ❜

❛ i told secrets i shouldn't tell ❜

❛ i stumbled over all my words ❜

❛ i made it weird ❜

❛ i made it worse ❜

❛ each time i step outside it's social suicide ❜

❛ i wanna curl up and die ❜

❛ i laughed at the wrong time ❜

❛ i talked to this hot guy, swore i was his type ❜

❛ everything i do is tragic ❜

❛ the morning after i panic ❜

❛ oh god, what did i say? ❜

❛ when i'm alone, i'm fine ❜

❛ don't let me out at night ❜

❛ i'm shocked i'm still alive ❜

❛ i called you the wrong name twice ❜

❛ i want it, so i got it ❜

❛ another thing i ruined, i used to do for fun ❜

❛ another conversation with nothing good to say ❜

❛ another day pretending i'm older than i am ❜

❛ another perfect moment that doesn't feel like mine ❜

❛ sometimes i feel like i don't wanna be where i am ❜

❛ i push away all the people who know me the best ❜

❛ it's me who's been makin' the bed ❜

❛ i'm so tired of being the girl that i am ❜

❛ every good thing has turned into somethin' i dread ❜

❛ i'm playin' the victim so well in my head ❜

❛ every night, i wake up from this one recurring dream ❜

❛ i read somewhere it's 'cause my life feels so out of control ❜

❛ i tell someone i love them just as a distraction ❜

❛ they tell me that they love me like i'm some tourist attraction ❜

❛ i got the things i wanted, it's just not what i imagined ❜

❛ i'm counting all of the beautiful things i regret ❜

❛ i'm pulling the sheets over my head ❜

❛ you're so good at what you do ❜

❛ you come for me like a savior ❜

❛ i'd put myself through hell for you ❜

❛ i fell for you like water ❜

❛ i couldn't get out if i tried ❜

❛ it was all in my mind ❜

❛ now you got me thinking ❜

❛ love is never logical ❜

❛ all the things you did to me ❜

❛ you lied ❜

❛ i'm sure that girl is really your friend ❜

❛ you said i was too soft ❜

❛ why do I do this? ❜

❛ i know i'm half responsible and that makes me feel horrible ❜

❛ i know i could've stopped it all, god, why didn't i stop it all? ❜

❛ i met a guy in the summer and i left him in the spring ❜

❛ i wanna make him feel bad ❜

❛ i wanna make him really jealous ❜

❛ i really miss him and it makes me real sad ❜

❛ i want sweet revenge ❜

❛ i want him again ❜

❛ i want to get him back ❜

❛ i write him all these letters, then i throw them in the trash ❜

❛ i miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh ❜

❛ he said i was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth ❜

❛ i am my father's daughter, so maybe i could fix him ❜

❛ i wanna key his car ❜

❛ i wanna break his heart ❜

❛ he's not even gonna know what hit him ❜

❛ he's gonna love me and hate me at the same time ❜

❛ i don't know ❜

❛ i told my friends you were the one ❜

❛ i stayed in bed for like a week ❜

❛ when you said space was what you need, i waited by my phone like a goddamn fool ❜

❛ love's fucking embarrassing ❜

❛ how could i be so stupid? ❜

❛ you found a new version of me ❜

❛ what was i even doing? ❜

❛ i give up ❜

❛ i give up everything ❜

❛ i keep coming back for more ❜

❛ i have nightmares each week about that friday ❜

❛ one phone call from you and my entire world was changed ❜

❛ you took everything i loved and crushed it in between your fingers ❜

❛ i doubt you ever think about the damage that you did ❜

❛ i hold on to every detail like my life depends on it ❜

❛ i hear your voice every time that i think i'm not enough ❜

❛ i try to be tough, but i wanna scream ❜

❛ how could anybody do the things you did so easily? ❜

❛ i say i don't care, i say that i'm fine but you know i can't let it go ❜

❛ i've tried for so long ❜

❛ it takes strength to forgive, but i don't feel strong ❜

❛ i try to understand why you would do this all to me ❜

❛ i know in my heart hurt people hurt people ❜

❛ do you think i deserved it all? ❜

❛ you built me up to watch me fall ❜

❛ you have everything and you still want more ❜

❛ even after all this, you're still everything to me ❜

❛ i know you don't care ❜

❛ there's always something missing ❜

❛ when pretty isn't pretty enough what do you do? ❜

❛ i could change up my body and change up my face ❜

❛ i'd always feel the same ❜

❛ you can win the battle but you'll never win the war ❜

❛ fix the things you hated and you'd still feel so insecure ❜

❛ i try to ignore it, but it's everything i see ❜

❛ i don't know why i even try ❜

❛ i bought all the clothes that they told me to buy ❜

❛ i chased some dumb ideal my whole fucking life ❜

❛ none of it matters and none of it ends ❜

❛ you just feel like shit over and over again ❜

❛ when am i gonna stop being wise beyond my years and just start being wise? ❜

❛ when am i gonna stop being a pretty young thing to guys? ❜

❛ when will it stop being cool to be quietly misunderstood? ❜

❛ i'm sorry that i couldn't always be your teenage dream ❜

❛ when does wide-eyed affection and all good intentions start to not be enough? ❜

❛ will i spend all the rest of my years wishing i could go back? ❜

❛ they all say that it gets better ❜

❛ it gets better the more you grow ❜

❛ it gets better, but what if i don't? ❜

[gh0stsp1d3r]

OMGG IM SO HAPPY THAT YOURE TAKING TAN REQUESTS HES LITERALLY MY BBG OMG ‼️‼️

So what about a reader who’s like Ellie from The Last of Us? So Tangerine and Lemon get this mission from their dealer that they have to deliver this girl to this place, like a cargo mission. And the girl is a very defiant teenager who just talks back and makes snarky comments to them (mostly to Tan T▽T). But then she ends up really trusting them and getting attached to them. I’m sorry if this is too detailed or if it doesn’t make sense 😭😭

I LOVED THIS REQUEST ANON 🤭🤭 lemon and reader are so silly heheh

Mentions of human experimentation, abuse, needles (nothing graphic or descriptive)

Annoying little sister

“Swear to god, can’t stand teenagers. This missions gonna be annoying, I can already tell.” Lemon said.

Tangerine scoffed “Says here that she’s snarky, and puts up a fight.”

“Like living hell basically.”

Tangerine stopped the car, looking at the warehouse you were in. It was guarded, heavily. They would have to sneak around.

“Shit. We better be gettin’ payed good for this girl.” Tangerine sighed,

“Why’s she so special?” Lemon asked.

“‘Parrently she’s some sorta superhuman or somethin’. Daughter of some billionaire. Human experiment I guess.” He read, and put the folder down.

“Shit, seriously? Sounds like some sorta movie stuff.”

Tangerine snorted, and opened the door quietly. They parked far away from it, and they hid behind some boxes and made their way to the back. A small door, still guarded but with less people.

They looked at each other, and looked back.

They fixed up, and stood up. They took out their guns to look like the others.

“What are you going in for?” A man stated, blocking them when they went over to the door.

“Boss wants us to go in and… interrogate..” Tangerine said, making something up on the spot.

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “Your Ethan?”

Tangerine nodded.

“Oh.. just expected you to look a lot… different. Come in.” He opened the door, tangerine and lemon couldn’t believe it had worked.

The inside was empty, it had a small room. They opened the door to you, handcuffed to the bed.

You didn’t see them as you thrashed on the floor, struggling in the handcuffs and groaning in annoyance.

You snapped your head to them when you finally saw them, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“What? Come here to feed me? Cause honestly I’m starving and you bitches don’t seem to have anything at all-“

You were confused when they went up to you and uncuffed you from the bed. Your hands still handcuffed however, as they roughly dragged you out. They snuck around the back again, breaking a window to distract them and leaving quickly in the car, the guards shooting it at the same time.

You then grabbed a small Bobby pin that was luckily laying on the ground when they weren’t looking. Then you were shoved into the car roughly, as they sped off.

You put your hands behind you, messing with the lock.

“So who exactly are you guys?” You questioned.

“We’re here to deliver you to someone.”

“Definitely not my dad, he don’t care bout me. So then who?”

They both ignored you, and you finally picked the lock, and put your arms on the seats.

“So where we going?”

They both looked at each other and then you.

“You seriously picked it?”

“It’s easy. I’ve done it tons. They took away all my Bobby pins though. Which makes sense because I kept breaking outta them.” You shrugged, and rambled on.

Lemon listened and he asked a question.

“So what’s the deal with your dad? And the whole human experiment thing?”

“Well, my dads just an asshole. Sure you heard of him, real famous, but he’s a asshole. He abused me and my family, blah blah sob story, and he’s the one who sold me into the human experiment thing. After that I was just passed around and giving blood 24/7.” You showed him your arm.

“Jesus Christ.” tangerine mumbled when he looked.

You shrugged “Im used to it by now. And now I’m guessing that you guys are just taking me to another buyer. More tests, yay.” You said,

Tangerine and lemon looked at each other. Tangerine knew what he was thinking. He stopped the car and parked it in an empty lot.

“Come on..” lemon said.

“No way.”

“She’s a kid.”

“I’m right here..” you mumbled.

“Exactly, she’s a kid. No. Way.”

“We can’t jus’ give her up!”

“I agree with this very nice gentleman over here.” You nodded to lemon.

“Shut it.” Tangerine said, whipping his head to you. “And it’s dangerous. Gonna be on the run if we do.”

“Don’t you remember when we were kids?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit-“

“She hasn’t had a childhood, think bout it. She didn’t have a childhood like we did.”

“Yeah, ain’t got no friends or nothing.” You said, fidgeting with the handcuffs. You picked up a book that was in the back of the car.

“Whoever is reading this shit is hornyyy.” You snickered, realizing that it was a smut. Tangerine snapped his eyes back and took the book.

“It ain’t for kids. It’s a good book.” He said, almost like a child himself.

Lemon snickered as well “And she’s got powers, how would she not be useful?”

“True. How do you think I got that bobby-pin from the floor? Can’t really bend down with handcuffs.” You held the handcuffs up.

Tangerine groaned in annoyance “You’re such a pain in my ass and we’ve barely known each other for five minutes.”

“That’s what I do.” You said, smirking as he drove off to a hotel for the night.

——————————————————————

That was 3 years ago, now you were fighting with them, at a different agency.

They would always say how your their “annoying little sister”

(Tangerine added the annoying part)

“Oooo, it’s so nice over here.” You laughed, looking at the shops all around the place, the neon lights and nice people. You guys were currently in Japan, going to do a mission on a train.

Lemon smiled as well, also looking around while Tangerine stayed focused.

“Focus.” He mumbled under his breath, pulling you two closer to him so that you didn’t go off path.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Lemon said.

“He always wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.” You giggled and lemon snickered quietly, tangerine giving him a glare.

“Sorry, mate.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes, he could already tell this mission would be annoying with you two.

[wildshona]

Tiff

When I walked in the room Tiff looked at me and then started screaming at me. Well I guess she was now homeless, and without money and even without clothes except for the school uniform she was wearing for work and which was hardly suitable. so u know u have to take it when the yelling comes. Richard watched from his place on the sofa and Chris came in from his office. Neither of them did anything.

When she rushed at me she could have been about to kill but instaed she throw her arms round my shoulders and sobbed. when she colud speak again it was all sorry and she was glad i was alright she had even thought i might be in a shallow grave somewhere or in the thames.

Chris got her a brandy, Richard left and eventually i took her to my room and we lay there and climbed into bed and fell asleep.

the police raided the next schoolgirl party at the house in Balham. there were enough half naked and more girls under the age of 18 to get Stevie and Michael a good stretch especially as the youngest girl was 12. the dugs in the lock up was icing on the cake. long prison sentences and Michael deported at the end of it.

the police officer who had/had not arrested Tiff let her go in to the Balham house after the police and done with it to get her belongings so she now owned some casual clothes and lots of slut clothes to add to the school uniform now hanging in the wardrobe in the small third bedroom in the flat. Tho she often slept with me.

i got to know tiff well then. she had been in a half way house having come out of foster care when stevie found her. she was trying to get drugs but didnt have money but did have perky tits and a willingness to do whatever. she was stevie's gf 4 about a month before michael decided he liked her more than for just a shag. so she was with michael and that at least kept her off drugs. michael sold drugs he didnt approve of them and no whore of his was going to be gettin hooked especially a whore wh was now what passed as a gf.

tiff saw a lot of girls come and go my predecessors. girls who had stil worked for michael out of flats, and some who had been sold on. some boys too stevie quite liked boys as a bit of variety from girls but not michael - he was a good catholic.

so tiff stayed with us for about three months until richard and chris got a flat sorted for her and a job in a shop. the job didnt last of course. she now strips and pole dances and we did our massage therapy course together tho she uses it more than me - professionally, wink, if u know what i mean.

she also hostesses with me - for me i suppose - when we do events. she can come across well professional when she has a nice black skirt and white blouse. and if there r evening events she is light and fun has a good figure and cocktail dresses and gowns hang well on her. she only has to be pleasant and pretty and make sure everybody is ok and of course they buy her drinks and if occasionally she is invited to a room well we don't require it and any girl can say no. tiff does it 4 the fun altho if anyone offers her a "present" i don't suppose she turns it down.

[anon-e-miss]

More Barbarian AU

“Y’re alright,” Ricochet said, taking Barricade by the arm and guiding him down the hall. “Don’t know what the dumb aft was thinkin’ bringin’ ya here like some kinda prize. If he’d known what was good for ‘m he woulda been on a chip to Kaon.”

“What was that about?” Barricade asked. He was rather calm for a mech that had just watched another get beaten to death; that did not mean he was not likely to be terrified.

“Road Handler, the creep that bought ya betrayed Jazz, betrayed our clan,” Ricochet explained. “He said nothin’ when a mutual friend was bridenapped. A coward ‘n a fool. He outta known Jazz would scrap’m.”

“You didn’t save your friend,” Barricade guessed. “Given his reaction.”

“No,” Ricochet replied. “He died from complications givin’ emergence to my brother’s creations.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Barricade said. Ricochet nodded.

“Y’re brother sold ya?” He asked.

“I didn’t manage to find blackmail on him like the last one,” Barricade replied. “He got rid of me before I could.”

“Blackmail?” Ricochet asked.

“I’m receptive,” Barricade explained. “I’m supposed to be a good little brooder. At my age, I should have had two at least by now but I never fancied that life. My progenitor never found a mech who could handle me and when he died I blackmailed my oldest brother so he would leave me to live how I wanted.”

“What’d ya blackmail ‘m wit?” Ricochet asked.

“He liked getting fragged,” Barricade said. “He had this femme bodyguard and I caught them in berth together with her fragging him and slagtalking him like he was a cheap buymecha. If I’d let that out, his reputation would have been destroyed. He would have had to go into exile for the shame of it.”

“Cause he liked gettin’ spiked?” Ricochet asked, aghast.

“Praxus has rules,” Barricade explained. “Receptives get fragged and contributives frag. Sure lots of mecha switch things up but he was a senator. The scandal would have ruined him.”

“That’s… rough,” Ricochet said.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Barricade retorted. “He was a disgusting piece of scrap.”

Ricochet was not sure what to think of the mech walking with him. Blackmailing his brother with his sexuality was pretty horrific, but so was being traded or sold to be a broodcarrier. He thought a bit about what Ori had told him of Jazz’s wet nurse, of the hollowness of his optics from the torture of that life. Barricade was far from hollow; he was full of fire. If his own brother had sold him, there was no sending him back to his kin. That begged the question what to do with the mech? Jazz wanted nothing to do with him and was in no state to be responsible for another mechanism’s life. Given the lengths Barricade had gone through not to end up a broodcarrier, he was not going to be keen to be matched off with some friendly clansmecha. It would not be the same, Polyhexians had far more honour that Praxians and their receptive mechanisms were free to do as they pleased but it would also not be the same, because Barricade was Praxian and no clan would take him along for the sake of it.

“Ori, got some work for ya,” Ricochet called as he walked into the rooms his procreators had claimed, not far from the harem.

“What’ve ya done?” Punch asked, out of side. He turned the corner and saw Ricochet with Barricade. Ricochet held up Barricade’s wrist to show his originator the bangles that had been welded around his wrists. “Now how’d ya come to be in Darkmount?”

“My brother sold me,” Barricade replied. “Some mech designated Road Handler bought me and tried to give me to your Warlord as a present.”

“Rico?” Punch asked.

“Jazz beat’m to a pulp,” Ricochet replied. “Real, real dead that one.”

“Can’t say ‘m sorry,” Punch replied. “After all the time he spent in my camp as a ward, his betrayal hurt the most.”

“His clan might have a snit,” Ricochet said.

“Not if they’re smart,” Punch replied. “Come on o’er. I should have cutters narrow ‘nough to snip those off without nickin’ ya.”

It was quick work, once Ori found the right cutters, and Barricade rubbed his wrists, sighing with relief to have the bangles off. Ori ordered tisane and a tray of fuel, figuring Barricade had not fuelled in a while. Ricochet might have left them to chat but he had said he would see to Barricade and so he kept to his glyph and he fuelled with them as Ori asked his questions and they all got a better understanding on how the Praxian caravans operated. Barricade had worked behind the scenes for his oldest brother and had learned a great deal about the inner workings of the operations, despite never going on one.

“There’s room in the harem,” Punch declared when Ricochet asked where thy ought to put Barricade. “Could be good for Prowl to have another Praxian for company.”

“Prowl is not going to want me anywhere near him,” Barricade interjected.

“Why not?” Punch asked.

“Because my older brother is the one that brought his breeding rights,” Barricade replied. “He’s not going to want his rapist’s kin around him or his creations.”

[epitomeofadisaster]

It's just a coincidence.

Dave Husker enjoyed working the bars at the casinos, he was 38 still in what he considered his prime, the casino was owned by a big shot from new York, it's said he was mafia but Dave didn't care the place was everything he had wanted, a steady job, a good pay check and stability which he needed since he had not long got married. The day was like any, Dave was closing up and organising the shelves before heading out when a skinny man in a suit showed up. The owner lived in New york but sometimes his son would show up to check on the casino, he was a bit of an odd ball, to skinny and a bit on the unhinged side, he slid up to the bar and waved Dave over "hey I need you to do me a fava" Dave nodded his head giving the dark haired man his full attention. "Add a new thing to the bar it's called an angel shot, anyone that orders that you help em, whether it's callin security or gettin em in a cab out the back you got it" his eyes where burning into Dave and he noticed the man's hands where balled up tight. "Yeah boss whatever you need, I'll have the other staff put that in, uh can I ask why?" The man gave a bitter smile to the bar top and lit up a smoke taking a long drag before speaking "ma nonna used to say if we ever needed help angels would come, they didn't help my brother none but maybe, maybe I can do some good in my miserable life fa once" Dave watched him trying to search for the words but the man just walked away with a single wave, Dave never saw him again and heard a rumour the big man in charges youngest son died, the casino was sold a year later.

It's just a coincidence

Huskers life had gone down hill he was 59 divorced twice and now spent his days either to drunk to function or hustling tables at the casinos that now resembled tourist traps, the old days truly gone, he was sitting at the bar nursing a whisky when a family walked over a dad and mom looking exhausted and a young teen her hair covering one side of her face and a smile that looked like a Cheshire cats. They sat down the dad ordered drinks, and the girl bounced on a bar stool right next to Husker. "Aw, this is epic! Can't believe we are really in the States, hey hey, do you live here! I'm from Australia! We came all the way here, isn't that cool!!!" Husker turned his head slightly to her, her face was as bright as a strobe light and he let out a not so enthusiastic "yippee" the girl didn't seem to mind she was bouncing around so much Husker found himself wearing his drink he abruptly got up looking down at his now wet shirt "what the fuck" the girl didn't apologise instead she got angrily "hey don't yell I'm just a kid you old fuck!" Her parents immediately jumped in."Chelsea apologised right now!" Her mother looked pleadingly at her and apologetic to Husker the girl let out a roar and kicked the stool before storming off her mother close behind, her father stepped forward with a napkin "I'm so sorry let me buy you another drink" Husker shrugged and sat back down he would never turn down a fresh drink the man sat next to him looking exhausted "I'm sorry about my daughter, she, Chelsea has had a rough time of it she was born blind in her right eye and we'll you know kids can be mean, she struggles to make friends we brought her here to just get away from it all" Husker sipped his new drink and gave the man a sympathetic nod "I get it my anger issues ain't to great neither, I guess no harm done since you got me a new drink" the man smiled and grabbed the drinks he got for his family leaving with a small wave, Husker never saw them again.

It's just a coincidence

Husk was old, his body ached all the time, cancer was a bitch but he guessed he only had himself to blame, he spent most of his days indoors now a run down house to go with his run down body, the times changed around him but his home was still very much stuck in the 50s an old tv set that never caught up to colour and his radio, he often spent his evening listening to true crime his favorite being the tales of the bayou killer from the 30s a cannibal taken out by a hunter, the true number of his victims was never identified. Tonight though he was listening to the tale of the Japanese house wife who killed her husband by stabbing him over one hundred times she didn't stop stabbing till the police shot her 3 times. Husk was in his bed the sounds playing over the speaker lulling him to sleep. Husk woke to the sound of the radio once more it was familiar the last broadcast from the bayou killers radio show back when he was a host, Husk blinked in confusion, he was sure that wasn't what was playing when he went to sleep, he tried to sit up but his body was stiff, he tried to roll but the pain was to much. A coughing fit over took him and Husk was unable to move to clear his air waves he started slipping into unconsciousness the sounds of the bayou killers voice wishing his audience a goodnight and a peaceful rest.

[firelord-frowny]

this is my second bout with using ~menstrual discs~ instead of tampons annnnnnd i'm sold!

my one remaining hesitation is how i'll deal with changing them in public bathrooms.

obviously, ya cant take them out without gettin ya hands bloody lmao. and in most public bathrooms, you have to exit the stall before you can use the sink! so like, how do you un-bloody your hands enough to pull ya pants back up without getting blood on them?

i could carry wet wipes, i suppose? the drawback of which would be a waste of paper.

another issue would be that i can't imagine being able to successfully change it without actually sitting on the toilet? and i Don't Do That lmaoooo i'm a squatter. ill fuckin die before i let one bit of flesh touch a public toilet.

supposedlyyyyyyy the softdisks can be ~emptied~ in a "hands free" way where you just... squeeze ya muscles like you're tryna poop real hard lmao and it'll push the blood out??? so i guess that could be an option if im in a situation where it would be too cumbersome to actually try to take it out and dump it in the toilet and dispose of it (did i mention the kind im using are single-use disposable ones? might upgrade to a reusable one tho, since i plan to continue using softdisks).

but i thinkkkkkkkkkkk maybe i'll be more comfortable with continuing to use tampons when i have to Go Out, just because i know i can easily change them in public restrooms if necessary?

but i also suspect that after i use the disks for a while longer, i'll get a better sense for how long i can keep one in without needing to change it.

so we'll see!

[harryleatherfit]

Upper East Side || A.U || Frankie Morales

Chapter 11: Opening Night

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 7.8K (i was gonna keep going but Warnings: mentions of fucking bad family, unprotected p in v (um), oral f receiving, mentions of sub space (when you squint at the end), spanking, hard fucking, tit sucking, some fluff, performance on stage, lmk if i’ve missed any

Authors Notes: let me know what you guys think! genuinely this is the longest thing i’ve written but i fear i’ll be hated for the next few chapters 😵‍💫 i love you guys ♾️

Chapter Playlist

Jungle Fever- The Chakachas

Somebody Like You- Bree Runway

Lust For Life- Lana Del Ray

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

Opening night, electricity filled your body. You woke up with light peeking through your window, you stared at the dust particles floating around, you wish you could stay here forever. Both nights were sold out, your heart racing thinking you had to be on stage tonight. Performing in front of thousands excited you on second thought. You loved the crowd, the air, the excitement as you smiled. You had gotten leads at UNCSA, but nothing could compare to this. You didn’t know where you lay in the acting world at all, but you had to remember that no matter what you would be yourself on the inside.

You had gotten up before Laylah, Rose, and Hannah, making coffee and staring at the sun. You were hoping Frankie was up looking at the same sun. You did breath exercises, prepping your lungs for the amount of talking you had to do for the next few days. Setting your headspace was most important to you. You were scrolling on your phone and Frankies name popped up in the corner of the screen.

New Message:

Frankie: Can you come early to the theater? Somethin I wanna show you.

You: My call times at 3, want me to come at 12?

Frankie: 11.

You: Okayyy, need me to bring food?

Frankie: No, assistants already brought a shit load, I need to see you.

You: Packing my bags as we speak🥱

“Hey hotstuff,” Laylah walks out of your room, yawning, “Smells good. Ready for your big day?”

“Ready as I can ever be.” You shrug, embracing the heat of your coffee cup. The mornings were always so cold.

“Anything planned for the morning?”

“Well, he asked me to come in early, something to show me.” You whisper.

“Oh shit, damn ok,” They get excited, “Have fun gettin old man dick.”

“Laylah!” You laugh.

“Nah, I bet it’s good. Look at him.”

“Believe me I know.”

“Have you guys fucked yet?” They nudge.

“No, but I'm not even sad. So many times guys just want to immediately fuck and it’s such a massive turn off.” You explain, “He’s soft and gentle with me, never in a rush.”

“Yeah me and Bryce haven't done the deed yet. Have high hopes for him. And he also uses my correct pronouns so yay men!” They cheer.

“Well here’s to fucking men I guess.” You click your coffee in the air, “Is he treating you right?”

“We haven’t done much aside from hangout during rehearsals and stuff, so after we’ll actually have time to be with each other.”

“You should go with him after the show tonight, get dinner and walk around the city.” You suggest.

“I think that’s what I’ll do.” They hug you, “My beautiful astonishing Lady Macbeth, I’ll see you tonight.”

-----

You arrive at the theater, New York Streets bustling with people at this hour. Broadway never fails to have thousands of people in and out. Tonight was going to be a big one. Book of Mormon was on, but that show was always on broadway and Macbeth was only on for two nights.

You wondered how many stars were going to come, how many people you loved that would come to see your show. How many playbills you were going to get to sign.

Your interaction with Wes Anderson made you think about your spine, your eyebrow conjecture, the way you present yourself and your character on stage. Everything had to be different. Mattias had a pep talk with you before you left the theater, no matter what happens on this stage, we both know we have put our souls into this show.

It was true, there’s no need to stress about impressing people.

You set your bad down at the entrance, seats already blocked off, ushers clocking in their hours.

“Hey, up here.” Frankie calls up from the theater's booth, “It’s set up a little differently here, Broadway has way more money than our school could ever imagine,” You walk up the steps, “I know so much bigger than our little shabby room at the school.” You take in the scenery of the room.

“I bet you’ve worked here a lot though, right? I mean this is like your job, to do shows for the college, teach the building basics of theater, and fucking work Broadway shows.” How could he act like this wasn’t a big deal.

“Honey, my job is cool and all but doesn't mean I enjoy it. Long hours, having to meet people's demands, spicy celebrities, whiney actors.” He purrs.

“Hey! I’m not whiney, you’re the whiney one, arguing with everyone who pisses you off.”

You hug him, he’s sitting on a stool in front of the lighting board, “I wanted to be an actor actually, but never went through. I never had the courage to do bigger roles and my dad was always focused on my brother. So I just went into tech, it’s easier anyways.” He mumbles.

“Sometimes I wish I went into tech, being an actor is fucking hard,” You stare at him, “Why’d you quit acting? You could never be second to anyone.” You rub his face, hands lingering on his porno stash, his scruff felt like lightening under your fingers.

“When we were in our twenties, he’s a little bit older than I am, he was breaking through the stock market and everyone was shocked. I mean he broke through after 9/11 so he was everywhere.

My dad was disappointed that I wanted to do theater and acting and not anything business related. I was doing mini side jobs for Broadway and small film roles. I went to Spain for some time. Until I started doing this I was finally important to my family.” You back off from him, circling the room.

He hasn’t talked to you about his family too much, he said he’s an open book but you didn’t want to push him too much.

“Sad boring people want to go into the stock market. Margot Robbie was the only interesting thing about Wolf of Wall Street by the way,” You chide, “You're not a fucking disappointment, you’re motivated. You create worlds for people to see, you have so much passion. I wish I was you.”

He moves from his chair, standing up, he’s way taller than you

“Smart girl, go turn off the lights.”

“Frankie,” You stare at him, “We can’t, you know we can’t.” Even though you fucking want to.

“We’re not,” He laughs, “Just go turn them off, I want you to see this.”

You do as told, flipping the switch and returning to your sanctuary.

“Lay down and look up, cmon I’ll do it with you.” He instructs.

You find your way in the dark, glimmer from the ceiling illuminating the room. You lay down as you feel his body next to yours.

“See the ceiling? It’s stars, they painted stars in here for the actors to relax before shows. I’ve done shows here before and they always help me even before a long tech run.” He whispers, the ceiling reminds you of a galaxy, calming and beautiful. He moves to your neck, smelling your hair. You could bathe in his after shave, bask his cologne. He always smelled so expensive.

“Don’t get too comfortable pretty girl, someone could walk in.”

“Then don’t smell so fucking good.” You shove him away, laughing to your side. The pain in your lower abdomen could never subside when you were around him.

“I have something to give to you now, but would you wanna come over to my place later? We could get food, or walk around, or if you want to go back to your place after the show home then we can go there, orwecanjustleave-”

“Shhh,” You shove your finger to his lips, “I would love to go to your place tonight, please. We can finally be alone. Finally be with each other without anyone interrupting us.”

“Ok, ok.” He shakes his head like a giddy boy, “ Oh baby you’re gonna do amazing tonight.,” He kisses you quickly “Before I set up, I wanted to give you these.” He fumbles into his jeans pocket, pulling out two VIP Caroline Polachek tickets.

“No fucking way, you did not do this. Frankie, you did not spend this money.” You squeal.

“Stop, I didn’t spend any money gorgeous. I pulled some strings and magically got them.”

He hands them to you, they were metallic with black printing of the venue and time, with her name in this beautiful ceryllic, you couldn't imagine being in her presence. You’ve wanted to see her since the beginning of college, but you never had the money to go. Since her breakup from Chairlift, you fell in love with her artistry. She was meticulous about what she exposed to the world and you wanted to be like her.

“A little something for an opening night present, and the concert’s before your recital. A win-win.”He looks at you, “I know her new album came out and I know her producer, maybe you’ll get to meet her.” He winks. Get to meet your fucking idol? You were shocked but it was Frankie, of course he would do something like this.

“Don’t worry about tonight darlin,” He holds you, “This weekend is gonna be amazing.”

------

Is this the real life, is this just fantasy caught in a landslide. No escape from reality.

Bohemian Rhapsody was blaring throughout the dressing rooms, never able to run away from Freddie Mercury.

After your soiree with Frankie, you had gone to freshen up, prep your hair and skin. Ate a protein bar and met with Mattias. You blindly went over your scenes, and then he offered some cigarettes You shouldn’t have, but you did.

You fled out the back, door checking to see if anyone would see you. Not that it would matter but felt too familiar. You found a cozy spot, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket the team gave you and lit one up with him. You felt like you were a teenager in high school again, smoking before a show to ease the nerves.

Passing on local tradition.

“You’ve got any family coming tonight?” He opens his zippo lighter.

“Nah, just my friends, I don’t have family up here. You?”

“Mom and dad, they weren’t too happy I came to this school but it’s starting to grow on them” He taps his cigarette, “Anyone special coming tonight?”

“Something like that. It’s recently new with him and I, but he’ll be here.” You blow smoke,“You?”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend so probably not. We’ll see.”

“Ahh Mattias, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, just means I’ll be clubbing fucking extra tomorrow night at the afterparty, are you excited?”

“Fuck I forgot about that, I haven’t clubbed in years.”

“It’s at this hoity toity place in the Upper East Side, not The Box I promise but it’ll be fun as fuck. The directors are supposed to come, like the whole school is going to show up.”

The fucking Box. Frankie being there.

Flashbacks of Frankie fingerfucking you agasint the bathroom counter race through your mind, you couldn’t understand how bad you wanted him. The one person in your life that has changed your entire being.

You guys finish your cigarettes, small talk with him was so easy. Giggling about the shit you’ve seen in high school and college as theater majors. Mattias knew what the struggle was like, he knew the difference between stage anxiety and general anxiety. You guys were the perfect pair on stage.

“You go head on in Ms. Macbeth, get your shit done and I’ll see you soon sweet cheeks.”

-------

“So at 3 tomorrow the whole cast has an interview with The New Yorker.” Ms. Roylance announces, it’s an hour before show.

“And the main 2 have an interview with Vogue at 5.”

Vogue, what the shit.

Tech crew, all the actors and directors were in a circle, saying a couple final words before curtains would go up.

Across from you, Laylah and Bryce are holding hands and Frankie is talking to Mr Miller.

You were trying to calm your heart rate, you felt comfortable with everyone around you, but if you sit in a dark closet and rehearse for the last hour you would.

“I want us to hold hands, close our eyes and say one word we're feeling, and the last 30 minutes before show we can just roam in the back, hows that sound?” Roylace gages the group. Everyone agrees, clasping hands, shutting eyes and embracing each other's energy. It’s the best you can do.

“I’ll start, pleased.” She finishes.

“Happy.”

“Elated.”

“Horrified.”

“Worried.”

“Terrified.”

“Thrilled.” Bryce bellows.

“Overjoyed.” Laylah says.

“Light.”

“Captivated.” You immediately knew that was Frankie, his voice, the utmost bass in his voice. Shakes you alive. You open your eyes, looking at everyone around you, soaking up your last minutes with everyone before you break apart.

“Wondrous.”

“Flamboyant.”

“Flustered.”

“Scared.”

It’s your turn, you’ve had the whole circle to think about this, “Content.” Your eyes closed, the mid stage lights shining on you, the murmurs from the full crowd behind the red curtain, the smiles on all your faces, you’re ready.

“Happy.”

“Petrified.”

“Euphoric.”

The last words slip into the air, opening your eyes exasperated.

“Places in 40.” Frankie says.

Everyone separates, straggling across the stage, getting to their righteous spots but you stay. It only feels right and you know he will stay with you.

As soon as everyone is out of sight, he gets closer to you, but not daring to touch your hand. You watch him go to the middle of the curtain, he opens it slyly only to peek through to the crowd.

“Wanna come see?” He asks.

You walk downstage to him, setting in stone to his exact steps, letting one eye peek through the red fabrics and the whole crowd is lively, everyone is dressed so elegantly. The laughs, the people finding their seats. Ushers smiling. House lights dimmed sensually. This is what Broadway is about. Your jaw drops, but you wouldn’t let this dare scare your heart, you’re fucking ready for this.

“See, they are all here for you and Mattias, they are here to see the most wonderful production of the year and because of you, you bring the feisty energy they need.” He whispers into your ear. You shudder, almost tears of happiness, you had no stage fright anymore. “Now fucking blow there minds away baby.”

-------

The raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan, under my battlements. Come, you spirits, that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood, stop up th’ access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature, shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between, th’ effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts

And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers, wherever in your sightless substances, you wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark

To cry “Hold, hold!”

Make me fucking human.

For more or less, there was no crowd in front of you. Just Mattias holding your hand. Rebirth. Refinery. Frankie watching you from the booth, admiring every step you take. Acting is simple, people pleasing is simple, it’s melodic from making up the emotions on the spot and zoning through the waves of the artistry. It’s for the people, acting is a service. You’re giving your heart out to the world.

You follow your footwork with Mattias, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, husband and wife. Forcing your husband to follow through with your plan, killing the king. So detrimental.

You rush to the wings, dipping your newest costume with blood. Lady Macbeth is a woman of thrill and duty, she would do anything for her husband, and you know how that feels. You soak yourself with the sticky substance, getting it all over your face, fingerprints of deadly sins.

Hands so poignant with red, your heart could be falling out and no one would notice. Cue.

My hands are of your color, but I shame, to wear a heart so white, I hear a knocking

At the south entry, retire we to our chamber, a little water clears us of this deed, how easy is it, then! Your constancy, hath left you unattended, hark, more knocking, get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, and show us to be watchers, be not lost so poorly in your thoughts.

You move the rest of the act, sit down through act 4, nothing involving you and finally act 5.

You mess around your hair, flick blood on your lips and action.

Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two. Why then, ‘tis time to do’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Instantaneously you have flashbacks when you were a child. In your cold room alone, dad and mom are fighting. This always fucking happened. The yelling would make you cry, but you learned how to get over it, you accepted that was your life. But now you’re safe, now you’re with people who love you and want the best for you. Men could never have control over you, ever again.

Do you mark that?

The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that. You mar all with this starting.

Go to, go to. You have known what you should not.

She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that. Heaven knows what she has know.

The moment you’ve been waiting for,

Here’s the smell of blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand-

You don’t hold back, you dig into the crevices of your voice box, finding every follicle in your body to scream. To scare this crowd. You aren’t a little girl. Lady Macbeth is a story to never be let down. You drop to the floor, shrieking your mind away, begging for air and life. Letting the blood on you trickle with slobber and tears.

The exhaustion mixed with the heat of your scream made your head spin, but the crowd was silent- you lay there hiccuping for a minute, letting the waves of grief pass by.

What a sigh there! The heart is sorely charged.

I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whale body.

Well, well, well.

Pray God it be, sir.

The disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

You shiver, shaking over to the edge of the stage,

To bed, to bed. There’s knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come. Give me your hand. What’s done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

You exit, and the audience erupts in roars. They quickly sit back down, as there’s more dialogue with the doctor and gentlewoman, but not one moment did you hesitate to throw yourself into your monologue. It felt so powerful, unbelievably life changing.

The show finishes, sitting in the wing as your castmates finish the last monologue. Opening night was one for the books. You all line up for bows, tech right behind you, the curtain opens up and finally the moment you’ve wanted. Not the applause, but able to see Frankie in that chair, just staring at you. All you’ve wanted today is to be with him, but your performance was truly dedicated to him, he was the one that shocked your headspace, he’s the one that makes you want this all. You each take your singular bow, your feet wobbling, walking to the end, tearing up with this crowd, the graciousness you felt.

The standing ovation of the crowd was magnificent, every section clapping for minutes, no soul daring to leave their seats. New York, what a beautiful city. The strong whistles, the numerous claps, the chatter warmed your heart. Roses being sent your direction, hearts shown with hands.

Your crew was instructed to go back to your dressing rooms, clean up, hang your costumes and prepare everything the same for tomorrow, then you could go greet people if you wanted to.

Before you knew it, Mattias was dragging you out to the street, to see all the fans lining up on the street waiting to get their playbills signed.

You only wanted to find Frankie and Laylah, but you didn’t have one second to revive for yourself.

Mattias thrashes with your hand, opening the back door to the cold howling air, embraced by cheers,

“We love you guys.”

“I cried at your performance.”

“We’re coming tomorrow night”

“Lady Macbeth saved me.”

“I love you.”

Screams and shrieks were surrounding you, it’s not that you couldn’t believe it, but your heart was overpowered and overjoyed. So much in one sitting, your head turning in every which way, grabbing sharpies and scribbling your name as fast as possible.

One lady stands out, she’s quiet but vigilant, waiting for it to be her turn, and the closer you get you notice,

“Ms. Kim?” You could barely recognize her, it’s only been 4 months.

“My honey sugar, look at you!” She hugs you, tighter than a mothers hold, “Your teacher Mr.Miller gave me a shout and I booked my flight immediately, I couldn’t miss your Broadway performance.” She shakes her head.

“Ms. Kim, you didn’t have to do this, I could’ve sent you a picture, or a notecard, or a playbill.”

“Now that’s nonsense honey and you know that,” She swats your shoulder with her playbill copy, “Besides I know the whole team here, no need to worry I’m here for a week, so a coffee catch up is on your list after this weekend.”

The things that you could tell her.

“I miss you, I miss North Carolina.” You hug her again, breathing down her back, trying to not let people see your tears. She was there for you when you missed your mom, she was North Carolina in a summary, and you missed it so much.

“It’s okay sweetie, you were meant to leave that state it had nothing to offer, look at this,” She pointed at all the people, “This was your destiny.” She kisses you on the cheek, “I’ll text you for a coffee date, but go spend the night away.” She smiles.

“I love you!”

“I love you too honey.”

You leave her in the crowd, finding Mattias taking a picture with a group of girls. You tell him you’re gonna head back in to get your bag, to check your phone and possibly run into Laylah, find Frankie. Unlatching the door, the air rushing in your face, Laylah was already there with Bryce waiting for you.

“You did amazing! These flowers are for you,” They smother you, “The shock in the audience when you dropped to the floor, you stretched all of their hearts out.”

“Thank you.” You laugh, holding their hands, best friends working on Broadway together, your 16 year old selves would be thrashing down right now.

“My guys in the booth couldn’t believe they were at a college show, you and Mattias rocked it.” Bryce says.

“Thank you, that means the world. Seeing all the full seats was just fucking mind blowing and I’ll have to say that a million times to process.”

“We love you, were gonna get dinner now,” They wink, “See you tomorrow? Same time, same place?”

“Same time, same place.” You agree.

They grab your arm, pulling you close, “Get that dick tonight.”

You laugh so loud it refracts around you, we’ll see.

They leave you, content with the night. Smiling dumb because now finally you get to be with the man you’ve been itching to see.

You call him,

“Hey pretty girl, I was waiting to hear from you.”

“Sorry I was out signing playbills with Mattias. Working the night off.” You respond.

“Don’t be sorry, s’busy night for you. How d’you feel?”

“Good, Frankie, I feel amazing.” Seducing him over the phone, itching for him.

“That’s my star girl, shining so bright on that stage.” He smiles in the phone, you can feel it.

“Where are you right now?” You ask.

“In my car, just watching the sky.”

“And where would that be?”

“Behind the theater and the crowd, come find me princess.”

“Ok Playboy, I’ll see you in a second.”

You end the call, chucking your bag behind your back. You slowly walk to the door, finally entering a world you can’t step back out of. Reminiscing when you had no idea what the fuck you two were.

You sprawl out, no one would be here at this time of night. He’s smoking a cigarette, convertible top down. Collar open and his hat is off, puffed locks chasing every direction. He looks up to you.

“Frankie, an Ashton Martin Convertible?”

“Yeah.”

You stare at him, some fucking longer. “I don’t know, just an Ashton Martin roaming the streets, a really nice car I’ve only heard in books.”

“Would you feel better if you knew I saved a couple paychecks for this.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sure.” So he had money, money. Double shit.

You get in and he stares at you, flickering between your lips and eyes. You could jump him now, but you had to wait. You liked the game.

“Food, bar, coffee, books, my house? What’s your wish tonight?” He holds your hand.

“Hmmm your house remember? Wouldn’t pass that up for a lifetime.” You remark.

He nods, setting the car in gear. You flicker your hands to his cigarette, he lets you take it and the drag of his menthol cigs felt smooth on your throat. Menthol and Frankie just make sense.

He’s playing Pink Floyd, blasting it through the dark streets of the city, and all you can do is smile stupidly. Your hair flying everywhere, hands perpetually finding the power of the wind, eyes closed.

You feel his hand sneak to your thigh, creeping to your body. Speaking to you through your mind. If his hand could do that now, what else would happen tonight? He moves further and further up your leg, eyes shooting open at him.

“What?” He turns to you, stopped at a light.

You grind your teeth, his hand was big enough to almost cover your whole thigh.

“You say something?” He smirks.

You wince as his hand lays on your skin, never moving but lingering so close where you crave his fingers.

A guitar ripple catches your attention from the speakers, he’s strumming to the beat on your thigh, and you can’t move.

“And we’re here darlin, what do you think?”

He parks in front of a modern brownstone, pillars glossing the entrance like a greek house. Bigger brownstone than usual. Everything about him makes sense, the expensive taste made sense, but this house was beautiful.

You take a breath, “It’s beautiful, Frankie. I couldn’t imagine anything different.” You’re scared to get out, but you itch to find what’s inside. He closes the top to the car, running around to open your door.

“Cmon pretty girl, don’t be shy.” He holds your hand out, he walks behind you up the stairs, punching in a code you looked away for.

“3570, didn’t need to look away baby, that codes yours.” He whispers to you, walking into his house.

Your first steps are met with roses, sprawled on the outskirts of the floor. His first floor, open for the world to see. Piles of roses, rose petals begging for your touch, he grabs your hips pulling you to him. “This is all for you.” You stand there with him, holding you. No man has ever gone this far to express something for you.

Grand piano deep into the room, kitchen with a marble island, champagne with two glasses full for you both, one staircase with golden spiraling leading to the top on the side. White columns and archways holding the house.

“And one person lives here?” You poke.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy it,” He lugs you closer to the kitchen to set your stuff down, “This is the house I dreamed of as a boy.”

“Well, it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this.” You ponder around like a child lost at Disney.

The back archway was all glass, you could see a light on outside to his backyard. His dining table to the wall of glass, next to the greenery. He had a conversational pit as his couch, dark green leather with faux fur overthrows. His TV was massive, and next to it were beautiful oil paintings.

He had shelves as a wall, lined with books and vinyls. Years of purchasing and collecting.

You take a peak, letting your hands run across the dusty spines.

“The Chakachas, João Gilberto…hmm Gerry Rafferty” You laugh, “Your music taste…is sexy Francisco.” He’s watching your every move.

“What can I say, I’m a cultured man.” He smugs a smile. He’s behind you, raining his fingers around your waist, you take Jungle Fever out of its sleeve, placing it on his record player.

“Just to set the mood don’t you think?” You snicker, “Have you seen Boogie Nights? You do look like a young Burt Renolds, scary kinda.”

“I get that sometimes, you like that darlin? Like broad-“ Kiss, “Hairy men?”

You dance with him to the music, listening to the women's moans of the song. Letting the dim lights glisten around his living room.

Moaning in his ear, grinding against him. Melting into his body.

“I love it.” You purr, “He was so sexy, don’t you think? That playboy pose he did made everyone in the seventies go crazy. I’d let him fuck me on spot if I was alive back then-”

He laughs, “Hmp, you wanna get fucked?” His head turns to the side, mouth curving open, with his eyebrows falling inward.

Your mouth falls, drooling over his voice. You hold onto his hair, sheething his body into yours, “Fuck me tonight Frankie, fuck me hard.” You whisper.

A lion raptures through his physicality, lifting you up to the closest thing, the Grand Piano.

“Frankie, we can't do anything here, I’ll break it!”

“I don’t care princesa, I don’t care, I’ll eat you out for hours and it could break, I’ll pay for another one.” He growls, “I need to taste this pussy now.” He set you down, looking you in the eyes as a rabid beast. His eyes were blown black, glaring at you for more.

He pulls your shorts down leaving you in just your shirt, your bottom half bare in front of him. “Mmh, no panties,” He chuckles, “What brought you to do this miel?”

“I figured there's no point, you’d rip them off anyway.” You shrug, head slating on the lid of the piano. Goosebumps rising on your body, the cold of the instrument touching your ass, air meeting the gloss of your entrance.

“Perfect fucking pussy, perfect fucking body. My girls so fucking perfect.” He spreads kisses down to your stomach, leaning when he reaches your mound. You grimace, you haven’t shaved in a long time.

“It’s okay baby, see?” He presses his hand on top of your sex, “Hair doesn’t change a thing how I feel about you. Hair doesn’t change a thing about how I want to fuck your brains out, okay?.” He kisses on top of your bush, shivering when you feel the wet of his lips with his mustache, nose bracing your clit. “I’m the only one that gets to touch your pussy like this, understand?”

You shake your head yes, “Only you can touch me.”

“Look at me, look at me while I destory your fuckin pussy.” He pushes your legs closer to him, eye level with your pussy. You wouldn't believe you’ve gone hours without this, without his tongue. He adamantly drives into your cunt, moaning as he shoves his tongue inside you.

He moans, the usual vibrations of his mouth floating through your lower abdomen. Cells inside your pussy sensationally fucked up from his mouth.

The tip of his nose would rub against your clit, he always managed to do it, but this time he was moving his face. His nose was creating circles against your nub, tongue squeezing the life out of you.

“Frankie- ngh- baby- feels so good- keep going-” You plead. Instead of grabbing his hair, you wrapped your hands around the edges of the piano, keeping your body from contorting due to the immense pleasure.

Your request followed through, he kept circling, shaking his head between your thighs. He would never let up, swallowing everything your cunt had for him.

“Pussy on my tongue, so tight. Pussy walls are quiverin for me baby.” He groans, dancing his hands to your stomach, legs dangling over his shoulders.

“Hold onto my hands dirty girl, I know you’re strong, cum in mouth.”

He raffles inside you more, squeezing his hands so your body doesn’t escape from his touch. Your clit suddenly buzzes, repeatedly shaking. Your walls come crashing on his tongue, he doesn’t stop pushing into you.

You scream for help, violently shaking against his hold. You couldn’t control your voice, begging for more. You can’t do anything other than yell because the movement form his tongue

“I’m gonna cum Frankie, I’m gonna cum on your tongue-” You cry.

“Give it to me, drip into my mouth.” His sinister base flows through your pussy, the room spins and you shriek against the piano. He sucks you clean from your orgasm, releasing his hold from you.

“Breathe baby, breathe.” The fuzziness of the lights die down, and his face comes in contact again.

“Your tongue- is fucking magical.” You drunkenly smile, “But I want more tonight. Please.” He pulls you off the piano, leaving a sweat mark on the top. You plant your feet to the ground, he holds your body up.

He chuckles, “Tell me what you want mi amour, what is it that you want?” He taunts.

“Fuck you, you know what I want.” You seethe.

“Ok,” He nods his head, “If you think I know, then fuck yourself for me. Go down to the couch, take your shirt off, and fuck yourself with your fingers.”

He had your full attention and you feel small, you’ve never done anything like this in front of a man.

“Go on princess, I’ll be right here.”

You faintly walk to his couch, slipping past the steps. You sit down at the edge of the couch, taking your shirt and shifting your bra off your chest. You’re completely naked in front of him, nipples begging for his touch.

“Play with yourself for me, pretty girl.”

You snake your hands down to your entrance, fiddling with your slick. You touch your clit, but it feels nothing like his hands.

“Frankie please, I need your cock.” You whine.

“You should’ve just said that, now look at you, yeah?” He walks to the steps, sitting down, “I need to you to cum on your fingers before I fuck you, I wanna see it.”

You hum, discoing your fingers on your clit, you imagine his cock finally slipping inside of you. What you’ve wanted since you’ve laid eyes on him.

“Push those fingers inside, think of my cock dirty girl.” He growls, looking you up and down.

You plunge your fingers inside, moving your hips against your hand. Wishing to have his thick cock inside you.

“Frankie, I’ll be so good, please. I want you inside me. I want you holding me down, I wanna be filled with you.” You mumble, terrorizing your hand.

“Wanna be a good girl for me? Fuckin tie you down, fuck you until soak me.” You shovel your fingers inside your cunt faster, imagining yourself restrained against his bed. His cock pushing into you at an unforgivable speed. “You’d like that huh dirty fuckin girl. Not able to move while I fuck your cunt, fillin you up til you feel it in your stomach.”

You slant your eyes open,” I want you to tie me up one night Frankie, be your-fucking rope bunny. Want you to use my pussy.”

“I wanna do everything with you, dirty girl, so perfect.”

You feel yourself tightening around your hand, his words making you interclose on your hand.

You would never be able to make yourself cum this fast because of your fingers, but because of him, because of his coaxing words, your own orgasm felt stronger.

“I can it hear baby, I see you leakin, cum for me, let go. Then I’ll give you my cock for as long as you want. Shove those fingers in for me.” He purrs.

You fall back on his couch, wavering your body to your orgasm. You gave a final push, laying stagnant from your orgasm. You watch him stroll to you from his steps.

He’s hungry.

“So gorgeous, so wet for me.” He smirks, “Now what do you want, so perfect and plump for me.”

“I want your fucking cock, I need you inside me Frankie.” You tremble.

He licks his lips, sitting down on the couch, “Don’t wanna do anything you’re not comfortable with pretty girl,” He moves your hair behind your ears, “Is this how you want me? Let me get a condom.”

You push him down, you should use a condom but you couldn’t be less botherd, “You could’ve fucked me in that bathroom and I would’ve cared less Frankie, fucking on this couch will be more than heaven,” And it is, “Don’t worry about a condom, I need to feel you bare.” He goes to object, but you shove your fingers to close his mouth.

Your eyes linger on his cock, he’s already swelling, “I wanna do everything with you Frankie, you could never make me uncomfortable.”

You close in to the crook of his neck, kissing him everywhere, praising him for making you feel so good, “I need you to fuck my brains out, make it hurt Frankie.”

Without blinking, he lifts you to his lap, placing your naked pussy on him. He kisses you sloppily on the lips, holding you close so you don’t fall, he growls possessing more of you.

���My beautiful girl, I’ve been waitin for this to happen, been dreamin of you sitting on my cock. I’m so glad we’ve waited, it’s gonna feel so good baby.”

You rub against him, letting your liquid leak all over him.

“I’ve been so good Frankie, I’ve been trying so hard not to think about your cock, when you were down my throat all I wanted was to be full of you everywhere.” And now-” You shimmy his shirt off, kissing his collar bones, rushing to his belt.

He flings it off slamming it to the ground, you look past it as it impacts the floor, making a hard whipping sound.

“Bet you’d like that naughty girl, fucking whip until you’re red. Tie you up with my belt.” You squirm against him, humping his bulge.

Images of Frankie whipping your ass with his belt, slapping your pussy, makes your brain short circuit.

He pulls his pants down with his boxers, flinging his cock out. You don’t remember it being this big. He was uncut and at least 8 inches. How could he fit inside you? The sight already making your pussy leak.

You rush your hands to his head, dangling your legs on his lap, pussy out for the world to see. You pull his foreskin back letting his precum bead down to your fingers.

“Feel s’good baby, fingers feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He grimaces.

You pump his dick, letting him grow against you, he keeps getting bigger and bigger. His tip was so pink, you wanted to suck him off like a lollipop. You wanted his dick down your throat. Embellishing in every way he can fill you up.

You lick his precum off your fingers, and he shoves his thumb in your mouth, “Suck.” He demands.

You enclose, treating his thumb like his cock. Swirling, letting every part of your saliva coat it.

He parts from you, soon attaching it to your pussy to moisten you up. He was going to stretch you so wide.

“Tell me if it hurts baby, please, I don’t want you to hurt.” He requests.

“I don’t care if it hurts Frankie, I need you to push me open. I need your cock.”

You shift until your lips are hovering over the head of his dick, waiting for him to pump into you. The tension was so thick you could barely breathe.

He carnally anchors into you, his cock magnetizing inside your cunt, the moment he surges into you, holding onto his shoulders stronger, you both gasp from feeling each other for the first time.

“Holy fuck, princesa you’re so tight.” He braces.

You try to move up from him but he attaches his hands to your hips and pushes you up and down. The air is eccentric and you’re so grateful you get to be so close to him, clasping on to his figure as he fucks into you.

He nips at your collar bone, lazily kissing you. Your hair disheveled from your body shaking.

“I love your cock, I love your cock. Oh my god- FuFuFuFuck.” You chant in his ear. The simplicity of having sex made you feel safe, this was more than magical. He was almost fucking your heart. He was so deep inside you, your mound was connecting to his base.

You loved when he was so dominant with you, you loved when he was in control, you loved Frankie.

“Fuck me- as hard as- you can. Use- my pussy.” You yelp.

The more you felt your pussy lips gripping onto his cock, the more you seized. The connection was beyond powerful. He aggressively slips into you, his tip touching that perfect spongy wall that would make you lose all will power.

“God darlin, love watchin those eyes roll back. Didn’t know you’d get this cock drunk baby. You love my cock so much?” He rasps.

“Spank me, please, slap my ass and fucking mark me.” You whine.

He lifts his hand, slapping your ass. He grabs onto your love handles, pulling you onto his dick harder.

“You like that? When my handprints on your ass? You want more?” He grunts.

You shake your head, and he continues, the sting firing your pussy up. His animalistic movements make you worship his soul, he matched your sex energy and you couldn’t be more thankful. You relished this moment, so grateful for Frankie.

He lusted over your tits, he slowed to kiss them, suck your nipples to hardened peaks. Somehow your heart hammered, watching him take care of every need your body craved, made you pussy twitch with his cock inside you. Watching his mouth wrap about your tits intensified your lust for him.

“I want you to do something for me,” He releases, “I want you to spell my name.”

“How-”

“Move your hips, move your hips with my cock still inside, ride me.” He stirs.

He intertwined his hands with yours, you back up from his chest preparing. He doesn’t lose your eyes for one second.

“F” You shake, his dick is everywhere inside your walls.

“R” You whine, the contact so slow and vivid, you could almost hear the colors off the walls.

“Keep going, that's it, just use that dick.” He coaxes.

“A” The tip of the A making his cock arch into you deeper than you could have ever imagined, you yell, soliciting for neighbors to hear.

“N”

“K” The ache in your pussy crying to cum, but you weren’t done. You knew you had to finish.

“I”

“E” You whimper, not able to sit straight any longer.

“Such a good girl, knew you could do it. My good fucking girl.” He kisses you, “I know what that pussy wants, I know she needs to cum. Wanna cum pretty girl?”

“Mhm, please Frankie. I-I was so good. I wanna cum on your cock. I’ll do anything, I’ll be so so good.” You plead.

His cock was intoxicating your brain, oxytocin so high you couldn’t think about where you were, only that Frankie was all you cared about in your life right now.

He aggressively hurls into you again, pinning your hands behind your back as he holds them in place. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock, you had to accept that he was gonna fuck you til you saw stars.

“You can do it baby, pussy’s already leakin all over me and the floor. She’s clamping around me. I wanna see that pretty face when you cum.” He finalized.

“Fran-Frankie keep going, I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum,” You praise.

You couldn’t even process his words, half-lidded and half dazed, all you could focus on was your pussy devouring his cock. Him driving past you until you couldn’t hear. The power to force you knew your voice was giving out. You couldn’t touch him, but him holding your hands back made you grateful, your orgasm so powerful you felt as if you were gonna break his cock.

Your voice box cracks, you immediately fall against his chest, stagnant from movement with the only action you could do was breathe.

He lays there will you, wrestling his heart from fucking you so fast. You couldn’t open your heart, let alone walk.

He picks you up, he leaves his couch area and you sense he’s taking you upstairs. He saunters into a dark room, placing you on top of his duvet cover keeping the lights off. You couldn’t tell what his room looked like, but you felt like a vegetable. He came back to you, cleaning your entrance with a baby soft towel. He has to move your legs, you were unresponsive with the widest smile on your face, eyes slanted to only see that he was getting in bed with you.

He lifts the cover, tucking you in next to him. You snuggle against his chest, embracing your body heat, spooning into him. Your breathing falters, in sync with his.

He rubs his hands through your hair, making you fall asleep faster.

“I love you, mi amor.”

And that's the last thing you remember before sleeping off the best night of your life.

—

i love lady macbeth soooo much. looking into the meaning of her monologues are so powerful and she changed my thoughts on shakespeare 🔁🔁

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taglist: @pastelnap

[traumamor]

The wind blew her red locks against her face. Her bangs, once framing her face, now were blowing into her eyes as she would ride with her horse galloping along side James whilst thunder booms and lightning bangs. A strike close to them causes Augusta to jolt. Feeling a bit of electricity go through her skin, she would pat the neck of her horse to calm him as he neighed. "Easy boy..."

"Why did we decide to go this far outta Blackwater anyways?" she would ask over to him. "Looking for trouble, I guess." What they always did. Hand reaches down to place a square of hay to her horse. "He's gettin' old..." she would breathe. "Got this horse for my twelfth birthday." Augusta would say to him as they rode as much as her horse could ride towards Blackwater. She needed to have pastured her horse long ago. Sold him to someone who can give him a nice final years but money was only so so and she wasn't going to go without a horse. Not to have to rely on James or someone else to bring her places. She would be more than happy to be by the fire in the lounge of the saloon. God, whiskey sounded good. Some food, maybe.

James had thought that, too. The problem with that was there was nothing but wide open grassland in the vicinity of Blackwater. Not the kind of place you wanted to get caught in a thunderstorm, where humans and horses would be the only lightning rods for a considerable distance. He thought about heading for Tall Trees, where he knew of a couple of abandoned cabins, but he knew they probably wouldn't make it before the storm.

"Yeah, let's try to outride it to town if we can" he said. "If it looks like it's going to hit and we're not close we'll have to put up a tent. Let's get going. You'll have to put some of that riding skill to use." Right now the sun was still shining on them, but the clouds were beginning to loom large on the horizon.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

kinktober day 18: sex work/prostitution (kinda)

fred weasley x george weasley x fem!reader. stranger x fem!reader. dark!fic, implied kidnapping, auctioning/selling, forced prostitution, non-con, dehumanization, degradation. Seriously, this is dark. Read at your own risk.

in many ways this was inspired by @babyjordy ‘s gloryhole fic w the twins, so huge shoutout to her, go check her out!!

“Make sure she’s lookin’ nice, George.” You hear Fred call from behind the counter where he’s restocking the register. “We wanna get her sold today.”

You’re trembling slightly as George tends to your nude body- clicking a collar around your neck, neatening up your hair, using his thumbs to rub oil onto your nipples so they’re hard and appealingly shiny.

He crouches down, tapping your thigh. “Open your legs.” You press your knees together with a whimper, and his tap turns into a pinch, making you yelp and spread your legs. “That’s better. You oughta listen to us, sweetheart, it’ll make things far easier on you.” He mutters, hands reaching up between your legs.

You gasp when his fingers grasp your pussy lips, pulling them apart so he can peer at your exposed cunt. He inspects it closely before bringing a thumb inwards to start circles on your clit, and you whine despite yourself.

“Gettin’ her nice and wet?” Fred asks as he walks up to stand beside his brother, his eyes raking up and down your nude form in his own examination. George nods.

“Figure they’ll wanna see she’s responsive and willing. Even if that’s a bit of false advertising.” He quips, and while Fred laughs your stomach churns. Though you can’t ignore the pooling arousal gathering under George’s skilled touch.

“I think she’ll sell fast, she’s already soaked.” George reports, rising back to his full height and towering over you. “And she’s real pretty.” You have to force yourself not to flinch away when he reaches out to grasp your chin, knowing such a move would lead to punishment. “We may wanna up our price.”

“We’ll see what we get offered and go from there.” Fred decides, reaching out to stroke a hand down your back, relishing in the way it makes you shiver. You gasp when he reaches your bum and trails a finger down your crack, his touch ghosting over your unused back entrance, and this time you can’t help but flinch away. It only makes the male smirk. “Never taken somethin’ there, have you?” He taunts condescendingly. “We’ll make sure to mention that. Gods, you’re gonna make us a fortune.”

Your heart pounds in your chest at the statement.

“Should I tie her up? Doubt she’ll stay still on her own.” George asks Fred, and the way they talk about you as if you’re not even there makes your stomach knot.

“Use the rig on the ceiling by the back wall and put a spreader bar on her, reckon that’ll do the trick. I’ll open up.” Fred responds, and at George’s nod he turns to walk back to the front of the store.

George grabs your wrist and leads you to the back, approaching thick red rope tied to a metal ring in the ceiling. There you’re tied up as Fred had instructed, and despite your tense resistance George easily overpowers you to pull your legs apart and put a spreader bar between them. He finishes things off with a ball gag in your mouth.

Some time passes with customers coming into the store, milling about, looking around at all the many sex toys the twins have to offer. All are entirely unfazed by your presence, strung up at the back of the store, eyes brimmed with tears; the only indication that they even notice you is the occasional lingering stare or vulgar remark.

Eventually a tall man- somewhere in his late thirties, you’d guess- seems to take particular interest in you. And you hate to admit it, hate that the thought even crosses your mind, but you can’t deny that he’s attractive.

He approaches, a sickening, appreciative smirk on his face, and you whimper when he reaches out with large hands to roughly grope at your exposed breasts. His fingers knead your tender flesh, tug at your sensitive nipples, and with your restraints you can do nothing more than squirm slightly.

“Ah, I see our new girl’s caught your eye.” You recognize the charming purr to be Fred’s. You look up from the spot on the floor you’d been staring at to see him stepping up beside the man, a sly grin on his face.

“That she has. She’s a beauty- got fuckin’ perfect tits.” The man says, voice low and gruff. Fred whistles.

“You should see her pussy, mate. We got her nice and wet this morning, bet she’s still soaked just from bein’ on display.” Heat rushes to your cheeks at Fred’s words, only worsened by the fact that they’re true.

“Is that so? This one’s a real slut for it, eh?” The man asks casually. You jerk when warm, thick fingers reach down, stroking through your folds to test the moisture gathered there. “Bloody hell, you weren’t kidding.” The man’s smirk morphs into a predatory grin. “Any chance I can test the merchandise?”

“Be my guest.” Fred says, and the man’s touch leaves you, his hands moving to undo the fly of his trousers. You watch with wide eyes as he pulls out his thick erection.

Fred reaches out to grasp your face, bringing your attention back to him, and once you hesitantly meet his gaze he gives your cheek a rough pat. “Be a good girl for the nice man, hm? If he likes you you’ll get to go home with him.” He tilts your head, forcing your gaze back to the man’s leaking member. “And I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You swallow as best you can around the gag, trying to ignore the pulse of arousal between your legs at the sight of the sizable cock. Fred smirks at your poorly masked anticipation before he turns back to the man.

“Once you have a go at her we’ll discuss a price.”

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Unholy (Natasha R. x Maria H. x Reader x Wanda M)

Summary: Mommy don’t know Daddy’s gettin’ hot, at the body shop, doin’ something unholy (yes, these are song lyrics. No, I don’t regret it).

Words: 3117

Warnings: Uh, smut. Strippers. More smut. Language. SMUT. Daddy kink. SMUUUUT. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. Technically cheating, but it’s on Pepper so you’re fine... right?

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @evilcr0ne​  @everything201197​  @lostandsearching​

A/N: This is based entirely on my girlfriend’s plot bug that she planted in my ear about a lot of hands. So... fuck it. You’re welcome, cuz this shit nearly gave me an anxiety attack trying to figure out all the moving parts.

-X-

The club was alive, the stench of cheap booze and sweat staining the air like mustard on a white shirt but you didn’t care as you narrowly avoided the drunken stumble of a man wandering out the door. It definitely wasn’t your first time in this hole-in-the-wall (you’d found it the week you moved to this godforsaken city) and it was evident in the way the bartender smirked, offering a drink without you having to say a word. Passing her your card, nothing was said as the silent exchange commenced like clockwork.

You’d moved to New York after marrying Tony Stark’s ex-wife and the current CEO of his billion dollar company, something you had never wanted but accepted for the sake of business. Play the suave wife – charismatic, arrogant, brilliant – and you could essentially do whatever you pleased as long as you were discrete. Your father had pressured you into the marriage (sold you, if you were being honest with yourself) but you never argued, knowing that – once enough time slipped away – you too would fade into the forgotten void.

But who would dare to complain about getting to stash away millions in the interim?

-X-

Settled in her chair, Natasha applied the last of her lipstick as she waited to take the stage. Black leather adorning her form, keeping what little modesty she cared to keep, she hummed to the music thrumming through the speakers.

“Did you see your lover girl is here again tonight?” Carol teased, landing in the chair beside her friend. “Suit and all.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha tried valiantly to ignore the way her stomach flipped at the news. Her favorite nights were when you came into the club. The same drink in your hand. That familiar white shirt with that boring black tie hanging loosely around your neck, a symbol of unbothered power in a place like this.

Always requesting her in the back room.

“Y’know, I’ve seen the ring on her finger. I wonder what her partner thinks of her coming home with your lipstick staining her collar,” Carol mused thoughtfully, tilting her head. “Or if they noticed the scarlet shade on the opposite side that one time.”

Chewing her lip, Natasha refused to comment despite knowing the truth. You’d been very forthcoming the first time she’d spotted the ring glittering in the dim light. How your marriage really worked. How desperately you wanted to leave it and never look back. She’d heard the story from dozens of people, but you?

She actually believed you.

“Whatever. I guess it doesn’t matter.” Carol shrugged. “She’s either going to request you or you and little miss witchy over there.”

Smirking to herself, emerald eyes cut to the blonde. Her words were blasé but the jealousy was rooted so deep in her voice that only the most oblivious of people would miss it. Most of the women in the back were green over the special treatment you offered Natasha – and Wanda, occasionally. You never paid for anyone else but they weren’t naïve. They knew what happened in the back room when you were around; could see the satisfaction painted across pale cheeks whenever you left.

“What can I say? She enjoys redheads,” Natasha purred.

-X-

Watching the Black Widow dip low on the stage, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight. Most of the people in this place would never know her name – Natasha – but you were a special case. Often given the chance to murmur it in her ear while she rode your strap like it was the only thing on earth that could quench the fire in her soul. Maybe it was stupid, trusting a stripper with so much information about yourself and subsequently falling for her, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You’d rather live in ignorant bliss than cynical expectation.

“Can I interest you in a dance?”

The voice was wholly unfamiliar, breath brushing the shell of your ear in a way that made you want to squirm away, and you shook your head negatively.

“No thanks,” you mumbled, downing your drink as you refused to make eye contact with the stripper lingering at your side.

Gaze meeting Natasha’s from her perch on the stage, you watched them narrow towards the woman who still wasn’t leaving. You assumed it was because this woman was encroaching upon Natasha’s money – you never gifted her less than a thousand dollars every time – but you pretended it was because she actually liked you, even if it would possibly lead to heartbreak later.

“I think she’s good, Frost,” Wanda called over the music, landing on your other side as her hand drifted across your shoulder teasingly. “She’s paying for Widow’s services tonight, like always. Don’t act so surprised.”

An irritated huff met your ear before heels clacked angrily away from you across the sticky floor.

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking up at the other redhead who often visited your dreams. “I technically already paid for you too, though.”

Scarlet lips tugged into a devilish smirk as twinkling green stared intently at you, her fingers dropping to the bill peeking from the top of her thong. “Oh, I know, malishka, but she didn’t need to.” She leaned closer, lips nearly caressing yours. “I haven’t forgotten our little talk. We’ll make sure you’re well taken care of tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you replied huskily, barely holding what little restraint you had left to force your hands to the sides of your chair instead of wrapping one around her pretty throat.

Seeing the war in your eyes, Wanda leaned away to keep up what few appearances you both had. Dragging her tongue along her bottom lip, she winked at you before sauntering away, adding an extra sway to her hips as she disappeared from sight.

“You know, if I were the jealous type, I’d almost be mad you stopped watching my set because of her.”

Head jerking in shock, you wondered if this was the world’s way of punishing you for your sins – faced with a tantalizing sight you weren’t theoretically allowed to touch. Your control was already non-existent; if you were forced to wait much longer, you’d probably burst into flames as if you were a vampire doused under waves of holy water. The way her leather bustier clung to her breasts was a sinful display – and you were nothing if not a sinner.

“C’mon, baby, let me give you a dance,” she cooed, beckoning you from your seat with just a look.

Following her into the back, you nodded slightly to Bucky. Bouncer for the back VIP rooms, he was privy to the antics of the dancers and would only step in if his services were expressly desired by a dancer. Steve, on the other hand, tended to be a stickler for the “no touching” rule, even though they were supposedly more lenient when it came to private showings.

Stepping into Natasha’s preferred room, she shoved you onto the couch with a dominance you both knew she didn’t really feel. So often in a position of power, she’d admitted early on that she liked when someone stripped away that power – and you were all too eager to help relieve her of the burden from her shoulders. The curtain swayed closed behind her and she straddled your lap with the precision only a woman in her profession could hope to achieve.

“It’s been a while,” she pouted, hips grinding along your hidden appendage to the beat of the music. “I thought you forgot about me.”

Gripping her waist tightly, you brought her closer with steady hands as your pelvis matched her rhythm. “It’s only been a week, Nat. I told you I had a business conference to attend. I could never forget about my favorite girl.”

Delighting under the subtle praise, her mouth crashed into yours with a vigor neither of you expected. Nails biting into her flesh, she mewled with pleasure as your tongue snaked its way past her parted lips and rivaled with hers with ease.

A game of pretend she knew she’d lose.

Hips rutting with need, she grasped desperately at the back of your neck. The moment she’d spotted your intense gaze during her dance, she’d soaked her thong. Now she was simply a dripping mess that needed to be filled until her head swam. Her free hand fell to the waistband of your pants, awkwardly fumbling with your belt and pouting with frustration when it refused to cooperate.

Chuckling breathlessly, you carefully shifted your positions until you were on the floor between her knees, meeting her wide-eyed gaze with a grin. Strong hands drifted across pale thighs as you pressed them farther apart, the tips of your fingers slipping beneath her ruined panties. Her arousal was so prominent that you were fairly certain she’d leave a puddle on the couch but it only served to fuel your lust.

Helping her work them over her stilettos, you tucked her thong into your back pocket before diving into your prize, moaning as the first taste hit your tongue. Hands tangled in your hair but you barely noticed, too determined to leave a bigger mess than the one you’d found. Your hands slipped beneath her thighs, encouraging them to fall over your shoulders as you anchored her as close as possible to you.

She writhed against your mouth, quiet begs barely audible over the wet sounds of her arousal. So caught up in the woman on the couch – relishing the tensing of her muscles as you worked her closer the edge of bliss –, you never realized the curtain behind you had opened until a soft, stunned, “oh,” echoed through the space.

You tried pulling away to look at the newcomers but the frantic hook of a leg around your neck kept you trapped.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Natasha hissed, whining as the feeling pooling in her belly grew white hot. “Please, I’m…”

A few strong, pointed licks left the woman coming undone and a few quick ones after left her boneless on the awful red faux leather the club pretended was real. Leaning back, you wiped the need from your face before glancing over your shoulder at the women lingering near the curtain. Wanda’s hand was tucked under her own thong, fingers playing with velvety skin you’d traced quite a few times since meeting her while the flushed brunette beside her couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight before her.

“Naughty girl,” you growled, gesturing for Wanda to stand before you. “Starting before I tell you to.”

Gasping when still-wet lips skirted over her trembling stomach, Wanda’s eyes fell closed involuntarily. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“You should be, pretty girl.” Sharp teeth dragged across her faint abdominal line and she whimpered, moaning loudly as your tongue slid along the faint indent. “Introduce me to your friend.”

Head lolling slightly, bleary eyes fell to the brunette. “That’s Maria. She’s wanted to meet you for a while.”

“I…”

Peering at her curiously, studying the hesitant sway of her body, you waved her over with a gentle smile. “You can come closer. I promise I don’t bite… hard. Unless you ask.”

Her saunter was just as confident as your occasional lovers’ but she was wary. Of you or of the situation, you couldn’t be certain but you would never push if it wasn’t wanted.

Rising up from your knees, you offered her a hand and pressed a kiss to the back of hers when she accepted. “I’m (Y/N). And despite the uh… moment you walked in on, nothing happens unless you want it.”

“Wanda told me and I couldn’t resist the offer,” Maria admitted shyly, looking at the women she considered her friends. “I’ve just never really done something like this with a patron. I… usually keep to the cleaner side of the business.”

“Well, if you want, you’re welcome to watch and join whenever you’d like, if you decide you want to. I pay quite a bit for the time you spend keeping me company.” You winked, hoping to lessen the tension in her shoulders.

She gave a genuine – albeit tentative – smile and you took that as a victory. Turning your attention to Wanda, you focused upon the faux-innocent looking redhead.

Stalking over to her, you tangled a hand in her locks before smashing your mouths together in a hungry embrace, ignoring the slight clash of teeth as you explored every inch. Your other hand was clasped tight around her throat, keeping her pliant in your grasp as you wedged a knee between her legs. The torturous part of you almost stopped her from grinding against it but you decided to be nice…

For now.

Releasing her throat reluctantly, skilled digits made quick work of Wanda’s bra and stared at the glorious sight. Chest reddened with desire, her nipples were harder than diamonds despite the overly warm air of the club. Leaning down to capture one in your teeth, your hand fondled the other expertly, plucking and twisting in a way that left Wanda panting.

“Such a good girl,” you purred, feeling her breath stutter in her chest. Your tongue curled around the sensitive peak, soothing the swollen flesh slightly. You could truthfully play with her breasts for hours, but the heat radiating from the core sliding desperately over your clothed thigh kept you from being too much of a tease.

Hearing the creak of the leather, you looked at the couch before gripping Wanda’s chin, forcing her to watch with hooded eyes at the lovely view. Natasha was suckling on the space behind their friend’s closest ear, deft fingers sliding beneath the fabric of her thong. Maria’s blue eyes were glazed over and blown with lust but she hadn’t once taken her eyes off you and the depraved, begging stripper bucking against you like she’d gone into the wildest heat of her life.

The restraint in your chest snapped and Wanda found herself crashing onto the couch beside Maria, pinned between the cool material and your towering form before she could register the sudden change. Her hands fumbled with your belt, tossing it aside as you discarded the white shirt onto the dusty floor.

Oh well.

Unbuttoning your pants, Wanda’s gaze grew dark at the sight of your strap. Her hand wrapped around the smooth silicon, stroking it playfully as her teeth clamped down roughly on her lip.

“What I’d give to feel that,” you groaned, watching the lazy strokes with stuttered breath.

Shimmying out of her equally ruined thong, Wanda passed it to you knowingly, a teasing glint in her eyes. You would often tuck them into your back pocket, sometimes remembering to return them after your “dance” was over but oftentimes forgetting to give them back until the next time you saw them, handing the cleaned fabrics back sheepishly.

Shrugging, you slipped it into the pocket that held Natasha’s soaked panties before lining up with her dripping core. The angle was awkward but you managed to slip inside with ease, relishing Wanda’s whines of desire. Manicured nails dug painfully into your biceps as she adjusted to the stretch but the curl of her leg around your hip encouraged a slow thrust, heel biting into your spine. You could hear every drag of your cock, the noises only serving to spur you on.

A breathy gasp from Maria caught your attention and you peered over at the women beside you. Her hips were rocking frantically under Natasha’s ministrations, two pairs of eyes watching the scene before them as Natasha brought Maria to the edge of oblivion. You leaned towards them slightly, chuckling at Wanda’s appreciative moan at the new angle, and brushed your lips over Maria’s provocatively when she crossed the distance, swallowing the whimper of pleasure that escaped as her orgasm washed over her.

She tasted just as heavenly as the women you’d grown to care about and it stole a sigh from your lungs.

Wanda’s pleas brought you back to the task at hand and your thrusts became steadily deeper while you coaxed Maria through the waves rippling through her trembling body, a hand falling over Natasha’s atop Maria’s thong as the redhead slowed.

Pulling away, the urge to hear Wanda come undone was overwhelming and you focused entirely on the woman clinging to you, the dingy lights of the club doing little to stunt her beauty. For a moment, you wondered what it’d be like to have these women in your bed every night, to bring them to special events so you could show off them off like the wondrous treasures they truly were, to actually be happy…

The idea brought tears to your eyes but you blinked them away, dropping a hand to Wanda’s clit as you expertly circled the swollen, throbbing flesh. Her matching thrusts stuttered at the sudden intrusion, her moan filling the curtained area as she rushed headfirst into the void.

And a clamp of your hand around her throat shoved her past the void and into a white-hot fire that left every single nerve in her body ablaze as she choked back a scream that surely would’ve brought Bucky running into the room. She quaked beneath you, eyes rolled back in her head as she rode through the first and immediately into her second orgasm.

Barely managing to keep yourself upright, you whispered sweet praises to the younger redhead as she slowly regained her bearings, shuddering at the endless tingles pulsating through her body. Untangling herself from you, she dropped exhaustedly against the couch with a sluggish grin.

“Whoa.”

The strippers giggled at Wanda’s righteous assessment before everything fell quiet.

The silence lingering over the room was comfortable, no one wanting to ruin the stillness (if you ignored the muffled music of the club and the chatter of strippers with their clients). Carefully extracting yourself from Wanda, you managed to wiggle into the space between her and Maria and closed your eyes contentedly. A waft of soft spices met your nose as Wanda’s head landed on your shoulder, her limp hand tossed over your lap and stroking along the soaked silicon absently.

“I hope you planned to pay for a night’s worth of dances,” Natasha announced from her spot on Maria’s other side, a devious expression enveloping her features as you lazily looked around the brunette. “You still have two other women to do that,” she pointed jokingly at Wanda, “to.”

Mouth going dry, you nodded thoughtlessly as you found yourself with a lapful of smirking Russian. You supposed it was a good thing you’d brought more cash than anyone should ever possibly be carrying in a place like this – but fuck…

So worth it.

[wolfontheloose]

“Jace the Ace.” Ryden’s luminous gray eyes slid to the detective’s waist curiously as the other repositioned the straps and holster that held the weapon. “Wha’choo packin’?” The wolf asked and the answer would determine whether he would whistle out, impressed, or snort out in ridicule. Because a gun in Greywood was a potent weapon only against about 20% of its population, if you’re lucky. Unless it packed specialized firepower.

“No, so feel special, I got a whole day set aside for ya. We’ll drive around, see the sights, I may pay for a cheeseburger and a milkshake… A proper date. Sorry I didn’t bring flowers, dead shit don’t feel romantic t’me.” Unless it was a certain someone but needless to say in this case Ryden was heavily joking while in the other everything would be taken deadly serious. “So! The Plan is, we drive by Cosmic Pizza and Arcade, that shithole’s full o’petty dealers tryna sell buds cheap and yer sort mostly leaves ‘um untouched ‘scept when they may be packin’ a lil extra, if ya know what I mean. Last big drug bust up in dis godforsaken shithole’s happened cus a kid was tryna sell heart-shaped acid drops that turned out t’be laced with fairy dust. Very illegal, big no-no. But ‘ey, ya want a lead cus the narcotics dept’s breathin’ down yer neck, Arcade’s a good start. Shove a twenty to a pimple-faced mouth-breathin’ teen punk gettin’ high on flashin’ lights and he might have an extra brain cell left in ‘um t’let ya know who his source is.”

“Then I say we scout out Club Capricorn. The amount of drama of the physical sort that can happen there honestly humbles a poor pub owner loike me. The shit that can go on there’s intricate. It’s not simply ‘whoops, a beer bottle hit sumone’s head and their excuse is it slipped’. The fuckin’ motives there have their own motives. If life’s a game of Cluedo, it will always be Mr. All the Colors of the Ravebow with a bag o’glitter and a martini glass in Club Capricorn. Solve dat case with a straight face, monsieur Poaro. Then we got the Cyprus Caves, most popular body dumpin’ grounds. Slippery as shit, skippin’ all dem rocks t’git to a bloated wet corpse ya ought t’identify and later on move. Elysium, draws in hungry vamps like trash draws in flies, jus’ follow the smell o’blood and ya can bet a fanger who ate the last Pringle had at one point visited Elysium b’fore they decided they didn’t wanna tip their blood dolls no more.”

“And I’ll only show ya where the Greywood Historic Library is, dats gunna be yer homework, t’go in alone as soon as ya can, flip sum dusty pages o’er, git yerself educated 'n' shit. If it got more words than pictures I fall asleep n’less it’s Stephen King so I’m not settin’ me foot into that buildin’ ‘nless I wanna nap. Then we got the Motel, most o’the newcomers end up there first so if yer called in to check a poor sod in a really bad state that’s got ‘umself locked up in their room and it’s startin’ to seriously stink cus it’s been days but they refuse t’let the cleanin’ lady in, well best ya tell the manager right away that there'll be sum door breakin’ and t’forward the bill to the Sheriff’s office. Wha'ever ya do, there will always be sum destruction o'property, when they grill ya 'bout it, don't argue back. Or cry. Jus' do yer thing and nod. Then we got the Farmer’s Market, the night edition. Boy oh boy, ain’t dat a motherfuckin' Charlie's chocolate factory wonderland on steroids. The shit I’ve seen bein’ sold there. I had a bet with the guy I was with one time and said shit, son, I wanna find talkin’ goat cheese slice smokin’ a cigarette and wearin’ shades while playin’ a trombone and we found it. We fuckin’ found dat shit. Well not really, but it was pretty damn close. Then we’ll go to the Den. That’s my joint. And, much to my shame, full o’narcs. Cus it's fuckin’ full o'tail waggin', attention seekin' lap dogs. Ya need help, come to me, at the Den. I guess.” Ryden concluded with a shrug.

All the while as he talked, practically bombarding Jace with a flurry of information, Ryden guided the police detective out of the station and to the parking lot in the front of the building where a black ‘62 Chevrolet corvette awaited with a hard top panel affixed for the roof considering the winter season, parked between SET vehicles and other, privately owned cars. “How ya doin’ bruv? Still with me?” Ryden asked as he walked over to the car they’ll be cruising around in, not his own vehicle but borrowed from Marsden for convenience sake. "Anyway, where do ya wanna start? I tried listin' places in alphabetic order but I suggest goin' for the most practical route, road-wise. So we ain't trippin' o'er our own exhaust trails."

This town. Goddammit. Was this their idea of a warm welcome? Jace wasn't usually a morning guy but he had to admit that being fed some crazy stories about the supernatural and sacred origins was pushing it a little too far. At least, he thought, he was getting a proper tour, which was more than he could say about his previous job. The guy in charge was a man called Ryden, someone they seemed to trust around these parts and who should be able to show him the ins and outs of every spot in town that mattered. It wasn't a bad idea..especially if he could land a nice cheeseburger for dinner.

Walking around the corner from the office, the male looked up to see his soon-to-be tour guide -a strange looking guy, mind you- and closed off the distance in a couple of strides. "It's Jace. Hi." He offered with a nod. By the looks of it, they were ready to go and so Stone wasted no time in turning them towards the exit as Ryden introduced himself, a hand of his sliding the gun around his waist and towards his back. "Gotcha, gotcha. And yeah, ready as I'll ever be. I hope this isn't too much of a bother. You do this a lot? Tours n' shit?" Man, were those teeth sharp.

[miryum]

It’s After Five (Spot Conlon x Reader)

Lena poked Y/n in the ribs. Y/n rolled over to find Lena standing over her, grinning. Y/n let out a yelp and quickly sat up.

“What the hell!” The girl cried. 

“Wake up! The bell’s about to ring.” Lena dragged Y/n out of bed and through her morning routine. 

“Did ya sleep in again, Y/n/n?” Blink snickered as he passed. 

“Yeah, she did.” Lena grumbled. 

Y/n splashed water on her face in hopes of waking up. “Go away, Blink.” 

“Love ya too!” Blink saluted the two girls and sped out of the room. 

Lena and Y/n had become close friends after Lena joined the newsies three years ago. Y/n had been with the Manhattan newsies since she was little, but Lena only joined because her family needed a little more money. Before Lena had come, Y/n was the only girl newsie in Manhattan. She was very thankful that Lena had decided to join. 

“Can we sell by the Brooklyn Bridge today?” Y/n asked as they walked to the circulation desk. 

“Why?” Lena scoffed, “So you can possibly see the faint outline of Spit Conlon across the horizon?” 

Y/n grumbled, “It’s Spot. And no! It’s a good selling point. Lots of people come back and forth. There’s foot traffic.”

“Yeah… right.” Lena squinted at Y/n. She bought her papes and then let Y/n buy hers. “You know you only saw the guy once, right?” 

“Yeah.” The only time she had seen Spot was at Jack’s rally for the strike a year ago. Y/n was up on the stage with Lena, right by Jack. Spot had soon joined them and gave a small speech. Y/n had avoided eye contact the entire time. 

After the rally, Spot had come up to Y/n and Lena to introduce himself. “Pleasure meeting you goils.” Y/n remembered that day very clearly. Spot had smirked and winked in their direction. 

“You’se blushing.” Lena had told her bluntly afterwards. 

“He’s cute!” Y/n had protested. 

“Hm, decent headline.” Lena said, looking over the papes they had purchased. “Riots in New Orleans.”

“You hardly have to twist that.” Y/n joked, knowing full well that at the end of the day Lena and herself would be yelling something closer to thousands dead in New Orleans. 

Lena sighed, looking over at her friend. “Fine. I guess we can sell by the Bridge. If we sell enough, I’ll even humour you by walking cross it.” 

“Really?” Y/n’s eyebrows shot upward. “What’s the catch?” 

Lena laughed, “No catch. I like playing matchmaker every once in a while. Though we probably should tell Jack just in case we end up gettin’ soaked and dumped in an alley somewhere.” 

“Can we’s tell Race?” Y/n negotiated, worried Jack would forbid them from going.

“Davey.”

“That’s worse. Crutchie?” 

“Deal.” 

The girls saddled up next to Crutchie who was talking to Romeo and Albert. “Hey goils!” He smiled, “What can I do for you this fine morning?” 

“We’re going to be selling by the Brooklyn Bridge.” Lena said, “We’re trying to fuel Y/n crush.”

“Oooo.” Romeo teased, “You got a crush on a Brooklyn Boy? Bad idea. They’s awful!” He waved a hand in front of his nose, miming a disgusting smell. “Who is it?” 

“Spot Conlon.” Lena said before Y/n could protest. Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. 

Romeo and Albert hooted and ‘oooo’ed while Crutchie looked worried. “Spot Conlon?” He asked, “Ya sure? That’s… that’s a bad idea. He’s not good news. But, sure. If ya wanna, you can sell there. Just… be careful. If you’re not back by five, I’ma tell Jack and we’ll come look for you two.”

“Great!” Lena dragged Y/n out to the streets, the latter still groaning in embarrassment. 

With the semi-decent headline, the girls sold their papes by four o’clock, collecting a good profit. 

Y/n saved one pape to read herself, something she had been doing since she became a newsie. “Remember the Paris train that opened a couple days ago? It’s been getting a lot of attention and customers.” She commented lazily as they slowly crossed the Bridge. Lena threw rocks into the river below. 

“Cool. I guess.” Lena shrugged. 

“Where should we go?” Y/n folded the pape and shoved it in her pocket. 

“Well, you wanna see Spot, right?” Lena asked, “We could go down to the docks and see if they’re swimming there.” 

“I could go for a swim. It’s a hot day.” Y/n agreed, ignoring the comment about Spot.

“Great.” Lena took the steep, rocky path down to the docks below the Bridge. Y/n followed, making sure Lena didn’t step somewhere unstable and fall. 

The docks came into view, boys lounging around or swimming. Some noticed the girls then started to alert the others. By the time Lena and Y/n stood at the end of the dock, the boys were all watching them apprehensively. Some were standing, arms over chest, others were still in the water, hanging onto the dock and staring down the girls. It was obvious the girls were not from Brooklyn, and it was odd enough they were girls in newsie clothing. 

“Hey.” Lena gave a quick, tense smile, raising a hand in greeting. 

“And what do you goils want?” A boy spoke up. “You’re on Brooklyn turf. So whether you realise that or not, ya need to scram.” 

“We just wanna swim.” Y/n said, meeting his glare. “Is that a crime? Not many good rivers in Manhattan. And it’s called the East River, not the Brooklyn River.” 

“He’s not even here.” Lena muttered to Y/n out of the corner of her mouth. “Are we sure we wanna risk a soaking?”

“Are we sure you can back down from this?” Y/n met her question, asking about Lena’s infamous need to hold grudges and never back down from a fight. 

“Touché.” 

“This is still Brooklyn.” The same boy cut into their conversation. “Go back to Manhattan or whatever inferior turf ya’re from.” 

“I’m surprised ya know the word inferior.” Y/n chuckled. 

“I also know some other words:” the boy cracked his knuckles, “beating you up.”

“Now, boys,” a new, cocky voice interrupted, “is that how we treat guests? Especially these lovely goils?” 

Lena grinned and nudged Y/n in the side. Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to conceal how her heart sped up at the familiar voice. 

A boy appeared out of nowhere, jumping down from a pile of crates. His pimp cane tapped on the wood, his slingshot resting at his side. His smirk was wide and knowing, his cap slung over his dirty blond hair. 

Spot Conlon. 

“From the rally, right?” He stopped in front of the girls, making a motion with his hand that dispersed his newsies. “Pleasure to meet ya again.” Lena scoffed, breaking the intense eye contact Spot was giving Y/n. Spot spit- shook Lena then bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Y/n’s knuckles. He glanced up at Y/n who was staring down at him, a heavy blush dusting her cheeks.

“What brings you to our Brooklyn?” Spot asked, leading the two friends away from the docks and into the depths of the city. 

“Was finished selling,” Lena said, “Wanted to explore a bit.” She noticed Spot was only looking at Y/n. Y/n was staring at the ground. 

“No other reason?” Spot questioned, brushing a hand against Y/n’s. Shockwaves of lightning sped up both their arms. Spot controlled his breathing. 

Lena stayed silent, hoping Y/n would take the reins in the conversation. “It’s such a lovely day,” Y/n finally said, “We thought we could go swimming or something?”

“An’ ya couldn’t do that on your side of the river?” Spot continued to poke and prod at Y/n’s answers. 

“We heard that Brooklyn was better.” Y/n glanced over at Lena, who looked aghast that she would suggest Brooklyn was better than Manhattan. 

“Well, ya got that right.” Spot let out a small laugh. He stopped at the Brooklyn Lodging House. It loomed over Y/n and Lena, who were cautious to go in. Who knows what could happen in there? Lena looked at the sky, noticing the sun starting to go down. However, once Spot opened the door for them and Y/n stepped through, she had no choice but to follow. 

Inside, boys were scattered around, sitting on couches or the floor. Some were huddled around a table, engaged in a game of cards. Lena’s eyes lit up when she saw that. “I’ma gonna go join that. See if I can swindle some Brooklyn Boys outta their money.” She sped off, leaving Y/n and Spot alone. 

Spot smirked his famous smirk and gestured to the stairs. “I can give you a tour?”

“Sure.” 

Spot showed Y/n all around the Brooklyn Lodging House, even the very cramped places where they had to squeeze together. The last stop of the tour was Spot’s office. It had originally been a small room, but Spot has shaped it up. It now had a desk that faced the door, two chairs, and a stack of newspapers. The top newspaper was the one that displayed the newsies on the front page. Y/n could see a small, black and white Spot beaming up at her from the pape. 

“I remember that day.” Y/n said quietly, picking up the newspaper. 

“An’ I remember you from that day.” Spot countered, coming up behind her and looking down at the pape. Y/n was now painfully aware of the places where he was touching her. His chest was pressed to her back, his arm grazing hers, and his breath on her neck. 

“I don’t think we met that day, did we?” 

“No, but I saw you at the restaurant. You were talkin’ to some of your buddies. I remember thinking that yous were the most beautiful goil I ever saw. I wanted to talk to ya, but didn’t have the courage.”

Y/n turned to stare at him. “The great Spot Conlon didn’t have courage?” She dramatically gasped. “I wasn’t sure that was possible. 

Spot chuckled. “Even I get cold feet every once in a while.” 

Y/n started to step away but Spot caught her elbow. He pulled her back towards him. Y/n cleared her throat and began, “The real reason I dragged Lena to Brooklyn today i-is because I wanted to see you. You know, we haven’t seen each other since the strike and… yeah. I wanted to see you.” 

“I’ve never been more flattered.” Spot pressed a hand on the small of her back, pulling Y/n flush against him. 

His eyes sparked with something. Maybe a mix of cheekiness, hope, and arrogance. Y/n wasn’t really sure. 

Suddenly, a loud commotion could be heard from downstairs. 

“The hell?” Spot huffed, reluctantly pulling away from Y/n and rushing down to the main floor. Y/n hurried after him and the sight they saw was enough to frighten the girl. 

A hoard of Manhattan newsies were piled through the door, yelling and pushing the Brooklyn newsies. The Brooklyn newsies were retaliating, screaming and shoving back. Lena stood in the centre of it all, looking around helplessly. She caught sight of Y/n and Spot at the top of the stairs and tried to yell over the din, “It’s after five! Crutchie told Jack! Then Jack was stupid and did this.” She gestured around to the room. 

Spot muttered profanities, looking tired enough to collapse. Instead, he steeled himself and whacked his cane against a window frame, the metal clashing against one another. “Enough!” He yelled, the scream silencing the room. His glare penetrated both Brooklyn and Manhattan newsies alike. 

“Y/n!” Jack exclaimed, catching sight of you. You shrunk back, running a hand over your face. Why did he always have to blow things out of proportion? 

“What in god’s name are you Manhattan newsies doing here?” Spot growled, marching down the steps until he was face to face with Jack. Spot poked him in the chest with his pimp cane, forcing him back. 

“We came to make sure you hadn’t beaten up two of our newsies.” Jack snarled right back. 

“But they didn’t!” Lena chuckled nervously, “We’re fine! Look, I even got some dough outta it!” She reached into her pockets and pulled out a handful of coins she had gambled for. 

“Then why weren’t you back by five? Why are ya in Brooklyn of all places? And why were you upstairs with Spot?” The last question was directed to Y/n. 

“We told Crutchie where we were going.” Y/n mumbled. 

“And he agreed that if you weren’t back by five, we’d come lookin’ for ya. So we did. This isn’t our fault, Conlon.” Jack said. 

“They’re right. It’s our fault.” Y/n agreed, stepping down to take her place by Jack. 

“Hey-” Spot reached for her desperately but once he remembered there were others in the room, he retracted and put his mask back on. “Fine. Go back to ‘Hattan then. But nothing bad was happenin’ to them here. Lena was playin’ cards and Y/n and I’se were just talkin’.”

“‘Bout what?” Jack demanded.

“None of your business, Kelly.” Spot said smoothly. “It’s not my fault my boys were about to protect themselves.” He scanned the room, looking over newsies. “If this happens again, there will be consequences. Next time, come here with only a couple newsies- not every single one in ‘Hattan. If the goils aren’t here, we’ll help ya look for ‘em.”

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” Jack took a step towards Spot. 

Spot stepped up to meet him. “I do.” His mouth twisted into a snarl. “’Cause there are no rules in this here Brooklyn. The minute those goils pass our Bridge, they're in my turf. And I say they can come over anytime they want. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Y/n and I have a conversation ta finish. Lena can go with you now. One of your newsies may wait until Y/n and I are done, but I will be walkin’ her back.” 

And with that, Spot brushed Y/n back upstairs to his office. He sat down heavily in his chair and she sat opposite of him. 

“Thanks.” She whispered, “For standin’ up for me and Lena. It was nice of you to do that for us.”

Spot’s smirk returned. “I’se wasn’t just doin’ that for you. I wanna see you more too. If you can come and go as you please, this’ll make this whole dating thing easier.”

“Dating?” Y/n’s breathing turned quicker. 

Spot’s smirk widened. “‘Course. Unless… you don’t wanna date me?” Though his words were confident and sure, there was a layer of worry in them. Was he reading the signs wrong? Was Y/n going to reject him? Was he going to make a fool of himself?

“No, I do.” Y/n smiled widely. “It’s just, we haven’t known each other that long, and I wasn’t sure you liked me back.” 

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Spot's confidence was back. “We’ve known each other for a year!”

“I guess that’s true!” Y/n laughed lightly. 

“And yeah, I like you back. Ya know, at the restaurant? I saw you laughin’ along with Lena and playin’ with the younger kids. You seemed really nice. And don’t think I’se didn’t notice that pape in your back pocket. You read them everyday, don’t you? Bet you’re smart.”

“Does this mean I get to come to see you whenever?” Y/n asked. 

“Yeah. I can’t not see my goil everyday.” 

“And does this mean I get to kiss you?” 

“‘Course. Though, why don’t we wait until your newsies aren’t downstairs.” 

“Understandable.” Y/n chuckled. 

“Let’s get you home.” Spot stood and offered his hand. Y/n took it and they headed downstairs. Outside, Y/n could see Mush and JoJo standing under a street lamp, making sure Y/n got home safely. 

Spot rolled his eyes, “Thought I said only one newsie.”

“Don’t blame them. Jack just wants to make sure I’m safe.” 

“You’re safe with me.” Spot protested. 

The over-protectiveness Spot was showing made Y/n smile and duck her face. Instead, Spot cupped her chin and made her look up. “There’s that pretty face.” He nodded once. 

Soon, they were at the Brooklyn Bridge. Spot walked her across it, Mush and JoJo trailing them. Once they got to the end of the Bridge, Spot stopped. 

“Well, this is as far as I can take ya. Goodnight doll.”

“‘Night Spot.” 

“Alright,” Mush came up next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, “time ta go.”

Spot scowled at Mush but didn’t speak. 

“You’re always welcome in Brooklyn.” Spot tipped his cap to Y/n, turning and starting to walk back to Brooklyn. 

“Spot!” Y/n called, darting to stop him. “Wait.” Y/n quickly pecked him on the cheek, a short and sweet kiss. “Same time tomorrow?” She asked. 

“Anything for you, doll.” 

Y/n waved and raced back to her friends. JoJo bumped shoulders with her and Mush rubbed a fist over her hair, mussing it up. 

Spot turned back to Brooklyn. He was certainly whipped for this girl.