#half and the chain connected them no matter how far they moved. later on he changed his to the form of a sword just to spite Balance abd his

[spotaus]

Hello Prev! I twas bored and therefore made more doodles, and I saw your tags so once again I will be dropping lore for this goofball in the tags!! (Thank you for wanting to know more, oh my goodness... <3)

Stickynote Ichor doodles because my brain got rolling 😔

[yoursecondfirstlove]

Anti-Social Behavior

P.1  P.2  P.3  P4  P5

(Nathan Young x f!reader)

(Y/n) starts her community service and instantly forms a strong connection to the menace of the group. However she’s quickly dawned with the realisation that the fast growing relationship with her fellow young offender isn’t the most interesting part of her community service.

Word count: 6,605

Warnings: swearing, smoking, description of violence, sex mention

And here she was, community service. (Y/n) had gotten caught doing her graffiti one too many times, she’d been too slow to outrun the police once too many times and gotten charged with fines she didn’t pay half the time one too many times. So now it was community service. Two hundred hours of it in fact. It was such bullshit! So now she was dawning an itchy orange jumpsuit. She kept her spiked bracelets and her choker on though, desperate to not let the uniform completely strip her of her identity and as she looked around the locker room she could see most of the others had done the same. There was a girl with dirty blonde hair that she was scraping back into a headache enduring tight ponytail, a tall athletic man who left his jumpsuit handing around his waist, a beautiful girl who was clearly aware of how gorgeous she was fixing her hair and pushing up her tits and a tall lanky boy who’d decided to cross out  the ‘pay’ in community pay back to read ‘community blowback’ and finally, a guy who was clearly putting in far too much effort to look tougher than he was dawning a cap and a chain. The only one who’d stuck completely to the jumpsuit without embellishment was a stoic boy with beading blue eyes who was smoothing down his already flat hair. Then one by one they all filed out of the locker room.

They stood lined up at a railing, as their probation worker addressed them. “This is it!” He announced “this is your chance to do something positive, give something back. You can help people, you can really make a difference to peoples lives” the man was poised, he had clearly given this speech to many delinquents and young offenders before. “There are people out there who think you’re scum! You have an opportunity to show them they’re wrong” “but what if they’re right?” The curly haired guy next to (y/n) interrupted cheekily. The probation worker paused, scrutinizing him before he continued “no offence but I’m thinkin’ some people are just born criminals” he not so subtly gestured to the man standing next to him, which once the capped man caught he quickly retorted “are you lookin’ to get stabbed?” The curly haired man near shrugged before turning back to the probation worker “see my point there?” Right as he’d finished speaking a phone rang and without hesitation the pretty girl answered “hey” the probation worker continued speaking “doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past” but the girl was still in the phone “doin’ my community service” “hey!” The probation worker interjected but she acted as if he wasn’t there “boring as fuck..” (y/n) couldn’t help roll her eyes “excuse me, I’m still talking here.” The pretty girl shrugged “what I thought you’d finished” the probation worker was visibly losing his patience “you see my lips still moving, that means I’m still talking.” The curly haired guy scrunched up his face a little “yeah but you could have been yawning or chewing” (y/n) laughed a little at his persistent cheekiness. “End the call. Hang up!” She just continued as if she hadn’t heard “my probation worker” she replied to the other end of her call. The curly haired boy chose to find entertainment somewhere else, turning to stoic man at the end of the line up “you alright there weird kid?” Without a reply the girl continued speaking “don’t be disgusting…I’ll call you later” and she finally hung up. Of course the cheeky guy had gotten tired of not stirring the pot for two seconds and riled up the wannabe touch guy next to him by making kissy faces at him. “I will rip out your throat and shit down your neck” (y/n) let out a full laugh at that “well isn’t that a colorful image” she finally spoke. As the road man prick accosted the man next to her he turned to look at her, throwing her a little wink before turning back to the man trying to fight him. The athletic man mumbled to himself “I shouldn’t be here man…” The probation worker intervened in the growing physical altercation “we need to work as a team here! That’s enough!” The athletic mans face turned to one of disgust “can I move to a different group? This isn’t gonna work for me.” The girl directly beside (y/n) whipped her head towards him, her ponytail and large hoop earrings swaying as she did “erm what makes you think you’re better than us?” She said in a thick accent. The lanky man turned to her, amused “what is that accent?” “Is that for real?” She was clearly getting riled up “are you tryna say something?” The lanky man turned to the probation worker “it’s…that’s just a noise! Are we supposed to be able to understand her?” She wordlessly flipped him off before (y/n) added “well I suppose you can understand that” he smiled at her again before taking the man next to him under his arm “I think she likes me” reigniting their previous fight as everyone laughed at the probation worker desperately trying to break it up.

Man! The probation worker was right! This really is their chance to make a difference in peoples lives…by painting benches. (Y/n) couldn’t count the amount of times she’d been desperate to sit down but she couldn’t because off the benches were covered in graffiti. This just solidified that this community service bollocks was, in fact, total bullshit. She sat cross legged on the ground next to the hotheaded prick she already knew she’d hate. When he bent down to get more paint the idiot had hit the fresh paint with his hat, reeling back once he’d realized “man! There’s paint on my cap! This is bullshit!” He’d angrily kicked the paint bucket that sat in between them into the water and stormed off. “Cheers mate!” (Y/n) called after him annoyed. Looks like she doesn’t have paint anymore, prick. He’d ignored her entirely as he kicked over a shopping trolly, struggling with it a few seconds before he could pass “oooooooo” the pretty girl called after him condescendingly. The curly haired man leaned in to speak to the ponytailed girl “I’m guessing shoplifting? No?” She was clearly getting more and more annoyed by the second “don’t act like you know me, cuz ya don’t” he reeled back, trying to seem offended “I’m just making conversation. This is a chance to network with other young offenders! We should be swappin’ tips. Brianstormin’!”  She continued to ignore him. “Come in, what did you do?” She huffed a tiny bit “girl called me a slag so I got into a fight…” he smiled a little “was this on the Jeremy Kyle show?” “No, it was in Argos” “Argos..?” He whispered to himself “you know what you shoulda done? You shoulda got one of them little pens they have and-“ he started making a stabbing motion with his fist “jabbed it into her eye!” She just sneered at him as (y/n) watched, amused. He turned his attention to the bench she and the reclusive guy were at “what about you weird kid?” He looked up as he was addressed. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like a panty sniffer” (y/n) choked on a laugh for a second, the lanky mans eyes flickered to her, satisfied at her reaction as he charaded sniffing a pair of underwear. The shy man’s eyebrows furrowed “I’m not a panty sniffer…I’m not a pervert!” he said meekly. Ignoring him entirely the other guy started miming out jerking off with his paintbrush as he grunted. (Y/n) held her hand to her mouth as she tried to contain snorts of laughter. Clearly getting annoyed the shy man blurted “I tried to burn someone’s house down!” Oh! Just some casual attempted arson. The lanky man made a surprised noise as he stared for a second. Then he moved to kneel next to (y/n) “what about you gorgeous? What were you done for?” He asked, smiling cheekily. She returned his smiled “graffiti” she answered simply. He put his hand in his chest as he recoiled in faux horror “my goodness! How unforgivable!” (Y/n) playfully shoved him “what about you then?” She asked. He scrunched his face up “me? Oh uh…I was done for eating some pick’n’mix!”  (Y/n) raised her eyebrows “really?” He just nodded, retaining the cheeky smirk on his face. Suddenly his face turned to the sky “what is goin’ on with this weather?” Just as he’d asked, the probation worker returned seeing the state of the paint bucket in the water. “How’d that happen? I mean, you’ve been here five minutes” he asked clearly annoyed “it’s paining benches. How’d you screw that up? You tell me because I’ve got no idea” then all so suddenly something dropped from the sky, crushing the car behind him as everyone ducked and swore in surprise. “That’s my car!” The probation worker said. Clearly amused the lanky man smiled “classic!” Before another dropped into the water, splashing everyone. “Okay so I’m a little bit freaked out” he admitted. The pretty girls eyes turned to the sky to the growling storm cloud that had formed “what is that?” Massive boulders of ice continued to drop as everyone decided to sprint back to the community center. The lanky man grabbed onto (y/n) as they ran as he made the best attempt he could to shield her with his body. The athletic man was the first to reach the door as he tried to pull the doors open to no avail “it’s locked open it!” As the probation worker fiddled with his keys the curly haired man kept (y/n) in a tight grip as she clung to him right back. Everyone screamed at the probation worker to hurry up and open the door as he sifted through his keys. “Open the fucking door!” The pretty girl screamed causing the probation worker to whip around and scream right back “Don’t speak to me like that!” A flash of light sent everyone flying back. (Y/n) could feel her whole body tingling as she flew through the air and finally hit the ground in a heap. The group were collapsed all groaning in pain before the ponytailed girl managed to sit up “I feel really weird…” the curly hair man slowly sat up as well turning his head to check on (y/n). “That’ll be the lightning” the athletic man muttered in response. “We should be dead…” the stoic boy said. The lanky man helped (y/n) sit up as he turned to the shy man incredulously “a little reassurance might be nice, ya know, ‘you’re fine. Lookin’ good’” the probation worker craned his neck slightly “wanker” he blurted. Even the lanky man looked surprised “did he just call me a wanker?” The probation worker ignored him “is everyone alright?” “We could have died you dick!” The ponytailed girl examined the probation worker “are you alright? You’re actin’ like a freak” the probation worker continued to crane his neck and groan. “Maybe we should call it a day” he said trying to get up.

All the girls were hung back in the locker room so they could get changed without the boys. They’d just about done, the ponytailed girl was tightening her signature style when she’d heard the voice of one of the others “what did ya say?” She asked. The pretty girl squinted at her. “I didn’t say anything” they returned to their activities as (y/n) looked to the pretty girl who was clearly judging the other and (y/n)s voice rang in her head this time ‘judgmental bitch…’ the ponytailed girl scoffed out a laugh at that which left the others confused as the pretty girl turned on her heel and left. The ponytailed girl turned to (y/n) “do you feel dead weird as well?” She asked finishing her hair. (Y/n) nodded “definitely” she confirmed. The girl stood leaning against the locker “my names Kelly…what’s yours?” (y/n) smiled as she introduced herself. By the time both of them had walked out the others had already started leaving so they followed. They were heading different directions so they bid each other a brief goodbye as they went their separate ways.

As (y/n) walked she took out her iPod and earphones before someone popped out from behind the corner startling her “Jesus Christ!” She swore bringing her hand to her chest “actually” he started, it was the curly haired guy “my name’s Nathan” he grinned at her. She rolled her eyes as she halfheartedly fought to contain her smile. “You get off on that? Scaring the shit outta people?” She asked. He just shrugged. She rolled her eyes and continued to walk but he was hot on her heels “so what’s your name?” He asked eagerly “(y/n)” he smiled satisfied “well (y/n) would you like to get a drink with me?” She laughed a little “it’s ten o’clock in the morning!” He sputtered a little “and? It’s never too early for a drink!” She turned to his abruptly “maybe tomorrow” she said before walking off. He called after he “I will take that” as he did little victory jumps.

(Y/n) returned to the community service the next day to find two people already there, the athletic man and the pretty girl. She turned her attention to the wall finding ‘Im going to kill you’ written in bold red letters. Kelly and the quiet man joined them after not long, Kelly and (y/n) greeted each other with a nod. The athletic man got riled up by the sight of the gaudy writing and as Nathan rounded a corner walking towards them he exclaimed “this is a joke! Did one of you do this?” Kelly scrunched her face up slightly “don’t look at me, I didn’t do it” the man turned his gaze to (y/n) as she just looked at him, unamused and shook her head. “I’ll tell ya who did it” Nathan started “it’s that Banksy prick, there’s a hidden meaning! It’s like that monkey policeman with the banana and the Tesco’s bag.” The quiet man looked nervously at the lettering “maybe someone wants to kill us” he muttered “and why would anybody want to kill us?” They were soon joined by the probation worker greeting them “right come on you lot, let’s get changed” the athletic man was quick to point out the garish graffiti “have you seen this? Someone’s takin’ the piss” the probation worker let out a huff “yeah it’s terrible isn’t it? All this antisocial behaviour” he said casting a glance at (y/n). “Oh! Is he having a dig at us” Nathan said leaning into (y/n)s ear. The pretty girls phone rang, setting off the probation worker as he demanded everyone hand over their phones and sent them all inside to get changed.

As they walked in (y/n) had finally asked everyone’s names, Alisha, Curtis and Simon. She figured she’d learned two peoples names already so she may as well learn the others as she would be working with them for the next twelve or so weeks. As they got changed Nathan cast the question “is he allowed to take our phones? He’s probably using them to call one of those sex lines” Curtis rolled his eyes  “those sex lines will eat your credit” “call them a lot do you?” Alisha chided, earning a curt “funny” Nathan continued the joke “he’s out there feeling himself on our phones, naked. Masturbating!” (Y/n) chuckled as she continued to pull on her jumpsuit, pretending not to notice the way Nathan eyed her. Alisha extended her arm to Curtis offering him a joint “do you want some of this?” He shook his head “no I’m good” Nathan swerved in front of him “give it here.” he took a pull before extending to to (y/n), she tried to take it from his hand out he kept a grip on it “ab ah ah” she rolled her eyes and took a pull with the joint still between his fingers. He smiled “come on” he said as he began walking out of the locker room.

They’d all gotten to work scrubbing at the garish lettering as Simon joined them quietly. Alisha and Curtis were having their own conversation, practically eyefucking each other already. ‘Jesus…’  (y/n) thought ‘are me and Nathan just as bad or is it just them?’ Kelly cast a glance to her before addressing the group “you know after the storm? Did any of yours feel like dead weird?” Nathan turned to her “yeah! i had a strange tingling sensation in my anus” (y/n) scoffed out a laugh, shaking her head. ‘I should say something’ Kelly heard Simons voice. She turned to him ‘I’ll just sound like a freak…’she approached him “what, did you feel weird?”  Nathan turned to address her again “what, you don’t want to hear about my anus?” (Y/n) laughed again “do you really need to ask the question?” Curtis said incredulously. “Something happened…” Simon began meekly. “What’s that? Squeak up!” Simons eyes flickered back to Kelly for reassurance “something happened to me” Kelly awaited an answer “Are you a virgin?” Nathan asked before he began to sing “ High Fi-“ “Shut up!” Kelly interrupted before turning back to Simon “What was it?” Simon swallowed nervously before dismissing “it’s nothing” Kelly chose not to push any further. She heard Nathan’s voice again ‘at least community service has one perk’ she turned to see him eyeing (y/n) as she knelt on the ground scrubbing the wall and pushing her hair away from her face ‘I am so gonna shag her brains out!’ Kelly scrunched up her face and shoved Nathan “prick!” She swore at him before storming off “what was that for?” Nathan called after her. (Y/n) considered following her but decided it best to continue with her work.

They’d decided to take their break, (y/n) and Alisha sat together as Alisha dished out the plethora of drama she had going in with her friends as the boys gathered around a foosball table. “It’s a shame more women don’t commit crime. Why is that? But hey at least we’re three on three” Nathan said “what do you mean?” Curtis asked. Nathan shrugged “there’s three of us and three of them, all evens out!” Curtis just laughed “there was four of us” Simon pointed out, Nathan dismissed him “I’m talking about gettin’ laid. So how are we gonna  do this, man?” Curtis furrowed his eyebrows “do what?” “Divide them up! Cuz I gotta tell ya, the one with all the frizzy hair, I don’t see me and her gettin’ it on” Curtis laughed “because she’s beautiful?“ he asked. Nathan shook his head, huffing “ no, because she’d be way too much effort! She looks high maintenance man! You’d have to treat her really well.” He scoffs “but that other one…” he begins snapping his fingers before pointing to Simon “Kelly” he reminds him “whatever, a couple of Bacardi Breezers, man, I reckon she’d be good to go” he pointed to Simon “perfect for you huh weird kid?” Curtis scoffed out a laugh “I suppose you get (y/n) then yeah?“ Nathan nods “come on man! Have ya seen us? we’re practically buzzin’ with sexual energy already, it’s only a matter of time before we start rippin’ each other’s clothes off!” Curtis scoffed yet again “yeah, and the girls like, do they get a say in this?” Nathan leans in exclaiming “a group of young people doing mindedness shit all day, face it man, it’s gonna happen! It always does! It’s biology. Or physics, one of those. So do we have a deal” Nathan spits into his hand and extends it to Curtis who just stares in disgust “no…” Nathan makes a slight face at him “fine then maybe I’ll take all of them” Curtis nods sarcastically “yeah, I see that happening.” “Yeah you will see it and then you’ll be sorry you didn’t accept the deal! And then who’s laughin’? Me.” Nathan strides off to join (y/n) and Alisha.

Simon also joins the girls as Curtis begins sorting out the buckets they’d used. Nathan, not wanting to pay for a drink had decided on physically assaulting the vending machine. A can of coke finally dropping as Curtis walked by as (y/n) watching Nathan violent attack on the machinery with a smile. Once Nathan had retrieved his can he decided to plop down into a wheel chair and pull (y/n) into his lap eliciting a giggle from her as he wheeled them both nearer to the others. “When I was in sixth form you came to my school” Alisha began, drawing the attention of the group as she addressed Curtis “you gave this big talk about athletics and all your medals and that.” Once Nathan had stopped wheeling he brought his arms up to wrap around (y/n)’s waist “so, I’m guessing you’re not going to the olympics..” Curtis near bared his teeth at him “funny” he hissed. “I heard he was dealing crack” Alisha stated, Curtis was quick to retort “what? i wasn’t dealing crack!” Nathan shook his head as he Leander forward to look past (y/n) to Alisha “no no no, papers said it was steroids” Alisha began to lay down “that stuff will shrivel your dick.” Curtis was visibly agitated “it wasn’t steroids! I’m not a cheat! That stuff in the papers was bullshit!” Alisha shrugged “yeah? So what was it then?” Curtis cast his eyes to her, then to Nathan, then to the ground “I got caught with a little bit of coke, alright? I messed up one time” Alisha huffed out a breath of disbelief “no one gets community service for possession!” Curtis scoffed “if it was anyone else they’d have got a caution. I get two hundred hours of community service and a two year ban from athletics. They said cuz of my profile they needed to send a message.” Nathan smirked “you let yourself down”  Alisha started silently cackling “you let the kids down, you let your parents down!” Curtis sprang from the wall he was leaning on “shut the fuck up!” Curtis surged to grab Nathan by the collar, (y/n) would have fallen right out of his lap onto the floor if Nathan hadn’t managed to stabilise her by her hips “All I ever did was train!” Curtis screamed in Nathan’s face as (y/n) covered her ears and scrunched her eyes closed, cowering in Nathan’s grasp. “You know nothing!” Curtis screamed again “I shouldn’t even fucking be here!” Nathan’s eyes snapped from Curtis to (y/n) as she shook with fright “you can’t hit someone in a wheelchair” Nathan said trying to defuse the situation. Nathan’s glance to (y/n) had reminded Curtis that she was there at all, and when he looked at her she looked terrified. Seeing her like that he finally managed to compose himself as he let go of Nathan’s collar and backed up. Nathan huffed out a sigh of relief as he tightened his grip on (y/n) casting a strained glance to Alisha. Alisha just grinned “do you wanna know what I got done for?” Nathan shrugged “not really” to which Alisha just rolled her eyes. She began recounting the whole story, unnecessary friendship and hookup drama included before she finally got to when she was pulled over and re-enacted her attempt to seduce the policeman by sucking on her water bottle for more than a little bit too long. Nathan and (y/n) both furrowed their eyebrows with their mouthed open as they exchanged a look and began giggling where as Curtis and Simon sat completely dumbfounded staring at her. When she’s finally done she says “now, I don’t know if this cop is gay or what, but he tells me I’m four times over the limit. It’s bullshit! i didn’t even wanna go to the party” she’s interrupted by the door slamming open and Kelly hurling herself inside “he’s gonna kill us!” She says as she scrambles to her feet to shut the door behind her. Nathan laughs “nice entrance! Very dramatic!” Kelly turns to the group, out of breath with her makeup running down her face “the probation workers gone mental he’s  just attacked me! Something really weird is happening! I’m hearing these voices in me head, it’s like ai can hear what people are thinkin’” Alisha huffs “have you been sniffing glue?” She asks condescendingly. “The storm, the lightning I dunno it’s just done something to us!” Kelly exclaims. “Okay..” Nathan begins “if you can hear our thoughts what am I thinking right now?” ‘This is bullshit!’ “You think it’s bullshit!””of course I think it’s bullshit! Your don’t have to be a mindreader to know that!” (Y/n) gives Nathan a disapproving look to which he just shrugs. Kelly casts her gaze down to Nathan’s legs “why are you in a wheelchair?” Nathan dawns a pathetic look “it was the storm!” Kelly’s expression softens for a moment “the strange tingling sensation in my anus has spread through my body and now I can’t feel my legs” (y/n) huffs “don’t be a prick” she said as she pinched him in the side “ow!” Nathan exclaims “I’m serious!” Kelly yells as she kicks his shin “Ouch! Jesus! Enough!” Nathan wails. Curtis steps forward “what do you mean the probation worker attacked you?” “This does sound like complete shit!” Alisha added. Kelly fed up with people not believing her screamed “he is out there and he chased me!” (Y/n) was quick to stand up try and calm her down, Nathan threw his hands up in annoyance as she stood from his lap but she didn’t even notice as she rushed to Kelly to do her best to comfort her. “Somethings happened to me too…” Nathan already annoyed with his loss of physical contact quickly snapped sarcastically “did you pop your cherry? Ah, we’re all very happy for ya” Simon just shook his head “earlier on when we were in the locker room, I was invisible…I turned invisible” Kelly looked to Simon hopefully as she continues to grip onto (y/n), thankful she wasn’t the only one who was going through this crazy shit. Curtis was quick to shut it down though “so she’s psychic and you can turn invisible? That seems likely” Nathan joined “yeah, did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?” “You were all there” Simon defended. “Uh I think we might have noticed you vanishing into thin air” Simons face turned sorrowful “you’d didn’t. I was standing right there. You couldn’t see me.” Nathan rolled his eyes “alright” he wheeled up to Simon “go on then. Do it. Turn invisible!” (Y/n) rolled her eyes turning her attention back to Kelly “are you alright?” She finally asked, Kelly just shook her head “you believe don’t ya? You have to believe me!” (Y/n) nodded and pulled Kelly in for a hug. Kelly pulled away from (y/n)s grip to stop Nathan from wheeling towards the door “don’t! Don’t go out there he will kill ya!” Nathan just rolled his eyes “of course he will cuz he’s such a badass.” “Don’t!” “She’s tellin’ the truth!” Curtis exclaims drawing everyone’s attention. Nathan smiles, clearly finding this whole situation incredibly amusing “and you know this how? i suppose you’re psychic now too?” Curtis took a few breaths before answering “all this” Curtis began, “it’s already happened once. I opened the door, the probation worker he killed you” he looked to Kelly as he continued “you were right there, you were dead. Everything froze, you were all just standing there. Time went backwards” Curtis continued to pant as Alisha rolled her eyes “what are you saying? What, you turned back time?” “Well this just gets better by the second” “everything happened again, exactly the same! I’m tellin’ you don’t open that door!”Nathan ignored him as he began to unlatch the door “Nathan don’t!” (Y/n) demanded as he peered out the door before quickly shutting and re-latching it. Nathan spun around, panic in his face “he’s right! The probation workers gone mental” from outside the probation worked started hammering on the door as Nathan sprang forward towards (y/n) subtly pushing her behind him.

“Maybe he’s on crystal meth” Alisha tried to rationalise “I mean that stuff makes you crazy! My friend Chloe did it, she nearly shagged her brother! And he’s really ugly” Simon gasped a little “the graffiti ‘I’m going to kill you’ he wrote it” “what did I say? i said there was a hidden meaning! Or not..” Kelly turned to (y/n) and Alisha “did anything happen to you?” “No!” Alisha explained “we should call the police” Simon shook his head “he took our phones. He’s got all of our phones.” Then the banging stopped. Alisha looked to Kelly angrily “you dickhead! Why did you come back here? you should have gone for help!” Kelly whipped around “what do you know bitch?” “Shut up you chav” “hey!” (Y/n) interrupted “if she’d gone for help none of us woulda known the probation worker had gone mental, we’d be dead before she even found help!” Kelly retained eye contact with Alisha as she pointed to (y/n) “Exactly!” She turned to address the rest of the group “he tried to kill me!  I came back here to warn yous lot and I coulda left ya! I’m sick of you dickheads judgin’ me! You can all fuck off!” Alisha stormed off “whatever I’m getting outta here.” (Y/n) turned to run to the back exit and before she even registered what was happening she was already there. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she heard the others around the corner. Nathan rounded the corner and slipped on the floor on what had been discovered to be a pool of blood. Nathan stood up abruptly “get it off me!” He cried as he turned to (y/n) his disgust and horror was interrupted by confusion as he spotted her “how’d you get here so quick?” (Y/n) looked at him wide eyed as she shrugged. The group cautiously approved the locker that the blood had pooled out of, Curtis swung open the door to reveal the dead body of their fellow young offender. They all jumped back screaming. “I did wonder what happened to him” Nathan mumbled as he reached to grip (y/n)s hand in his own. The group bickered a bit and Nathan only gripped onto (y/n) tighter in his horror. Curtis turned to Alisha to comfort her “come on…don’t look at him” he reached to take hold her her arm but once he made contact he let out a pained groan “I’ve gotta have sex with you right now! You’re so beautiful” Alisha struggled in his grasp as she managed to push him off “get off me you freak!” Curtis seemed to snap out of it “what?” He asked seeming genuinely confused. Alisha just swung to hit him, he caught her arm and began the same lust driven ramblings as she once again broke from his grasp. “What did I do?” Curtis asked again both confused and concerned “uh” Kelly started “you said you were gonna shag her””And you were gettin’ your chap out” Nathan added. Simon examined the situation for a second before concluding “it’s when you were touching her” Alisha looked around before examining her own hands and then pressing a hand to Simons neck. Sure enough he too feel into insatiable lust and ramblings as his veins darkened on his pale skin. Alisha recoiled in horror “what is happening to me?” Suddenly the probation worker broke through the glass of the door grunting anomalistically. The group scrambled away but Kelly grabbed a paint can hitting him over the head with it. The group settled, observing the limp body of their probation worker. (Y/n) gripped Nathan’s arm holding her hand to her mouth as stray tears streamed down her face “is he dead?” She asked Nathan reached the arm she was gripping to pull her further behind him “well I’m no doctor but…you see the way the back of his head’s caved in like that…” the probation worker sprang back to life grabbing at Kelly’s ankle and she wasted no time in stomping directly on his head. Once he’d stopped moving Kelly turned around, looking like she was about to be sick. “That should do it” Nathan said. (Y/n) felt her tears stream harder as she leaned her face into Nathan’s back, Nathan turned around to engulf her in a tight embrace, both for her comfort and his own. “You killed our probation worker” Alisha pointed out, Kelly stared at her open mouthed. “This is very, very bad” Nathan muttered into (y/n)s hair. “He would have killed us!” Kelly defended “we should call the police, it was self defence” Curtis said, Alisha nodded “yeah yeah, we’ll show them the body in the locker they’ll do some csi shit and figure it out” “the won’t believe us” Kelly insisted. “We just tell them the truth! We stick to our story” Kelly huffed “and what’s our story? That he can turn invisible and you can turn back time? It doesn’t matter what we tell them, they’ll say we’re lying! They’ll say that we killed them both!”  The group looked around at each other, scared shitless. “If there’s no body there’s no crime” Simon said abruptly “what the fuck” (y/n) spoke into Nathan’s shoulder still trembling. “We should bury them under the flyover” Simon continued. “Yeah?” Alisha questioned “how are we gonna do that? Someone’s gonna see us”  Nathan finally broke from the right hug “no no no no no he give em a quick…” he whistled gesturing to the bodies “put them in a those of wheelchairs, wheel them up there and if anyone sees us we’re just a bunch of young offenders taking a couple of specials for a walk in the sunshine” he finished breathing unsurely as he looked to the group for reassurance on his plan.

And that’s exactly what they’d done. They dropped the bodies into the pit still clearly horrified by the situation. Nathan tried his hand at a joke “I’m pretty sure this breaches the terms of my ASBO…” they began discussing the secrecy of the situation, all promising to never mention it to anyone every again. They started burying the bodies and Nathan turned Simon “didn’t you say you wanted to piss on her tits? Probably best to keep that between you and your internet service provider” Nathan continued to joke before something dawned on him as he looked at Kelly ‘if she can hear what I’m thinking, did she hear all the stuff about (y/n)? Oh shit! She can hear that!’ He broke out of the thought “so hold on, all of you have some kinda special power, everyone can do something but me!” “I can’t” (y/n) interrupted “yes you can” Simon chimed in. Nathan and (y/n) turned their attention to Simon who crumbled a little under the pressure “earlier when you ran to the back door, it’s like you just disappeared” (y/n) nodded, she’d almost forgotten about that “I think you’ve got super speed” Simon concluded, (y/n) just nodded thoughtfully “exactly!” Nathan exclaimed “all of you can do something except me, he can do something” he point to Simon “he do something! And I can’t! That’s ridiculous, look at him! How does that make any sense?” Simon just swallowed “maybe you can do something, you just haven’t found out what it is yet” Nathan nodded “yeah…right. what if-what if I can’t feel pain?” Kelly gave him a smack over the head “did ya feel that?” “Stop hitting me!” He turned to (y/n) looking for some sympathy but she just grinned and shook her head at his antics.

They’d finally finished with everything, all the cleanup and loose ends. They’d changed and all filed out of the building. When (y/n) walked out she’d found Nathan with a cigarette between his teeth, he looked exhausted. “Don’t suppose you’re up for that drink?” He asked. (Y/n) gave him a grin before walking up to him and linking their arms “I’m pretty sure a drink is exactly what I need right now” she said as she led him to the closest bar.

The next day they’d all showed up to their community service only to be lined up by a woman they’d never seen before. “Gary and my colleague Tony have both been reported missing. Their families are very worried about them. Have you seen anything unusual, anything at all?” The group stood nervously before Nathan raised his hand “a few days ago ... I got into the toilets, Tony and Gary were in there, they’re butt naked, Tony has Gary by the hair, like this and he’s just doin’ him doggy style” everyone stares at him, dumbfounded and horrified as he acts out this alleged graphic sexy scene once he’d finished he planted his hands on his hips “so sim guessing they’ve ran away to continue their illicit homosexual affair, and I ask you, in this world of intolerance and prejudice who are we-who are we to condemn them?” The lady just rolls her eyes and walks away as the group continues to stare open mouthed at Nathan. Once she’s gone (y/n) pinched Nathan’s side “what the hell was that?!” She hisses.

The group all stood on the roof taking in their situation. Nathan plucked a shared cigarette from (y/n) “I think we got away with it!” Curtis scoffs “do you actually believe that or are you just really dumb?” “I actually believe that!” (Y/n) giggles and leaned her head into Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan casts his eyes down to her before expressing his frustration again “I mean, I was there. i should have one of these bullshit powers.” Kelly turned to him annoyed “you can have mine. Wanna hear what people are thinkin’ about you” Nathan seemed to consider it for a second before he cast a flirtatious look down to (y/n) but quickly the judgmental looks of the others caught his eye “not so much. I want something good, something off the A-list” Simon looked to him “maybe you can fly” “don’t encourage him!” (Y/n) interjected “yeah!” Nathan agreed “there’s always someone who can fly! Check it out” “don’t” Kelly and (y/n) say in tandem as Nathan climbs onto the nearest chair hurling himself off it and toppling into the ground. “Ow! No that’s not it!” Curtis rolled his eyes as he turned to address the rest “so, what happens now? Is this is? Are we gonna be like this forever?” Simon shrugged “what if we’re meant to be like, superheroes” Nathan scoffed as he walked back up to the group, slinging an arm around (y/n)s shoulder as she spoke “yeah, no I don’t think so mate” “yeah, you lot. Superheroes? No offence, but in what kind of fucked up world would that be allowed to happen?” Nathan shared a sarcastic glance with (y/n) as she smiled at him “superheroes! i love this guy. You prick!” Simon just did his best to ignore Nathan’s heckling. “What if there’s people like us all over town?” Kelly asked. “No! That kinda thing only happens in America!” He insisted and then locked eyes with (y/n) again as she smiled up at him “this will fade away, I’m telling ya, by this time next week, it’ll be back to the same old boring shit” he finished as he planted a kiss on (y/n)s forehead.

(A/N): Holy moly this  is absolutely the longest fic I’ve ever written but I thing I’m going to try and stick with episode by episode for this series 

[ka-za-ri]

Pet sitting (Lucifer x Reader)

I said sub Lucifer bullshit. Here it is. GN Reader Pairing: Lucifer x Reader, Mentions of Lucifer x Diavolo and others Genre: PwP Smut Wordcount: ????     Tags: Smut, porn without plot, size kink, sex toys, bondage, over stimulation, Sub Lucifer, nipple play, edging, cock and ball torture, pet play, dirty talk Summary: Diavolo puts you in charge of taking care of his pet while he’s away.

Someone needed to take care of Diavolo’s precious pet while he was away. Normally, that charge would fall on Barbatos, but on the occasion that both of them were gone on business, you were responsible. Luckily, Lucifer was well behaved and knew exactly what to do in preparation for when you came over for playtime. By the time you arrived at the appointed hour in the secluded room in Diavolo’s castle, far away from any prying ears, everything would be set. The lights would be dimmed, but the room wasn’t so dark that you couldn’t get a good look at  Lucifer’s face. All the instruments would be laid neatly on a table nearby. By the time you walked into the room, Lucifer would be nude save for his boxers and waiting for you on all fours at the foot of the bed. “Have you been a good boy?” You asked softly, walking over to him and stroking his face. He pressed into your palm, letting out a soft whimper and nodded. Good pets didn’t speak unless told to. He glanced over at the collar sitting on the sheets and you moved to get it and put it on him. As soon as it was tugged snugly around his neck, it was as if his whole body released all its tension. Whatever stress and worries he had about the world were beyond the doors of the playroom. Tonight, he was your pet and you were going to make sure you played with him. He didn’t need to be told to get onto the bed, though he did regard you with a quizzical expression. You paused for a moment, wondering what he could need, taking in the view of his bulge hanging down between his legs before you spoke. “Hands and knees for now.” you declared and he obediently stayed, keeping his ass in the air, his hands planted just the right distance to keep him stable. You walked over to the bed, your weight dipping the mattress a bit as you joined him. “You’ve been waiting to play, haven’t you?” You asked, your voice soft, the slightest hint of a purr at the back of your throat while you palmed his hardness through his boxers. “Even when you were doing your errands today, I could see how excited you were to have playtime with me.” Lucifer let out a soft whine, bucking his hips into your touch and you pulled away, only to slap his ass. “Oh come now, I know you can behave better than that.” The Avatar of Pride only let out a pitiful whimper, nodding and went back to being the good pet he was, staring straight at the headboard in front of him while you gave him a thorough examination. Your hand caressed his firm ass cheek, giving it a squeeze before you went back to fondling his cock through the last piece of clothing he had on. “You didn’t even fully strip when I came to see you.” you chided, pulling the boxers down his legs. He remained still, letting the garment pool at his bent knees until you allowed him to move. Now that you had access to his cock, you saw how much he anticipated that evening. He was half hard and his dick twitched at random intervals, beads of precum dribbled out of the tip and you tsk’d in feigned disappointment. “Oh how sad. Do I not make you happy?” You cooed, stroking his length and making him shudder. “I know I’m not your master, but I still deserve the same respect, right?” Lucifer let out a whimper, only able to nod in shame as he let you tease his cock until was rock hard and throbbing at your every touch. “On your back, pet. You’re getting tied up tonight for disappointing me so early on.” He was quick to follow your orders, flipping himself over and holding his legs up with his hands and exposing his cock and his hole to you. You took a moment to run your finger down his length and tease his tight hole before reaching over for the hank of rope he had prepared for the evening. You were far from an expert at ties, but having been in charge of a few play times and bearing witness to when Lord Diavolo was in command, you had a fair idea of how he should be bound. With a little bit of trial and error, his legs were neatly folded and bound. His arms were tied to his knees, and Lucifer didn’t need any commands to know he was to keep himself spread wide open for you. “Good boy.” you purred, rewarding him with a lewd kiss and a firm pump of his shaft. You continued trussing him up, dressing him in knotted rope until his body was a work of art. Of course, you were careful to ensure the marks that would inevitably be left behind would be easily hidden under his normal clothes. No one else needed to know just how submissive he could be behind closed doors. That was a secret only a select few were privy to. Looking down at him, you smiled softly, tracing your handiwork and testing the dies to ensure they weren’t too tight on him. Still, you weren’t completely done. Thinner cording was brought to the bed. You took care to bind his cock and balls in a way that kept him from cumming until you were ready. The crisscross pattern matched the one on his body and once you completed the final knot, he was truly breathtaking. “Red really does look good on you.” You smiled softly, getting off the bed to assess the array of toys you had at your disposal that evening. Humming as you looked through the selection, you could hear Lucifer’s breathing hitch whenever your finger traced over something he particularly liked. You would get to them in due time, for now, you needed to make sure he was prepared to last the whole night. Coming back, you affixed a pair of bejeweled nipple clamps to him. The glittering red gems matched the ropes and you couldn’t help but give them an experimental tug earning you a delicious little whine. “Now pet, you may speak. What would you like to do tonight?” You kept the tension on the chain connected to the nipple clamps, pulling at them and making him wince. He blinked, pushing the pain to the side before answering you. “I... I want... I want you to use the toys to fuck me.” Lucifer blushed brightly, the flush traveling down his neck and spread to his chest. No matter how many times he did this, he never got used to admitting what he wanted. It was always a pleasure to see him squirm in discomfort, declaring such debased things from his mouth and confessing to you just what he wanted to happen. “Is that how my pet wants to play today?” You asked softly, squeezing his shaft and fondling his balls. “Well, I’m sure I can oblige to that. But you have to be good first.” With that, you stuffed his boxers into his mouth, gagging him for the rest of the evening while you had your fun. You wanted to start off slow, now that you knew what he wanted. You found a length of chain to attach to the ones already on his nipple clamps and clipped it neatly to the cord that held his cock erect. The tension changed every time his cock twitched and it was a joy to see his expression change with every shift of his body. You couldn’t leave his hole unattended after all. If you were to give him what he wanted later, then you needed to make sure he was ready for what you had in mind. Your fingers grasped a slim anal plug and liberally lubed it up, pressing it into his tight ass and watched with rapt attention as the taught muscle slowly loosened to accept the toy. It was a joy to watch your pet’s body be so obedient, he simply deserved to be rewarded. Once the plug was snugly inside of him, you clicked the button at the base and watched it buzz into life. The way Lucifer’s body arched at the sudden stimulation was magnificent. The chains connected to his nipple and cock tightened as he writhed and accepted all the stimulation his prostate and his body was receiving. To say it was a turn-on was an understatement. His muffled whines were music to your ears and his stifled screams when you pressed a wand vibrator to his cock was simply sinful. Lucifer’s eyes rolled back, drool soaked his soiled boxers and all he could do was accept everything you gave him. He was almost painfully hard, his cock throbbed and beat against its bindings and you simply had to admire how cum still beaded at the tip while you teased him. He could feel himself get closer and closer to orgasm. You were driving him past the point of no return. His climax hit him, even though he could cum he still felt the rush of endorphins rush through his body as the vibrator was pressed firmly at the base of his cock. Lucifer’s whole body tensed as he was awash in pleasure and pain all at once. You were merciful enough to pull the vibrator away from his cock, but you did leave the one in his ass and turned the intensity as high as it would go. Seeing him squirm against his bindings was always a delight regardless of he was being good or not. He let out needy whines, bucking his hips into the air, rutting at nothing, his he used his body to beg for the chance to properly cum. Seeing his desperation, you gave his cock a sharp slap. The muffled scream that came from the back of his throat gave you a rush of power and it was intoxicating to see the usually composed man come undone. Settling between his legs, you tugged his cock towards you, pulling on the clamps and his bindings. He breathed heavily through his nose as he was wracked with pain and pleasure. The feeling of the dry orgasm still resounded in his limbs and his nerves felt as though they were on fire. Still, you weren’t done with him. Once his chest stopped heaving, you took the liberty to pull the plug out of him excruciatingly slowly. The way his expression changed with every inch that slid out of him was divine and for a moment, you wondered if his angelic form had been this beautiful. He gasped for air once the plug was tossed to the side and you rewarded him by also removing the makeshift gag from his mouth. His lips were swollen and glistened with drool, an enticing sight that you couldn’t resist and you helped yourself to a wet, sloppy kiss while your hand pumped his sensitive cock, playing with the chain that connected it to his nipples. He moaned into your mouth, hungrily reciprocating the kiss and leaning into it as much as he could, straining against his bindings to gain more of your reward. “Was I good? Did I do good?” he babbled once the kiss broke. You regarded him with a raised brow, stopping your gentle stroking and gave his cock a hard slap. “Well, I was going to say you were good. But good pets don’t talk unless they’re allowed to.” You chided, this time you slapped his aching balls, making him cry out and you watched with a fair amount of glee when you saw tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He whimpered, pouting magnificently and you felt your chest swell with adoration for the man below you. “Aww, but you know... when you give me such good puppy eyes like that, I can’t help but tell you how good you are.” you cooed, stroking the side of his head. “Now... is my good boy ready to be rewarded with what he wanted?” He eagerly nodded, panting in anticipation for what you had prepared for him. The dildo he chose was a tried and true favorite, but one he always needed some prep for. You were more than liberal with lubricant, coating the phallic object until it glistened in the dim lighting. You didn’t forget to slather his pulsing asshole with a fair amount as well until it was slick and ready for the bulbous head of the toy. “You’re always such a slut for your Lord’s cock, aren’t you, pet?” you crooned, admiring the way his hole stretched out to accept the toy. “Even when you’re away, you can’t help but want him, hm?” He could only whine in pleasure and take deep wheezing breaths as he accepted the toy. “You may speak, pet. But only about how much you love getting fucked like the little pet slut you are by your Lord’s cock.” “Yes, yes. I love it! I love it so much!” He babbled, delirious and giddy when you finally allowed him to be vocal. “I love feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up! I love it when you use his toy cock to fuck me!” He gasped when you slid a rather prominent ridge inside of him. “I’m a good boy, a good slut for what my Lord gives me and the care he provides me!” “Such a loyal pet you are.” You praised, stroking his cock as you continued to press the dildo into him. “All these toys you have and this is the one you always use when he’s away.” “Yes, yes. His cock is the only one that fills me up the best.” Lucifer struggled against the bindings, you could see the light bruising that the ropes were leaving and the thought of knowing you were the ones who put those bruises there only encouraged you to fuck him with the toy even more. “That’s my boy, taking all of this big cock into you.” You sneered, pressing into him and making him adjust faster than he anticipated. He let out a choked cry and the tears started to roll down his face until finally, the shaft was completely inside of him. You could have been nice and let him breathe, but where was the fun in that? As soon as you saw he was fully stretched out, you started fucking him hard, thrusting the toy in and out of him, letting the lewd sounds of sex fill the room and mingle with his screams of pleasure. He was close and you were going to drive him to the brink and beyond that as well. While you continued to plunge the toy into his hole and fuck him as he wanted, you reached over for a pair of scissors with your free hand. A few well placed snips in between thrusts and his cock was free from his bindings. The chain connected to the nipple clamps fell to the side. Carefully placing the scissors to the side, you proceeded to stroke him hard and fast with your free hand while his ass was being pounded by a copy of Diavolo’s cock. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you for taking such good care of me.” He babbled. “No one else pet sits for me as well as you do. You make me into such a good slutty pet!” You felt your heart skip a beat at his praise and gripped the base of his cock hard, preventing him from cumming just yet. “I said you’re only allowed to talk about how you liked to be fucked like a pet slut.” You threatened, plunging the toy into him until the knotted base started to further stretch him out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I- Ahhh!! Lord Diavolo’s cock fills me up the best! I love it! I love being fucked by it!” “Good boy.“ You praised, pressing the toy into him until it was fully sheathed inside of him, knot and all. Your grip loosened on his dick once more and you resumed stroking him. “Now show me how you like to beg to cum” You commanded, finally allowing him to climax while you pushed the toy as far as it would go into him, rocking it back and forth against his stretched and abused anus. “Ah!! Oh... Oh, please! Please let me cum! I want to cum! You make me feel so good! I’ll be a good boy and cum so pretty for you! I just want to... I want to Please.” The little whine at the end satisfied you and you redoubled your efforts on his overstimulated body. “Then cum.”

He followed your orders with glee, hot, thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock, covering his abdomen and his chest. His back arched violently as he climaxed, his whole body shuddering in its wake. He kept cumming in spurts, his essence splattering against his skin and soiling your hand. Lucifer wheezed, his eyes rolled back in pure bliss and he let out a soundless scream as he was finally allowed to release all his pent up emotions. “Good boy. You did so well.” you purred, crawling up to see his blissed out face and stroking it gently until he came down from his high. “You did make a mess though, so clean it up well, yes?” you cooed, offering him your hand covered in his cum. He happily lapped every drop up, savoring the taste of your skin and his essence. The dildo was still deeply embedded in him and his anus pulsed around it, clenching and sucking it in further while he lovingly cleaned your hand. Finally, the bindings were released. His tender nipples were freed and his limbs were allowed freedom. He sighed in content, his spent cock laying against his abdomen as he let you undo all the knots and ties across his body. The last thing to leave him was the toy he loved so much. The wet squelching sound as the knot popped out of him made his dick twitch and he groaned in pleasure as he was slowly being emptied. “Good boy.” you praised once more, proud of just how much he went through that night. “I’ll be sure to give a good report back to Lord Diavolo of your behavior.” Lucifer rolled over, nuzzling you softly and snuggling against your side. “Thank you for the lovely play date.” He murmured. Now that the scene was over, his submissive side ebbed and his usual demeanor mellowed out as he basked in the aftermath of such an intense session. You laughed softly, enjoying the time you shared with Lucifer as the two of you laid in bed together. You fed him snacks, made sure he drank and was comfortable, offered him soft words of affirmation and plenty of snuggles as he recomposed himself. After a moment of respite between the two of you, Lucifer’s energy returned and there was a proper glint of mischief in his eyes.”You know...” he started, his hands trailing between your legs and rubbing at the obvious arousal there. “I need to properly thank you for being such a good pet sitter.” “Oh, is that so?” you asked, raising a brow and rather intrigued as to how he planned on ‘thanking you.’ “Mmm yes...” He nodded, a smirk spread across his face as he pinned you down, stripping you of what clothes you had in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, your legs were spread open and a thick, phallic object pressed at your waiting hole. “I know one other person who absolutely adores Lord Diavolo’s cock fucking them relentlessly...”

[rock-n-roll-refugee]

Ultraviolence- Chapter 2

TW: heavy-ish gore

Peter Parker x villain!reader/assassin!reader

It’s been at least a year since I made chapter 1 and tbh I kinda lost interest in MCU for a while, but I’ve been getting lots of notifs that people want this to be a series, so I’m willing to continue the store if you guys like it uwu <3 PS idk how to link on mobile, but you can find chapter 1 on my page. (Also kinda changed the plot bc I hate my old writing, so good luck reading chapter 1)

It only took a moment for Peter to suit up and reach the roof, but by God how he wished it took him a few minutes more. A few moments later he wouldn’t have to watch three cops mutilated before him. A few moments later, he wouldn’t be covered in the warm, crimson blood of three officers simply doing their jobs. The mystery assassin left her katana for a chain made from thermal plasma. Like hell he knew where it came from, but he knew it was something to stay far away from. The plasma chain ripped through an officer like butter. Flicking the chain like a whip, she managed to wrap the weapon around a poor cop, the sound of metal clanking as it swirled around his body only to tighten and rip his body in half. That was all Peter could witness before he would inevitably vomit in his own mask. He was a coward- and this time his cowardice cost the lives of three police officers. Panic took over the boy as he hid behind some ventilation, praying that she didn’t notice his presence and cursing at Tony for not being here any sooner. All his help was dead and the only two souls on that roof were him and the woman. The dreadful sound of chain dragging against concrete got closer and closer to Peter, and he knew she was out for more blood, and it was only a matter of time before she found him. In a swift attempt to find a new hiding spot, he swung to another cover. In his relocation, he saw it. The true carnage this girl had wreaked upon the men. It was horrible. He’d seen horror movies before, and if someone had told him this scene was from a slasher film, he wouldn’t even question them. He was stunned in his spot, too caught in shock to even move and as much as he desperately wanted to, he couldn’t look away. Needless to say, he caught her attention. He saw in his peripheral vision her head snap to his direction and his fight or flight instinct kicked in right then and there. His trance melted in an instant as his arm reached out to shoot a web far away from this woman. He could fight her; avenge the officers, prevent more like this from happening, but he didn’t have it in him. After seeing what she could do, he needed out, hoping that Tony would deal with her. As he swung away, he heard the chain before he felt it. It barely missed him, the radiating heat brushed against his back as he escaped their building. He kept swinging from building for building, he had no clue if she were pursuing him, but he was not taking any chances. Without looking back, he kept swinging. Swinging until he couldn’t anymore, until he knew he was far enough away. His back pressed against a wall about a few miles away from their original, panting heavily as the exhaustion from running finally caught up to him. Gripping the front of his mask, he pulled it off with a dramatic breath shaking all the sweat from off it. His head was still processing this night, frantically wrapping around everything he saw, when from the silence of the night, a light pair of boots tapped right up to him.

“Would you look at that,” a familiar feminine voice spoke after the footsteps stopped, “My eyes were right. I did find Spider-Man.” Her eyes trailed down the boy’s exposed face, “Lucky me. I’ve seemed to caught him off guard.” She kneels down to reach face to face with him. Her head was covered in some sort of sting carbon fiber, the only prominent features being the large Steampunk-like goggle connected to it and the ventilation mask where her mouth would be. A gloved hand reached up as her slender fingers delicately touched under Peter’s chin, lifting his head upwards for her to examine, “So young. So afraid,” her head tilted as she stared at him- and ever so slightly, he could see a faint image of her eyes through the dark goggles. She had dark irises- he would remember that, “You saw those people die and you ran. New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man ran away from people who needed him. What a hero.”

“Who are you?” He asked. He was frozen in fear, not even caring that his face was now exposed to this murderer.

“That is none of your business,” he could feel the heat of her breath through the ventilator as she spoke, “I wasn’t here for you. Or Iron Man. I have one job and that was to kill that man at the gala and take out anyone who got in my way. You should have minded your business, Peter.”

He visibly flinched at his name being said. Who was this woman? “How do you-” he started before it hit him. He knew where he recognized her voice, “You.”

“Me.” Even though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was grinning under that mask.

“Iron man will find you. He’ll make sure those men will get justice,” he was shocked at his burst in confidence, “You’ll pay for what you did to those people.”

He could feel her smile again, “No, I don’t think so. This was a murder in a world of murderers. I’m not the villains you fight, Peter. You and Iron Man? You’re Avengers. You call yourselves crime fighters, but all you see, all you fight- are the big bad enemies. You wouldn’t be the Avengers if you spent your time running after little assassins like myself. You fight gods. That’s exactly why you will never see me again,” She pulls his chin closer to her, causing him to fall forward, catching himself with his hands, “I won’t kill you, but I’ll do you one worse. You’re going to have to live with this- these officer’s gruesome deaths, for the rest of your life. Good luck.” She let’s go of his face and disappears into the night, leaving Peter to sit in a long silence.

The worst part was that she was right. Tony never searched for her. In fact, he forbade Peter from attempting to pursue the girl, telling him that there were bigger things at stake. Screw her for being right. He never saw her again. Then, the war happened and everyone disappeared and came back- and lastly Tony’s death. Screw her for being right.

Tags: @orpheuseus @sunnygubler @mixedfandxms @ddaeing @miss-glitch @hargreevesgrace @buckycuddles

Chapter 3 very soon.

[saffron0v0]

She's technically half alive, since Mördu helps her maintain life. It will be a continuous internal fight for control of her body.

After Celestine lost consciousness, Marie was able to gain some control, and wrote in her very own blood '' I'm sorry Celest '' before passing out. The maids finally (like where were you?) arrived at the scene, and it was a horrendous sight. It was a blood bath, clothes stained in red and shattered ceramic cups were scattered everywhere. They swiftly applied first aid, and requested for the doctor to arrive pronto. They prohibited Morgane from seeing anything, because they knew all too well she would pass out from the mere sight of her precious children bloodied like that. The servants' hands were too full, and an unconscious madame was the last thing they needed.

As I said before, Mördu kept Marie alive, so as long as he continues to possess her body, she'll continue to have a pulse. Leading the servants to try and treat her as well. But. '' She's unharmed?'' they think, looking at the young lady with confusion.

Evander found out, and he was red with fury. His youngest was now scarred and ineligible for marriage, no one would want a ghastly looking lady, and his heir was apparently the cause of this?? Celestine woke up 2 hours later, panicked, tense, and very much in pain. She gathered her energy to explain the situation and demanded to know where Marie was. They told her she was soundly sleeping in her room, with servants and maids taking turns to watch over her. The pope came the very next day to examine Marie, and determined she was indeed possessed, but they couldn't tell who this spirit was, Mördu was far above their league. They moved Marie's body to a containment cell, much to Celestine displeasure and protest. She is shackled with suppressing chains, left there to wait for the sealing ceremony. The very next day, her cell was empty, and the Arch Duke was found dead in his office, stabbed in the chest by his very own sword. No evidence was found, but everyone knew for a fact who did this. The Ellis family, and possibly the entire kingdom, were in danger of murder at the hands of '' The spirit of Marie'' or so did the servants call her.

Now with the Duke gone, his wife, Duchess Morgane, was left in charge until Celestine was old enough to take over. No matter how horrible of a husband Duke Evander was, he was great at doing his job, which slightly scared Morgane. She was afraid of messing up, but she was tired of weeping and bowing down waiting for the next blow to hit her, she had a child to protect, and an estate to run, so she has to put her years of studying at the royal academy to good use. First, she'd move into her husband's office, she'd get herself familiar with the budget and sales, looking through their list of investments and partnerships, signing and approving of shipments and declining or accepting any new offers. She started trying to make connections, and socialising more, all so she could reaffirm her position as the master of the house, and solidify Celestine's place as her heir. Morgane has started caring less and less of the public opinion, because if they dare insult her beautiful daughter, she will not hesitate to embarrass them. She never lost an argument if she truly wanted to win it.

Celestine's on the other hand, is bedridden, not in the proper headscape to leave her room yet. She was still adjusting to her weakened eyesight, and her sister's loss. Her mother would visit her daily, pampering her and showering her with gifts and love, and she was grateful to her, so she mustered up a good smile for her mother, anything to relieve her from any stress. The last thing she needed was to be a burden.

Until next time 😁

try this picrew

Katarina Akamine and her missing childhood best friend, Mikuma Igurashuki.

Mikuma : “i bet you’d look stunning in a bun, my dear”

Katarina : “well unfortunately it’s just not my thing…”

“𝐰𝐞’𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧”

tagging: @naramaiz @theyluvsmilo @tinyperson00 @aceofstars0 @cloudymistedskies @unofficialmuilover @littleolspring112 @silliestsakura @kimetsu-chan @slayfics @loveemii @snowmist-hashira @tokito-dulya20 @ashr0 @kiyokatokito @leahdulya @ayumithebunnydemon @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira @strawberrycuwu @muikitoo @vexinghearts @ta-ni-ya @kakajuri-fics @muichiroslovermwah

[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 3: chains around my demons

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,798

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

The next day, you packed up your bags and were ready to leave. You were waiting on Sam to arrive at Wakanda with the quinjet so he could fly you and Bucky back to the compound. You were a little bummed about leaving Wakanda, it had been a therapeutic experience for you and Bucky to be here. The thought of living the domestic life, in a beautiful place like Wakanda that is far away from the bustling city of New York was enticing. Sometimes you’d look at Bucky just walking around in his shirt and sweatpants doing the most mundane things instead of getting prepared for another mission and you’d think “I could get used to this.”

You thanked T’Challa, Shuri, Queen Ramonda and the Dola Milaje for everything they had done before you bid your farewell. You promised to stay in contact with Shuri and the Dora Milaje but it was still hard to leave them, they were truly the best people you had ever met. They reminded you of everything HYDRA was not. You could see why Bucky always spoke so highly of them.

Later that night, you had the compound all to yourself. Tony was having a date night with Pepper, Natasha was on a mission to Hungary, Sam was visiting his sister in Louisiana and Rhodey was dealing with some air force matters. As much as you loved the Avengers, you were grateful for this moment alone with Bucky.

The dimmed lights in the kitchen where you and Bucky just had dinner gave him an idea, “doll, get up…”

She did as he told even though she had no clue what he was planning, “for what, Bucky?”

He didn’t answer her but rather, he commanded FRIDAY to play a song called Put Your Heart on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. “Let’s dance, doll.”

He put his flesh hand on your waist and took your left hand with his vibranium arm, “I haven’t danced in ages, Buck.”

“Me neither, doll, but we’ll learn from each other,” he smiled affectionately at you.

It started off slow and you kept your eyes on each other, saying things that words can’t illustrate. It’s love, the realization of how fortunate you both were to have found each other. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” you uttered softly as you fiddled with his dog tags.

“Me too, doll. But we got each other now, I won’t let anything keep me away from you for too long.”

There was a brief silence. “Do you remember the last time you danced like this?”

“1945, Stark Expo, before I was shipped out to England. Her name was Connie and I took Steve with me because I wanted to spend it with him on my last night. I set him up with Connie’s friend but the punk just left to try to enlist in the army.”

Steve. You’d heard about him from Natasha and Tony. No one outside of the Avengers really knew where he was but you knew that he went back in time. That’s all you knew about it. You had also learned about his and Bucky’s friendship and how they really went all the way back. You were often curious about his ‘disappearance’ however you didn’t wanna pry or made Bucky feel worse. Losing a friend was always hard, let alone someone who was his only connection to his past, the life that he knew before he was forced to live out those violent years. You’d heard from Sam about how Steve was the only reason why Bucky stayed alive and how he had thought about committing suicide before. Now that he was gone, Sam often feared that Bucky would snap and give in to it but he always tried to be there for him. You were just glad that Bucky had Sam even before you were around.

“Do you… miss Steve?” you hesitantly asked as you rested your head on his chest.

“All the time,” He confessed. You were a tad relieved that Bucky wanted to open up about him to you. “He was the only family I got left, and when he went back, I felt empty. I was just lucky that Sam didn’t give up on me… And that, I met you.”

You smiled, you lifted your head to look at him. “You’re never gonna lose me. Not again,” you touched his face and he kissed you. It was soft, nothing like the kiss on your last night in Wakanda, but you could feel him pouring all the emotions and gratitude he had for you and you did just the same.

He lifted you as you wrapped his legs around his waist, still maintaining that kiss. Bucky carried you onto the dining table where you just had your dinner and he laid you there as he trailed to your throat and all the way down to your body which was now half-exposed after he lifted the hem of your shirt up until your breasts were revealed.

You weren’t wearing any bra so it was easier for him to access your nipples, he sucked on the right one as his flesh hand made its way down to your pants, unbuttoning it, and he inserted his fingers to find your clit, rubbing it in circles, making you even wetter every second. You shut your eyes, letting him have his way with your body.

His fingers and his tongue worked so magically that within seconds, he had you close to orgasm. “Bucky, so close…” You could feel his smirk against your nipple and he rubbed you faster. You moaned his name as you released all over his digits, soaking them up and he lifted his head to look into your eyes as he sucked your juices all over his hand like a fucking ice cream.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” The sight of Bucky staring intensely at you as he sucked on his fingers that were drenched by your cum was euphoric, like watching a live homemade porn video. Bucky took off his sweatpants and his shirt, discarding them on the floor. Seeing him shirtless never ceased to mesmerize you, his body was a work of art. He’d told you one night that it took him a while to accept the scars on his body, let alone the bionic arm that felt nothing like a human but you told him that you loved every inch of it and if you could, you’d worship it forever.

Bucky then lifted the shirt that was still rumpled on your chest, up to your wrists, where he used it as a makeshift knot, keeping your hands above your head, “stay there, understand?”

“Yes, sergeant.” You had no idea what sparked that nickname, but from the way he grinned, he sure loved it and if he loved it, then you were sure to use that in future steamy sessions.

“Sergeant, huh? You’re in big trouble, darling.” Bucky tore your damp panties and you gasped, not expecting him to be so aggressive… Not that you were complaining though. “Bucky…”

“Shh, let me take care of you, baby.” He kissed you ferociously, with his tongue completely dominating your mouth. Without any warning, his middle finger intruded your body… But it was an entirely different feeling from the last time he did that to you because he was using his vibranium arm and the sensation instantly took over your body, running in your veins like that serum in his blood.

“Oh God, Buck…” You whined as you looked down to where his finger was moving in and out of you at a slow pace.

“Does it feel good?” He asked as he kept looking at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort but with each motion, you only seemed to enjoy it.

“Yes, it feels fucking amazing… Don’t stop, please.”

He began to move his digits faster, and when your wails grew louder, he inserted another finger and you arched your back. “Fuck, oh God…” Bucky curled his fingers to brush your sweet spot, pushing you to the edge and you cum for the second time all over his vibranium hand.

“You’re so hot when you cum,” he whispered in a gravelly low voice that could weaken any woman in the knees. He pulled his fingers out of you and he used your juices to stroke his member to make it easier to slide into you.

Bucky lifted your legs onto his shoulders and he lined his cock to your entrance, slowly as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Bucky began moving, he was taking his time with your body, wanting to feel every inch of you and you of him, and you whimpered with every thrust. He felt so heavy between your hips that you could feel your orgasm approaching fast, even with the languid pace.

“I’m not gonna last long…” You said in between whimpers.

“I know, doll. Just let go when you’re ready, okay?” He began to speed up, his grunts and the sound of your skin slapping was obscene, making you nearly forget you were fucking in the place where the Avengers would feast (if they found out what you did on this table, Tony would hire a cleaning service company to scrub the entire surface thrice.)

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and you knew you were seconds away from rupturing. A few more thrusts and you hit your peak. Bucky kept holding your hips tightly and he continued to pound into you, prolonging your orgasm as he chased his own climax. Your body trembled from the aftershocks but from the way Bucky was impaling you, you could feel a fourth orgasm coming and you didn’t know if you could take it anymore.

He felt you squeezing his cock once again and you both came together, pleasure washed over both of you. He shot his load inside you, painting your walls white. A few more shallow thrusts to blow every drop he had left within him. He stayed inside you as he hid his face between your neck and your shoulder, the warmth of his body on top of you was comforting despite the sweat all over your body.

Bucky lifted his head to look at you and sweep the strands of hair sticking on your forehead, “you okay?” he panted. You could only respond by nodding, not moving because of the weight of him still between your legs and how completely spent you were.

Once he had regained his composure, he retreated himself out of you and he carried you in bridal style to your room, wanting nothing else than to take care of you with a hot bath and forehead kisses under the duvet.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[liquid-luck-00]

Safety Net 2

Part 2

Day 9: Teen Titans @maribatmarch-2k21

Ao3 *** Part 1 *** Here *** Part 3 *** Part 4 *** Part 5

This is based on Teen Titans Judas Contract

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette became a fully fledged Talon when she turned 18. Six years with the court before they turned her, as to not arouse suspicion with a child. She doesn't remember the events that led to her leaving but she did. She supposes it is the fact she is a Talon that repressed her memories but that doesn't matter the court and all the other Talons are dead. She kept a single vial of the only poison that could end her life. She left not looking back.

She actually didn't get far when she first saw him. His swords danced, connecting to his target, death etched on his blade edge. Then he vanished.

She would see him again and again as she moved from city to city, state to state, even from country to country. One night as she watched the London sky, from her perch in Big Ben, did he come to her.

"Who are you?" His mask deepened his voice, made it colder and more robotic. She turned to look at him, not saying a word, and then turned back to the city.

He apparently didn't appreciate her silence as he stalked closer to her. "Who are you?" he growled the question, the sword tip pressing into her neck, but she didn’t move.

"Talon." was choked out. The voice was gruff and scratchy from being unused. That single word seemed to answer a few of his questions.

"The Court?"

"Gone"

"Orders?"

Now she simply shook her head. The sword was removed from her neck and was placed back in its sheath.

"How would you like to have your own agency again?" His voice was still gruff and cold. It held authority but it was human. She turned to see he had removed his mask. His hair was stark white, small scars littered his face, his eyes were cold and calculating, yet they didn't lie.

Her mouth opened slightly before she closed it. A deep buried resolve began to surface as she nodded in answer.

She followed Slade Wilson out of the bell tower.

---

She was then embedded into the League of Assassins. This was where they needed patience.

She didn't speak, they thought her mute, she played along. Yes she could withstand life threatening hits, but she didn't let them happen. She would strike faster, hit harder, she made herself stronger, so they called her ruthless. She didn't oppose.

Above all she was patient.

The day the coup was to happen she was guarding the Lazarus Pit.

Silently she killed the guard stationed with her and walked into the pit. The water was both cold and scalding. A fog began to enter her mind but she pushed against it. This was no time to be confused or dazed. She felt the chains and commands programed into her by the court, so she pushed against them too until they broke. She breached the surface of the pit. Shakily she stood, breathing heavily, she began to dress, quickly noticing her skin became more pink and her mind was clear. She had to leave this room as, the alarms rang signaling the coup, she ran out, fully dressed and hidden.

She took her position in the cockpit of a helicopter and soon only she and Slade were alone in the air. The others scattered in order to build up a base of operations. An hour later they landed in a small air field where a jet was waiting for them. They transferred their things and took to the skies again.

"How do you feel?" Slade asked her not long after putting the plane on auto pilot.

"Light," her voice was clearer, still raspy, but there was inflection and life traced through the word.

"Anger, fury, bloodlust?" He pressed.

"None." she shook her head.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"How bad?" she pointed to his wrapped head and covered eye.

"We'll find out once we talk with the Doc," a scowl appeared on his face. "so what's your name, because it isn't Talon"

"Um..." she thought hard and long. she had been called Talon for so long, but what did they call her before, "Grayson. They called me Grayson before they called me Talon."

---

Slade became her mentor of sorts, they would spar and train to learn their new bodies and limitations. In fact it was easy for them both. She became known as Phoenix. Her uniform was similar to her Talon one, but while Talon was gold Phoenix was a deep crimson. The helmet was replaced by a hood and a half mask that extended from her hair line to her nose. She took to being a mercenary rather fast, but all things considered it wasn't that far of a stretch.

The only thing that troubled her, were her nightmares, or were they dreams. But they didn't feel like something her subconscious had created. They felt like memories begging to be remembered. She would fly through the air as if on gilded wings. A pair of inviting and smiling-azure eyes of a little boy. A warm smile and reassuring embrace of the same boy would appear constantly. Then the fall, she never hit the ground, but she continued to fall. The cold and dark embraced her smothering her until she woke up.

---

She never stayed in one place long but sooner or later she would always pay Deathstroke a visit. It isn't that she is attached to the Mercenary. Sure she is grateful to him but it's like if she stays close she will find a missing piece of her puzzle. On one of these trips back she met her. A teen with blonde hair and blue eyes, Terra. She was met with a less than warm welcome but oh well.

"What's up old man!" she joked. Slade glared at her and nodded in greeting.

"We have a job."

"What is it?" she sat on the couch.

"Infiltrating the Teen Titans."

"That's what the kid's for," she hummed. "What can she do?"

"Meta. Geokinesis."

"Disassemble the little league before the big one." A calculated smile spread across her lips.

"I knew I kept you around for something." was his answer. To anyone else it would have seemed hostile, but she simply rolled her eyes at the remark.

"Any old memories come back?"

"Nah-uh." She lied, keeping the kind blue-eyed boy a secret, they both went to work.

It was idiotic how easily Terra integrated into the Titans. Slade helped her enhance her power, while Grayson was supposed to help her gain refined control but the younger girl wouldn't listen to her. Grayson couldn't do anything about that, she could support Terra and help her but that didn’t mean the teen accepted. She wasn't her mother or even her sister.

"... Not without my twin sister." A boy's voice echoed in her mind, she tried to shake the voice from her head, but it stayed.

Twin? Sister? I have a brother? I have a twin brother?

Unfortunately all these questions swam in her mind for months as Terra infiltrated the Titans.

Everything was going relatively well until Robin decided to stick his nose in. Unfortunately this was when she learned the truth to the infiltration. They were going to use the Titans and extract their powers and life force. It made her sick. Sure she didn't exactly see eye to eye with heroes, but she saw the good they did. Hell she may be called a mercenary, but the jobs she took aligned with her morals. Even if those said morals were just a 'fuck you opposite of the court,' but it stood, it was hers.

This was how she was found by Nightwing.

"Figured you wouldn't be easy to kill. Here." she pushed a robe into his hands. "Your team is held this way" she started to walk but he hadn't moved.

"What are you doing?"

"Look you can trust me or not, but those are just kids. I will not be the one to let them give their lives without consent or reason."

"Sounds like your speaking from experience."

"So what if I am."

Nightwing jumped down and the fight began. She went and unlocked the restraints on the Titans and jumped into the fight. She, Robin, and Nightwing were all fighting against Deathstroke when Terra regained consciousness. Both Robin and Nightwing stopped their onslaught but Phoenix knew how Terra fought, she knew how to work with the girl. Unfortunately she was thrown over towards Nightwing and Robin, a quadruple somersault led into a rollout allowed her to land safely from the throw.

"Terra!" she yelled.

"Stay out of it Grayson, Slade is mine." A desperate yell escaped the girl, as she unleashed her power. One of the Titans tried to help, but Terra moved him towards the others.

"I'm sorry." Grayson whispered, before she pulled the heroes to safety. They got out moments before the entire thing collapsed.

"Who are you?" A katana was pointed at her neck.

"More importantly the somersault and the name, Grayson, how would you know those?" Nightwing questioned.

"The name is a memory from before," she responded. "And the somersault is just in grained in muscle memory by now." She shrugged and turned to leave but was stopped. "Look I don't want to fight and I don't want to stay so..." None of the heroes said a word but circled around her. 'Sigh' "I'm not gonna get out without a fight huh?"

"That would be correct."

"Fine." Her hands went up in a placating motion, before reaching into a pocket.

"Stop that."

"Relax little birdie." she pulled out a small ring of keys, tossing them to Nightwing. "Don't know about you but I prefer to not walk over two hours to get to Jump city."

They all got to the car but as it only fit five and there were seven of them something had to give. Well she was sat in the middle back seat between Raven and Robin, Beast Boy turned into a cat and sat on her lap. Nightwing was behind the wheel, Blue Beetle on the passenger side, while Starfire flew above them all. Between the awkward silence and closed space she was lulled into a restless sleep.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha

Taglist: @alysrose-starchild

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence 

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag     -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you. 

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page. 

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing. 

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 2 Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: After your ordeal at the hands of Ransom, you’re not sure that things can get any worse. Famous last words….

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 2 to our submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 1

  With his pride wounded, Ransom drank himself to sleep that night, his mind plotting and scheming of more ways to make his point clear. She was his now and nothing was going to change that. He'd decided it might be time to let her in on his secrets and breakfast seemed as good a time as any and, as such, presented her with a plate of bacon and toast along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. He didn't cook, not well anyway, his preference being diner out or order in. He supposed if this was his new normal, he'd have to learn a new skill. He cringed just slightly at the thought of such domesticity. 

When you heard the locks turn, your belly dropped out. You were shocked to see him, afraid of what was coming your way. If the events from the previous night were any indication, you had to steel yourself to once again fight back. Your tired eyes took him in. A plate and mug in his hands, jeans over his long legs, boots on his feet. Broad shoulders covered by a white ribbed long sleeve thermal shirt, eyes cold and distant, arrogant smirk over his lips. A smirk of your own barely parted your lips as you took note of the now pink lines adorning his right cheek, courtesy of your nails biting at his skin in the attack. You turned away from him, your body instinctively curling in on itself, chain stopping you from balling up completely when he approached. Your mouth watered at the smell of the bacon and coffee. You were hungry but your body fought to ignore the pangs, offering him that satisfaction.

 "I'm not hungry," you managed, desperately irritated at how weak you sounded. 

"Starve then," he set the plate and mug on the nightstand at your bedside. He stood rooted there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"People are gonna be looking for me, you know," you point out, sitting up a little more, confidence growing by the second. 

“You don’t think I’ve already thought of that?” His hands moved from across his chest to his hips. 

As you looked at him, that maddening smug look present on his face it suddenly dawned on you that he might have been more calculating than you’d imagined. And then you understood. You figured out what the connection between him and the actor you’d been supposedly meeting was. None. None whatsoever, except that Lucas Lee had been easy, collateral damage. "You set him up," your brow rose and shock filled your voice. "Lucas Lee... You set him up. What the hell did you do?" 

"Sweetheart, the guy's a complete tool, he walked right into it and he'll walk right out. Just a couple of hours of questioning and he'll be let go," Ransom shrugged as if this were nothing. 

"You're disgusting," you seethe. This arrogant asshole used someone just to get to you and he was PROUD of it. You didn't know what you expected, but the notion of the reality was appalling.

"You don't know the half of it," he winked.

"You're never going to get away with this," you managed to threaten. The look in his eyes caught your breath as he leaned in close, hands on the mattress on either side of your hips. 

"I killed Fran, got away with that. I nearly killed Marta, same story," he said, popping a shoulder up. "The point is, Sweetheart, I'm that good, they'll never find you."

"My family, my friends…they'll go to the police. Mick, my boss, he'll want to know where I am after not showing up today. You can't possibly have thought of everything," you shook your head as you wondered just how long he'd been plotting this. You’d only met the asshole a few months ago, interviewed him for a couple of hours max and then released the article days later. How on earth had that transpired into this utter shirt-show? The thoughts were spiraling so fast in your mind, it was dizzying. 

"Your boss got an email this morning saying you no longer wanted to work for him, and as for your family and friends, well let’s just say I know where they are. I know your little sister's routine. I know the time your mom walks your dog, and that she does it alone.” Ransom continued and you felt the cold course through your body “You do as I say, and they're safe. If not, well, I can pick them off, one, by one, without even getting my hands dirty," he pulled back, standing over you. "So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked to the door. 

The true reality of your situation set in and you felt sick to your stomach, despite your hunger. You felt clammy and overwhelmingly dizzy. He had you. If he'd gone this far, followed your family, set up a well-known actor, plotted this entire plan down to how to convince Mick you quit, in a scary short amount of time, just to get to you, you were fully trapped. 

"What happens if you lock me down here...and something happens to you?” Worry laced your words. 

He turned over his shoulder, "I don't give a fuck." And he slammed the door, the sound of the locks echoing in your room. 

In a gut reaction you grabbed the plate of food at threw it at the door where it shattered into pieces, the bacon and toast falling to the floor with it. You screamed as you threw it, for if you hadn't you'd have vomited where you led. 

**** Ransom heard the scream and the smash of the plate and paused half way up the stairs. He took a deep breath, contemplating going back down and teaching Y/N some damned manners before he decided to leave it. He’d given her enough to think about for the time being, and besides, he didn’t want to lower himself to delivering another slap to her face like he had done last night. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting the site of the bruise on her right cheek to unsettle him as much as it had done. Her pretty face shouldn’t be marked in anyway, and looking at it had simply reminded him how he’d lost control. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never hit a woman before, despite murder and attempted murder. It left a bad taste in his mouth all things considered and a nasty twist in his gut that felt almost like guilt. But it wasn’t guilt, that wasn’t something he did either…no, it was the fact that in all of his actions, even the diabolical ones, he’d remained calm and in control. Until last night. He’d been feral, wild even, and it wasn’t a feeling he relished. But she’d pushed him to it, provoked him. It was her fault, not his.

He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys, before he headed out, locking the door and climbing into his black Mercedes SUV. God he missed his beamer, but this was a lot less conspicuous, just as he needed at the moment. He slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes against the bright fall sun and set off towards the City.

His mother was already seated and waiting for him when he arrived at the Harbor. He walked over to her table, pulling off his sunglasses and sliding them into the pocket of his camel coat, removing his trademark silk scarf as he went. He handed them off to the help showing him to his seat, asking him to bring him a beer, and sat across from Linda, who was watching him carefully as she lounged back in her seat, properly dressed as ever in a crisp pair of black trousers and a white long sleeved silk blouse. With her legs crossed, she cut quite the imposing figure, but not to him.

Ransom greeted her with a stiff nod and she frowned and gestured to his face.

“What on earth have you done to your cheek?” she questioned, clearly noticing the scratch marks. Ransom hesitated for a second, “Things got a little rough last night, ” he shrugged but his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. Linda let out a slight groan as she grimaced “Jesus Ransom, I don’t want to know about your sordid little bedroom antics,” she scalded. “Then don’t ask, Mother,” He drawled, not missing a beat.

“Oh believe me, I wish I hadn't.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Ransom looked down at the menu that was on the table in front of him, giving it a cursory glance already knowing what he was ordering, the same as he always did when he was here, before he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mother. She wasn’t one for small talk, and neither was he, so he decided to get straight to the point.

“Why are we here?” he demanded “I mean, aside from the obvious guilt driven task of having lunch with your son.” “If you're going to be a spoiled brat why did you even agree to meet me?” Linda shot back and Ransom smirked.

“What was it you always told me mom? No matter how rich you are, never turn down a free meal.”

“Snarky smart ass” Linda retorted and it was his turn to snort as her brow furrowed.

“Now, now Mother. Those frown lines are getting worse” he arched an eyebrow and she glared at him before she sighed.

“I wanted to see how you were, is that so hard to believe.” “In a word, yes.” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s true.” She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “I've not seen you since you moved house.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Jesus he didn’t have time for this shit. He took a deep breath and looked at her as she eyed him expectantly, waiting for his answer “Just fine. I'm enjoying my new place.”

“So, you like it then?” Linda set her glass down and leaned back once more. “I must admit when it came on our books I thought it would suit you.”

“It's different than Kenoak, less modern, but it does the job” he said vaguely and saw her body language stiffen.

“If you don’t like it why did you buy it Ransom?” her tone was exasperated and he had to fight back the grin that was threatening to spread across his face at the fact he was riling her. It was always so damned easy.

“Well, my last place had kinda turned into a bit of a media circus.”

“Yeah, I expect that’s what happens when you're involved in a homicide” she snapped back.

“Say it a bit louder.” Ransom deadpanned “I don’t think they heard you over by the bar.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t intentional.” she held his gaze “Your Granddad’s death isn't something I find funny, Ransom. Not that it ever occurred to you."

Ransom sighed. He was starting to get annoyed under her scrutiny and really wasn’t in the mood for a deep dive into the events of the past year.

“Not of sound mind, Mother.” He said, his voice a little softer as he reminded her of the argument his brief had made which had ensured his acquittal from his crimes, hoping it would shut her up. “Remember?”

“I know son, I know.” Linda leaned over and gently lay her hand on his where it rested on the table. Ransom took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. Physical affection from her always made him uncomfortable as he wasn’t used to it, but for some reason it was heightened in that moment. He sat and pondered for a second on what he had just said. His brief had spun the line about him being under emotional duress due to his granddad cutting him out of his will and whilst there was an element of truth in it, he’d been of perfect mental capacity when he’d enacted his plan. But, if it helped his mother believe that her only son isn’t a monster then…whatever. He pulled his hand back from her and she sighed, clearly mistaking his discomfort for guilt.

 “You know, you used to be such an affectionate little boy, Ransom.” Linda looked at her hand as if his rebuttal had burned her before she shook her head and reached once more for her drink. “I often wonder where your dad and I went wrong.”

Ok, so this he could deal with. The reminder that he was a constant disappointment.

 “Hard to say.” He snarked “Somewhere between boarding school and Harvard maybe?”

She rolled her eyes “We did what we thought was best.” She set her now empty glass down. “Clearly in hindsight...”

Ransom was saved from her self-indulgent moment of soul searching by the waiter who set his beer down in front of him and asked if they were ready to order. Ransom gestured to his mother who asked for the house salad with a side of tempura prawns whilst he went for his usual, fillet steak with all the trimmings. It was obnoxiously expensive but what the hell, like he cared. Especially not when his Mother was paying...

He took a long pull from his beer as the waiter topped his mother’s glass up from the bottle that stood in the ice bucket next to their table before she thanked him and he disappeared.

“You’ve not asked me how your father is.” Linda looked at Ransom who narrowed his eyes. Why does she care about that? But, deciding it was as good a conversation change as any he shrugged.

“How's Richard?”

Linda rolled her eyes but for the first time since he arrived he noticed a little smirk flicker on her lips before she looked at him. “He’s still your dad Ransom" she reminded.

“Ok, how is my dearest dad? Still fucking the 30 year old au-pair?”

“Yes, apparently, he's taking her to the villa.”

Now that did make him frown. The Villa that they owned in Lake Gada was his mother’s pride and joy.

“Seriously? You're just gonna let him do that?” Ransom’s tone was surprised.

“I have no choice.” Linda took a deep breath “Our divorce isn't final and he's contesting me keeping the property. It's not as cut and dry as one would assume despite his infidelity, numerous infidelities even.”

“He signed a pre-nup, Mom.” Ransom reminded her and Linda nodded.

“I know, but the Villa wasn't part of it. It's the one thing he can hold over me and he's doing just that.” She took a sip of her drink and snorted “Dumb bastard has nothing so he figures why not try his luck here. Fact is, he gets nothing else.”

“Good.”  Ransom retorted, a little viciously and Linda eyed himself shrewdly.

“Careful Ransom, you almost sound like you care.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes, not gracing her with an answer. “Anyway, what are you doing with yourself these days?” she moved the conversation on “And I don't mean with women as we've already established when you sat down. Any hobbies or God forbid a job prospect I should know about?” “Aside from my love life, I’m actually writing mother, believe it or not.” He responded, amused at the visible look of shock that crossed her face.

“You're....writing?” her mouth dropped open before she hastily shut it.

“Don't sound too surprised, Linda,” Ransom let out a low chuckle as his mother rolled her eyes at his use of her name. “Granddad always said I had a flare for it. Just-” he paused for a moment before he shrugged “-well, I guess I never really used it much.”

Linda cocked her head to the side as she considered him for a moment before her face softened and once more Ransom felt uncomfortable at her change in demeanour. “He'd be proud of you. I suppose it's what he's always wanted for you, to find something for yourself.”

And there it was. The reminder that he was nothing but a trust fund prick, with no future and nothing of his own to live off. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly before he responded with a false air of nonchalance.

“I see that now.”

“Good. I'm pleased you do Son.” Linda nodded. “I'm not glad about how it all went down but...well, as dad used to say, things have a strange way of working out in the end.” It was a funny choice of words, Ransom thought, but before he had chance to dwell on it anymore their food arrived. The conversation slowed a little as they both ate, growing a little stilted in places as he told her vaguely what his writing project was about- a private detective- go figure. Linda moaned about more about his father, and then she dropped something casually into the conversation that really did surprise him, that they were planning a memorial for Harlan. 

"When?" he frowned, swallowing a mouthful of potato.

“The end of this month, possibly the first week in December. It'll be after Thanksgiving.” Linda waved her hand before she paused, hesitating a little as if she was deliberating whether or not to tell him this next bit. And when she did, he fully realised why. “It was Marta’s idea.” The mere mention of that name was enough to get his hackles up and he took a deep breath, the nerve in his jaw twitching. He looked at his mother as she watched him carefully before he looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Hmmm” was all he could muster.

“Hmmm? What's Hmm, Ransom?” Linda looked at him.

“I figured with Harlan gone she'd be out of our lives.” He shrugged, feeling his neck grow hot. That bitch was responsible for all of this in the first place, the reason he was done out of his inheritance. If she hadn’t got her claws into him none of his would have happened.

“Yes, well, as much as it sticks in my throat that she got everything maybe if we play ball she'll come round to actually giving us all what we're owed.” Linda shrugged “And that aside...it will be nice to remember him.”

The rest of the lunch passed with simple conversation, Ransom steering it well away from the subject of his family. When they’d finished his mother, as predicted, picked up the tab and together they headed outside to wait for the Valet to fetch their vehicles. His mother’s arrived first and she turned to him, the pair of them engaging in the awkward, stilted kissing of the cheeks before she promised him his quarterly check from his shares in her company should land next week. With a nod and a thanks he bid her good bye and a few moments later climbed into his own car and set off back home.

***** With a yell you sat bolt upright, taking a moment to get your bearings as you emerged from the troubled sleep you had fallen back into. Yes, you were still here, in Drysdale’s fucking basement. The tears stung your eyes as you lay back, taking some deep breaths as you attempted to ebb the panic which was setting in. Your situation was disgusting and dire, you were trapped and therefore, you knew you needed to ask for the things you needed, not wanted, just simply needed, or in time, Hugh could add you to his notch post of growing murder victims. The question was, exactly how far could you push him for anything? One wrong move, as you'd learned last night, and you'd be regretting ever uttering a syllable. But you refused to go quietly, you'd be further letting yourself down if you did. You didn't have it in you. However, just how dangerous he was or could be now was no longer lost on you, you had the physical reminder in the biting sting of your cheek, throbbing and tenderness you felt between your legs, and the slight bruising around your wrists where he had pinned them above your head. You hadn’t examined the rest of your body to see what damage he’d done, you didn’t want to.

You ached all over from being led or sat on this damned bed since you’d arrived. The chain attaching you to the bed post wasn’t long enough to allow you to stand up and stretch our your aching limbs so for now you had to settle for attempting to massage some feeling back into your calves, your eyes casting over the various tears and ladders in your thick tights which you’d pulled back up last night with trembling hands after he had violated you.

The door clicked open and your head jerked towards the door as you scrambled higher up the bed, pressing your back into the headboard. You watched as your captor strode in, a packet of Biscoff in his hand pausing as his foot crunched over the shattered remnants of the plate that you’d hurled at the door. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he'd forgotten he'd heard you throw it this morning. 

“I don’t like cleaning up messes” He said simply as he stepped over it, shutting the door with his foot.

“Pity you killed the house keeper then” you glared at him as he shoved another cookie into his mouth.

“Who, Fran?” he asked with a scoff, his voice muffled by his food.

“How many other house keepers have you killed?” you shot back and he gave a snort.

“None.” Ransom shrugged nonchalantly “But for your information, Fran was a useless dimwit. She only cared about two things. Drugs and getting paid.”

You frowned, was that supposed to justify his actions in some way? He too only cared about getting paid and what money could do for him. “And you care about what exactly other than yourself?” you shot back. He looked at you, a smirk crossing his handsome face as she shoved yet another cookie into his mouth, chewing slowly.

At that point your stomach growled with hunger, just another way your body had betrayed since you since you had arrived and you tore your face from his, turning it to the side.

“Now are you hungry?” he asked as you realised that was probably the bastard’s plan all along. With a deep sigh you looked back at him.

“Can I have one?” you asked meekly.

Ransom studied you for a moment, tongue poking at his cheek, before he strode towards the bed and offered you the packet. You took one and stuffed it straight into your mouth.

“No thank you?”

“Piss off.” You shot back automatically, swallowing your cookie.

His good demeanour ebbed slightly as an irritated look flashed across his face. “Don’t push me, Sweetheart.” his voice was low as he sank onto the side of the bed, looking at you “I think your situation is precarious enough as it is, don’t you?”

You merely glared at him, you had no comeback. There was no comeback. He was right.

“Now if I make you something proper to eat are you gonna take it or throw it at the door again?” he raised his eyebrows “Because, frankly, you starving yourself is of no real concern to me except I kinda think you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what for. But you were so hungry, and the battle inside you raged on before your self-preservation mode won out and you hung your head slightly, looking at the comforter you were led on. “I’ll eat.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Ransom smirked again.

“No.” you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. “Can I have some water too?”

“As long as you don’t throw the glass.”

“I’m thirsty.” You replied simply “I won’t.”

He nodded and stood up, offering you the packet of cookies “Have those for now.”

“Thank you.” You took them from him, your tone a little sarcastic, your eyes rolling as you spoke. He looked at you and for a moment you were worried he was about to do something about your response but he simply gave a huff of laughter and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

You could no longer bite back the sigh of delight as you took another of the buttery spiced cookies into your mouth. It was rich on your tongue but it was food and you were so hungry. What you wouldn't do for a cup of coffee to go with. You surveyed the room as you chewed the Biscoff thoughtfully. The earlier despair you’d felt upon waking just before he had re-appeared was slowly giving way to determination as you realised that for now practicality had to win you over. Not only did you need sustenance and water, which you knew was on the way, you also needed clothing and access to the bathroom, which you now realized you were desperate for.

So now what, you thought to yourself. The fact that he was willing to feed you despite the fact you’d launched your morning’s meal against the door meant he didn't want you dead. Mind you, if he did you wouldn’t have made it out of that fucking dilapidated house so, just what kind of a game was he playing at here? You weren't sure what his end game was if it didn't mean your certain death. You just didn't understand and felt the struggle of thoughts seep into your mind as you contemplated each step. He doesn't want you dead, but you're locked up, chained up and he's obliterated your body by force. And that was only the first round. So far he's voiced his hell bent plan on keeping you here and making you suffer. And he's done a right job at it after just the first night. He couldn't keep this up for the rest of your life, could he? No, you didn't think, but he's gone as far as to know your every day, your family's every day, detail for detail. It couldn't possibly be for ironically a ransom, no, he had plenty of money still and if you were certain, his mother was still finding ways to slip him allowances and he'd managed to get a small chunk under the table and off the record from your publishers on your behalf. So no, it wasn't for money. Did he expect a better and firm, more sincere apology? Well he sure as shit wasn't going to get one now. Stupid, spoiled fuck. You outwardly scoff at the thought. What does he want that you have? The endgame is unknown but you were in the long game now, that much was apparent. You just had to not walk into verbal traps and wait for him to reveal his hand. But you guessed just by the times you've previously had with Hugh Ransom Drysdale that his hand wouldn't be revealed until he held the right cards.

True to his word Ransom came back what couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later. He handed you a plate containing a simple turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a plastic bottle of water. “Just in case you get any ideas about smashing it and doing me in…” he said, placing it down.

“Murder is your speciality, not mine” you snarked back biting into your sandwich as the hunger you felt won out over the need to pee that you’d felt before. It was actually pretty good. The bread was fresh, the meat succulent, both more than likely from a deli and not a bog standard store. You ate eagerly, Ransom settled in the arm chair in the corner of the room by the low coffee table, his eyes watching you. You ignored him, concentrating on your food.

“So…” you said as you stuffed the last of your sandwich into your mouth “Are you gonna keep me down here?”

“Yup” he said simply, popping the P.

You swallowed and grabbed the water, cracking the top open and draining half of it in one, your hand trembling slightly. Thankfully you avoided spilling any. You screwed the top on and placed it back on the night stand and watched with horror as he rose from his seat and crossed towards you, sitting on the side of the bed

“So, because I don’t want anything to fuck up what we got here, sweetheart, I have a simple question which you’re gonna answer.” Ransom said, looking at you “Are you on birth-control?”

Your mouth dropped open as you glared at him.

“What the fuck?” you stuttered

“It’s a simple question that requires a yes or no answer.” His expression hadn’t changed, not one bit. Cool, calm and collected, like this was something he would simply ask anyone. As you stared at his smug face, your puzzlement at the seemingly straight outta left field question gave way to anger. He was asking you this, like it was his damned right to know, like he was your fucking boyfriend by choice.

“You tell me, I mean you thought of everything or so you took great pleasure in telling me last night.” You spat. Quick as a flash his hand grabbed your face, his fingers gripping your chin painfully and you let out a little whimper.

“Answer the question.” He said simply

And then you realised, it wasn’t really that out of left field at all was it? It was clear following last night what his intention for you was and like he’d want the added complication of any little surprises turning up in around 9 months. You swallowed, your eyes looked down

“Yes” you whispered, and he released your face.

“Good.” Ransom nodded “Makes things a lot easier.” “I’m not a sex toy, Hugh.” You glared at him and he looked back at you, giving a snort.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s been said.” He shrugged simply, like he didn’t give a shit. Which, as you realised, he probably didn’t. People like him never did care what they came across like, arrogant trust fund prick.

With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose and glanced around the room you were in, as if you really hadn't paid much attention to it's details before. Ironically, if you weren’t here under duress it would actually be quite nice. The bed was large and comfy, there was a reasonably big bathroom attached which from what you could make out contained a fairly nice sized bath tub and a separate walk in shower cubicle. There was what looked like a built in closet next to the bathroom door, a night stand which contained a reading lamp to your right and on the opposite wall to the bed in front of you there was a dresser and a small shelf fixed to the wall a little higher, which was empty. To the left of the room was a large, plush armchair behind which another lamp was fixed to the wall and a fancy oak coffee table which matched the rest of the furniture. Above the chair, was a porthole like window, hexagonal in shape, but high enough to not allow for escape but for the warmth of daylight to seep into the space. 

A fucking studio apartment, that half of Boston would probably kill to own…and you were trapped in it. Well, certainly until you could think of a way to un-trap yourself so to speak.

You looked back at him and decided to keep pressing your luck a little. There were things you needed, starting with the bathroom, and you were damned if you were going to let him degrade you even more than he already had by letting you piss yourself.

“There are things I’m going to need.” You spoke, taking care to keep your voice neutral, attempting to avoid outwardly displaying the desperation you were feeling “A pee and a shower for one” you gestured with your head to the small bathroom.

“Well if you’re gonna behave, I’ll undo this.” He reached down and jangled the chain that was attached to the shackle round your ankle.

“Clothes too…”

“The closet is full.” He said simply “But you have to behave, Sweetheart, or you go right back on the chain.

You grit your teeth. Sweetheart, you were no more his sweetheart than he was Harlan’s favorite grandchild. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do.” He said simply “Behave or not.”

You let out a frustrated growl “I told you I was gonna, now just undo the fucking dog collar on my ankle.”

“Ooh, so feisty.” Ransom mocked and you glared at him.

With a chuckle he stood up and pulled the key out of his pocket, undoing the shackle round your ankle and stood back slightly. You moved and shuffled to the edge of the bed where he watched as you rose to your legs. However, after the ordeal you’d been through the night before, plus your no doubt whacky blood sugar level, your head span a little and you staggered forward. Ransom caught you, both his hands hooking under your arms as he helped you steady yourself, his touch surprisingly gentle as his hands slid down to your ribs, thumbs brushing underneath your breasts and you looked at him, blinking. His action had caught you off guard and if the look on his face was anything to go by it had caught him off guard too. There was a moment where you stood still before you remembered exactly what was going on and with an angry scoff you raised both your hands, palms flat on his chest and shoved him as hard as you could.

It didn’t move him much, a half a step back or so, but it was enough to make a point. The unexpected softness on his face turned to anger and a split second later his right hand was round your throat.

“I'm warning you…” he snarled, his large fingers flexing causing his grip to tighten, around your throat. He gave a sharp squeeze, not enough to cut off your airway, instead serving as a threat, telling you he could if he wanted to. He released his grip as the tears stung your eyes and he moved aside to allow you to move to the bathroom. You went as quickly as you could and once you were there you made to shut the door.

Only there wasn’t one. “Why the fuck is there no door?” you turned and faced him.

“Because I won’t clean up a dead body.” He shrugged “So before you get any dumb ideas, anything that could make you think about a means to an end isn’t in this room either.”

You looked at him, frowning before you realised what he meant and you shook your head. “Oh trust me, I’m not about to kill myself over you.”

“Good.” He said simply, “You have 10 minutes” he said, leaning on the frame where the door should have been.

“You’re not watching me pee, Hugh!”

At that his face darkened “Call me Hugh one more time, I dare you, Sweetheart.” His voice was laced with venom as his eyes flashed dangerously, but despite all that you couldn’t help yourself. It was the only weapon you had in your arsenal to deploy.

“Hugh.” you spat, raising an eyebrow.

His jaw clenched and in two large strides he was on you, his hand grabbing your forearm as he yanked you across the bathroom, your feet skidding on the tiles as you struggled for traction on the floor. You yelled out at the pain of his grip but no sooner had it started it stopped as he flung you unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. Your knees and hip collided painfully with the tray and you gave a scream as a torrent of freezing cold water hit you, soaking your sweater dress. You gasped and spluttered, struggling to your feet, the cold making your chest contract and he looked at you, his face back to its stony calm expression.

“10 minutes” he repeated.

He turned to go and in a fit of rage you peeled the icy, sodden jersey dress off and flung it at him. It hit him square in the back before it slid to the floor, splattering on the tiles in a sopping mess. You saw him take a deep breath, his broad shoulders rippling under his thermal ribbed top as he stood up square and turned to face you as you stood, teeth chattering in the still cold spray in nothing but your bra and laddered thermal tights.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sweetheart.” He intoned darkly, before he cocked an eyebrow “9 and a half minutes.” He left the bathroom and headed into the main room, and you turned away instantly cranking up the heat on the shower. As it warmed you through, the water beating down on you, you reached for the shower gel which was on a small shelf in the corner of the cubicle. You scrubbed and scrubbed, not caring how much you used, attempting to rid yourself of the dirty feeling of him as you recalled his hands all over you, his cock violating you in the way it had. You didn’t stop the tears falling, your resolve breaking, as you turned your face into the spray, allowing it to hide your tears, before you washed your hair in the shampoo and conditioner.  Eventually, when you’d done everything you could, you turned off the water, took a deep breath and squeezed your hair out before stepping out of the shower. Your eyes instinctively went to the doorway and you were relieved. You couldn’t see Ransom, which meant he didn’t have an eye-line directly into the shower, awarding you some level of privacy at least.

You grabbed a towel which you wrapped around yourself, before you took another and used it to squeeze your hair before you pulled it back into a messy bun out of the way, and stepped out of the bathroom.

 “That was 11 minutes.” Ransom said simply as you emerged into the main area of the basement “I’ll let the 90 seconds slide.”

You glared at him as he sat in the armchair, his broad frame filling it, right leg crossed over his left, an I don't give a fuck look about his face, and you knew at that moment you had never hated anyone more in your life than you hated him right then. You turned towards the closet and began to route through, the tears filling your eyes again as you concentrated on finding something to wear. You pulled a few things out, checking the tags. Not only did the prices shock you (it was all high end, designer stuff- what else would the spoilt, trust fund prick buy) but it was all your size. Which unnerved you no end. Pushing that to the back of your mind, as after all in the situation you were in it was the least of your worries, eventually you settled on a simple pale blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of jeans.

“Underwear?” you turned and looked at him. He nodded to the drawers built into the bottom of the closet and you opened it, taking a breath. Of course it would all be lace, sexy. You picked the most modest pair of black, lace French-style briefs you could find and the matching bra, tossing the lot onto the bed. You looked at him, cocking your eyebrow and he mimicked the action, gesturing with his hand.

“Don’t mind me.” The dismay washed over you as you realised what he meant and you took a deep breath “You’re gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yup.” He replied simply, popping the p loudly.

You bowed your head, knowing there was no point turning your back on him, he’d just force you to turn round. As you stared to pat yourself dry though your towel, you blinked back the tears as for some reason this felt far more humiliating and degrading that what he’d done to you last night.

****

Ransom wasn’t sure he’d ever exercised self-control like this, he normally just bought (or took) what he wanted, and before he’d wanted nothing more than to trace the beads of water which moved down her neck and back, collecting in the towel as she rifled through the closet. She reached for the panties first, and attempted to shimmy them on under the towel and he gave a click of his tongue.

“Oh no doll.” He smirked, “lose it.”

She glared at him, and he simply held her gaze, not looking away and eventually he saw her shoulder sag as she reached up with a shaking hand and unhooked the edge of the towel which was tucked in on itself and let it fall to the floor. He gave a loud hum of approval as he took her in, her long-lithe legs up to her hips, the curve of her waist, pert breasts and delicate shoulders and collar bone. She swallowed on air and he watched her throat bob, and he instantly found himself thinking how good she’d look swallowing something else. He shifted slightly in his seat, the crotch of his jeans now feeling a little tight thanks to his semi-hard cock, and she reached for the lace briefs stepping into them. As she shimmied them up, her breasts jiggled a little and he gave an inward groan. For a second he thought about stopping her, taking her there and then but now wasn’t the time. They had things to discuss, certain rules she needed to understand.

Plus, the waiting and the anticipation would simply heighten the pleasure later when he finally did fuck her again.

He remained still as she pulled on the rest of the clothes before she turned to him, her cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hairbrush?” she asked.

Ransom nodded to the dresser opposite the bed and she moved over towards it, opening one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled the item out, dragging it through her hair before she braided it quickly and then turned to him expectantly.

“Sit.” He said, gesturing to the bed. She did as she was told, sinking down onto the edge of it, her hands clasped in her laps, fingers of her right hand pulling at the ones in her left nervously.

“Ok…” he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at her “Here’s how it’s gonna work.”

At his words Y/N looked at him, and then her hands released each other and she folded her arms, crossing her legs on the bed, chewing on her cheek with a sullen look on her face. The look of someone that really didn’t want to listen but had no option.

Such a petulant brat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Ransom spoke calmly and authoritatively “If I want you, I’m gonna have you.” At that she took a shaky breath but her eyes remained on his as he continued “You behave, you’ll get rewarded. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished?” she sputtered. “What could possibly be a worse punishment than this?” she waved her hand and Ransom allowed himself a chuckle.

Oh, Doll, you have no idea…

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

“No.” she said, hanging her head slightly.

“Smart move.” He nodded.

“Anything else?” she looked back at him, the defiance once more filling her features.

“Yes, don’t call me Hugh.”

At that she smirked and he felt a flash of annoyance “Sorry, am I amusing you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head quickly, the smirk fading as quick as it had appeared.

“Good.” He said, his palms slapping his thighs as he stood up.

“Is that it?”

“For now.” He nodded.

“Do I get to make any rules?”

Ransom hesitated, and looked at her. He had to hand it to her, she was gutsy but that was part of the reason she was hear after all. He shook his head, chuckling slightly “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Can I ask you for things?”

“I just said, this isn’t a negotiation.” He started to get a little bit irked at her attitude now, “You behave, you get things.”

“So you’re gonna leave me down here with nothing? No TV, no books, no stereo?”

“Behave and I’ll think about it.” He replied simply and when she sighed he knew she understood that arguing and bargaining with him was futile.

Ransom Drysdale bargained with no one.

“You know…” he said, stepping towards the bed and she instantly took a deep breath, shying away a little. The fact he had so much power over her was exhilarating and he smiled, stopping a foot or so away from the edge of the bed, his large frame towering over her. “I should shackle you again, for your back chatting and slapping me in the back with your wet clothes but I’m fair. I’ll let that go. I hadn’t explained my rules.”

She blinked up at him and he nodded towards the bathroom. “Put your dirty stuff in the hamper. I’ll be back later.”

As he strode towards the door he could have sworn he heard her mumble something, something that sounded suspiciously like she’d called him a prick. He stopped, smirking, before he fixed a hard look on his face and turned round.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly

“Thought not.” He nodded, and with that he turned and left, locking the numerous bolts on the door behind him.

**** With a lack of anything else to do you cleaned up the water from the bathroom floor and tossed everything into the hamper like you’d been told to do and then, taking advantage of your new found “freedom” so to speak you set about exploring every single nook and cranny of your ‘cell’. You found the bathroom was fully stocked with all sorts of toiletries, sanitary products (fuck, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to get his sordid little kicks when Aunt Flow came to visit in 3 weeks or so), there was a little make up as well in the drawer in the vanity unit that you’d spotted before and you pulled it out to examine it, once again finding it to be not your usual brand but high end all the same. Finding all this was only compounding your confusion as to what the hell his goal was in all this, but as you had realised before until he decided to show you those cards, you would simply be playing a guessing game.

In the drawers under your bed you found a few different sets of linen which was a relief as it meant you weren’t going to be at his mercy as to when you could change your bedding. Given what had happened the night before, you were half tempted to change them again but you hesitated and decided to wait until later, because you had a sinking feeling he was going to take you again, especially given his declaration earlier.

“If I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

If that was how your life was going to go for the foreseeable, you’d be going through a hell of a lot of bedding if you changed it every time he fucked you. Much more than was contained in the drawers anyway.

Pushing that horrible thought from your head, you took a deep breath, focussing on staying calm, staying collected, staying alive. She needed her wits, her strength, her continued ability of self preservation. And, given the fact that he's murdered before, you weren't entirely trusting his word of not wanting to kill you. You closed the drawers and then settled yourself down on the floor at the side of the bed nearest the arm chair and low coffee table indulging in a few yoga stretches and the like in an attempt to ease out your still aching muscles. You were sat on the floor, with your legs extended, reaching for your toes when he came back and with a little smirk on his face handed you a book.

“For the boredom.”

You blinked and then took it from him, shaking your head as you realised it was one of his granddads, most likely his idea of a joke. And what was more it was one you’d already read.

Nevertheless, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you thanked him and then stood up and dropped into the chair, opening the cover. How long had passed you had no idea, but you were a good few chapters on when the trust fund ass wipe re-emerged, and the smell of food wafted across the room. He set a tray down on the bed and jerked his head towards it, in a silent instruction for you to vacate the seat. With a roll of your eyes you tried to get comfortable on the bed to eat with said tray balanced on your knee and with an exasperated groan you looked at him.

“Is there any chance of getting some form of table and chair so I can eat off it and not where I’m expected to sleep?”

He looked at you for a second, before he shrugged “I’ll think about it, depending on how you behave.”

The chicken was dry, but you ate it anyway, remembering your earlier thoughts about staying strong. As you chewed you watched him where he sat in the chair in the corner of the room, looking at something on his phone. Having had time to think things over even more, you knew you needed to play this clever, get him on your side, let him believe that you could be trusted if you wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here. With a deep breath you supressed the desire you had to simply remain silent, sullen even and spoke.

“Are you not eating?” you asked him and he looked at you, surprise on his face.

“I had a big lunch.” He responded simply.

“Well I hope it was better than this.” You arranged your face into the best playful look you could muster “Because, no offence, it sucks.”

Ransom looked at you, before he snorted “Yeah, cooking isn’t my forte.”

“Maybe I could do it.” You offered “I’m not a bad chef.”

His eyes locked on yours and you concentrated on keeping the look on your face innocent as he studied you. Eventually he spoke again “Maybe. If you behave.”

Again, the focus on your behaviour. He clearly wanted you to be good, compliant maybe. Bolstered by the slight progress you were making into maybe understanding what you needed to do you continued. “So, did you go anywhere nice? For lunch I mean.”

“The Harbor.” He responded “Food was good, company was slightly irritating.”

“Company?” the surprise in your tone was genuine

“I met my mother.”

“Oh.” You replied, looking back down at the plate as you blinked back the tears, the thought of your own mother filling your head. She would be beside herself now. You took a deep breath, you might be able to be compliant but you were damned if you were going to show him any weakness, that’s what he wanted. Instead, you took another bite of your meal and looked up at him. “That must have been nice for you.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Ransom asked in an amused tone and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I was being serious. Mind you, you don’t strike me as being close to your family so…” you shrugged and shovelled a soggy piece of broccoli into your mouth.

“You’re smart, we're not.” He shrugged “But she wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Bet that conversation was positively riveting.” You smirked “And that was sarcasm by the way.”

Ransom scoffed “It wasn’t bad to be honest, that was until she steered it around to Marta.”

“Marta?” you frowned, pondering what on earth could have brought their conversation around to that. “Why did you talk about her?”

“What is this Jeopardy?” he arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “Why not, I'll take Drysdale family politics for my share of the inheritance, Alec…”

“Watch your mouth, Sweetheart.” His tone was warning and his face stony. You swallowed and looked down at the plate.

“Sorry.” You said, keeping up your act. Silence fell again and you finished the last of your dinner and set the tray on the nightstand.

Ransom took a deep breath “Seeing as you’re so interested, Marta has approached my mother and the family about holding a memorial for Harlan.” You looked at him, and his eyebrows raised. “Ironic huh, the bitch who stole what was mine is planning a memorial for my grandad when she’s responsible for his death.”

At that you scoffed, he really was unbelievable and just like that your resolve to be nice started to ebb away at his utter narcissism “Are you for real? You’re responsible for Harlan’s death, and as for taking what was yours, you never had anything, none of you did! It was Harlan’s, you didn’t earn it.” Ransom glowered at you but you continued, shaking your head with a derisive laugh. “You know, the fact he would rather leave it to his nurse than his own family says more about you all than it does about her."

“What did you just say?” His voice was low, and there was an unmistakable flash of anger on his face.

“You heard me. Not that I expect any of that to bother you, Hugh, you do and take what you want anyway and fuck whoever gets hurt in the crossfire…” at that you gestured around the room, “prime example…”

There was a pause and in an instance you realised your mistake. You’d called him inadequate and worse, had broken one of those fucking rules, called him Hugh. His whole demeanour had changed, he was pissed. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, his entire body rigid.

Shit.

In a flash he was off the chair. You reacted equally as quick, jumping off the bed in an attempt to put some distance in between you. Why, you had no idea, it wasn’t like you were going to stop him, but maybe if you could buy some time you could talk him down as you backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” but your apology was cut off as he rounded the bed, grabbing your hair painfully, yanking your braid down so your head was tilted back, looking at him. You let out a scream of pain and moved your hands to grab at his wrists “Oww, shit…you’re hurting me!”

“Like I care.” He snarled “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

That predatory look was back on his face and you knew you were in for it again, and your apologetic front flew completely from your mind. Like hell you were doing this without a fight.

“Fuck you.” You spat back.

“Hard way it is.” He shrugged.

His hand tightening around your hair, he manhandled you into the middle of the bed easily. You yelled, bucked, lashed out but as with the previous night you were simply no match for him. He easily pinned you down with his knees clamped either side of your hips, holding you in place as he yanked your sweater over your head, pulling it down your arms so they were pinned behind you back. It was uncomfortable but did the job perfectly you realised to your horror, because you couldn’t move your arms at all.

Ransom then moved, his large hands grabbing at the button on your waistband and you continued to struggle, trying to buck your hips but once more to no avail. He had your jeans and panties down to your knees easily, before he flipped you over so your face was pushed into the pillow where it muffled your screams slightly. 

One hand reached up, sliding round the front of your neck and he squeezed. This time it was harder than he had done earlier that day, and the pressure increased and increased, slowly shutting off your airway. You gasped, tears stinging in your eye as you desperately tried to move but it was pointless. Then, suddenly he eased off, and you drew in a harsh gasp of air, coughing and spluttering, still conscious that his fingers remained around your throat.

“Stop fighting it.” He instructed, his other hand sliding over your entrance, making you pull away from his touch, but to no avail as the hand that was on your throat slid down your spine and twisted the sweater, tightening your make shift restraints, jerking your arms even further behind your back. Your upper arms and shoulders screamed in protest and you let out a little sob of pain as he moved both his hands to your hips, tugging them up slightly. One hand trailed over your ass before he plunged two fingers into you and you jerked forward at the intrusion. Ransom groaned before he leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you. Your body doesn’t lie, Sweetheart.”

You turned your head away, pressing your cheek into the pillow and Ransom uncurled himself from over you and you felt him shift behind you. The tell-tale clanking of a belt buckle, followed by a zip and the rustling of fabric told you exactly what was coming. Despite your resolve to give him nothing, a choked whimper escaped your mouth and you turned you face, pressing it further into the pillow in an attempt to stifle your sobs.

“Oh no…” he said, one hand curling into your braid, yanking hard and jerking your head back. You cried out, your body was contorted in such an unnatural shape, back arched, arms pinned behind your spine, head jerked back. “I wanna hear you.”

He shuffled a little, and you felt the top of his cock teasing your entrance and then without warning he powered forward, stuffing you full, letting out a rumble of a growl as he did so.

“So fucking tight…” he grit out as he withdrew, then plunged straight back in, jerking your body as he did so. He took a few more deep, slow thrusts before he picked up the pace and began to piston into you, relentlessly. You felt each thrust, the slap of his balls slamming towards your clit. It hurt, just as it had done last time. He had zero self-control, grunting and growling as he bottomed out with every motion. The hand that was gripping your hip went beyond bruising, his dull nails biting at your skin as the other wound tighter around your braid, the odd angle of your body gritting at your joints. You were fighting tears and sobs as your body continued to betray you, soaking your walls, allowing his cock to slide in and out effortlessly. The hand against your hip glided along your side as a deep thrust came and you could feel it grip your breast between the mattress. His thumb brushing against your nipple through your bra. The friction of his piston thrusts, his hand forcing your bralete against your nipples and the yank of your hair was driving your body into sensory overload and filled you with burning sensations that verged on painful. The tip of his cock scrapped at your insides, no doubt bruising you. Your tears burned and your throat begged with dry thirst.

“Can feel you, Sweetheart…” he groaned, as he bottomed out, rotating his hips slightly making you cry out involuntarily “You feel close…you sound close…such a needy little slut.”

“I’m not a slut…” you sob, the feeble protest sounding as pathetic as you felt.

"Fucking look like one to me..." he growled, his hips rotating again, the burn in your stomach was now getting to hard to ignore. “Please…” you begged, “Just….stop…”

He answered your plea by driving deeper into you, picking up his pace once more and you felt yourself beginning to tumble.

"Oh God," the words flew from your mouth as your body shook violently and you took on your overload of orgasm and sensory extremes. You sobbed as your body betrayed you again with this man. Your mind screaming for understanding, your insides begging for more.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…” Ransom let out a groan as he picked up the pace, before after a few more deep thrusts, the hand that was holding your hair let go. Your head fell forward as you felt the warm ribbons of his come streak up your back before he released his hold on your hip and you collapsed onto the bed, your heart and self-respect shattered.

Every inch of your body ached thanks to the way you’d been contorted and as you lay still, trying to regain some control of your limbs you felt his hands press either side of your head and gave a sob as he leaned lean over your body, his ears brushing your lips.

“I'll take you like that every fucking day if I have to until you give in. Because you will.”

At that the feel of his chest that had been pressing into your back was gone and you heard a rustle of clothing and then footsteps across the floor before the door opened and his deep baritone filled the room once more.

“I would shackle you but I don’t think we need that anymore. You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was almost playful, like he was toying with you, teasing you. “I suggest you take a bath, you’re gonna be sore. That is, once you manage to work your way out of that sweater.”

And with a click followed by the familiar sliding of bolts you were sealed in your prison and you finally gave in to your tears as the sheer helplessness of your situation crashed over you in waves.

****

Part 3

[presumenothing]

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland    

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.

[all1e23]

Bad Habit [Pt.1]

Pairings: Biker!Steve x Reader

Series warnings:  Drug use. Violence. Smut so 18+ please and thank  – No smut this chapter. Sorry to disappoint

A/N:   Part 1! 800 years later. I’m doing my best to get my wips finished by the end of the year so fingers crossed I actually do so. Un-beta’d. So, uh, yeah. Be prepared for that. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Two weeks it’s been since his mystery girl came into his life, and Steve hadn’t seen or heard from her since she bolted out of the clubhouse’s front door before the sun had cleared the trees. At the time, Steve was disappointed. He had plans. There was a burning need for waffles and bacon and syrup covered kisses, the exchange of numbers, or the very least names and a plan for next time. All those wants quickly evaporated along with the dust those tires kicked up during the hasty getaway. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that morning played out as it did. If Bucky had been there to witness a girl running from his room at first light, he would never hear the end of it. Before the day was out, Bucky would have the whole clubhouse believing he ran another girl off. Thankfully, the only person to catch the escape was Sam, and he was doing everything he could to convince Steve to forget about it. Sam told him nothing good came from chasing a girl that didn’t want to be chased, but Steve has this feeling in his gut, this time wasn’t like before. 

Whoever you were, you were different. 

Maybe you had him under some sorta spell, and that was why he couldn't forget you. It would explain a lot. You captivated him from the moment you stepped into the bar, and he still saw stars long after you ran out the front door and out of his life. He never really stood a chance if he was honest with himself; Steve knew he was in trouble from the first glance. Two things were apparent right off the bat, you were going to be a handful, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to earn your love. Still, Steve chased after you like a novice sailor following a siren’s melody. He had no problem admitting he was willing to follow you out to the middle of the ocean only to find himself unable to swim in the dark waters you lived in.

In the past, Steve had a bad habit of falling too fast, loving quick and fierce. You would be his last. He just had a feeling things would go his way this time--if he could find you. 

As much as he wanted to see you again, he didn’t have any idea how to make that happen. He didn’t even know your name and had no idea where to start looking for you. Hell, he didn’t even know if you lived in Brooklyn. For all, he knew this could have been a stop on your way home where you already had someone waiting on you. All he had was the necklace you gave him, and that was a dead-end. It was just a one-night stand. He should toss the chain in a drawer and put that night behind him. Most men like him would. They would move on to the next girl and forget you existed. Steve, though, he’s stubborn (so says Bucky), and it’s a good thing he is because it’s always worked in his favor. 

Steve ran his thumb over the gold pendant resting against his chest and grinned as he watched you move around behind the bar. 

The one place he would have never thought to look. 

"Well, I'll be damned,” Steve whispered to himself, still watching as you talked and laughed with customers. 

Natasha mentioned she hired a new girl he hadn’t met yet a few nights ago, but without knowing his siren’s name, there was no way he could have connected the two. He had no idea that this Y/n was his Y/n. Now that he found you, he only had to get past the high walls you built up around your heart.

Steve parted the worn red leather stools to make room for him to lean against the polished wood, drumming his fingers impatiently along the bar top waiting for you to finish up with the man you were serving at the far end and finally notice him. You gave the stranger in dark brown leather a high squeaky laugh in return for the lousy pick-up line he threw at you. It wasn’t the same laugh, Steve knew. The laughter he memorized was light and airy, your whole body shook when it took hold of you, and it made your eyes sparkle in a way that could steal his breath like nothing else. Steve found that out early in the night when his beard tickled your inner thigh. The memory made him grin. He wanted to hate how fake you sounded right then, but it also meant you let him see a part of you you kept hidden from the rest of the world, and that was enough for hope. 

You turned around and stopped short when you spotted Steve standing there, grinning at you, looking just as pretty as he did the last time you saw him. He trimmed his beard, but it was still thick only cleaned up a bit, and those pretty blond locks tucked behind his ears made him look like a young boy. The tattoos on his forearm peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves and the black leather kutte resting over the snug burgundy Henley reminded you he was no boy. He was trouble, and he was looking to drag you into his mischief. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter how pretty he looked. It took a second for your brain to remind your feet they needed to move. Steve slid around the bar as you made your way towards him. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, refusing to look up from the IPA bottle you were cracking open. 

"Came to see a friend of mine. His wife owns the place. I have to admit I thought it would be a lot harder to find you." 

Shit. You stopped mid pour and set the glass down, half full of foam. That would need a re-pour. 

No. This wasn't happening. Surely, he didn’t mean… No, no. No. 

"Wait..." You needed to know before you said things you couldn’t take back. "Are you talking about Bucky?" 

Steve tilted his head to the side. Now, that had his curiosity piqued. You could see him processing your question, and you knew exactly what he was thinking: Why did you know that Bucky was Bucky? It was rare that Bucky interfered in Natasha’s business at all. Everyone knew who her husband was and what he was, but it never went beyond James Barnes, Vice President of The Howlers. This sounded like you were… friends? 

You should have kept your mouth shut and walked away the second you saw him. 

"You know, Buck?" 

Buck... Oh, god. 

It suddenly all made so much sense, and you were such an idiot. 

“Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m a decent person, aren't I?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling as if someone from the heavens would answer you. “This is so bad. Why do you have to be you?” 

You groaned and dropped your head to the bar top. Your one night stand was Bucky's best friend. Club president. Your Steve was Steve Rogers. The Howler’s MC President. The man who went on the road for three years and no one knew why, the one who went nomad and only returned home a few weeks ago. This was why you never let tequila make your decisions. You always end up doing something foolish, like charming bikers that will break your heart.

“I think this necklace of yours might be my good luck charm. Led me right to you, firecracker.” 

“Good luck or a curse?” You grumbled against the slick wood top. Steve hummed, clearly amused by the light chuckle that followed. You slowly lifted your head to glare at him, and he simply grinned back.

“Definitely good luck, sweetheart,” Steve assured you with a wink.

You refused to smile, and you certainly weren’t going to be the one that looked away first. You won’t give in to whatever he’s playing at. Steve settled against the wood and stared right back; his bright blue eyes glittered with amusement and something else that made your skin tingle and your inside burn with want. You recognized a young blond man from a night or two spent at Bucky and Natasha’s place strolled by the bar, only slowing down long enough to pat Steve on the back, but Steve didn’t even blink at the distraction. 

Nothing could pull him away from you. 

“Hey, Nomad. You comin’?” 

Nomad? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Clint. I’ve got some business out here first.” 

You could hear Clint cackling as he walked down the long hallway that led to Natasha’s office. You wondered what the club wanted here and how often the club— and Steve— would be hanging around. Natasha said there wasn’t any overlap between the two. There was a moment of uncertainty and fear when she first offered you the job. You didn’t know if you could work for her if her business was mixed up in club business. That was until she assured you the club didn’t interfere in her affairs. That put some of your worries at ease, not all but enough to give you the courage to accept the job. Your last run-in with an MC was why you ended up south Brooklyn begging Natasha for a place to stay and a position. That was how you ended up working at Red Star and sharing a pathetically tiny apartment with your new friend Wanda. 

There was no one else, no other friends to run to if things go south again. This was the only second chance you were getting, and you couldn’t blow it on someone like Steve Rogers. 

“Thought your name was Steve?” 

Steve grinned.

“That’s my given name. These idiots call me Nomad when they aren’t calling me Prez or Cap. Stevie on occasion. Everyone’s got a nickname ‘round here.”

You’ve heard plenty about their nicknames and all the things they’ve done to get them. 

“I think I prefer Charming,” you mumbled, walking down a few stools to finally hand over a fresh, less foamy IPA to the grump at the far end of the bar.

Every time you moved, Steve followed you, dodging the bodies sitting and standing, and there were several times you had to tell your heart to shut up and keep the flutters to herself. It was becoming increasingly evident that Steve wasn’t going to give up easily. Seeing as how he would probably be around often, you needed to put an end to whatever storybook ending he was building up in his head. 

"You can call me whatever you want." 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the neck of two bottles between your fingers on each hand. 

“Can I have your name now?” 

“No.” 

Steve laughed. He just laughed as if there was something funny about what you had said. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by your callus tone. If anything, he enjoyed it. Once your hands were free, he reached for you and circled his long fingers around your wrist, loose enough you could easily slip free if you wanted to, but you made no move to lose his touch. You didn’t want to draw any more attention towards the two of you than you had already. That was absolutely the only reason you were letting him touch you. It had nothing to do with how much you liked the feel of his warm, calloused hands on your skin.

“I could keep calling you my firecracker.” 

“I’m not your anything,” you were quick to correct him. 

“No, you're not,” Steve said with a grin. “We haven't even gone on a date yet.”

Yet! As if there is a chance it would be happening. He was sadly mistaken if he thought there was going to be another page to your story. You raised a brow, and Steve hung his head in defeat, but the smile on his face hadn’t changed when he finally looked back up. Something about this man made you want to hide in the safety of his arms and stop running long enough to see if fairy-tales were real.

That was why things between you would never work. 

“Why won’t you give me a chance, hm?” 

Because you're just like all the rest, pretty and dangerous, the harsh voice in your head screamed. It was probably better he didn’t know you thought he was pretty. He seemed like the type to focus on the compliment and ignore the rest.

“Mmm, I’ve played with bikers before. The ride is dangerous, dirty, and short-lived. The risk is never worth the reward.” 

That made Steve frown for the first time since he walked into the bar and your heart-clenched at the look of concern on his face. For a second, you thought about taking it back. Telling him he could be different and maybe he was a good guy with a half-decent heart—even if you didn’t believe it. 

“Sounds Like you're playing with the wrong bikers. My rewards are always well worth the ride, babydoll." 

On second thought, with lines like that, maybe you were right from the start. You weren’t about to fall for the same overplayed words he’s used on every other girl to catch his eye. It would take a lot more than a cheap shot to get you back in his bed. You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his and slowly pulled back, grinning when he chased after you. You were starting to like this game, and that was begging for more trouble than your heart could handle. 

“All you bikers are the same,” you whispered, leaning across the bar practically nose to nose. “Sweet talk to get into a girl's panties, and then you’re over it. You all claim it’s love at first sight, but it never is. It’s about the chase, the high. It’s never about the girl.” 

Steve sighed. It didn’t sound annoyed, genuinely unsettled by your words, but he wasn’t irritated. More importantly, he wasn’t aggravated with you, but you were sure he felt sorry for you, which bothered you more.  When you dropped your gaze, he gently nudged your chin up with his knuckle until you willingly looked up to meet his eyes.“One problem with your theory, firecracker. I’ve already been in those pretty panties of yours, and I’m still chasing you. Did you ever think that maybe I’m not playing with you? That I actually like you?”  

The knot wedged in your throat made it impossible to answer. So you shrugged instead and let your silence speak for itself; no, you didn’t think that, and you didn’t trust him. None of what he said proved anything. It didn’t mean he was different. It just meant his rules were. The high would end once he won your heart, and you would be tossed to the side while he moved onto a newer, prettier skirt. 

Steve would get bored once he finally earned your heart and your trust, and that made him worse than the others. You would know. You pulled your chin away from his hand but stayed close enough to feel the heat from his hand.

"Go to dinner with me." 

"Steve--" 

"Y/n," Steve sighed playfully, grinning at the shock on your face. He knew your name, but he still asked for it? He shrugged, reading the question that was burning in your eyes. Natasha. She must have mentioned the new girl she hired, and Steve was smart enough to put two and two together. You weren’t sure you liked him knowing your name. He was that much closer to knowing all your secrets, and you couldn’t let that happen. 

"Go. To. Dinner. With me. Please." 

You hated how adorable he looked begging and pleading for only a few hours of your time. He was so cute, and you nearly gave in. Your head overruled your heart and reminded you exactly why you weren’t dating men like him. It only led to heartbreak, and you would very much like to avoid spending your nights crying over another beautiful biker who rode off with your heart. 

"I told you, I don't want anything serious. I’m not looking for more than what we had." 

"It doesn't have to be more than dinner, and I swear if you really don’t want to go on a date with this will be the last time I ask you. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, but I am dying to get you back on my bike. Next Saturday night, if you’re up for it. You can even pick the place if you want to. I promise it will be dinner only. No strings." 

"No strings?" you questioned, eyeing him for any signs of deceit as you did. There was none. Just an excitable puppy staring back at you, ready to give you whatever you wanted if you’d let him.

"Yeah, why not? We can be friends with benefits or whatever the kids call it nowadays." 

"Are we friends?" 

"We are if you say yes, darling." 

You could feel yourself giving in, and you already hated yourself for it because Steve was grinning victoriously, eyes bright, and pleading with you to say yes. You held up one finger ready with your conditions, and Steve quickly grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to the back, lost in the excitement of what he already knew was about to leave your lips. 

“One dinner, and I’m not promising any benefits.”

Steve lowered your hand and tilted his chin an inch, so his lips were brushing yours when he whispered, “Good. I prefer to earn every one of those sweet whimpers.” 

Someone behind you cleared their throat, and you quickly yanked your arm back, bumping into the wall of bottles behind you, causing the glass to rattle against each other. Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between you, and it didn’t take long for him to put it together. A slow grin stretched on Bucky’s face, quickly turning smug. He knew about your one-night stand, not in any detail but that you liked your mystery man far more than you should, and you assumed Steve shared his thoughts on that evening.  You narrowed your eyes at the brunet when he opened his mouth, and it quickly snapped shut—grabbing the empty crates at your feet needing something, anything to use as an excuse to get as far away from both of them as you could. The fridge in the basement was the furthest you could get at the moment, and that was precisely where you were headed. 

“Don’t even say it,” you hissed as you pushed past Bucky. 

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, disappearing down the stairs behind the bar. He looked drunk, maybe a little high, and definitely a little lovesick. 

“Gettin’ into trouble again, Stevie?”

“You could say that, Buck,” Steve sighed helplessly. “I’m getting into something. Not sure what just yet.” 

Prologue // next  

[sunnysidevans]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Summary: Everyone goes through stages in life, meeting new people, falling in love, getting married , having children. Some people think it won’t happen to them but maybe fate hadn’t lead you in the right direction.

Warnings: 18+ reccomended , NSFW , oral (f/r) , makeup sex??? uhhh fluff at the end doe 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader 

PREVIOUS STAGE | THE STAGES MASTERLIST

Readers Point Of View

ONE WEEK LATER..

The leaves fell from the trees as the weather had now finally hit and set in the low sixties. Fall was officially here. With fall being here it was not helping the mood you were in. You haven’t talked to Chris in a few days, you also have decided to take a leave from work after what happened with Casey. Casey was the least of your problems anymore, you wanted to fix things with Chris, you just didn’t know how, you didn’t end on good terms and if you were him you wouldn’t want to talk to you either. You sighed sitting under the blanket on the couch with zeus as you watched reruns of Law and Order with a cup of coffee, you turned to face zeus as he slept soundly, how was it so easy to be a dog? You whispered more to yourself than to the unconscious lab beside you “What do i do? I can’t keep acting as if nothing happened, in both my personal and professional life” you huffed as you sat back as Zeus let out a huff in a reply, he was great at advice.

Walking through the front door you were greeted again with happy barks from Zeus as you carried in more grocery bags that contained more ice cream and more wine that could last you a few days, and a few tv dinners, take out was getting boring. You smiled at Zeus, setting the bags down on the counters you started to unpack them as your phone notified you of a notification. “CASEY: I really need you to come back to work, your desk is piling up and it's getting disgusting to look at. Your leave is over as of tomorrow” you gasped looking at the text, with a scoff you set the phone down shaking your head. After putting away your three pints of ice cream, you grabbed a glass and poured yourself a glass of wine, you scooped some food into zeus’s bowl and made your way to the living room. As you sat down you grabbed your laptop along with some notebook paper and started typing up a two week notice. As you typed you knew this was not going to control your career, you were going to put a foot forward and make yourself a better lawyer than he ever will be. 

Waking up early you made your way to the office, you had made sure to get a full nights sleep as you knew this was going to take all the marbles. You smiled at the receptionist in the lobby as you made your way up to your floor, bouncing on your toes you looked around the elevator until it dinged, signaling to your floor. You looked at everyone as they looked at the elevator door, you smiled at Nina as she made her way up to you “oh my god girl are you okay?” she asked as she stood beside you rubbing your arm, in a comforting way, you nodded and smiled at her “oh you will find out soon enough love” you smiled at her and made your way back to casey’s office. You noticed the files on your desk as you walked past, you shook your head, you were tired of being the receptionist and filing cases for someone. You didn’t even knock on the door as you walked in and were met with a dumbfounded Casey. “(Y/N)” he said standing from his seat as he made eye contact with you, you grinned, this was the best decision you think you’ve made in the last week. You slammed the envelope on his desk and turned to the door, as you heard him tearing the envelope open you turned from the door frame “oh and by the way, I will make it known in this office what you did to me, have fun filing your own cases from now on” you turned and as you heard the door shut you heard a faint “You will regret this (Y/L/N)!”. You took care of one thing, now it was time to take care of the next thing. 

You made your way to Chris's house, biting on your nails as you drove. You knew you had to do this, it was time. You pulled up in front of Chris's house to see his green Camaro in his driveway, you knew he was home so you couldn’t use that as an excuse, no more excuses. You made your way up the driveway and up his front porch, as you did so you could hear Dodger barking on the other side of the door, you smiled slightly, you missed him. You went to knock on the door but before you could Chris pulled the door open, meeting your shocked face. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before Chris grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his chest, kissing you passionately and kicking the door shut. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him closer by the back of his head, as you did so you noticed his hair was shorter,must be buzzed, you didn’t get a good look as he pulled you in. Pulling you closer Chris started moving towards the stairs of his house, as doing so you started tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it, probably somewhere you’ll find later. Making your way upstairs both you and Chris lost your shirts, your bra long gone, you kissed along his jaw, noticing the beard was also nicely trimmed. 

Making it to Chris’s bedroom you pulled away, catching your breath as you looked up at him, looking at him you could see the hurt in his eyes, but also the slight happiness of seeing you again. You bit your lip and let out a laugh as he tossed you up on the bed, as you bounced on the bed you were met with him hovering over you. You smiled up at him, grabbing the gold chain and pulling him down, connecting your lips, you ran your hands down his chest, meeting the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down as far as you could go and kicking them the rest of the way. You moaned as his beard scratched your neck slightly as he kissed down your neck, finding your sweet spot. You felt his hands run down your arms as he tugged the straps of your bra down and kissed down your shoulders, unclasping it and tossing it behind his shoulder as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, making you moan and flutter your eyes closed. Chris kissed down your stomach, causing you to giggle softly at the scratching of his beard, you sighed happily as he pulled your skirt down along with your panties and tossed them somewhere in the room. 

Chris kissed up your thighs, putting them over his shoulder as he made his way to your hips, kissing each slowly. You moaned as he licked between your folds,his nose just brushing your nub,you reached down to try and grab ahold of his hair as it fell through your fingertips as he circled his tongue around your nub, causing you to moan loudly again. You gasped, arching off the bed as his fingers slid into you slowly, thrusting them slowly, he looked up at you through his lashes, a smirk on his face as he flicked your clit. You moaned loudly “Chris, Chris” you whined gripping his shoulder as you tried pushing him away. “Please please, I just want you” you panted as his movements came to a halt, looking at you he sat up and hovered over you again “you do huh?” he smirked looking down at you as you rolled your eyes with a smirk “would I be under you right now if I didn’t?” you asked as he chucked, “valid point”. He leaned over you,reaching in his bedside table and grabbing a condom, discarding his boxers and rolling the condom on, you bit your lip, watching him “like the view?” he asks with a smirk.

Chuckling softly you run your hands along his arms as he’s back hovering over you, “maybe” you shrug smirking as he runs his tips between your folds, causing you to moan. “Ready?” he asks as you nod quickly in response, moaning as he pushes in slowly, you haven’t been with anyone near the size Chris was. Bottoming out he hovers over you, giving you a chance to adjust to him, moaning as he starts to thrust slowly into you, you gasped moaning softly gripping his arms laying your head back,fluttering your eyes closed. “Look at me” he groaned looking down at you, as you open your eyes you look up and are met with his blue eyes watching you, moaning loudly you grab the chain dangling in front of your nose, pulling him down again for a kiss, moaning into the kiss he groans again, thrusting harder, causing you to moan louder. You gasped as he hit your g-spot, moaning loudly you arch your back again, your chest pressed flush against his. “Oh my god” you whine holding onto him tightly as his thrusts get faster and harder, he smirks “that good huh?” he asks as you try to let out a chuckle which turns into a moan and your eyes falling closed. “God I’m close” you whimpered as his thrusts got more sloppy but still hitting your g-spot,”Cum for me baby” he whispered, thrusting harder to make sure he hit the right spot to get you over the edge, you gasped loudly, gripping his back digging the half moon shapes into his back as you came around him, him following. You fell back on the bed, panting as he pulled out and disposed of the condom, walking off into the bathroom.

Chris came back to the bedroom with a towel, sitting beside you on the bed he nudged your thighs apart and cleaned you up slowly, you smiled at him sitting up slowly as he tossed the towel aside. As Chris climbed back into bed he pulled you down against his chest, his arm around your shoulder as you traced the tattoo on his chest slowly. “I’m sorry” you whispered, tearing up as you began to speak more “I should not have ever talked to you the way I did, I have had a terrible time at work, Casey groped me in the parking lot, basically harassing me.” you continued tears falling down your cheeks “and- and you being gone just didn’t make matters easier, I just want to make sure your safe” you sobbed softly as chris wrapped his arms fully around you running his fingers through your hair “shh shh, hey it's okay, I know and I’m sorry for being a dick about it, you had a right to know, just so you knew I was safe. I’m also gonna make sure something gets done with casey, he doesn’t touch my girl” he ran his fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead as his lips lingered there for a moment before he whispered again “I’m falling in love with you” he held you tighter “I was afraid to admit it, love scares me, every women who has come in to my life and always done terrible things to me, and I was scared” he admits softly. You sat up looking at him smiling as you whispered “I’m falling in love with you, I-I love you, you make me feel things I’ve not felt for anyone in a long long time, I couldn’t begin to express it” you smiled as he grinned “you love me?” he grinned as you rolled your eyes and nodded “well shit maybe I love you too” he laughed as you tackled him down kissing him slowly, as you pulled away you saw the twinkle in his eyes, and in that moment you knew he meant it. You finally found the love you were looking for.

-

TAGLIST: @onetwo3000​ | @memoriesat30 | @denise1605 | @angrybirdcr @hopefulbonkvoidland | @tessa-bl | @patzammit | @uniquebeautyqueen | @cocomel0613​ | @kissthatlifeaway​ 

if i have forgotten to tag you and you asked to be please don’t hesitate to reach out I am so sorry!! 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 2

Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: After your ordeal at the hands of Ransom, you’re not sure that things can get any worse. Famous last words….

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

With his pride wounded, Ransom drank himself to sleep that night, his mind plotting and scheming of more ways to make his point clear. She was his now and nothing was going to change that. He'd decided it might be time to let her in on his secrets and breakfast seemed as good a time as any and, as such, presented her with a plate of bacon and toast along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. He didn't cook, not well anyway, his preference being diner out or order in. He supposed if this was his new normal, he'd have to learn a new skill. He cringed just slightly at the thought of such domesticity. 

When you heard the locks turn, your belly dropped out. You were shocked to see him, afraid of what was coming your way. If the events from the previous night were any indication, you had to steel yourself to once again fight back. Your tired eyes took him in. A plate and mug in his hands, jeans over his long legs, boots on his feet. Broad shoulders covered by a white ribbed long sleeve thermal shirt, eyes cold and distant, arrogant smirk over his lips. A smirk of your own barely parted your lips as you took note of the now pink lines adorning his right cheek, courtesy of your nails biting at his skin in the attack. You turned away from him, your body instinctively curling in on itself, chain stopping you from balling up completely when he approached. Your mouth watered at the smell of the bacon and coffee. You were hungry but your body fought to ignore the pangs, offering him that satisfaction.

 "I'm not hungry," you managed, desperately irritated at how weak you sounded. 

"Starve then," he set the plate and mug on the nightstand at your bedside. He stood rooted there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"People are gonna be looking for me, you know," you point out, sitting up a little more, confidence growing by the second. 

“You don’t think I’ve already thought of that?” His hands moved from across his chest to his hips. 

As you looked at him, that maddening smug look present on his face it suddenly dawned on you that he might have been more calculating than you’d imagined. And then you understood. You figured out what the connection between him and the actor you’d been supposedly meeting was. None. None whatsoever, except that Lucas Lee had been easy, collateral damage. "You set him up," your brow rose and shock filled your voice. "Lucas Lee... You set him up. What the hell did you do?" 

"Sweetheart, the guy's a complete tool, he walked right into it and he'll walk right out. Just a couple of hours of questioning and he'll be let go," Ransom shrugged as if this were nothing. 

"You're disgusting," you seethe. This arrogant asshole used someone just to get to you and he was PROUD of it. You didn't know what you expected, but the notion of the reality was appalling.

"You don't know the half of it," he winked.

"You're never going to get away with this," you managed to threaten. The look in his eyes caught your breath as he leaned in close, hands on the mattress on either side of your hips. 

"I killed Fran, got away with that. I nearly killed Marta, same story," he said, popping a shoulder up. "The point is, Sweetheart, I'm that good, they'll never find you."

"My family, my friends…they'll go to the police. Mick, my boss, he'll want to know where I am after not showing up today. You can't possibly have thought of everything," you shook your head as you wondered just how long he'd been plotting this. You’d only met the asshole a few months ago, interviewed him for a couple of hours max and then released the article days later. How on earth had that transpired into this utter shirt-show? The thoughts were spiraling so fast in your mind, it was dizzying. 

"Your boss got an email this morning saying you no longer wanted to work for him, and as for your family and friends, well let’s just say I know where they are. I know your little sister's routine. I know the time your mom walks your dog, and that she does it alone.” Ransom continued and you felt the cold course through your body “You do as I say, and they're safe. If not, well, I can pick them off, one, by one, without even getting my hands dirty," he pulled back, standing over you. "So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked to the door. 

The true reality of your situation set in and you felt sick to your stomach, despite your hunger. You felt clammy and overwhelmingly dizzy. He had you. If he'd gone this far, followed your family, set up a well-known actor, plotted this entire plan down to how to convince Mick you quit, in a scary short amount of time, just to get to you, you were fully trapped. 

"What happens if you lock me down here...and something happens to you?” Worry laced your words. 

He turned over his shoulder, "I don't give a fuck." And he slammed the door, the sound of the locks echoing in your room. 

In a gut reaction you grabbed the plate of food at threw it at the door where it shattered into pieces, the bacon and toast falling to the floor with it. You screamed as you threw it, for if you hadn't you'd have vomited where you led. 

**** Ransom heard the scream and the smash of the plate and paused half way up the stairs. He took a deep breath, contemplating going back down and teaching Y/N some damned manners before he decided to leave it. He’d given her enough to think about for the time being, and besides, he didn’t want to lower himself to delivering another slap to her face like he had done last night. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting the site of the bruise on her right cheek to unsettle him as much as it had done. Her pretty face shouldn’t be marked in anyway, and looking at it had simply reminded him how he’d lost control. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never hit a woman before, despite murder and attempted murder. It left a bad taste in his mouth all things considered and a nasty twist in his gut that felt almost like guilt. But it wasn’t guilt, that wasn’t something he did either…no, it was the fact that in all of his actions, even the diabolical ones, he’d remained calm and in control. Until last night. He’d been feral, wild even, and it wasn’t a feeling he relished. But she’d pushed him to it, provoked him. It was her fault, not his.

He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys, before he headed out, locking the door and climbing into his black Mercedes SUV. God he missed his beamer, but this was a lot less conspicuous, just as he needed at the moment. He slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes against the bright fall sun and set off towards the City.

His mother was already seated and waiting for him when he arrived at the Harbor. He walked over to her table, pulling off his sunglasses and sliding them into the pocket of his camel coat, removing his trademark silk scarf as he went. He handed them off to the help showing him to his seat, asking him to bring him a beer, and sat across from Linda, who was watching him carefully as she lounged back in her seat, properly dressed as ever in a crisp pair of black trousers and a white long sleeved silk blouse. With her legs crossed, she cut quite the imposing figure, but not to him.

Ransom greeted her with a stiff nod and she frowned and gestured to his face.

“What on earth have you done to your cheek?” she questioned, clearly noticing the scratch marks. Ransom hesitated for a second, “Things got a little rough last night, ” he shrugged but his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. Linda let out a slight groan as she grimaced “Jesus Ransom, I don’t want to know about your sordid little bedroom antics,” she scalded. “Then don’t ask, Mother,” He drawled, not missing a beat.

“Oh believe me, I wish I hadn't.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Ransom looked down at the menu that was on the table in front of him, giving it a cursory glance already knowing what he was ordering, the same as he always did when he was here, before he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mother. She wasn’t one for small talk, and neither was he, so he decided to get straight to the point.

“Why are we here?” he demanded “I mean, aside from the obvious guilt driven task of having lunch with your son.” “If you're going to be a spoiled brat why did you even agree to meet me?” Linda shot back and Ransom smirked.

“What was it you always told me mom? No matter how rich you are, never turn down a free meal.”

“Snarky smart ass” Linda retorted and it was his turn to snort as her brow furrowed.

“Now, now Mother. Those frown lines are getting worse” he arched an eyebrow and she glared at him before she sighed.

“I wanted to see how you were, is that so hard to believe.” “In a word, yes.” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s true.” She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “I've not seen you since you moved house.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Jesus he didn’t have time for this shit. He took a deep breath and looked at her as she eyed him expectantly, waiting for his answer “Just fine. I'm enjoying my new place.”

“So, you like it then?” Linda set her glass down and leaned back once more. “I must admit when it came on our books I thought it would suit you.”

“It's different than Kenoak, less modern, but it does the job” he said vaguely and saw her body language stiffen.

“If you don’t like it why did you buy it Ransom?” her tone was exasperated and he had to fight back the grin that was threatening to spread across his face at the fact he was riling her. It was always so damned easy.

“Well, my last place had kinda turned into a bit of a media circus.”

“Yeah, I expect that’s what happens when you're involved in a homicide” she snapped back.

“Say it a bit louder.” Ransom deadpanned “I don’t think they heard you over by the bar.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t intentional.” she held his gaze “Your Granddad’s death isn't something I find funny, Ransom. Not that it ever occurred to you."

Ransom sighed. He was starting to get annoyed under her scrutiny and really wasn’t in the mood for a deep dive into the events of the past year.

“Not of sound mind, Mother.” He said, his voice a little softer as he reminded her of the argument his brief had made which had ensured his acquittal from his crimes, hoping it would shut her up. “Remember?”

“I know son, I know.” Linda leaned over and gently lay her hand on his where it rested on the table. Ransom took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. Physical affection from her always made him uncomfortable as he wasn’t used to it, but for some reason it was heightened in that moment. He sat and pondered for a second on what he had just said. His brief had spun the line about him being under emotional duress due to his granddad cutting him out of his will and whilst there was an element of truth in it, he’d been of perfect mental capacity when he’d enacted his plan. But, if it helped his mother believe that her only son isn’t a monster then…whatever. He pulled his hand back from her and she sighed, clearly mistaking his discomfort for guilt.

 “You know, you used to be such an affectionate little boy, Ransom.” Linda looked at her hand as if his rebuttal had burned her before she shook her head and reached once more for her drink. “I often wonder where your dad and I went wrong.”

Ok, so this he could deal with. The reminder that he was a constant disappointment.

 “Hard to say.” He snarked “Somewhere between boarding school and Harvard maybe?”

She rolled her eyes “We did what we thought was best.” She set her now empty glass down. “Clearly in hindsight...”

Ransom was saved from her self-indulgent moment of soul searching by the waiter who set his beer down in front of him and asked if they were ready to order. Ransom gestured to his mother who asked for the house salad with a side of tempura prawns whilst he went for his usual, fillet steak with all the trimmings. It was obnoxiously expensive but what the hell, like he cared. Especially not when his Mother was paying...

He took a long pull from his beer as the waiter topped his mother’s glass up from the bottle that stood in the ice bucket next to their table before she thanked him and he disappeared.

“You’ve not asked me how your father is.” Linda looked at Ransom who narrowed his eyes. Why does she care about that? But, deciding it was as good a conversation change as any he shrugged.

“How's Richard?”

Linda rolled her eyes but for the first time since he arrived he noticed a little smirk flicker on her lips before she looked at him. “He’s still your dad Ransom" she reminded.

“Ok, how is my dearest dad? Still fucking the 30 year old au-pair?”

“Yes, apparently, he's taking her to the villa.”

Now that did make him frown. The Villa that they owned in Lake Gada was his mother’s pride and joy.

“Seriously? You're just gonna let him do that?” Ransom’s tone was surprised.

“I have no choice.” Linda took a deep breath “Our divorce isn't final and he's contesting me keeping the property. It's not as cut and dry as one would assume despite his infidelity, numerous infidelities even.”

“He signed a pre-nup, Mom.” Ransom reminded her and Linda nodded.

“I know, but the Villa wasn't part of it. It's the one thing he can hold over me and he's doing just that.” She took a sip of her drink and snorted “Dumb bastard has nothing so he figures why not try his luck here. Fact is, he gets nothing else.”

“Good.”  Ransom retorted, a little viciously and Linda eyed himself shrewdly.

“Careful Ransom, you almost sound like you care.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes, not gracing her with an answer. “Anyway, what are you doing with yourself these days?” she moved the conversation on “And I don't mean with women as we've already established when you sat down. Any hobbies or God forbid a job prospect I should know about?” “Aside from my love life, I’m actually writing mother, believe it or not.” He responded, amused at the visible look of shock that crossed her face.

“You're....writing?” her mouth dropped open before she hastily shut it.

“Don't sound too surprised, Linda,” Ransom let out a low chuckle as his mother rolled her eyes at his use of her name. “Granddad always said I had a flare for it. Just-” he paused for a moment before he shrugged “-well, I guess I never really used it much.”

Linda cocked her head to the side as she considered him for a moment before her face softened and once more Ransom felt uncomfortable at her change in demeanour. “He'd be proud of you. I suppose it's what he's always wanted for you, to find something for yourself.”

And there it was. The reminder that he was nothing but a trust fund prick, with no future and nothing of his own to live off. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly before he responded with a false air of nonchalance.

“I see that now.”

“Good. I'm pleased you do Son.” Linda nodded. “I'm not glad about how it all went down but...well, as dad used to say, things have a strange way of working out in the end.” It was a funny choice of words, Ransom thought, but before he had chance to dwell on it anymore their food arrived. The conversation slowed a little as they both ate, growing a little stilted in places as he told her vaguely what his writing project was about- a private detective- go figure. Linda moaned about more about his father, and then she dropped something casually into the conversation that really did surprise him, that they were planning a memorial for Harlan. 

"When?" he frowned, swallowing a mouthful of potato.

“The end of this month, possibly the first week in December. It'll be after Thanksgiving.” Linda waved her hand before she paused, hesitating a little as if she was deliberating whether or not to tell him this next bit. And when she did, he fully realised why. “It was Marta’s idea.” The mere mention of that name was enough to get his hackles up and he took a deep breath, the nerve in his jaw twitching. He looked at his mother as she watched him carefully before he looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Hmmm” was all he could muster.

“Hmmm? What's Hmm, Ransom?” Linda looked at him.

“I figured with Harlan gone she'd be out of our lives.” He shrugged, feeling his neck grow hot. That bitch was responsible for all of this in the first place, the reason he was done out of his inheritance. If she hadn’t got her claws into him none of his would have happened.

“Yes, well, as much as it sticks in my throat that she got everything maybe if we play ball she'll come round to actually giving us all what we're owed.” Linda shrugged “And that aside...it will be nice to remember him.”

The rest of the lunch passed with simple conversation, Ransom steering it well away from the subject of his family. When they’d finished his mother, as predicted, picked up the tab and together they headed outside to wait for the Valet to fetch their vehicles. His mother’s arrived first and she turned to him, the pair of them engaging in the awkward, stilted kissing of the cheeks before she promised him his quarterly check from his shares in her company should land next week. With a nod and a thanks he bid her good bye and a few moments later climbed into his own car and set off back home.

***** With a yell you sat bolt upright, taking a moment to get your bearings as you emerged from the troubled sleep you had fallen back into. Yes, you were still here, in Drysdale’s fucking basement. The tears stung your eyes as you lay back, taking some deep breaths as you attempted to ebb the panic which was setting in. Your situation was disgusting and dire, you were trapped and therefore, you knew you needed to ask for the things you needed, not wanted, just simply needed, or in time, Hugh could add you to his notch post of growing murder victims. The question was, exactly how far could you push him for anything? One wrong move, as you'd learned last night, and you'd be regretting ever uttering a syllable. But you refused to go quietly, you'd be further letting yourself down if you did. You didn't have it in you. However, just how dangerous he was or could be now was no longer lost on you, you had the physical reminder in the biting sting of your cheek, throbbing and tenderness you felt between your legs, and the slight bruising around your wrists where he had pinned them above your head. You hadn’t examined the rest of your body to see what damage he’d done, you didn’t want to.

You ached all over from being led or sat on this damned bed since you’d arrived. The chain attaching you to the bed post wasn’t long enough to allow you to stand up and stretch our your aching limbs so for now you had to settle for attempting to massage some feeling back into your calves, your eyes casting over the various tears and ladders in your thick tights which you’d pulled back up last night with trembling hands after he had violated you.

The door clicked open and your head jerked towards the door as you scrambled higher up the bed, pressing your back into the headboard. You watched as your captor strode in, a packet of Biscoff in his hand pausing as his foot crunched over the shattered remnants of the plate that you’d hurled at the door. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he'd forgotten he'd heard you throw it this morning. 

“I don’t like cleaning up messes” He said simply as he stepped over it, shutting the door with his foot.

“Pity you killed the house keeper then” you glared at him as he shoved another cookie into his mouth.

“Who, Fran?” he asked with a scoff, his voice muffled by his food.

“How many other house keepers have you killed?” you shot back and he gave a snort.

“None.” Ransom shrugged nonchalantly “But for your information, Fran was a useless dimwit. She only cared about two things. Drugs and getting paid.”

You frowned, was that supposed to justify his actions in some way? He too only cared about getting paid and what money could do for him. “And you care about what exactly other than yourself?” you shot back. He looked at you, a smirk crossing his handsome face as she shoved yet another cookie into his mouth, chewing slowly.

At that point your stomach growled with hunger, just another way your body had betrayed since you since you had arrived and you tore your face from his, turning it to the side.

“Now are you hungry?” he asked as you realised that was probably the bastard’s plan all along. With a deep sigh you looked back at him.

“Can I have one?” you asked meekly.

Ransom studied you for a moment, tongue poking at his cheek, before he strode towards the bed and offered you the packet. You took one and stuffed it straight into your mouth.

“No thank you?”

“Piss off.” You shot back automatically, swallowing your cookie.

His good demeanour ebbed slightly as an irritated look flashed across his face. “Don’t push me, Sweetheart.” his voice was low as he sank onto the side of the bed, looking at you “I think your situation is precarious enough as it is, don’t you?”

You merely glared at him, you had no comeback. There was no comeback. He was right.

“Now if I make you something proper to eat are you gonna take it or throw it at the door again?” he raised his eyebrows “Because, frankly, you starving yourself is of no real concern to me except I kinda think you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what for. But you were so hungry, and the battle inside you raged on before your self-preservation mode won out and you hung your head slightly, looking at the comforter you were led on. “I’ll eat.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Ransom smirked again.

“No.” you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. “Can I have some water too?”

“As long as you don’t throw the glass.”

“I’m thirsty.” You replied simply “I won’t.”

He nodded and stood up, offering you the packet of cookies “Have those for now.”

“Thank you.” You took them from him, your tone a little sarcastic, your eyes rolling as you spoke. He looked at you and for a moment you were worried he was about to do something about your response but he simply gave a huff of laughter and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

You could no longer bite back the sigh of delight as you took another of the buttery spiced cookies into your mouth. It was rich on your tongue but it was food and you were so hungry. What you wouldn't do for a cup of coffee to go with. You surveyed the room as you chewed the Biscoff thoughtfully. The earlier despair you’d felt upon waking just before he had re-appeared was slowly giving way to determination as you realised that for now practicality had to win you over. Not only did you need sustenance and water, which you knew was on the way, you also needed clothing and access to the bathroom, which you now realized you were desperate for.

So now what, you thought to yourself. The fact that he was willing to feed you despite the fact you’d launched your morning’s meal against the door meant he didn't want you dead. Mind you, if he did you wouldn’t have made it out of that fucking dilapidated house so, just what kind of a game was he playing at here? You weren't sure what his end game was if it didn't mean your certain death. You just didn't understand and felt the struggle of thoughts seep into your mind as you contemplated each step. He doesn't want you dead, but you're locked up, chained up and he's obliterated your body by force. And that was only the first round. So far he's voiced his hell bent plan on keeping you here and making you suffer. And he's done a right job at it after just the first night. He couldn't keep this up for the rest of your life, could he? No, you didn't think, but he's gone as far as to know your every day, your family's every day, detail for detail. It couldn't possibly be for ironically a ransom, no, he had plenty of money still and if you were certain, his mother was still finding ways to slip him allowances and he'd managed to get a small chunk under the table and off the record from your publishers on your behalf. So no, it wasn't for money. Did he expect a better and firm, more sincere apology? Well he sure as shit wasn't going to get one now. Stupid, spoiled fuck. You outwardly scoff at the thought. What does he want that you have? The endgame is unknown but you were in the long game now, that much was apparent. You just had to not walk into verbal traps and wait for him to reveal his hand. But you guessed just by the times you've previously had with Hugh Ransom Drysdale that his hand wouldn't be revealed until he held the right cards.

True to his word Ransom came back what couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later. He handed you a plate containing a simple turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a plastic bottle of water. “Just in case you get any ideas about smashing it and doing me in…” he said, placing it down.

“Murder is your speciality, not mine” you snarked back biting into your sandwich as the hunger you felt won out over the need to pee that you’d felt before. It was actually pretty good. The bread was fresh, the meat succulent, both more than likely from a deli and not a bog standard store. You ate eagerly, Ransom settled in the arm chair in the corner of the room by the low coffee table, his eyes watching you. You ignored him, concentrating on your food.

“So…” you said as you stuffed the last of your sandwich into your mouth “Are you gonna keep me down here?”

“Yup” he said simply, popping the P.

You swallowed and grabbed the water, cracking the top open and draining half of it in one, your hand trembling slightly. Thankfully you avoided spilling any. You screwed the top on and placed it back on the night stand and watched with horror as he rose from his seat and crossed towards you, sitting on the side of the bed

“So, because I don’t want anything to fuck up what we got here, sweetheart, I have a simple question which you’re gonna answer.” Ransom said, looking at you “Are you on birth-control?”

Your mouth dropped open as you glared at him.

“What the fuck?” you stuttered

“It’s a simple question that requires a yes or no answer.” His expression hadn’t changed, not one bit. Cool, calm and collected, like this was something he would simply ask anyone. As you stared at his smug face, your puzzlement at the seemingly straight outta left field question gave way to anger. He was asking you this, like it was his damned right to know, like he was your fucking boyfriend by choice.

“You tell me, I mean you thought of everything or so you took great pleasure in telling me last night.” You spat. Quick as a flash his hand grabbed your face, his fingers gripping your chin painfully and you let out a little whimper.

“Answer the question.” He said simply

And then you realised, it wasn’t really that out of left field at all was it? It was clear following last night what his intention for you was and like he’d want the added complication of any little surprises turning up in around 9 months. You swallowed, your eyes looked down

“Yes” you whispered, and he released your face.

“Good.” Ransom nodded “Makes things a lot easier.” “I’m not a sex toy, Hugh.” You glared at him and he looked back at you, giving a snort.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s been said.” He shrugged simply, like he didn’t give a shit. Which, as you realised, he probably didn’t. People like him never did care what they came across like, arrogant trust fund prick.

With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose and glanced around the room you were in, as if you really hadn't paid much attention to it's details before. Ironically, if you weren’t here under duress it would actually be quite nice. The bed was large and comfy, there was a reasonably big bathroom attached which from what you could make out contained a fairly nice sized bath tub and a separate walk in shower cubicle. There was what looked like a built in closet next to the bathroom door, a night stand which contained a reading lamp to your right and on the opposite wall to the bed in front of you there was a dresser and a small shelf fixed to the wall a little higher, which was empty. To the left of the room was a large, plush armchair behind which another lamp was fixed to the wall and a fancy oak coffee table which matched the rest of the furniture. Above the chair, was a porthole like window, hexagonal in shape, but high enough to not allow for escape but for the warmth of daylight to seep into the space. 

A fucking studio apartment, that half of Boston would probably kill to own…and you were trapped in it. Well, certainly until you could think of a way to un-trap yourself so to speak.

You looked back at him and decided to keep pressing your luck a little. There were things you needed, starting with the bathroom, and you were damned if you were going to let him degrade you even more than he already had by letting you piss yourself.

“There are things I’m going to need.” You spoke, taking care to keep your voice neutral, attempting to avoid outwardly displaying the desperation you were feeling “A pee and a shower for one” you gestured with your head to the small bathroom.

“Well if you’re gonna behave, I’ll undo this.” He reached down and jangled the chain that was attached to the shackle round your ankle.

“Clothes too…”

“The closet is full.” He said simply “But you have to behave, Sweetheart, or you go right back on the chain.

You grit your teeth. Sweetheart, you were no more his sweetheart than he was Harlan’s favorite grandchild. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do.” He said simply “Behave or not.”

You let out a frustrated growl “I told you I was gonna, now just undo the fucking dog collar on my ankle.”

“Ooh, so feisty.” Ransom mocked and you glared at him.

With a chuckle he stood up and pulled the key out of his pocket, undoing the shackle round your ankle and stood back slightly. You moved and shuffled to the edge of the bed where he watched as you rose to your legs. However, after the ordeal you’d been through the night before, plus your no doubt whacky blood sugar level, your head span a little and you staggered forward. Ransom caught you, both his hands hooking under your arms as he helped you steady yourself, his touch surprisingly gentle as his hands slid down to your ribs, thumbs brushing underneath your breasts and you looked at him, blinking. His action had caught you off guard and if the look on his face was anything to go by it had caught him off guard too. There was a moment where you stood still before you remembered exactly what was going on and with an angry scoff you raised both your hands, palms flat on his chest and shoved him as hard as you could.

It didn’t move him much, a half a step back or so, but it was enough to make a point. The unexpected softness on his face turned to anger and a split second later his right hand was round your throat.

“I'm warning you…” he snarled, his large fingers flexing causing his grip to tighten, around your throat. He gave a sharp squeeze, not enough to cut off your airway, instead serving as a threat, telling you he could if he wanted to. He released his grip as the tears stung your eyes and he moved aside to allow you to move to the bathroom. You went as quickly as you could and once you were there you made to shut the door.

Only there wasn’t one. “Why the fuck is there no door?” you turned and faced him.

“Because I won’t clean up a dead body.” He shrugged “So before you get any dumb ideas, anything that could make you think about a means to an end isn’t in this room either.”

You looked at him, frowning before you realised what he meant and you shook your head. “Oh trust me, I’m not about to kill myself over you.”

“Good.” He said simply, “You have 10 minutes” he said, leaning on the frame where the door should have been.

“You’re not watching me pee, Hugh!”

At that his face darkened “Call me Hugh one more time, I dare you, Sweetheart.” His voice was laced with venom as his eyes flashed dangerously, but despite all that you couldn’t help yourself. It was the only weapon you had in your arsenal to deploy.

“Hugh.” you spat, raising an eyebrow.

His jaw clenched and in two large strides he was on you, his hand grabbing your forearm as he yanked you across the bathroom, your feet skidding on the tiles as you struggled for traction on the floor. You yelled out at the pain of his grip but no sooner had it started it stopped as he flung you unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. Your knees and hip collided painfully with the tray and you gave a scream as a torrent of freezing cold water hit you, soaking your sweater dress. You gasped and spluttered, struggling to your feet, the cold making your chest contract and he looked at you, his face back to its stony calm expression.

“10 minutes” he repeated.

He turned to go and in a fit of rage you peeled the icy, sodden jersey dress off and flung it at him. It hit him square in the back before it slid to the floor, splattering on the tiles in a sopping mess. You saw him take a deep breath, his broad shoulders rippling under his thermal ribbed top as he stood up square and turned to face you as you stood, teeth chattering in the still cold spray in nothing but your bra and laddered thermal tights.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sweetheart.” He intoned darkly, before he cocked an eyebrow “9 and a half minutes.” He left the bathroom and headed into the main room, and you turned away instantly cranking up the heat on the shower. As it warmed you through, the water beating down on you, you reached for the shower gel which was on a small shelf in the corner of the cubicle. You scrubbed and scrubbed, not caring how much you used, attempting to rid yourself of the dirty feeling of him as you recalled his hands all over you, his cock violating you in the way it had. You didn’t stop the tears falling, your resolve breaking, as you turned your face into the spray, allowing it to hide your tears, before you washed your hair in the shampoo and conditioner.  Eventually, when you’d done everything you could, you turned off the water, took a deep breath and squeezed your hair out before stepping out of the shower. Your eyes instinctively went to the doorway and you were relieved. You couldn’t see Ransom, which meant he didn’t have an eye-line directly into the shower, awarding you some level of privacy at least.

You grabbed a towel which you wrapped around yourself, before you took another and used it to squeeze your hair before you pulled it back into a messy bun out of the way, and stepped out of the bathroom.

 “That was 11 minutes.” Ransom said simply as you emerged into the main area of the basement “I’ll let the 90 seconds slide.”

You glared at him as he sat in the armchair, his broad frame filling it, right leg crossed over his left, an I don't give a fuck look about his face, and you knew at that moment you had never hated anyone more in your life than you hated him right then. You turned towards the closet and began to route through, the tears filling your eyes again as you concentrated on finding something to wear. You pulled a few things out, checking the tags. Not only did the prices shock you (it was all high end, designer stuff- what else would the spoilt, trust fund prick buy) but it was all your size. Which unnerved you no end. Pushing that to the back of your mind, as after all in the situation you were in it was the least of your worries, eventually you settled on a simple pale blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of jeans.

“Underwear?” you turned and looked at him. He nodded to the drawers built into the bottom of the closet and you opened it, taking a breath. Of course it would all be lace, sexy. You picked the most modest pair of black, lace French-style briefs you could find and the matching bra, tossing the lot onto the bed. You looked at him, cocking your eyebrow and he mimicked the action, gesturing with his hand.

“Don’t mind me.” The dismay washed over you as you realised what he meant and you took a deep breath “You’re gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yup.” He replied simply, popping the p loudly.

You bowed your head, knowing there was no point turning your back on him, he’d just force you to turn round. As you stared to pat yourself dry though your towel, you blinked back the tears as for some reason this felt far more humiliating and degrading that what he’d done to you last night.

****

Ransom wasn’t sure he’d ever exercised self-control like this, he normally just bought (or took) what he wanted, and before he’d wanted nothing more than to trace the beads of water which moved down her neck and back, collecting in the towel as she rifled through the closet. She reached for the panties first, and attempted to shimmy them on under the towel and he gave a click of his tongue.

“Oh no doll.” He smirked, “lose it.”

She glared at him, and he simply held her gaze, not looking away and eventually he saw her shoulder sag as she reached up with a shaking hand and unhooked the edge of the towel which was tucked in on itself and let it fall to the floor. He gave a loud hum of approval as he took her in, her long-lithe legs up to her hips, the curve of her waist, pert breasts and delicate shoulders and collar bone. She swallowed on air and he watched her throat bob, and he instantly found himself thinking how good she’d look swallowing something else. He shifted slightly in his seat, the crotch of his jeans now feeling a little tight thanks to his semi-hard cock, and she reached for the lace briefs stepping into them. As she shimmied them up, her breasts jiggled a little and he gave an inward groan. For a second he thought about stopping her, taking her there and then but now wasn’t the time. They had things to discuss, certain rules she needed to understand.

Plus, the waiting and the anticipation would simply heighten the pleasure later when he finally did fuck her again.

He remained still as she pulled on the rest of the clothes before she turned to him, her cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hairbrush?” she asked.

Ransom nodded to the dresser opposite the bed and she moved over towards it, opening one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled the item out, dragging it through her hair before she braided it quickly and then turned to him expectantly.

“Sit.” He said, gesturing to the bed. She did as she was told, sinking down onto the edge of it, her hands clasped in her laps, fingers of her right hand pulling at the ones in her left nervously.

“Ok…” he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at her “Here’s how it’s gonna work.”

At his words Y/N looked at him, and then her hands released each other and she folded her arms, crossing her legs on the bed, chewing on her cheek with a sullen look on her face. The look of someone that really didn’t want to listen but had no option.

Such a petulant brat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Ransom spoke calmly and authoritatively “If I want you, I’m gonna have you.” At that she took a shaky breath but her eyes remained on his as he continued “You behave, you’ll get rewarded. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished?” she sputtered. “What could possibly be a worse punishment than this?” she waved her hand and Ransom allowed himself a chuckle.

Oh, Doll, you have no idea…

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

“No.” she said, hanging her head slightly.

“Smart move.” He nodded.

“Anything else?” she looked back at him, the defiance once more filling her features.

“Yes, don’t call me Hugh.”

At that she smirked and he felt a flash of annoyance “Sorry, am I amusing you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head quickly, the smirk fading as quick as it had appeared.

“Good.” He said, his palms slapping his thighs as he stood up.

“Is that it?”

“For now.” He nodded.

“Do I get to make any rules?”

Ransom hesitated, and looked at her. He had to hand it to her, she was gutsy but that was part of the reason she was hear after all. He shook his head, chuckling slightly “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Can I ask you for things?”

“I just said, this isn’t a negotiation.” He started to get a little bit irked at her attitude now, “You behave, you get things.”

“So you’re gonna leave me down here with nothing? No TV, no books, no stereo?”

“Behave and I’ll think about it.” He replied simply and when she sighed he knew she understood that arguing and bargaining with him was futile.

Ransom Drysdale bargained with no one.

“You know…” he said, stepping towards the bed and she instantly took a deep breath, shying away a little. The fact he had so much power over her was exhilarating and he smiled, stopping a foot or so away from the edge of the bed, his large frame towering over her. “I should shackle you again, for your back chatting and slapping me in the back with your wet clothes but I’m fair. I’ll let that go. I hadn’t explained my rules.”

She blinked up at him and he nodded towards the bathroom. “Put your dirty stuff in the hamper. I’ll be back later.”

As he strode towards the door he could have sworn he heard her mumble something, something that sounded suspiciously like she’d called him a prick. He stopped, smirking, before he fixed a hard look on his face and turned round.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly

“Thought not.” He nodded, and with that he turned and left, locking the numerous bolts on the door behind him.

**** With a lack of anything else to do you cleaned up the water from the bathroom floor and tossed everything into the hamper like you’d been told to do and then, taking advantage of your new found “freedom” so to speak you set about exploring every single nook and cranny of your ‘cell’. You found the bathroom was fully stocked with all sorts of toiletries, sanitary products (fuck, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to get his sordid little kicks when Aunt Flow came to visit in 3 weeks or so), there was a little make up as well in the drawer in the vanity unit that you’d spotted before and you pulled it out to examine it, once again finding it to be not your usual brand but high end all the same. Finding all this was only compounding your confusion as to what the hell his goal was in all this, but as you had realised before until he decided to show you those cards, you would simply be playing a guessing game.

In the drawers under your bed you found a few different sets of linen which was a relief as it meant you weren’t going to be at his mercy as to when you could change your bedding. Given what had happened the night before, you were half tempted to change them again but you hesitated and decided to wait until later, because you had a sinking feeling he was going to take you again, especially given his declaration earlier.

“If I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

If that was how your life was going to go for the foreseeable, you’d be going through a hell of a lot of bedding if you changed it every time he fucked you. Much more than was contained in the drawers anyway.

Pushing that horrible thought from your head, you took a deep breath, focussing on staying calm, staying collected, staying alive. She needed her wits, her strength, her continued ability of self preservation. And, given the fact that he's murdered before, you weren't entirely trusting his word of not wanting to kill you. You closed the drawers and then settled yourself down on the floor at the side of the bed nearest the arm chair and low coffee table indulging in a few yoga stretches and the like in an attempt to ease out your still aching muscles. You were sat on the floor, with your legs extended, reaching for your toes when he came back and with a little smirk on his face handed you a book.

“For the boredom.”

You blinked and then took it from him, shaking your head as you realised it was one of his granddads, most likely his idea of a joke. And what was more it was one you’d already read.

Nevertheless, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you thanked him and then stood up and dropped into the chair, opening the cover. How long had passed you had no idea, but you were a good few chapters on when the trust fund ass wipe re-emerged, and the smell of food wafted across the room. He set a tray down on the bed and jerked his head towards it, in a silent instruction for you to vacate the seat. With a roll of your eyes you tried to get comfortable on the bed to eat with said tray balanced on your knee and with an exasperated groan you looked at him.

“Is there any chance of getting some form of table and chair so I can eat off it and not where I’m expected to sleep?”

He looked at you for a second, before he shrugged “I’ll think about it, depending on how you behave.”

The chicken was dry, but you ate it anyway, remembering your earlier thoughts about staying strong. As you chewed you watched him where he sat in the chair in the corner of the room, looking at something on his phone. Having had time to think things over even more, you knew you needed to play this clever, get him on your side, let him believe that you could be trusted if you wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here. With a deep breath you supressed the desire you had to simply remain silent, sullen even and spoke.

“Are you not eating?” you asked him and he looked at you, surprise on his face.

“I had a big lunch.” He responded simply.

“Well I hope it was better than this.” You arranged your face into the best playful look you could muster “Because, no offence, it sucks.”

Ransom looked at you, before he snorted “Yeah, cooking isn’t my forte.”

“Maybe I could do it.” You offered “I’m not a bad chef.”

His eyes locked on yours and you concentrated on keeping the look on your face innocent as he studied you. Eventually he spoke again “Maybe. If you behave.”

Again, the focus on your behaviour. He clearly wanted you to be good, compliant maybe. Bolstered by the slight progress you were making into maybe understanding what you needed to do you continued. “So, did you go anywhere nice? For lunch I mean.”

“The Harbor.” He responded “Food was good, company was slightly irritating.”

“Company?” the surprise in your tone was genuine

“I met my mother.”

“Oh.” You replied, looking back down at the plate as you blinked back the tears, the thought of your own mother filling your head. She would be beside herself now. You took a deep breath, you might be able to be compliant but you were damned if you were going to show him any weakness, that’s what he wanted. Instead, you took another bite of your meal and looked up at him. “That must have been nice for you.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Ransom asked in an amused tone and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I was being serious. Mind you, you don’t strike me as being close to your family so…” you shrugged and shovelled a soggy piece of broccoli into your mouth.

“You’re smart, we're not.” He shrugged “But she wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Bet that conversation was positively riveting.” You smirked “And that was sarcasm by the way.”

Ransom scoffed “It wasn’t bad to be honest, that was until she steered it around to Marta.”

“Marta?” you frowned, pondering what on earth could have brought their conversation around to that. “Why did you talk about her?”

“What is this Jeopardy?” he arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “Why not, I'll take Drysdale family politics for my share of the inheritance, Alec…”

“Watch your mouth, Sweetheart.” His tone was warning and his face stony. You swallowed and looked down at the plate.

“Sorry.” You said, keeping up your act. Silence fell again and you finished the last of your dinner and set the tray on the nightstand.

Ransom took a deep breath “Seeing as you’re so interested, Marta has approached my mother and the family about holding a memorial for Harlan.” You looked at him, and his eyebrows raised. “Ironic huh, the bitch who stole what was mine is planning a memorial for my grandad when she’s responsible for his death.”

At that you scoffed, he really was unbelievable and just like that your resolve to be nice started to ebb away at his utter narcissism “Are you for real? You’re responsible for Harlan’s death, and as for taking what was yours, you never had anything, none of you did! It was Harlan’s, you didn’t earn it.” Ransom glowered at you but you continued, shaking your head with a derisive laugh. “You know, the fact he would rather leave it to his nurse than his own family says more about you all than it does about her."

“What did you just say?” His voice was low, and there was an unmistakable flash of anger on his face.

“You heard me. Not that I expect any of that to bother you, Hugh, you do and take what you want anyway and fuck whoever gets hurt in the crossfire…” at that you gestured around the room, “prime example…”

There was a pause and in an instance you realised your mistake. You’d called him inadequate and worse, had broken one of those fucking rules, called him Hugh. His whole demeanour had changed, he was pissed. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, his entire body rigid.

Shit.

In a flash he was off the chair. You reacted equally as quick, jumping off the bed in an attempt to put some distance in between you. Why, you had no idea, it wasn’t like you were going to stop him, but maybe if you could buy some time you could talk him down as you backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” but your apology was cut off as he rounded the bed, grabbing your hair painfully, yanking your braid down so your head was tilted back, looking at him. You let out a scream of pain and moved your hands to grab at his wrists “Oww, shit…you’re hurting me!”

“Like I care.” He snarled “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

That predatory look was back on his face and you knew you were in for it again, and your apologetic front flew completely from your mind. Like hell you were doing this without a fight.

“Fuck you.” You spat back.

“Hard way it is.” He shrugged.

His hand tightening around your hair, he manhandled you into the middle of the bed easily. You yelled, bucked, lashed out but as with the previous night you were simply no match for him. He easily pinned you down with his knees clamped either side of your hips, holding you in place as he yanked your sweater over your head, pulling it down your arms so they were pinned behind you back. It was uncomfortable but did the job perfectly you realised to your horror, because you couldn’t move your arms at all.

Ransom then moved, his large hands grabbing at the button on your waistband and you continued to struggle, trying to buck your hips but once more to no avail. He had your jeans and panties down to your knees easily, before he flipped you over so your face was pushed into the pillow where it muffled your screams slightly. 

One hand reached up, sliding round the front of your neck and he squeezed. This time it was harder than he had done earlier that day, and the pressure increased and increased, slowly shutting off your airway. You gasped, tears stinging in your eye as you desperately tried to move but it was pointless. Then, suddenly he eased off, and you drew in a harsh gasp of air, coughing and spluttering, still conscious that his fingers remained around your throat.

“Stop fighting it.” He instructed, his other hand sliding over your entrance, making you pull away from his touch, but to no avail as the hand that was on your throat slid down your spine and twisted the sweater, tightening your make shift restraints, jerking your arms even further behind your back. Your upper arms and shoulders screamed in protest and you let out a little sob of pain as he moved both his hands to your hips, tugging them up slightly. One hand trailed over your ass before he plunged two fingers into you and you jerked forward at the intrusion. Ransom groaned before he leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you. Your body doesn’t lie, Sweetheart.”

You turned your head away, pressing your cheek into the pillow and Ransom uncurled himself from over you and you felt him shift behind you. The tell-tale clanking of a belt buckle, followed by a zip and the rustling of fabric told you exactly what was coming. Despite your resolve to give him nothing, a choked whimper escaped your mouth and you turned you face, pressing it further into the pillow in an attempt to stifle your sobs.

“Oh no…” he said, one hand curling into your braid, yanking hard and jerking your head back. You cried out, your body was contorted in such an unnatural shape, back arched, arms pinned behind your spine, head jerked back. “I wanna hear you.”

He shuffled a little, and you felt the top of his cock teasing your entrance and then without warning he powered forward, stuffing you full, letting out a rumble of a growl as he did so.

“So fucking tight…” he grit out as he withdrew, then plunged straight back in, jerking your body as he did so. He took a few more deep, slow thrusts before he picked up the pace and began to piston into you, relentlessly. You felt each thrust, the slap of his balls slamming towards your clit. It hurt, just as it had done last time. He had zero self-control, grunting and growling as he bottomed out with every motion. The hand that was gripping your hip went beyond bruising, his dull nails biting at your skin as the other wound tighter around your braid, the odd angle of your body gritting at your joints. You were fighting tears and sobs as your body continued to betray you, soaking your walls, allowing his cock to slide in and out effortlessly. The hand against your hip glided along your side as a deep thrust came and you could feel it grip your breast between the mattress. His thumb brushing against your nipple through your bra. The friction of his piston thrusts, his hand forcing your bralete against your nipples and the yank of your hair was driving your body into sensory overload and filled you with burning sensations that verged on painful. The tip of his cock scrapped at your insides, no doubt bruising you. Your tears burned and your throat begged with dry thirst.

“Can feel you, Sweetheart…” he groaned, as he bottomed out, rotating his hips slightly making you cry out involuntarily “You feel close…you sound close…such a needy little slut.”

“I’m not a slut…” you sob, the feeble protest sounding as pathetic as you felt.

"Fucking look like one to me..." he growled, his hips rotating again, the burn in your stomach was now getting to hard to ignore. “Please…” you begged, “Just….stop…”

He answered your plea by driving deeper into you, picking up his pace once more and you felt yourself beginning to tumble.

"Oh God," the words flew from your mouth as your body shook violently and you took on your overload of orgasm and sensory extremes. You sobbed as your body betrayed you again with this man. Your mind screaming for understanding, your insides begging for more.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…” Ransom let out a groan as he picked up the pace, before after a few more deep thrusts, the hand that was holding your hair let go. Your head fell forward as you felt the warm ribbons of his come streak up your back before he released his hold on your hip and you collapsed onto the bed, your heart and self-respect shattered.

Every inch of your body ached thanks to the way you’d been contorted and as you lay still, trying to regain some control of your limbs you felt his hands press either side of your head and gave a sob as he leaned lean over your body, his ears brushing your lips.

“I'll take you like that every fucking day if I have to until you give in. Because you will.”

At that the feel of his chest that had been pressing into your back was gone and you heard a rustle of clothing and then footsteps across the floor before the door opened and his deep baritone filled the room once more.

“I would shackle you but I don’t think we need that anymore. You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was almost playful, like he was toying with you, teasing you. “I suggest you take a bath, you’re gonna be sore. That is, once you manage to work your way out of that sweater.”

And with a click followed by the familiar sliding of bolts you were sealed in your prison and you finally gave in to your tears as the sheer helplessness of your situation crashed over you in waves.

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 58-62

This is the second half of the Santana arc, where Joseph actually fights the guy.   From the first appearance of Santana at the beginning of Part 2, all Speedwagon wanted was for someone to destroy him with the Ripple.  He asked Straizo to do it and he turned on him.   Then the Nazi officer Rudol von Stroheim happened along and decided to wake Santana up instead.   Now the only one left who could possibly stop Santana is Joseph, and he’s finally here, but first he decides to try talking to the guy, figuring that he might not be evil.  

And that’s fair.  The only people Santana has killed so far are a vampire and a bunch of Nazi soldiers.  If Captain America did that, we’d throw him a parade.  

But Santana isn’t in the mood to talk.  He regards the humans as inferior primitives, and he’s more interested in studying their behavior and technology.  He mastered their language in mere minutes, but when Joseph insists on getting his attention, he tries to kill him by extruding his own ribs and using them like pincers.   Joseph manages to block this with his Hamon powers, but they seem to do no harm to Santana.    Speedwagon reasons that the Hamon power can at least protect Joseph from Santana, but Santana’s own body is able to resist the Ripple, unlike the vampires we’ve seen so far. 

As for Santana, he seems surprised by Joseph’s abilities, and wonders if every human has evolved such power.   But when he sticks his hand onto Speedwagon’s face, he can still absorb him, so apparently Joseph is unique.  Speedwagon doesn’t die from this, but it’s enough to make Joseph want to fight Santana in earnest.

However, Santana can make his body all rubbery, preventing any of Joseph’s attacks from connecting.   He tries to stab Santana with a knife so he can channel the Ripple through it and inside Santana’s body, but the knife won’t penetrate.   He tries to gouge Santana’s eyes, but that doesn’t work either.    Then Santana appears to knock him unconscious, and starts to absorb Joseph like he did that vampire from before.   But then...

... Joseph wakes up!    He was just feigning unconsciousness to lure Santana into this position.   Once he was pulled inside Santana’s body, he could use Hamon and blow him apart from the inside.   Good thing he didn’t wait any longer, because Stroheim was prepared to self-destruct the whole base.  

But this doesn’t kill Santana.   Luckily, Joseph is prepared for this, since he saw Straizo reassemble his own body back in New York.   He traps Santana in a length of chain, very Hermit Purple-like if you asked me, and resolves to drag Santana upstairs and out into the sun.  

You know, for all the precautions Stroheim took for this experimentation, you’d think he would have had a lab designed with a sunroof.  He seemed more concerned with keeping Santana contained, but if things went really wrong, he would need the sun to destroy him, but instead he’s got him in some underground bunker.

The problem is that Santana can still control his separated body parts to some extent, and they attack Joseph, making it even harder for him to climb the stair.   Stroheim leaps past them and offers to open the door for them, but Santana attacks his leg as well.   So Stroheim tells Joseph to chop off his leg with a nearby axe, and that lets him reach the door.    We’re expected to applaud Stroheim’s courage, but he’s a fucking Nazi shitbag who created this problem in the first place, so no thank you.  

Anyway, it doesn’t help, because Santana just puts his entire body into Stroheim’s open leg wound, using Stroheim’s body to protect him from the sunlight.   Stroheim then grabs a grenade, hoping to destroy himself and leave Santana nowhere to run, but before he dies he tells Joseph what this was all about.  

Seems that there were three more Pillar Men in Europe.   The Nazis discovered them not too long ago, and they learned enough to know that they’ll awaken soon, and that they’ll need more than just sunlight to stop them.    That’s why Stroheim was so determined to learn all he could about Santana.   I’m not sure if Stroheim was assigned to Mexico for this purpose, or if he was already stationed here and just happened to be nearby when Santana was discovered. 

But when the grenade goes off, Santana is whole and nude and seemingly no worse off.  He still tries to seek cover in a nearby well, and tackles Joseph to get to it.    

But Joseph was counting on this, because it’s high noon, and the sun is directly over the well, trapping Santana between the sun overhead and the sun’s reflection below.  I guess Santana might have found shelter in the water, but Joseph’s in the way to prevent this.   

Okay, so I think I’m starting to understand how sunlight affects the Pillar Men.  With vampires, the sun just makes them explode and die instantly.   It doesn’t kill the Pillar Men, though.   It just turns them into a stone-like material.  They still don’t like this, though, because it leaves them vulnerable, and I’m pretty sure Santana can’t just change back.   Like, he was sort of succumbing to the sunlight a minute ago, but he still had time to jump into the well before he completely petrified.    Then he might have had enough flesh to slough off the petrified skin and figure out his next move.    But Joseph prevented that from happening.  

So they have to spend a decent amount of time in the sun for this to happen, and maybe this is why they were trapped in the pillars in the first place.    At some point, they got exposed to sunlight and they’ve been “sleeping” ever since, waiting to absorb enough nutrients to reactivate.  

I say all this because I could never understand how Joseph got Santana out of the well without a piece or two falling into the shade.   By 12:30PM, he wouldn’t have the sun beaming down on him, so apparently Santana must have stayed petrified long enough for him to climb out.

Regardless, Santana is not dead.   Speedwagon takes him back to the Speedwagon Foundation, and his scientists discover that if they put a live snake on Santana’s stone body, the snake will be absorbed.   They believe that if they leave him in darkness long enough, he’ll reassemble and come back to life.    The only thing preventing this are a bunch of UV lamps they have set up inside a special chamber where they’re keeping him.   

This makes Santana somewhat remarkable in JJBA, because he’s a pretty major villain, yet he wasn’t permanently disposed of like the others, so you’d think he could come back to menace the world in some later part.   I doubt that he survived for long, though. 

Speedwagon is concerned because in the temple where they found Santana, there was a relief bearing images of all four Pillar Men: Santana and the three Stroheim mentioned in Europe.   But they’re arranged in such a way as to suggest that Santana was the weakest of the four.   Worse, the temple engravings claimed that the Pillar Men would awaken in the Aztec year 2852, or 1938 by our calendar.    So not only are they unsure how to kill Santana, but there’s three stronger Pillar Men out there, and they’ll be waking up any day now.   Uh-oh.

The problem is that Joseph Joestar’s Hamon powers aren’t strong enough to tackle this threat.   Before he blew himself up, Stroheim told him to go to Europe to meet someone Speedwagon knows, who could assist him with this matter.   And Speedwagon agrees, sending Joseph to Rome, Italy.

There, Joseph argues with a waiter over spaghetti.   He thinks the black sauce is a joke, but the waiter explains that it’s squid ink and actually delicious.   Then some guy at another table insults Joseph from afar, so Joseph decides to shoot spaghetti at him with Hamon power.  Except the other guy catches these noodles with his own noodles on a fork, and fires them back using... more Hamon.  

And that’s because this dude is the one Joseph was sent to meet, Caesar Zeppeli.     He says “Mama mia”, so you know he’s extra Italian.

[leonawriter]

Second half of what was going to be just one post but I wanted to make each point stand out on its own-

I think that the Port Mafia is going through a character development arc throughout the manga, just the same as the ADA is, and by the time the series ends will be almost unrecognisable from the mafia we started out with.

Funnily enough, the first person who springs to my mind when I think of this is actually Kouyou. Though I will touch on others later on.

Kouyou is certainly not the first PM member we meet. Strictly speaking, that’d be Dazai, or Higuchi, or Akutagawa. But I feel like her change is the most indicative of the route the mafia is taking, and the difference between the pre-manga PM, and the PM after the manga started, and after several arcs. In fact, this is also something I tend to try and think about when writing her in fics, because it is highly relevant.

Chronologically, we know that her timeline is thus; she was part of the mafia in the time before Mori took over, and under the old boss she wanted to run away, likely encouraged by an older man who she may have had feelings for, romantic or not. That man died, and left her feeling that no matter what, she would be unable to escape the darkness. At some time after that, Mori took over the mafia. A year later, she was one of his trusted subordinates, and she is tasked with taking a young Chuuya - previously an enemy of the mafia, and someone who had no idea how to talk to the mafia’s business partners - under her wing. She would go on to become an executive, and at some time before the manga began, found and took in Kyouka. She would then go on to be murderously protective of her young ward, much like a mother or older sister, and encourage her to believe as she had - that she would never be able to live in the light.

So what we see from this is that Kouyou up until this point is a woman with a dark past and a dark heart who is full of grief, and I think that a lot of people overlook this because she’s beautiful and because the way she is later is more popular, but... she is just as guilty of perpetuating the cycle of abuse as Mori, Dazai, and Akutagawa. She was imparting to Kyouka the same “life lessons” that she had learned herself, in much the same way that Atsushi’s headmaster had. Both of those people had suffered, and so both of them taught their charge in a way that they saw as somewhat more forgiving than what they had gone through, in a way that to them would ready the child for the outside world and their future, but was ultimately doing more harm than good.

So, what changes?

I’d say that to answer “Dazai” is to over-simplify things.

The situation had become such that it was no longer viable. Kyouka refused to go back to the mafia. Kouyou was afraid for her, that she would lose herself in some way, and despite her previous words to Atsushi, she did want Kyouka to succeed; or at the very least, saw how a failure would break her, as we see it does while she’s in the jail plane, chained up in midair. Their organisations are not just at odds, but as an executive she’d have to be seeing that neither of them are in a safe position.

Kouyou was already in the perfect place to accept Dazai’s suggestions before he came to her with them (and, admittedly, he may have predicted that things would get to this point, may have used the situation to his advantage).

So, what changes the way that she sees things?

Dazai is one aspect. A rather large one, considering how he himself puts that he managed to get out of the mafia, and is someone with his sort of past (and personality) who not only made it out, but has been staying out, and succeeding. He also points out that with him present in the ADA, he’s able to ensure that Kyouka can flourish in the way that she deserves to.

Atsushi is another aspect, I’d say, because he was the one who was willing to suggest that their organisations work together.

Even just staying with the ADA and not being treated with anything other than respect (and yes, that includes “respect for how dangerous she can be”) would work towards this.

In summary, Kouyou before the Three Company Conflict arc is a grief-ridden woman filled with despair, who sees herself as someone only capable of showing her true potential in the darkness. She comes out of said arc as someone who appears happy with where she is, and who chooses to be where she is, yet who is also happy to help Kyouka from the shadows.

This is just focusing on the one I feel is the best representation of this phenomenon of PM members coming out better. 

Another would have to be Chuuya, which is something that many people have written about, myself included, on how before the manga starts he’s bitter over Dazai’s defection, seeing that trust in his partner as having been shattered. Yet over the course of their first reunion, he is forced to see that his partnership with Dazai need not be over simply because Dazai is now a traitor to the mafia, and that Dazai, well, missed him. As a person. That the connection is still there. And later, during the Lovecraft battle, they work together fluidly again, just like old times and reminding them that just because they’re older, doesn’t mean they’re too much different to still be partners. You can really see it in Dead Apple, where his acceptance of Dazai is less in how willingly he trusts in him and activates Corruption, and more in how comfortable he is after he’s woken up again both in the movie when he sees Akutagawa, and in the promo images where he’s still next to Dazai, and they’re smiling.

Akutagawa needs almost no explanation, given how his arc is still ongoing, and he’s already gone from being the rabid dog of the mafia who kills before he thinks to someone who goes out of his way to leave people alive, and who because of that, is learning to see things from another point of view, just as Dazai wanted of him.

Yet, it’s not just these obvious ones; Higuchi has to work with the ADA on several occasions, tempering down on her novice’s pride in her organisation that she had on her introduction, and is also coming into her own as well. Kajii may well have taken something from his encounter with Yosano, and we see how he’s more than just a mad lemon scientist when he says how much he respects Mori (and I wonder if anything else is going to happen with that). Hirotsu is now able to talk with Dazai again and it isn’t something that he would have to worry about being seen as treasonous. 

And last but not least, Mori himself - when it’s said during his match against Fukuzawa that they’ve both got more to protect now, that’s not just cheap words; Mori protects his people. He shows grief when his people die and it was out of his control. He accepts that an alliance with the ADA is the best and most optimal course when it’s put on the table, even with the understanding that it’ll put them at a disadvantage in the short term. He is forced to begin to come to terms with things about his past that he had been trying to rationalise, and ignore, such as how his actions led to Dazai’s defection, and I sincerely believe that although he does not regret what he did, he does regret how it ended, and what it cost him. 

Mori, the leader of the mafia, is being forced in the current arc  to come face to face with the realisation that the mafia can’t live as an island, merely taking from the ADA what they need and giving nothing in return. It is Mori’s lack of action that led to things becoming as bad as they are now, and because of that, his own people are suffering. I’ve said this before to personal friends, but I do think that this is indicative of the mafia’s growth as a group - Mori needs to learn that the alliance with the ADA has to be an equal one.

What’s more, the ADA is learning through their own growth in general that they have to be able to trust the PM in return.

What does this say to me? 

Other than that the characters of the mafia have been influenced positively by the plot, into becoming better versions of themselves, and the development is still in progress because the series isn’t over? That you can’t write them the way they are now, into a fic set years before the series starts?

That the themes of BSD are such that the PM represent the underside of society, a cruel and callous way of thinking that we often don’t wish people to see, or that we cover up. That even the ADA, on the twilight of the law, is still more often than not too proud to accept the help of criminals who are less ashamed and more forward about the way that they do things being criminal. That both sides are slowly moving down the path of being able to accept one another better, and in doing so, they’ll better be able to accept themselves.

We already see this with Kouyou and Akutagawa and Chuuya especially. We see this with Dazai, and to a degree with Kyouka. I believe that the longer the series goes in this direction, the more other ADA characters will accept themselves; such as Tanizaki, with his ability to use his ability in ways that Hirotsu notes are “perfect for assassination,” and with Ranpo, who hides the fact that he has insecurities and is also fully willing to make a demon of himself in order to protect his own - which is far more of a mafia attitude than an ADA one, even if, just like with Chuuya, I’m not sure I can imagine him in the other organisation.

The ADA will always be the ADA, and the PM will always be the PM, but together they can be better than they were before on their own. Currently they seem to be on a tentative truce of sorts, uncertain about doing things together and constantly in a state of tension. If they can get to a point where they trust each other more implicitly, that’s where the real strength is going to come from - something that Mori saw himself, when sending Chuuya out to help Dazai - and yet it won’t just be in the sense of power and how well they perform in their casework and missions, but strength of character, in who they are as people.

[talkfastromance4]

Beauty behind the Madness--Ashton Irwin (mafia!au)

**copyright listed below

A/N: It’s finally here! This idea was born so many months ago but I never did anything with it until I watched the movie 365 and ideas started to flow. I’ve worked on this for nearly two months, and I’ve never spent so much time on something as big as this before,so thank you for your patience! I would like to give enormous ‘thank you’s to @sexgodashton and @sadistmichael for beta reading, editing and giving feedback and other insights when I was stuck (which was many times), to @spicycal @karajaynetoday​ and @cheekysos​ for also beta reading and letting me scream at you about this process. I’m so so grateful for each and every one of you!❤💖 Also, this fic is inspired by The Weeknd’s ‘Beauty behind the Madness’ album and I listened to it a lot while writing. (Drown by Tyler Carter is Ashton and Nadia’s song in my head as well)

Word count: 27.1k

Warnings: mentions of violence involving guns, mentions of blood, casual drinking, swearing, sexual occurrences (female receiving oral, fingering, male receiving oral, consensual sex, slight dom!ashton). Please read with caution

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• • • •

Ashton sets his drink on the lacquered maple countertop inside La Belle Vie, the ice clinks together in a satisfying finish. He checks the time on his gold embroidered black Rolex; he’s just in time to finish the dirty work his cohort set up. He slips past the bar, half ignoring the woman sitting at the end who stares him down like a hawk and descends the concrete steps to the interrogation room.

He faintly hears a fist connecting to flesh, grunts echo along the walls and his designer boots smacking articulately on the floor. One of his guards opens the door with a grandiose gesture as he undoes his cufflinks. As soon as he enters the room, another associate removes his suit jacket. It’s a rehearsed dance with the next step being Ashton rolling his sleeves up.

In view is his right-hand associate, Calum Hood, dressed down to his black tank top tucked into his Armani trousers. His face is contorted in concentration as he delivers another bloody punch to the man’s face who is tied to a chair. His face is a bloody mess, his shirt torn.

“We got what we needed?” Ashton asks coolly pulling his glock from the holster resting against his left side.

“Yeah,” Calum huffs, shaking his hand and flexing his fingers. “He said something about Nadia, though.”

Ashton’s hazel eyes flash in anger, he clicks the safety off his gun, and the man groans before him.

“What did you say?” Ashton demands as he shifts places with Calum who is handed a towel from Luke. The man mutters something under his breath. “Speak up, it’s hard to hear you through your own blood.”

“What does it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway, no?”

Ashton presses the end of the gun to his cheek, pressing hard so it turns his head back. The man’s green eyes are vibrant against his blood, and Ashton can see the fear in them.

“Tell. Me,” Ashton says fiercely.

“You better keep your bitch on a leash, or the Snatchers will catch her,” the man cackles manically.

Ashton snaps his wrist swiftly and pulls the trigger, right in the center of the man’s forehead. His body jerks and slumps in the chair, the sound of the gunfire echoing in the small room. He glances at Calum, his jaw working in anger at the man’s last words.

“Clean up down here, gentleman, then join me for a drink,” Ashton says, slipping his glock back in the holster. After a kill, his body is always electric and warm, so he holds his arm out to the associate who removed his jacket and they drape it over his forearm.

Calum follows quickly behind him, pulling his dress shirt on as he ascends the stairs. Paco, the bartender, already has his glass refilled along with a new drink for Calum. The woman at the end of the bar reaches for Ashton, her fingers greedy and her eyes crazed.

“You seem tense, can I help?” she asks, batting her fake lashes.

“Sorry doll, he’s a taken man,” Calum intercedes by pushing her hands away. She pouts as the two men walk away.

“Thanks, she had her eyes on me the whole time I was here,” Ashton says pressing his lips to his glass. The amber liquid is refreshingly cold as it slides down his throat.

“I’ve seen her here before, not really sure who she is but she should know who Nadia is.”

The two gentlemen take a seat at their table near the back, far away from everyone else and in perfect sight of the door. The music is loud enough to enjoy as the girls dancing on stage move hypnotically to the beat. Other associates and frequent club members sit in the leather chairs with cigars and drinks in hand as they observe the women.

“That almost worries me, Cal,” Ashton sighs resting his foot on his opposite knee. “I don’t want anyone knowing of Nadia and it seems like everyone does. That puts her in danger.”

“She’s well-guarded at all times, you know that. The bastard was just talking shit to get a last rise from you,” Calum says then smacks his lips after taking a drink.

“What did he say to you?” Ashton watches Calum carefully, his dark brows crease. “Calum, what did he say?”

“He said the Rozhkov’s and the Snatchers love the way she dances.” He glances nervously at his friend, his boss.

Ashton checks his watch again. Nadia should be arriving at the club soon with Vinny; he sent her on a full spa day. She’s been working hard and one of Ashton’s main goals is to make sure she’s well taken care of.

“He was talking shit,” Calum repeats, “No one would dare go after her.”

“How did—” Ashton stops short because the doors open and his eyes meet Nadia’s.

His whole world shifts, all that he’s done, all that he will do, vanishes. Nadia is the light of his life and she shines as she walks her way over to him. Her dark hair falls in perfect waves down her chest, the silver necklace he bought her hangs perfectly between her cleavage. She’s a vision as he rises from his seat, as does Calum, to greet her. It’s respectful to stand whenever a boss’ significant other enters the room, they’re like royalty.

Ashton extends his hand, gaudy rings shining in the lowlight and Nadia’s hand slips inside his.

“Hi angel,” he says softly, giving her a squeeze.

“Hi, honey,” she smiles walking into his arms. She pecks his lips delicately, a feather light touch. “Hi Cal,” she smiles and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“Come sit with me,” Ashton pulls her with him as he sits back in his armchair. She finds her place in his lap comfortably, one arm behind his shoulders. She crosses her tan legs that show beautifully beneath her gold dress. Ashton’s arms hold her close, his fingers locked together on her hip. “How was the spa?”

“Wonderful,” she smiles, rubbing her nose against his. “You didn’t have to do it, you know.”

“I wanted to; you had a rough week.”

“It’s only Tuesday,” she giggles.

“Yeah, and you came home last night all in a tizzy, climbing into my lap in my office—”

Nadia covers his mouth with her hand, silencing him. “Shush!” Her warm brown eyes glide to Calum.

He smiles behind her hand, pulling it away from his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

“I’ve heard way worse, sweetheart, trust me,” Calum chuckles taking a drink. “Can I get you something?”

“Amaretto sour,” Ashton answers for her and she smiles. “Three cherries.”

“Comin’ right up,” Calum winks then moves to the bar.

Ashton sighs, trailing his fingers over her back, staring into her warm brown eyes.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she smiles adjusting one of his chains. Her blood red, almond-shaped nails rub through his chest hair, she follows the trail to his top button of his shirt. She unbuttons it delicately. “There, now you can breathe.”

“One amaretto sour,” Calum says, handing the glass over to Nadia. She takes it with glee, slurping up the drink happily. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Asana in the Gold Room.”

Ashton and Nadia look behind Calum to see Asana waiting by the deep maroon curtains that lead to another set of stairs. Her dark hair is in a high ponytail atop her head, the gold eyeliner and gold lipstick contrast beautifully with her dark skin. It made her appear regal and Nadia was always stunned by her beauty.

The Gold Room is a special room where members of Ashton’s association go to…unwind. Men and women of the association meet there frequently when there’s downtime, like tonight, or after a successful mission. Asana is the head of weaponry; Ashton always gets the best from her and he trusts her with his life.

“See you two later,” Calum winks starting to walk backwards, his eyes on Nadia, “make sure he gets some rest.”

Ashton and Nadia watch Calum approach Asana who gives him a sly smirk as he takes her hand kissing it. As they disappear behind the curtain, the song changes and a cloud of cigar smoke creeps up on Nadia and Ashton. She scrunches her nose at the smell, Ashton kisses it.

“We can take our drinks to my office, angel,” he tells her, knowing she doesn’t like the cigar smoke. It always gives her a headache.

“Aren’t Luke and Michael going to join us, soon?” she asks while plucking one of the cherries from her glass.

Ashton’s momentarily mesmerized by the way her lips pucker around the bright red fruit before it disappears in her mouth. She tosses the stem onto the small table beside his chair then swipes her thumb on her chin collecting the cherry juice and licking it off.

“I think they’ll understand. Come on,” he pats the side of her bare thigh, so she stands.

Their fingers link together as he leads her past the bar to a secret door on the left. Once inside, Nadia clutches onto Ashton’s hand a little tighter, she says the space creeps her out because of the minimal lighting and dark walls. He’ll never tire of her feeling safe with him, that’s all he wants is her love and trust to protect her.

They reach the silver elevator doors; he pushes the button with one of his rings and the doors part open. Her heels scrape against the floor as he pulls her against his chest, her giggles echo the small space, their reflection apparent on every wall.

“Is this that new dress you bought a few weeks ago?” he asks tenderly, eyes roaming over the glittery gold fabric hugging her body perfectly.

“It’s the new dress you bought,” she pokes his nose. “You’ve got to stop spoiling me or people are going to get the wrong idea, honey.”

“What wrong idea is that?”

The doors slide open as they land on the second level, only certain clientele is allowed up here. Nadia is always at the top of the list. Nadia tugs his hand leading him out of the elevator right into his office. The first time she was brought into his office, it made her feel apprehensive, but it was also the first night they met, and it was under dangerous circumstances.

 ***

The rain is falling harshly on the hood of Ashton’s red Aston Martin Superleggera. He's cloaked in the dark of the night as he sits and waits for members of the Rozhkov family to arrive at the abandoned building he’s parked next to. Aleks Rozhkov has scheduled his associates for a pickup of money and parts. Parts that have intrigued Ashton so greatly that he wants to find out exactly what they are.

He’s been here for hours, waiting, watching.

Calum insisted on going with him for added protection, but Ashton declined. He knows the target on his back is large, but his element of surprise is his calling card and this ambush would give him the answers he needs. He sighs glancing at the clock on his dashboard, his thumb rubbing over the silver-winged design on his steering wheel. He always liked how the emblem of his car matched the condor tattoo on his neck, a dangerous pair with the desire to fly.

There’s movement to his left, and he sits up a little straighter then sighs when he sees it’s a civilian. She’s walking through the rain with an umbrella clutched tightly in her fingers, and Ashton notices she keeps looking behind her. Then she stops and three men suddenly surround her; the three men Ashton has been waiting all night for.

When one of them tosses her umbrella to the ground, Ashton springs from his car, running over. He pulls on the arm of the man closest to him before turning him around connecting his fist with his jaw. The other two spring into action, but Ashton is quick with his punches and elbow thrusts. In minutes all three men are down in the rain-filled alley, the woman breathing heavily against the brick building.

Ashton crouches to one of the men who’s grunting in pain and staring at Ashton through a swelling eye. “You tell Aleks, Ashton Irwin doesn’t appreciate him doing his dirty work in my city,” his voice is calm, but the warning tone is loud, “and that cornering a woman is warranted in death. Got that?”

The man groans nodding his head. Ashton stands, his eyes softening as he stares at the woman before him. He can barely see her through the falling rain and the dimmed streetlight, but he can tell she’s frightened, as if he can sense it.

“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” he asks gently, stepping closer to her. She shakes her head in response. A car backfires and she lets out a scream. Ashton responds by grabbing her hand, “I have somewhere safe I can take you,” pulling her to his car and helping her inside. He cranks the heat as the engine purrs quietly to life, zooming to the main road and to La Belle Vie.

She’s visibly shaking while he drives to his club. He wants to comfort her in some way but is unsure how to. He’s pleasantly surprised she got into his car so willingly, but maybe his coming to her rescue appeased her.

He parks smoothly in his spot outside of La Belle Vie, he can hear her teeth chattering.

“Come inside, it’s warm and I can get you a drink,” he tells her before getting out.

He keeps a safe distance behind her, nodding to one of the guards at the entrance. They open the door just as thunder rumbles in the distance. Ashton and the woman are met with more dimmed lighting, and soulful, tantalizing music dances in their ears while the dancers on stage move hypnotically.

The woman halts as she takes in her surroundings and Ashton bumps into her back.

“Keep moving to the end of the bar, my office is in the back,” he murmurs pushing her forward gently. Ashton eyes their surroundings, the only people taking notice of him are Paco and Luke sitting at the bar. He shakes his head as if to say, ‘don’t ask, don’t stop me,’ and continues his way to the secret door.

He pushes on the wall; the door opens to reveal a dimly lit hallway with cement floors and dark walls. He feels her cower against him once more.

“You need to get brighter lightbulbs,” she mutters, shoulders rattling as she shivers again.

Ashton smiles at her comment but wants to get her warmed up as fast as he can. He leads her to the elevator, pushes the button and the doors open quickly. The elevator ride is short as it ascends to his office, he ushers her inside where he makes sure to turn all the lights on.

“Please, have a seat,” he motions to the plush black couch in front of the fireplace.

He turns it on with the switch beside the mantle, discarding his leather jacket placing it on the back of an armchair. He moves across the room to a closet that has blankets for when he sometimes spends the night here, and there’s a bedroom next to the fireplace. You can see a part of it through the flames if you look close enough. He doesn’t dare let his mind drift to the countless women he’s brought back to that room, suddenly he feels ashamed about those encounters.

He drapes the thick, soft blanket over her shoulders, she jumps from the contact, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you.’ Ashton moves to his desk picking up his phone that immediately rings the bar.

“Sir?” Paco answers.

“Send up some towels, dry clothes and two hot chocolates, please,” Ashton requests then clicks the phone back in its cradle. He sits across from her in the armchair that doesn’t have his coat on it, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks again. Now that they’re in brighter light, he sees how beautiful she is. Her dark hair hangs in wet strands framing her perfectly round face, her eyes are large and round and the prettiest brown he’s ever seen. Although she’s shivering, everything about her, from her tanned skin to those eyes screams warmth. A warmth Ashton hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Fine,” she responds quietly, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. She sniffs.

“I’m having towels and clean clothes brought up, along with some hot chocolate,” he offers, his fingers twisting one of his rings. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Why did you hurt those men?” she asks the same time he does.

“They were going to hurt you,” he says simply. He notices her eyes are watching the movement of his ring, he glances down noticing the dried blood on his knuckles that clearly has her attention. He frowns slightly. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t think twice about the blood, but he doesn’t want this woman to fear him due to this act. 

“Why were you there? Who’s Aleks Rosco—”

“Rozhkov,” Ashton corrects. He inhales deeply then leans back into the chair making sure to skirt around the truth. “He’s…a businessman that I’ve been wanting to meet with. We have things to discuss.”

“You—”

Three sharp raps to the door cause Ashton to stand and open the door. Luke’s there with the essentials Ashton requested, the towels and clothes in a bag, two hot chocolates in a carrying tray and a question in his baby blue eyes.

“Is she one of Rozhkov’s—”

“Thanks Luke,” Ashton replies shortly, taking the bag and carrying tray.  He shuts the door in the younger man’s face then brings the goods to the beautiful mystery woman on his couch. He places the bag in front of her legs which he’s just noticed are bare beneath her coat. He swallows harshly. “Towels and dry clothes are in here, there’s a shower just through that door you can use to warm up.”

Hesitantly, she lifts the bag, crooking it between her elbow and stands. Ashton moves to the door opening it, smacking the light switch on the wall. It illuminates the room showcasing the large California king bed with high posts and a thick black comforter. Again, he pushes memories of the numerous sexual partners he’s pleasured here, as if his dirty thoughts would offend this beautiful woman. He doesn’t want to offend her in any way, though he fears he already has.

She’s been visibly shaken since the alleyway and won’t look him in the eye choosing instead to keep focus of the blood on his hands. Is she fearful of what she’ll see in his eyes? Madness? A monster? 

Her small sniffle pulls him from his thoughts.

“Use anything you’d like in the bathroom. I’ll be out here if you need me,” he offers a half a smile then turns to give her some privacy. Then he hears her mumble something and quickly turns around. “What?”

“Nadia,” she says again, her brown eyes finally meeting his, “My name’s Nadia.”

***

She walks around his large desk, twisting her arm so she can push him gently into his specially made chair. It’s a black, wing back chair with gold accented buttons and the letters ‘A’ and ‘I’ stitched in gold on the front of the arms.

“What wrong idea?” he asks again, placing his drink on the coaster on his desk. It also has his initials on it.

Nadia shakes her head hopping onto the surface of the desk, her dress slides up her thighs. She takes a long sip of her drink as Ashton rests his palms on her knees, his thumbs rub onto her skin.

“Nadia,” he says her name sternly. He knows she knows that tone of voice, and she looks at him expectantly. “What will people think?” he softens his tone.

“That I’m nothing but a ‘sugar baby,’” she pouts, her fingers create the imaginary quotations.

Ashton sighs. Being in his line of business, doing what he does, he knows that’s what he’s perceived as, but he always waved it off without a care. He didn’t like, however, that Nadia has been labeled as a sugar baby.

“You know that’s not true,” he stands from his chair, towering over her. He removes her drink from her hand, placing it on another coaster then rests his hands on the wood. He stares at her until she meets his gaze. “You know how much I love and care about you.”

“I do,” she nods earnestly. “But I still hear the whispers.”

“Is it from people within my circle? Tell me their names and I’ll deal with them—”

“No, no, it’s no one associated with you. It’s…others. In the streets, in the shops we go to.”

“Don’t listen to them, and if I hear it—” he leans forward pressing his lips to her cheek “—they’ll have me to answer to.” His voice tickles her ear and she giggles from the vibrations.

“Why did Cal say you need rest?” she asks.

“Long day,” he shrugs. He relaxes when Nadia places her thumbs under his eyes, he can only imagine the dark circles beneath them.

“What did you do?” she moves her fingers to his hair, massaging through the dark locks onto his scalp.

“Angel,” he says in a warning tone, “what’s my number one rule?”

“Don’t ask specifics about your job,” she sighs, fingers still massaging.

“And why is that?” he sighs. His hand pushes her legs apart, his fingers run up the smooth skin of her thigh. She spreads her legs wider, welcoming his hand higher.

“To protect me,” she whispers and moans slightly when his fingers skim over her bare, wet folds. He tuts his tongue.

“No panties, hm? Why’s that?” he asks, teasing her slit. “You want to stain my desk?”

“N-no! Just didn’t feel like it…I thought you’d like it,” she sighs against his neck, her breath hot, and fingers still locked in his hair.

“You know I love it, angel.” He teases her hole with his middle finger causing her to squeak in response. He smiles, kissing her shoulder then inserts his finger slowly. Her own fingers tighten in his hair, her breathing becomes ragged. “Should I make you come right here for me? Right on my desk where I do my work?”

Nadia rolls her hips with the motion of his finger inside her, spreading her open and rubbing against her walls.

“Please,” she begs breathlessly.

He inserts another finger and Nadia whines in his ear, his thumb rubbing harshly against her clit. He loves hearing her moan for him. He works his fingers faster until her body clenches and she’s left gasping loudly in his ear.

“That’s my girl,” he praises twiddling his fingers inside her as her orgasm subsides. He removes his fingers gently pulling back to give her a smile while he sucks her off his fingers. Her eyes are glazed, her cheeks a bit rosy. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she sighs. She drags her fingers back to his cheeks and pulls his mouth to hers, moaning into his mouth. Her fingers are quick to undo his shit buttons, palms pressing to his torso, nails dragging along his skin.

“You want another one?” he smirks against her mouth, her hands tugging his silk shirt from his trousers.

“Like you said,” her voice is sultry in his ear as she unbuttons his pants, “I’ve had a rough week.”

When Nadia’s fingers pinch the zipper, there’s a very loud urgent knock on the door. She lets out a sigh, visibly upset as Ashton snaps his pants back into place and rebuttons his shirt. He grins at her petulance, taking her chin in his fingers to give her a delicate kiss.

“I’ll be right back, angel.”

He checks his shirt as he struts across his office, hoping that whoever is behind that door is in a life or death situation. Everyone at La Belle Vie knows that if he has Nadia in his office, he is not to be disturbed. A rule that’s been established since that first night he brought her here. They’re being interrupted now just as much as they were then.

***

Ashton made sure to remove his rings from his fingers, placing them in a black porcelain bowl in the other bathroom used for guests; he’ll have them professionally cleaned in the morning. He feels empty without them. The added weight always made him feel secure somehow. One ring, a gaudy one with an onyx stone was always perched on his left pinky finger. Another one, specially made, sat on his right middle finger that always left his initials on the perpetrator’s skin, a flameless branding.

He sighs, turning on the tap and scrubbing extra hard, so the blood is completely gone. He’s never been this meticulous after a fight, or a kill for that matter. He’s become immune to the cold killings he does, usually saving the clean up when he’s back at his house in his large waterfall-style shower. He turns the water to the hottest temperature and yet, he still feels numb.

When the blood is gone, he watches his reflection as he dries his hands. Dark circles are under his eyes while the whites of his eyes are bloodshot. No wonder Nadia wouldn’t look at him, he looks every bit the monster behind such monstrous acts.

The door to the bedroom swings open, Ashton quickly tossing the towel into the sink and approaching Nadia as she exits the doorway. The t-shirt and sweatpants she’s changed into hang off her small frame, but she looks warmer. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat of the shower, she’s still hesitant as she glances at him.

“Find everything okay?” he asks politely.

“Yes, thank you,” she’s even more polite in her response.

To his surprise, Nadia moves to sit back on the couch and picks up one of the hot chocolates, bringing it to her lips. Ashton moves carefully around the couch and takes his spot from before in the armchair. She hums appreciatively at the warm drink, brown eyes flickering to his.

They stare at each other for a moment. Ashton is trying to decipher what she could possibly be thinking. He usually had a knack for that in women, but all he’s getting from her are unasked questions. Ashton has never been vulnerable with any of the women he’s had relations with, making sure his hard exterior remains impenetrable.

“You shouldn’t walk near that building that late at night. It’s dangerous,” he tells her, fixing his slight moment in weakness.

“I live a block away from there, and I haven’t had trouble until tonight,” her voice is stronger now. Ashton wonders if she’s got more courage from her warm shower or if there’s alcohol in her hot chocolate.

Testing his theory, Ashton picks up the other cup and takes a drink. All he tastes is milk chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, no alcohol detected. What changed?

“Why were you walking alone so late?” he asks. His interrogation voice rises to the surface, and he sees her fingers tighten on the cup.

“I teach ballet on Fifth and I stayed later,” she sniffs, her long nail traces the rim of the cover. “It started raining so I continued dancing hoping it would end, but it didn’t, and I had to get home.” Her eyes raise to his. “Why were you parked in that alley?”

“What age range do you teach?” he dodges her question. Luke’s unfinished question if she’s one of Rozhkov’s associates hangs in the back of his head. Nadia is a Russian name, after all, so she very well could be. “What’s your last name?”

“Why aren’t you answering my questions?” she deflects, eyes narrowing.

“Why aren’t you answering mine?” Ashton leans forward, eyebrows raised.

Nadia sighs, keeping her gaze steady on his. “I teach from the ages of four to ten, and my last name is Sharapova.”

Ashton’s jaw clenches, he needs to be on high alert because she could very well be working with Aleks Rozhkov. But his instinct is telling him she’s not associated at all, that she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her newfound confidence is questionable though. Ashton needs to do some more probing.

“Can you answer my questions now?” she asks, her tone is a bit softer, and it throws Ashton for a loop again.

“You only asked me one,” he points out, forcing himself not to smirk. “And I already answered it, I had to speak with them about business.”

“What kind of business? Are you a club owner? Is this Aleks guy a competitor of yours?” she’s rapid fire now, and Ashton thinks the hot shower and dry clothes has brought this out of her.

The innocence is still shining in her eyes, but Ashton is smart enough to not share his true business with someone. No matter how beautiful they are.

“I do own the club downstairs, and Aleks Rozhkov is…a competitor of some sorts, yes,” he nods.

“You only answered two of my questions,” she murmurs behind her cup before taking another drink.

“I can’t answer the first one. It’s better you don’t know what I do. Do you only teach ballet or dance in a troupe?” he asks. The surprised flick of her eyebrows tells him she’s impressed by his terminology, he hides his smirk behind his cup.

“I’m in a troupe,” she nods, “um, I dance with the Chamber City Company.”

“How long have you been with them?”

“Four years. Why can’t I know what you do?”

Ashton lets out air from his nose, she’s not letting this go.

“It’s dangerous for you and I don’t want to put you in any more danger like you were in earlier.”

Nadia sinks a little further into the couch, her hands clutching her hot chocolate tighter to her chest. “Are we safe here?”

Ashton mentally reprimands himself; he doesn’t want her to fear him, yet here he is treating her like the common offender that he deals with daily. Firing questions at her and questioning her motives when really, she’s an innocent woman.

“I’m sorry Nadia, I don’t mean to scare you,” he sets his hot chocolate on the coffee table rubbing his face with his hand. He’s reminded that his rings are gone, he feels exposed then removes his hand to look at her. “And I don’t mean to offend you with my questions, I’m only trying to figure you out. I promise you that you are completely safe here. I can—”

There’s another knock at his door, and Ashton becomes a little irritated. When he’s in his office, unless they’re called, no one is to disrupt him.

“Excuse me,” he tells her then moves to the door. He opens it to see Michael standing there, his cross earrings dangling. “What?”

“There’s been a raid by the abandoned building you were at earlier,” Michael says in a rush.

“Michael, you only come to my office if it’s vital, how is this important?”

“Because it was her apartment that was raided,” Michael glances behind Ashton at Nadia.

Ashton looks behind him, Nadia’s back is to them, and he pushes Michael back into the hallway so he can close the door.

“How do you know that? You don’t even know her name—”

“Nadia Sharapova? Yeah, I do. I was given a list of names and photos of the residents and when Luke saw her photo, he told me you brought her here. Does she have any connection with Aleks?” Michael asks.

“No, she doesn’t,” Ashton shakes his head.

“Are you sure? I know she’s pretty, Ashton but—”

“She’s not, all right?” Ashton snaps. “Why was it raided?”

“The three men you fought told Aleks you defended her and now he thinks she’s close to you. She’s a target now,” Michael responds quietly.

“Shit,” Ashton hisses, his hands curling into tight fists and he begins to pace. When he comes in front of Michael he stops, “what’s it look like outside?”

“Nothing in sight. We think he might’ve set the raid as a warning, to let you know he’s watching. I can send everyone downstairs home and bring in our best—”

“No, no, keep everyone here. I don’t want to raise alarm,” Ashton is rubbing his chin now in thought. “Make sure the right people know what’s going on, and check on Meyers that his cover is still hidden. Have Asana assemble our needed artillery. I need to tell Nadia—”

“You’re really going to tell her you’re in the mafia?” Michael’s dark eyebrows disappear under his dirty blond hair.

“No, I need to tell her she doesn’t have a home to go to. Only come to my office if you have other news.”

“Yes sir,” Michael nods.

Ashton sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. His good deed of helping Nadia has now put her between a rock and a hard place. He’s not quite sure which one he is in the metaphor or which is worse. He opens the door to see she’s standing in front of the bookcase next to the fireplace. She jumps at his entrance.

“I’m sorry, I was—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves his hand, “I have quite a lot of books in here. Um, there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s going to be difficult to hear.”

Nadia crosses her arms over her chest, not in defiance, but in more of a comforting way. Ashton almost wishes he could be the one comforting her. She nods at him to go on.

“Aleks Rozhkov is a…dangerous man and one of my…colleagues just informed me that your apartment was raided by his men,” Ashton explains carefully. He wishes he could tell her everything, it pains him to skirt around the truth like this with her.

“How do you know it was my apartment? I only told you—”

“We were sent names and photos of the residents and yours is on that list. I’m so sorry. You’re more than—”

“Names and photos? What are you, the CIA or something?” her voice rises in hysterics. She begins to knot her fingers together then grabs a lock of her hair and twists it between her fingers. Her eyes are moving frantically about the room, “This isn’t—what is happening? Why would he send men to raid my apartment?”

“Nadia, listen to me,” Ashton speaks slowly, moving his head in her line of vision. His hazel meets her brown and her breathing becomes more even. “I promise to keep you safe, but you have to trust me.”

“How can I trust you when I just met you?”

***

Ashton opens the door to see Michael standing there, his green eyes frantic as he meets the gaze with his boss.

“Mike, you know the rules—”

“I know, I know but this is urgent. There’s a woman downstairs who says she works with Liam and he wants to speak with you.”

Silent alarms go off in Ashton’s head. Liam Payne. He hasn’t heard that name in five years. They used to be a team, Ashton and Liam. They owned the town and partied with the most beautiful women. Others feared them because together, they rose to the top at an exponential rate.

Both took over the family business after their father’s ran off and hid because they were caught with extortion of money from the police. At the ripe age of eighteen, they became head bosses and had to learn the ropes from the associates their father’s left behind. Bonding over that life-altering event, they shared ideas and became as close as brothers.

It didn’t take long for them to excel their fathers’ legacies, both Liam and Ashton were easily the most respected and valued amongst their associates. Liam was the one who thought of the idea of La Belle Vie since they were living the good life. Two young men in their early twenties partying, meeting beautiful women and getting rich? What more could you want?

Another life-altering moment happened with Liam when one of the women he was seeing became pregnant. He stepped down from his duties which meant stepping down from Ashton. Ashton could only understand to a degree of why Liam stepped away, but his father leaving him left a deeper wound than he thought.

His father was all he had, but even when he was around, Ashton never felt love from him. He was always gone on “business trips” and would only say a few words to Ashton when he was home. He grew up void of love. When his father ran, Ashton swore to himself he wouldn’t have a family so he wouldn’t treat his children the same way.

Liam came around and soon after so did Michael, Luke, and Calum. The four of them became his brothers, his true family. He vowed to protect them with his life. So, when Liam left, too, he felt abandoned all over again. But he’s proud that he left to be what their fathers couldn’t be, present.

There was a raid that was happening, and Ashton called Liam for backup. He could fight like no other and drives better than any professional racecar driver he’s ever met. Liam was quick to say yes and once he arrived it was just like old times. Liam filled Ashton in on the new house he and Tanya bought, how the nursery was going to be set up with dinosaurs because they were having a boy.

Ashton could see the change in Liam, he had a new light of happiness and even showed him a picture of a large diamond ring he bought to give Tanya. Ashton was happy for him, he truly was, but to have one of his best friends—his brother—back by his side made him happier.

The raid went awry as soon as Ashton and Liam crossed the threshold of the warehouse. There were explosions and Liam was quick to pull Ashton into cover. One of the Snatchers—the Rozhkov’s errand boys—ran by and Liam took care of him quickly with a flick of his wrist and pull of his trigger. Just as Ashton was about to ask what their new plan was, Liam’s phone rang.

He picked it up because it was Tanya. Ashton remembers hearing her crying through the phone, Liam asking her what was wrong, where she was and then a scream followed by the loudest dial tone Ashton ever heard, was left in her wake. One of the Snatchers cackled behind them, gloating to another that their plan worked.

Angry and confused, Liam sprung from his place with Ashton reaching for the coattails of his suit, his gun pointed directly at the two Snatchers. They cackled again as they informed Liam that his new cookie-cut-life is no more.

Tanya and his unborn baby were in the house as a bomb went off and Liam lost control.

“Ashton…Ashton!” Michael snaps his fingers in front of Ashton’s face, snapping him back to reality.

Ashton composed himself quickly, “Did he say what he wants?”

“No. Should I have him come upstairs?”

“No, no, I’ll…I’ll be right down. Seat him in the Brandy Room, have Paco make him whatever he wants.”

“You got it,” Michael responds quietly. He looks like he wants to say something else but nods instead and moves back to the elevator.

As soon as he’s gone, Ashton backs into his office. He hears his name but it’s as if his head is underwater, his ears are ringing, and the numb feeling is back. He walks robotically to his desk, eyes on his glass as he lifts it in his fingers then flings it across the room. The glass shatters loudly on the door, the wood glistens from the liquid and ice as it runs through the panes.

The resemblance of names makes his head pound. Then his ears stop ringing and he’s shifted back into focus, Nadia’s hands are clutching at his arms spinning him around to face her. When his hazel eyes meet her warm brown ones, he locks into her gaze and holds on. When she touches his cheek, his hand is quick to cover it, feeling her warmth on his skin.

“What is it? Talk to me,” she asks him softly.

“An old…” Ashton swallows harshly and licks his lips, “a family member is here that I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

Nadia’s eyes soften, she rubs his cheek with her thumb. “Okay. What for?”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head then knocks his forehead to hers. He breathes in her coconut and white gardenia perfume. All he wants is to stay here with her, but his past is flowing like a river into her life. He doesn’t want her to drown like him. “We didn’t leave on good terms.”

Nadia lifts her other hand to his cheek and stretches her lips forward to give him a soothing kiss. Ashton wraps his arms around her back, holding her close. She continues to stroke his cheeks lovingly. “You don’t have to tell me now,” she begins, “but if you’d like to talk about it, you know I’ll listen. Do you want me to stay up here and wait until you come back?”

“I’d like you with me,” he sighs giving in to his own selfish desires. Nadia helps keep him grounded, keeps his head level and his anger at bay.

“Okay,” she nods shifting her fingers to link together at the base of his neck.

Ashton pulls her into a tight embrace, he kisses her shoulder and exhales deeply as she kisses his ear. He gives her one more kiss before pulling back.

“How do I look?” he asks.

He watches Nadia fondly as she fixes his hair, adjusts his buttons and smooths down his shirt. Her eyes flick to his and she smiles.

“Handsome as ever.”

“Thank you, angel,” he forces half a smile. His mind is already downstairs on Liam waiting for him. Ashton grabs her hand, making sure she’s careful as they walk over the broken glass; he’ll ask Peter, one of his best waitstaff, to clean it up.

Their footsteps echo against the walls to the elevator. He leans against the parallel mirrored wall, the doors still open as Nadia settles next to him. She pushes the correct button and the doors close, showing their reflections.

***

Ashton and Nadia’s reflections stare back at them. They’re a good half a foot apart in the elevator as it starts to descend. He’s offered one of his guest rooms for her usage and for her safety. It took some convincing but after she finally agreed, he decided to take her to his place, it’s getting late.

He tries not to stare at her in the reflected elevator door but something about her captivates him. He wants to know more about her, and the thought terrifies him. the doors open once more and Ashton leads her down the hallway, he notices the way she inches closer to him, then pushes open the secret door.

There are only a few patrons left in the club, two of them being Luke and Michael sitting close together. Their heads snap in Ashton and Nadia’s direction as Ashton leads her by.

“See you tomorrow, boys,” Ashton tells them. They nod, eyes flickering to Nadia.

Once outside, Ashton opens the passenger door of his car for Nadia as she slides in. He makes sure to turn her seat warmer on which she thanks him for quietly. The ride is silent as he takes side streets and back roads, always taking the long way home in case he’s followed.

In another life, maybe he would be driving Nadia back to her place after a nice dinner, not back to his place because her home was raided. His fingers tap on the wheel reminding him how exposed they are without his rings. He’s being his most vulnerable with Nadia and they just met.

After twenty minutes, he’s pulled into his garage and shuts off his car.

“We—” when he looks at Nadia, her head is against the seat, eyes closed. He admires her for a moment, trying to decode what it is about her that has him going against his norm. Shadows from her long lashes kiss her cheeks and her cupid’s bow sticks out a little as she breathes evenly.

He doesn’t want to wake her. She looks so peaceful after a night of crazy circumstances that is ending even crazier by spending the night at a stranger’s house. Ashton sighs then exits the car moving to her side quickly. He opens the door and unbuckles her belt with care then places his hand on her shoulder.

“Nadia,” he calls her name softly. She sighs deeply, eyes fluttering open and she jumps in her seat taking in her new surroundings until her gaze lands on Ashton. “You’re all right. You fell asleep.”

He holds out his hand helping her get out, he can feel how heavy with sleep she is as they walk into the house. When they’re in the guest room, across the short skyway where Ashton’s room is, she’s practically hanging off his arms but he’s supporting her.

“There’s a bathroom just next door and remotes are in the nightstand if you’d like to watch TV,” he explains sitting her gingerly on the bed. “My room is right through the other end of the skyway, come get me if you need anything.”

Nadia nods heavily, her eyes drooping from exhaustion. Her adrenaline has finally started to subside, and she feels so drained.

“Thank you, Ashton,” she begins to crawl under the covers.

Ashton is frozen in place at the sound of his name leaving her lips. He watches her slip into the bed and curl up to one of the pillows. Her long brown hair fans behind her then he remembers it’s time to leave her be and rest. Even though everything in him wants to sit in the corner and make sure she does sleep soundly.

“Right,” he clears his throat, “Goodnight, Nadia.”

He closes the door as quietly as he can then walks through his skyway, his pathway illuminated by the moon. He hangs his suit jacket on the back of his chair, removing the rest of his clothes. Usually a man to sleep in his boxers, or naked, he pulls on some shorts and a tank top just in case. In case Nadia needs him and he doesn’t want to burst into her room completely naked.

As Ashton settles into his own California King bed, he stares up at his ceiling mulling over the events that happened tonight. Sitting outside the abandoned warehouse felt like days rather than mere hours ago. He didn’t even get a chance to investigate what exactly Rozhkov’s men were doing there. Nadia’s presence had completely shifted his focus and now all his attention is on her and keeping her safe.

He’s never truly felt alone until now, sure, he has his brothers, but this is a different kind of loneliness. It’s a loneliness of companionship while there’s a beautiful woman who crossed his path sleeping alone as well. What a twisted piece of fate.

The next morning, Ashton is on a phone call with Calum going over logistics of the raid in the kitchen when Nadia makes her way downstairs. Her arms are wrapped around herself as she takes in the whites and blacks of the appliances and surfaces, Calum’s voice drones on.

“I’ll call you back,” Ashton interrupts Calum then hangs up without a goodbye. “Good morning,” he greets Nadia.

“Morning,” she responds with a wan smile, eyes still taking in the room. Then she zeroes in on a coffee pot.

“Would you like a cup?” Ashton springs into action quickly by opening a cupboard and grabbing a mug. He pours her a decent amount then shifts to the fridge opening it up. “I have quite a selection of creamer, what would you like?”

“Um, do you have French vanilla?” she steps towards him peering into the fridge doors.

He pulls the requested creamer from the door then moves to her cup he’s started; she follows like a shadow. Ashton swirls the contents then pops the top and begins to pour.

“That’s good,” she stops him when the cream blooms in the dark coffee.

“Sugar?” he asks opening another cabinet. He realizes the double meaning of the sweet product and the pet name, for some reason he wishes he were calling her that.

“Two spoons.”

He stirs the concoction together with a spoon, tapping it on the lip before turning around to hand it to her. Nadia takes it graciously, blowing gently over the hot liquid before taking a tentative sip. She hums in approval then gives Ashton a smile.

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

He’s hypnotized by her eyes, being this close and in the natural light he can see tiny flecks of green and gold around her pupils. He blinks then lifts his own mug back into his hand.

“How did you sleep?”

“All right. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened last night…”

Ashton notices her shy demeanor is back.

“I know, it is a lot. I was speaking with a colleague of mine before you came in and he’s going to check it out, make sure there isn’t anything dangerous left behind. I was thinking I could take you there so you can gather some of your things and bring here,” Ashton suggests.

The notion didn’t sound so odd in his head but now that he said it aloud, he’s realized how peculiar it is to have a woman he saved from the street move in with him in less than twenty-four hours. Even if it is temporary. He hopes she doesn’t question his motives, that she can see he only wants to protect her.

Nadia takes another drink of her coffee. “That sounds like a good idea, thank you,” her voice wavers slightly.

She leans against the counter, staring outside as two little birds dance around each other on the birdbath. She tilts her head as one of the birds do, wings flittering before it hops into the water near to the other bird.

“I’m assuming you want me to stay here because it would be safer than a hotel?” Nadia asks thoughtfully.

“Your assumption would be correct,” Ashton moves from her side to stand in front of her, he cocks his head so he can capture her attention. “I want you to feel safe, Nadia. I’m so sorry that you’ve been brought into this and I hope you trust me.”

“Can’t the police do anything?” she asks, and he smiles smugly.

“I’m better than the police, trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she downs the rest of her coffee, eyes flickering to the two birds who are now gone then back to Ashton. “That’s what scares me.”

Nadia then retired to her room while Ashton waited to hear from Calum about her apartment building. When he received an all clear, he ascends the stairs walking across the skyway then pauses before he knocks gently on her door. She responds with a quiet ‘come in’ and when he opens the door he finds her sitting on the window seat with her legs curled up underneath her gazing out the window.

How can she be so effortlessly beautiful?

“Um, if you’d like to get changed we can head on over to your place,” he says from the doorway.

She turns her head then slips off the seat, her bare feet sinking in the plush carpet with every step. “I have nothing to change into,” she shrugs, “this is all I have right now.”

Ashton curses himself.

“Right. Um, then let me get dressed and we’ll make our way there. I won’t be long; you can meet me in the kitchen.”

Ashton changed into one of his more casual suits, making sure he had his gun holstered inside the jacket, before meeting Nadia in the kitchen. Their drive is silent, Ashton doesn’t really know what to expect when they arrive at her building. He made sure Calum would be there and stand guard outside while Ashton and Nadia were upstairs.

He parks smoothly along the curb, rushing to her side of the car so he can open the door for her. Calum meets them halfway on the sidewalk, he grins at Nadia kindly.

“Calum, this is Nadia. Nadia, this is Calum, he’s a colleague of mine and a brother,” Ashton introduces them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nadia,” Calum grins again holding out his hand which Nadia takes. “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nadia smiles weakly. When their hands release, she crosses her arms over her chest, an action Ashton notices she does a lot.

“We all right to go in?” Ashton asks nodding to the building.

“Yeah, everyone else is out. I spoke with the landlord and he said he’s going to have authorities take over to try and catch the—whoever did this.” Calum glances at Nadia then Ashton, he heard from Michael that Ashton doesn’t want her to know what his line of work is.

“I know who did this,” Nadia offers throwing a quick glimpse to Ashton, “he just won’t tell me why.”

Calum’s eyebrows raise in amusement, eyes darting between his boss and this woman he rescued the night prior.

“He’s a smart man. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

“Thanks Calum,” Ashton claps him on the shoulder as Nadia skirts around him. She pulls on the door; Ashton follows her down the hall to the elevator. “Which one are you in?”

“4C,” she says pushing the number four.

He follows her again as she walks down the hallway to the fourth door on the right, he knows Calum cleared the building but he’s keeping his wits about him. Nadia pulls her key from the pocket of her borrowed sweatpants, slotting it in the lock and turning. He notices her shoulders rise, then fall before she pushes the door open.

Peering over her head he can see the destruction her apartment is in. Plates and mugs are broken on the kitchen floor, chairs and tables are overturned. Her couch is even ripped open on the seats and she takes tentative steps inside, Ashton close behind. Picture frames are askew on the wall or tossed on the floor along with magazines, books, and dirt from upturned plants.

After taking in his surroundings, he shifts his focus to Nadia who has her hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she takes in her home. Nadia walks slowly to certain areas; her couch and her bookshelf in the corner, a spot on the wall that has impressions of picture frames left on the paint. When she pushes open her bedroom door, that’s when she gasps.

Not wanting her to be here longer than necessary, he moves behind her with his hand out as if to hold onto her elbow or cup her shoulder in comfort. He drops his hand in silent defeat, shoving it in his pocket instead.

“I can help you pack some clothes or pillows or whatever you need—”

“Can I have a few minutes, please?” she asks quietly, her voice cracking.

“I can—”

“Please, just…five minutes, Ashton.”

Ashton backs out of her room silently. Before he can make it to her main door, he hears her choked sobs as she cries. He swears in that moment he will protect her with his life.

***

The two men standing guard in front of the Brandy Room door, Charlie and Emil, step aside as soon as Ashton and Nadia approach. They nod solemnly to Ashton then smile in unison to Nadia as they open the doors. Nadia notices the usual men and women standing along the border of the room, Ashton always had his best security in La Belle Vie but she pauses on the woman with sleek black hair sitting at the table and a man in an Armani suit standing with his back to them. She assumes this is the family member Ashton is nervous about.

“Liam,” Ashton calls his name and Liam turns.

Nadia’s taken aback at how handsome he is, sharp jaw, chiseled beard with an odd, hard glint in his eyes but when he smiled it disappeared. When he smiled Nadia was reminded of a puppy that she wanted to get to know.

“Ashton! How’s it going, mate?” Liam sets his short glass of brandy on the circular table in front of him. He walks around the table, his arms opening wide for a hug but Ashton steps back. Liam chuckles shaking his head, resting his hand on the back of one of the chairs. “I deserve that,” he indicates the woman, “this is Veronica.”

Veronica has almond shaped eyes that are a piercing green in color. A beauty mark lies above her perfectly full lips. She stares at them as if bored and Nadia feels very intimidated

“We’ve met briefly,” Ashton’s voice is clipped as he keeps his gaze on Liam. “What are you doing here, Liam?”

“We’re not done with introductions yet! Who may you be, love?” Liam peers behind Ashton at Nadia.

Ashton turns to her; his face softens as he stares at her. He wants to hold her hand, but he knows if he does in this moment, he’ll be weak at her touch which is the opposite of what he wants to be right now.

“This is Nadia.”

Liam brushes past Ashton to take Nadia’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips, smiling on her knuckles.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nadia. I’ve heard whispers about you and they’re true, you are an exceptionally beautiful woman,” he murmurs then kisses her knuckles before releasing her hand.

Nadia’s cheeks flush at the compliment, she’s quick to peek at Ashton whose jaw is clenched at the interaction. She knows how protective he is of her and although Liam looks like a puppy when he smiles, he could have a mean bite for all she knows.

“Thank you,” she replies politely, nonetheless.

“What are you doing here, Liam?” Ashton asks again forcing his voice to remain even and controlled.

“I hear Aleks is still at large and I want to help end him,” Liam shoves his hand in his pocket walking back around the table. He struts confidently as if he owns the place and Nadia is confused at how comfortable he seems as he picks up his glass and takes a smooth swallow. “Veronica has been my little fly on the wall relaying what’s been going on to me.”

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“Spying, getting intel…it’s all relative,” Liam shrugs finishing off his drink. He places his empty glass on the table then leans on it with his palms. “I’m sick of him getting away with shit. I know you’ve got a plan and I want in.”

Ashton is reverted to that horrible day, where he lost his brother forever. Liam went ballistic and charged for the Snatchers who were boasting about the death of his girlfriend and unborn son. It was a distraction that took Ashton and Liam from the main quandary of reaching Aleks.

Ashton hurled himself into the throes of Liam’s rage and broken heartedness until the Snatchers were unconscious. Then Liam fired two kill shots into their foreheads. Aleks got away. Liam and Ashton had a fallout with harsh words then Ashton was abandoned again.

“What do you say?” Liam’s voice pulls Ashton back to the present.

“Why do you want to help now? I haven’t seen nor heard from you in five years, Liam. You don’t want this li—you don’t want a part of this…business… anymore,” Ashton catches himself because of Nadia’s presence.

Liam’s eyes flicker between Ashton and Nadia, the corner of his mouth twitches as he makes the connection that Nadia is completely in the dark of Ashton’s true business. He lets it slide this time.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I want to get rid of Rozhkov more. Veronica is my eyes and ears and when she heard Rozhkov is selling or buying or whatever the hell he does, I had to see you. Just think about it, yeah?” Liam reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a card. He holds it out to Nadia between his two fingers, she plucks it delicately from him. “I know he won’t take it from me, but I can tell he trusts you, beautiful. Make sure he calls me.”

He winks at her quickly, gives Ashton one final look then snaps his fingers. Veronica springs from her seat gliding to the door as they both make their exit. Nadia reads the card in her hand, it’s slate gray with silver writing that reads his name and below that it says ‘Efficient in getting the job done’ followed by a phone number.

Ashton exhales loudly, leaning on the tabletop and Nadia shifts her attention to him. She moves forward, stroking her hand over his back while the other grips his bicep giving him a comforting squeeze. She waits patiently for him to say something, analyzing how heavy his body seems. Not entirely sure on what he did today, she can tell that whatever it was has left him drained then Calum’s advice pops in her head.

“Let’s go home, get you in a nice hot shower and into to bed,” she offers.

He stands to his full height, sighing with a smirk as he strokes her cheek with his fingers.

“I’ll never deny a shower with you, angel. Come on.”

The couple say their quick goodbyes to everyone in the main room of the club, Calum and Asana now seated at the bar. Asana’s long legs are crossed as she sits atop the bar, Calum’s hand resting on her knee as he eyes Ashton after watching Liam exit the Brandy Room. Ashton shakes his head, Calum nods in understanding then turns his attention back to Asana who pokes his nose with her gold painted fingernail.

Ashton keeps a firm hand on Nadia’s thigh as he races home. The events of the day and seeing Liam are trying to catch up with him but he doesn’t want to face them quite yet. He’ll face them after spending time with Nadia in the shower and in their bed until she inevitably falls asleep from the activities they’ll be participating in.

Nadia takes the lead by grabbing his hand and pulls him upstairs to their shared bedroom. While she gathers their towels, Ashton discards his gun from his holster. He unloads it, double checks the safety is on and places it in the perfect outline of the case next to his side of the bed. Before Nadia, he’d always kept it loaded and right on the nightstand but now, he didn’t want her to accidentally pick it up and hurt herself.

He shuts the case with a satisfying snap then turns to Nadia who’s leaning against the opening of the bathroom door. She flashes him a keen smile then pushes off the door jamb entering the bathroom. The water sprays on as he makes his way into the bathroom just in time to see Nadia reach for her zipper.

“Let me,” he tells her softly. His fingers overtake hers, pulling the zipper down its track to the very bottom of her lower back. He brushes the straps off her tanned skin, the fabric drops to the floor in melted gold. She turns around and his breath is stolen at the sight of her naked body before him. “I’ll never get over how beautiful you are.”

Her cheeks flush, then Ashton watches her intently as she unbuttons his dress pants yanking his shirt from the waistband before working on the buttons of his shirt. He lets her push it off his shoulders while he kicks off his boots. He takes over by removing his pants, boxers and socks; his eyes never straying from hers. He lets her lead him into the large shower, steam rolling over them in clouds.

In a controlled manner, he cradles the back of her head in his hand pushing her against the dark tiled wall under the stream of water. Nadia gasps at the movement then hums when he presses his body against hers. She tilts her head back, eyes darkening with lust and love. He smirks at her submission, moving his hand from the back of her head to her neck, his thumb pulling her mouth open.

“What do you want from me, angel?” he asks huskily dipping his head so he can kiss the underside of her jaw. His teeth graze at the lobe of her ear before sucking a bruising kiss on her neck, his favorite form of showing she’s his woman, his love. “Speak to me.”

“Your lips,” she sighs, and he smiles pulling his head back to meet her eyes.

“Where do you want my lips?”

Nadia raises her hand then taps her bottom lip. “Right here.”

He crushes his mouth to hers, tongue invading her mouth easily and he tightens his grip on her waist and the back of her neck. His fingers knot in her hair while her hands travel up his back, squeezing the muscles in his shoulders. He feels as if he’s kissing her too roughly, so he reins it back. Many times before, he’s taken his frustration out by releasing it in rough sex with her. He knows her body well so he knows what she can take, and she always, always has a safe word that if she utters it he will stop whatever he’s doing immediately.

Right now, though, he wants a different form of passion with her, so he kisses her slowly.

“What else?” he mumbles on her lips and she hikes her leg up to his waist. The height difference makes it difficult because she can’t get a firm grip, so he helps by securing his hand behind her knee. His already hard and aching dick brushes against her inner thigh, she bucks her hips forward.

“Want you to fuck me,” she gasps, her nails digging into his skin.

“Already? You don’t want my fingers first?” he teases pushing his hips against hers. Her eyes close and he grins. “You were so good for me in my office…took my fingers so well.”

“Please, Ashton, please,” she whines trying to grind her core over his hot, wet dick.

He leans back then lifts her other leg, so it hooks around his waist securely. He grabs the base of his dick, rubbing his head through her leaking folds, pushing in slightly. Nadia bites her lip.

“You want me to go slow or fast?” he pushes in more, his senses tingling by feeling her warm walls take him in.

“Fast,” she whispers, eyes lowering to watch him enter her inch by inch.

As soon as he’s slotted into her fully, Nadia gasps from the fullness of him, and he begins a fast pace of thrusting. His grip is firm on her thighs as he holds her against the shower wall, cock propelling easily with his force. Nadia’s nails scratch at his back while her body jerks against the tile, her head smacking it as well.

Ashton nudges his hand behind her head as a cushion, he doesn’t want her to get a headache but continues to pound relentlessly into her as her moans bounce off the walls from the stimulation. With each push she clenches around him and it brings Ashton closer to his release. Nadia’s head falls to his neck, her lips suctioning onto his skin.

“Nadia,” he warns through his teeth not wanting a mark to show and he slows his movements. She moans against him instead, her breath hot on his skin, teeth still embedded on his shoulder. “Nadia,” he repeats more sternly, and she releases her teeth.

Satisfied, he picks up his pace, dick slamming in and out in an effortless glide. Her moans are more consistent as she’s rocked with pleasure, clenching around him as she comes.

“That’s my good girl,” he groans, his own orgasm taking over. His hips continue to pulsate against her, his body stilling as they both come down.

Nadia hums, releasing her nails from his skin that Ashton’s sure is covered in red streaks. He doesn’t mind those marks because his men won’t see those. He loves the lasting impression of her passion ingrained in his back, the burn a constant reminder of their fiery love.

He kisses her wet hair, thumb rubbing at the bottom of her scalp before lifting her off him. He sets her down tenderly onto the floor keeping a steady hand on her hips as her legs shake slightly. He glides his hands up and over her chest to cradle her cheeks.

“Let’s clean up and go to bed, yeah? What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she mumbles.

He smiles at her response, it’s not quite the one he was looking for now, but he appreciates it all the same. It was a method he came up with. If she didn’t thank him for an orgasm, it meant he didn’t satisfy her enough—or at all—so that’s his green light to keep going until he pleasured her.

He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, then gives her a soft peck on the lips before he cleans her up. They massage shampoo in each other’s hair, letting it rinse off as they held each other kissing under the water. Ashton turns the water off and wraps her in the large fluffy towel.

As their bodies dry, they brush their teeth and he brushes through her hair after she toweled it off. It’s one of his most favorite intimate acts to do with her, Nadia adores her hair and he loves the shine and softness of it. Changing into their sleep clothes, he shuts the light off as she crawls into their large bed. When he’s settled next to her, he turns her by the cheek to look up at him.

“I love you, Nadia. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I do. I love you, too, Ashton.” She stretches up to give him a kiss. “Get some sleep and we can discuss Liam tomorrow, okay? I know you’re thinking about it.”

He doesn’t reply as she nestles into the sheets and against his chest, she’s asleep in seconds. Ashton remains awake for hours after. His mind reeling from his past coming into his present, it’s bringing forth emotions he thought he’s long forgotten. Nadia’s fingers tighten on his tank top, sighing out “sleep, honey. ‘m right here.”

He kisses her head then closes his eyes, she’s his weakness as much as she’s his strength.

***

It’s been three weeks now that Nadia has been staying with Ashton. In that time, he’s driven her to and from work and to practice in the city. He’s always parked outside so he can watch for Rozhkov’s men and thankfully she’s been safe every time. Ashton prefers when they’re at his home or La Belle Vie because he knows Nadia is one hundred percent safe.

With his new role of security for Nadia, Calum, Luke, and Michael have all stepped up to take over his usual duties at the club and intercepting phone calls. Ashton is constantly in the know on everything which caused endless late nights; he’s running on caffeine.

The only time Nadia and Ashton are truly apart are when he’s in meetings at the club and while they sleep. One night while he was sending e-mails, he heard a commotion from the kitchen. Jumping into action quickly, he flew down the stairs with his hand on his gun, when he saw her poking around in the cabinets.

Sighing with relief, he removed his hand as he approached her slowly while also forcing himself not to stare at her long legs extended from her shorts.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and she jumped at his voice.

“Yeah, I’m…I can’t sleep so I was looking for a snack…I’m sorry, this isn’t my home I shouldn’t be—”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” he shook his head. “I’m the reason you’re here, treat it like your home. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Popcorn?”

When the popcorn was popped and in a large glass bowl, he invited her into his study that was opposite his room. Hearing her munch on the popcorn behind him was oddly endearing as they walked through the skyway. He motioned to a plush armchair that had a blanket thrown over the back. Periodically he would place blankets all over the house for her to use, they appeared to be a comfort for her.

“You’re still in a suit this late?” she asked pulling the gray knit blanket over her legs. “Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not really,” he shrugged crossing out a number on his sheet of paper. “I’ve been wearing suits since I was eighteen.”

“It’s like a dress code,” she mumbled shoving popcorn into her mouth.

“How so?” he grinned.

“All of you wear them. When we’re at La Belle Vie, everybody there is in a suit. Even the women, which, isn’t a bad thing of course, but it’s…interesting.” She gave him a narrowed look and he laughed.

“Are you making observations?”

“I am. I’m trying to do process of elimination.”

“For what?”

“Figuring out your job.”

Ashton froze. The playful banter was short lived like he should expect, but he never wants her to know what he does or has done in the past. He never wants her to see the copious amounts of blood on his hands.

“You won’t figure it out, and it’s better if you don’t. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, remember?”

Nearly every night after that, she would join him in his study while eating a bowl of popcorn talking with him until she finished it. It was always his favorite part of the day, spending this time with her. He got to ask her questions and understand her the more she opens up about herself.

He discovered she started dancing at the young age of four, she was constantly dancing and spinning around the house until her parents decided to set her up with lessons. Nadia quickly danced her way to the top of her class and was always excelling to the next age level, two years ahead her own age.

While ballet had its own structure and poise, Nadia really felt free when she danced, like it was the only place for her to be. She received a full scholarship to Juilliard at the age of seventeen, even studied abroad in the Royal Ballet School in London for one semester and then in The Paris Opera Ballet School in Paris.

Ashton is impressed by her successes asking what made her decide to dance at the Chamber City Company when there are plenty other prime ballet companies to be a part of.

“I love it here; I love teaching other young dancers and ballet is more of my soul than a job. If I were to join any other troupe, I’d be run like a machine and it wouldn’t be enjoyable,” she explained.

On another night, he found out how much she loves chocolate covered strawberries and the fog that blankets over dewy grass in the early mornings. Her guilty pleasure is watching classic black and white romance movies amongst her other likes of Italian food and dislikes of avocadoes. Her brown eyes shine a bit brighter when she talks of her interests, but nothing compares to the sparkle in them when she talks about her dancing.

She’s tried to figure out what his job really entails but Ashton catches on to her innocent questions easily and doesn’t reveal a thing. She never gives up and although he admires her perseverance, it upsets him that he continually lies to her but it’s for her own protection. He knows he’s rationalizing, but he brought her into this mess and telling her the truth would make it messier.

Nadia’s upstairs in the bar area with Michael while Ashton is down in the third lowest level of the club with Asana in the weapons room. She’s tapping away at her laptop while he eyes up some new artillery she has displayed out for him.

“I hear you’re going to Italy soon,” Asana starts conversationally.

“I’ve been trying to get out of it,” he mumbles.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to leave Nadia alone.”

Asana smirks and continues typing when she replies, “Why don’t you bring her with you?”

“Absolutely not,” Ashton deadpans, the look on his face clearly signifying it wasn’t open for discussion.

“She’s safest with you,” Asana sighs and closes her laptop. She leans on it; her dark eyes pierce his. “And if Aleks is keeping eyes on you, he’d use your distance from her as an advantage. He could come here and take her out while you’re gone.”

Ashton ponders this for a moment. He would trust Luke and Michael to protect her while he was gone but Asana has a point; Nadia is safest with him. Wherever he goes, there’s plenty of security plus he’s a deadly weapon himself.

“Wouldn’t that be moving too fast? I’ve known her for three weeks and I’d already be bringing her on a trip to Italy? What would she even do while I’m meeting with the Guerriero’s?”

“I could come with and take her shopping,” she smiles.

“This isn’t a vacation, Asana. And Calum would be working as well.”

“I know, and you know that I protect my own,” Asana’s voice turns assertive. “I can see how much she means to you, boss man. Three weeks or three years, there isn’t a deadline on caring for someone. It happens unexpectedly.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no,” Asana shrugs crossing her arms. “I’ll stay here and help make sure she’s safe and going to practice. Have you seen her dance yet, by the way?”

“No…should I have?”

“I’ve read the forums and reviews of the Chamber City Company, and she’s the best dancer. I was only curious.”

“I’m sure I will someday. Thanks Asana, I’ll think about what you said,” he says then turns to the door, but he stops. “What’s going on between you and Cal anyway?”

“Figure it out, boss man,” she sighs airily then goes back to her work.

Later that night Nadia knocks on his study door and Ashton invites her in with a dull tone. He’s standing near the window rubbing the knots in his neck as she enters. His suit jacket has been tossed on one of the armchairs and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He’s been stressed all night.

“Everything all right?” Nadia asks setting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. She crosses her arms over her chest approaching his desk.

“Not really,” he sighs. “I’m needed in Italy for the next four days. I’ve tried negotiating and sending only Calum but they’re requesting me.”

“Why’s that a bad thing?”

Ashton turns to look at her, his jaw tensing. “I won’t be here to protect you. And while I trust my men and women to do that while I’m away…it puts me at ease when I know for sure you’re safe. With me.”

A soft pink blooms on Nadia’s cheeks at his sentiment. Over the last few weeks, her trust in Ashton has increased tenfold. He’s treated her with the utmost respect and never overcrowds her. He’s sure to give her her space and that she feels comfortable in his house. She’s still trying to figure out his line of business but her only leads are that it’s dangerous and Ashton is fearfully respected from everyone around him.

“Oh. Would I be here by myself?”

“No,” he responds quickly, “I’d have Michael and Luke here with you. My security system is top of the line but--”

“How long would you be gone?”

“Four days. There’s another option but I’m unsure of it,” he swallows thickly then rests his hands on the desk. He lifts his head looking at her in an almost morose way as he weighs the options he’s been given.

“What’s that option?”

“Asana, my head specialist, suggested I bring you with me so I would know you’re safe. But by knowing me…your life has already been upturned, and I don’t want to add more by flying you across the world.”

Nadia chews on her lower lip. How odd is it that if he were to leave her here, she’d be worried about him? From what she’s gathered on her own probing, his job is dangerous, but she doesn’t know exactly why or how.

Since the moment they met, he’s been protecting her with his life.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” she says brightly.

Ashton’s eyebrows raise in bemusement then he’s laughing, and Nadia follows.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to miss practice or your classes with your students.”

“I’m sure. I can get a sub and practice is on hold because the floors are being redone. There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t have a passport,” she laughs nervously. Excitement and nerves bubble in her stomach at the thought of traveling to Italy. She has always wanted to go but never would have dreamed it would be with a man like Ashton, this mysterious, handsome man who has taken her in.

“I can have that arranged, Nadia.”

***

Every morning before Nadia leaves for practice she and Ashton share a cup of coffee and a light breakfast of English muffins and fruit. She leaves the remaining crumbs outside for the birds that always come by the feeder and birdbath, a request she made to Ashton long ago of keeping birdseed on hand. There’s something about watching them that soothes her and always brings a smile to her face.

“How long is practice today?” Ashton asks watching her place the small scraps of food in her palm.

“Three, then I teach from four to five thirty,” she rises from her place at the table and opens one of the French doors. Ashton watches her as she sprinkles the treats on the wooden platform of the feeder then comes back inside to stand next to him. “Do we have plans tonight?”

“Well,” he sighs winding his arm around her waist to pull her closer, “I’ve got a big meeting today that I’m hoping won’t go until five thirty. I was thinking we could go downtown to Caesar’s Palace for dinner?” He rests his other hand on her stomach, rubbing her affectionately.

“You know I never turn down Caesar’s,” she smiles brushing his dark hair away from his forehead. “Should I have Vinny drop me off at the club or come home and wait for you?”

“Meet me at the club, I’m having a new dress delivered for you,” he grins up at her and Nadia tugs on his hair.

“Ashton! What did we just discuss last night?” she whines in mock irritation.

“I can’t help it that I want to spoil you, baby,” he tickles her stomach until she’s doubling over squealing in laughter.

“Spoil me too much and I might get used to it,” she growls lowly in his ear. She nips at the shell of his ear and Ashton tries to drag her onto his lap but Nadia fights away from his grasp. “No, no,” she wiggles her finger at his perplexed expression; she’s never pulled away from him before. “If I spoil you too much, you might get used to it, honey.”

She twirls on her heels and Ashton has half a mind to follow after her, take her in his arms and press her against the kitchen island while his teeth graze along her throat and his fingers slip into her shorts. He restrains himself, knowing that in doing what he desires will leave them both late which isn’t much of a concern for himself, but he doesn’t want to put Nadia in that position. So, he watches her in an ever-growing fondness as she skips upstairs to their room to get dressed.

Within an hour, both Ashton and Nadia are in the main foyer waiting for Vinny to arrive. Ashton is making sure his cufflinks (black with his initials in gold) are situated perfectly while Nadia is plucking off small pieces of lint that only she can see off his shoulders. Her hair is done up in a French chignon with some fly aways shaping her face.

“So, at precisely five forty-five you will be in your office waiting for me for dinner?” she asks, her eyebrows flicking up.

“If the meeting goes well, yes, I will be waiting anxiously for you at five forty-five itching with excitement to help you change into your new dress,” he winks.

“You’re terrible,” Nadia giggles gathering her bags in her arms and over her shoulders. “There won’t be room in our closet if you keep buying me all these dresses.”

“I could always have a new closet built for you,” he suggests tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“My own Barbie Dream Closet, huh?”

“If you say so, doll,” he grins bending down to give her a tender kiss. Nadia sighs into his affection, always welcoming it.

“People will think you dress me every morning,” she mumbles on his lips.

“I prefer to undress you,” his mouth travels to her ear. Nadia snickers and pushes on his chest, but his grip is tight on her forearm.

“You’ve been insatiable, lately,” she sighs in appreciation, “what’s gotten into you?”

Ashton’s lips freeze on her lobe as her words set in. He’s acting the way he did when he was eighteen with Liam, the feeling of losing control so he tried to combat it by fixating it on his sexual endeavors. He doesn’t want Nadia to be a part of that spectrum, but with Aleks Rozhkov coming at large and Liam reappearing, it seems he’s slipping into his old self.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs kissing her cheek innocently before pulling away. “Things have been tense at work.”

“We can talk about it at dinner, and Liam if you want. He’s a big part of this too, right?” Nadia frowns.

Ashton sighs, he desperately wants to tell her everything about his life. She’s been wrapped up in it with him for almost a year and a half. Could he tell her? Should he tell her? Before he can answer, there’s a swift knock on the front door, Vinny’s arrived and Ashton sighs again.

“We’ll talk at dinner. Have a good day and dance your heart out for me, okay?”

“I always do,” she smiles rising on her toes to give him a kiss. “I love you. Don’t work too hard.”

“I love you, too, angel,” he grins opening the door. “Vinny.”

“Hello sir,” Vinny greets. He’s a tall, very broad-shouldered man with a crew cut. He’s tough as nails but is sweet as pie to Nadia, much like everyone in Ashton’s mafia family is. “I’ll make sure she’s at the club right at five forty-five.”

“Thanks Vinny,” Ashton nods as he takes Nadia’s bags from her. “I’ll try to call or text around lunchtime, Nadia.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” she steals another kiss to his cheek then follows Vinny to his matte black Bentley Bentayga that is equipped with bulletproof doors and windows. A feature added thanks to Asana that eases Ashton’s worry when she’s away from him.

Ashton feels the ticking of his watch against his wrist as he watches Calum circle a new Snatcher in the middle of the interrogation room. When he arrived at La Belle Vie, Ashton immediately went to his office to listen to voicemails from the Sheriff’s department and the Guerriero’s requesting his and Nadia’s presence at their annual party. He was called into the interrogation room at eleven o’clock.

Calum has only received bits of information that don’t hold value to Ashton, the Snatcher’s name and his birthday, which Ashton has already forgotten. Michael and Luke have been eyeing Ashton throughout the whole altercation, waiting for his order to do something more or to take the situation into his own hands.

Ashton is exhausted. Each tick of his watch is another reminder that he’s missed his window to call Nadia and it’s left him on a dangerous edge. He wants answers and his fingers twitch at the thought of getting them himself.

“Should we turn the heat up on him?” Michael asks almost excitedly. Luke perks up next to him, this has been a boring questioning for all of them.

Ashton unbuttons his suit jacket, and immediately one of his other associates is beside him to help remove the jacket. He sets his jaw while rolling up his sleeves carefully, watching Calum as he’s bent in front of the Snatcher.

“Hang that up,” Ashton orders motioning to his jacket, “I have dinner plans tonight.” He steps into the square patch of light, revealing himself to the Snatcher who visibly gulps at his appearance. It makes Ashton smirk. “Why don’t you take a break Cal, get a drink.”

“You sure, boss? I just got my ring cleaned and wanted to test it out on this fucker,” Calum turns his fist in the light, his engraved ring that also matches Ashton’s initials engraved ring glimmers. Each member has their initials in a ring so they can leave their mark like Ashton, it’s a form of unity.

“Maybe later. You’ve been at this too long, let me see if I can get our friend here to talk.”

“You’re in for it now,” Calum grins devilishly at the Snatcher. He gives Ashton a quick glance then backs into the darkness.

Ashton cocks his head to the side, folding his arms over his chest as he inspects the Snatcher like a car he’s thinking of buying. He’s contemplating on how to proceed. The ticking of his clock is felt on his whole arm, a constant reminder that his Nadia is dancing.

“From what I’ve heard, you were quite easy to catch,” he begins. “Why’s that?”

“It was either get caught by your stupid men or fall off the building,” the man responds. “I didn’t want to die so this seemed like the lesser option.”

“Oh, you think so?” Ashton smirks. “If that’s the case, then why did you gulp when I showed up?” he walks around the man slowly, taking in his body language. His arms are bound tightly behind him on the back of the chair, but his body is full of tension, Ashton can see the sweat on his neck as he comes back around to his front. “You’ve heard things about me, right?” Ashton bends over to look into his eyes.

The man clears his throat and licks his lips averting his gaze from Ashton’s. “Maybe.”

“I’m curious as to how you think being brought to me is the lesser option,” Ashton stands straight again, planting his feet.

“Others have been let go and told to change their identity.”

Ashton stares at him for a long time, waiting for the punchline because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. When the punchline doesn’t come, Ashton shakes his head sighing.

“Who told you that? Your boss Aleks? Hate to break it—actually, no, I’d love to break it to you, Snatcher, but he’s been lying to you. I don’t let people go.”

“Then just kill me.”

“No…no, I don’t think I will,” Ashton rubs his chin as if in contemplative thought. “This could be your lucky day where I do let you go after you give me the information I ask for. This tough act of mine could be just that, right? An act? So, tell me what Aleks is doing in my city again after being silent and you’ll be on your merry way to Mexico or wherever you think your other Snatcher fiends have disappeared to.”

There’s silence for a long moment, Ashton waits patiently. The ticking against his wrist feels harder, sounds louder, and it just makes him angrier that he couldn’t call Nadia on her lunch break. He can’t let that show right now, he wants the Snatcher to think he’ll walk free and release Aleks’ information.

“I have all day here,” he sighs, “I can order food and drink and enjoy it right in front of you until you talk. Because you will talk. Sandy beaches calling your name and all that.”

“It’s… it has nothing to do with you,” the Snatcher finally says, shoulders falling in defeat.

“What has nothing to do with me? You need to be more specific.”

“He—Aleks, he wants….” He shifts in his chair, but it only tightens the restraints on his body.

“What does he want?” Ashton implores stepping closer.

“He wants Nadia.”

Ashton fights to keep his composure while his associates react to that information and the ticking against his skin isn’t helping as it sounds a lot like her name. Na-dia, Na-dia, tick, tick. He inhales deeply through his nose.

“What does he want with her?”

“He’s getting paid from some anonymous person with a lot of money. They say she dances like no one has ever seen before.”

“What does this anonymous dealer plan to do?”

“Aleks will get paid in full and the anonymous person will kill her.”

Ashton flexes his fingers walking behind the Snatcher again, so he won’t see Ashton shaking with rage. He looks to Michael who understands what he wants without a word; to check on Nadia with Vinny. Michael exits the interrogation room with his phone already pressed to his ear.

Ashton regains his composure then circles back in front of the Snatcher; he rests his hands on the arms of the chair peering at him with a look that could honestly kill.

“What is the point of wanting her then killing her?” Ashton hates speaking the words out loud, it leaves a vile taste in his mouth.

“Aleks negotiated he’d have her as his own tiny dancer before sending her off to the anonymous dealer.”

Ashton stares him down, his anger boiling as the ticking of his watch persists. When he stands to full height he walks back around the chair just as Michael comes back into the room nodding his head that Nadia is all right.

“When does he plan on executing this plan?” Ashton’s voice is leveled.

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head vigorously which in part shakes his whole body. “Can I go now? I told you everything I know.”

Ashton slips his gun from his shoulder holster meticulously; he runs his fingers over his initials on the grip.

“You’re wrong again, because if it’s about Nadia,” he bends down so his mouth is level with the Snatcher’s ear, “it has everything to do with me. It isn’t your lucky day after all.” In one swift motion, Ashton stands straight releasing the safety and pulls the trigger into the back of the Snatcher’s head. “You would’ve been better off falling off that building.” The Snatcher’s body crumples forward as the shot echoes throughout the room. “Put the lights on please. Clean this mess up.”

He holsters his gun while extending his arm for his jacket that is placed over his forearm and he leaves the room. Noises of his associates springing into action follow him up the stairs to the bar. Calum is sitting near the edge of the bar as if waiting for Ashton to ascend.

“Ready for me?” Calum asks rising from his seat.

“He’s taken care of,” Ashton mumbles continuing to walk past him towards his office. Calum is quick to follow, knowing to remain silent in the elevator until they’re in the safety of his office.

Ashton tosses his jacket over the back of the couch moving to his drink cart and pours himself brandy in a crystal glass. He swallows it in one pull before he pours another then sits himself at his desk. Calum approaches him carefully.

“What’d you find out?” Calum asks sitting in one of his chairs.

Ashton circles the rim of the glass with his finger. “An anonymous dealer is paying Aleks to capture Nadia. Aleks plans to use her as his own tiny dancer before sending her off to the dealer who will then kill her.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton murmurs, removing his finger from the glass then sits back in his chair. Calum’s brows are furrowed in thought. “The Snatcher didn’t know anything else. Security is going to be tripled, and I’m going to contact Hotchkiss to be on high alert.”

“But Nadia’s all right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if she weren’t. I don’t want to alarm her, but I’m sending more men to her dance class to be safe until Vinny brings her back here.”

“What about her performance of Romeo and Juliet? That’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Shit,” Ashton hisses. He sighs deeply twisting his engraved ring. “I’ll have to tell her she can’t do it. I’m not risking her getting taken right under my nose.”

“She’s not going to like that, mate,” Calum shakes his head.

“Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. Her safety has always been my top priority, you know that, and she knows that.”

There’s a knock at the door and Peter, the best of Ashton’s waitstaff, enters swiftly.

“Sorry sir, this was delivered, and I was told to personally hand it to you,” Peter says holding out a square envelope.

Ashton takes it from him, inspecting his name scrawled on the front. “Thank you, Peter.” He cuts it open with his letter opener to see it’s an invitation. In a sloping font on hard parchment are the words:

Liam Payne requests the presence of Ashton Irwin and Nadia Sharapova at his favored residence of King’s Club at eight o’clock. Mr. Payne will be on the second floor.

Ashton curses and tosses the invitation across his desk. Calum picks it up, reads through it quickly then glances up at his friend, his boss, with eyebrows raised.

“So, he is back, then?”

“He wants to help take down Rozhkov apparently. I’ll go but Nadia isn’t coming.”

“You were just saying how you wanted security tripled. You know you’ll be more focused on her wellbeing than talking with Liam. Why don’t you want her to go?”

“He showed a little too much interest for my liking.”

Calum’s lips twitch. “Everyone shows a little too much interest in Nadia for your liking. She should go with you; I know how Liam being here is derailing you, but she helps keep you at ease. Security will still be tight, but if you don’t bring her she’ll know something’s up.”

Ashton sighs because he knows Calum is right. Nadia does keep him grounded and with the new information of requesting her kidnapping, he’d be a fool to let her out of his sight.

***

It’s the night before Nadia will be joining Ashton to Italy. She arrived home—how strange it is to call Ashton’s home hers and even stranger that it felt so natural—from ballet class to see bags set aside to the entrance of the kitchen. Curious, she inspects them closer to see one of them has a tag with her name on it. Ashton must have packed for her.

On the counter she saw his wallet and keys and a note of their flight departure, she noticed a passport wasn’t present. Had he forgotten she doesn’t have a passport? Nadia looks all over the counter and the kitchen table for the small blue book but saw nothing and decides to head upstairs in search of Ashton.

There’s low music coming from his room, the door partially closed. She knocks before opening it and doesn’t see Ashton. She steps in a bit further peering into his closet that was open to the right when the bathroom door swings open behind her.

“Nadia?”

“Oh!” she jumps turning around then gasps when she sees Ashton wearing nothing, but a black towel held in his fist on his waist. She ogles at his bare torso, the chains of his necklace shining with his tattoos on full display over his muscular stomach. Her eyes continue to travel over his perfectly curled chest hair down as it disappears in a thin trail passed his bellybutton. There are some scars littered about his skin that she wants to know each story of.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, fist tightening on the towel.

“Um, I’m sorry. I…uhh, I was…” she stutters forcing her eyes back up to his hazel ones that are dead set on her. Her cheeks warm by being caught gawking and clears her throat, “I saw things were packed downstairs but didn’t see a passport for me.”

“It will be on the jet tomorrow morning, don’t worry,” he smiles moving to his dresser. He pulls open a drawer, the muscles in his back flexing with the motion and Nadia’s mouth goes dry. There’s another tattoo on the back of his neck, some type of bird that piques her interest once more. Her eyes follow the slope of his back downward, stopping at the towel where she can see the outline of his ass. He turns around, his expression amused. “Is that all?”

His voice snaps her gaze away and she wishes the earth would open up and swallow her whole. How embarrassing to be caught not just once, but twice at checking out his body.

“That’s all,” she clears her throat once more then walks briskly to the door. “Um, thank you. Sorry.”

She rushes into her room, snapping the door closed behind her and touches her hands to her burning hot cheeks. The first thing she’d noticed about Ashton was how incredibly handsome he is, but she never thought of him without a shirt on. Now that she’s seen him—muscles, tattoos and all—that’s all she sees when she closes her eyes when she’s in bed.

The next morning, Ashton and Nadia arrive at the plane hangar just as the sun is starting to rise from the horizon. Nadia’s only flown on a plane a handful of times, but this is the first time she’ll be on a private jet. She’s still trying to figure out exactly what Ashton does; is he a CEO of some major company she’s never heard of? With all the security (there’s about half a dozen standing outside the plane) she almost wonders if he’s a Prince of some sort.

He motions her forward up the steps, she uses the railing to steady herself because without it she would fall to her knees in disbelief that she’s boarding a private plane. Once inside, it’s decorated the way she thought it would be in dark maroons, blacks and accents of gold. Ashton certainly has a desired taste.

“Pick any seat,” he tells her quietly.

Nadia moves a little bit more towards the back near the bathroom and sits down on the plush leather seat, her fingers rub over the fabric.

“My passport—”

“Is up with the Captain. You’ll get it just as we land,” he nods placing his phone on the seat across the aisle from her. He glances at her to see she’s sitting on her hands, legs shaking as she gazes out the plane window. “Are you nervous?” he moves to the seat across from her.

“A little,” she pulls her lip in her mouth, smiling bashfully. “I’m not too sure why.”

“If it’s your safety you’re concerned about, you’ll be well protected,” he leans forward resting his hand over her knee, “I promise.”

Nadia nods just as commotion from the front of the plane is heard, Calum and a strikingly beautiful woman with long dark hair held in a pony atop her head and skin to match board. Ashton removes his hand as Calum and the woman approach. The simple touch left Nadia’s knee burning, and she had to shift her mind from envisioning him in only his towel.

“Nadia, you remember Calum?” Ashton asks and Nadia stands from her seat, smiling to Calum. “And this is Asana, she’s one of my best specialists.”

“I’m the best,” Asana smiles then holds out her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Nadia.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Nadia shakes her hand, “What do you specialize in?”

“Weapons,” Asana answers simply, Ashton sucks in a breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by Nadia. “The company buys, sells and trades weapons and I know which ones are worth keeping or selling. I hear you’re a dancer. How’d that start?”

Asana sits in the seat Ashton recently occupied and Nadia sits back down in her own.

“I was four when I started dancing and I picked it up super easily. Dancing has always been a part of me, and I dance with the Chamber City Company,” Nadia explains.

“Do you have any shows coming up? I’d love to see you dance.”

“Sleeping Beauty will be premiering in a couple of weeks,” she says glancing quickly to Ashton who appears to be in deep conversation with Calum. “I’m the Lilac Fairy.”

“Oh, how pretty. When’s opening night? I want to be front and center.”

Nadia continues to answer Asana’s questions and asks a bit of her own as well. Asana has been with Ashton’s company for almost four years, she sought him out when she discovered his company is number one in the business. Nadia feels a comradeship with Asana instantly, she’s easy to talk to and is excited to learn more about her on this little trip.

Nadia tries to listen in on Ashton and Calum’s conversation about their meeting, but the only thing she hears is that it’s with someone named Guerriero. Eventually, as the flight continues and meals are had, she becomes sleepy and curls up against the seat.

When she wakes to use the bathroom, Ashton is still awake on his phone as she passes by his seat. Her stomach grumbles a little while she washes her hands, back home she’d be in Ashton’s office with a bowl of popcorn. Nadia returns to her seat to find a small bag of popcorn on her pillow accompanied by another blanket. She looks to Ashton who gives her a smile then pops his own piece of popcorn into his mouth, an opened bag sits in his lap.

“Thank you,” Nadia whispers with a smile and sits back in her seat pulling apart the bag.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back, eyes crinkling and shining in the blue light of his phone.

“You should go to sleep.”

“I will soon, just a few more e-mails.”

Nadia sighs shaking her head but watches him silently as she eats her small bag of popcorn. After a few minutes, Ashton looks up at her.

“You should sleep, Nadia. I don’t want you to have jet lag.”

“You should, too, Ashton.” Her lips spread in a playful smile and Ashton chuckles.

“All right, fine. When we’re done with our popcorn, we’ll both go to sleep. I heard you’re going to be in a show, soon?” he pockets his phone in his suit jacket then picks up his popcorn bag.

“Yeah, opening night is in two weeks from today actually, or tomorrow depending where we are in the world.”

“Would it be all right if I came and watched?”

“I’d like that,” she nods watching the way his jaw muscle works as he chews. “Asana said she’d like to come as well.”

“Then I’m sure Calum would like a ticket,” he grins.

The popcorn is finished in comfortable silence, Nadia drifts off to sleep easily and Ashton stays awake a little longer but he’s not answering e-mails. He’s on the Chamber City Company’s website buying the whole front row of seats and a large bouquet of flowers to be sent to Nadia on opening night. He glances at her while she sleeps, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulder looking soft as silk. He wonders if she thinks about their post shower interaction as much as he does.

The first two days of staying at Ashton’s villa in Italy are spent sleeping on and off by Nadia due to the jetlag. Ashton secretly favored this because he knew she’d be safer in the house with Asana. He made sure a chef cooked her three meals a day while he was with Calum discussing terms with the Guerriero’s and that there was popcorn stocked.

On the third day, Asana finds Nadia out by the pool basking in the sun. She sits on the pool chair beside her frowning.

“What’s up?” Nadia asks.

“Do you want to go shopping? I know Ashton wants you to stay here so you’re safe, but you’re in Italy! There’s a club Ashton and Calum are going to that’s always a good time. Please, Nadia, you’re killing me being cooped up in this villa while we’re in Europe,” Asana urges.

Nadia laughs softly and considers Asana’s suggestion.

“I do want to explore a bit…will Ashton be mad?”

She has seen him beat up three men when they first met after all, but he never raised his voice at her, and how could he expect her to stay inside while in a beautiful country? She’s upset that she wasted the first two days sleeping off her jetlag but that couldn’t be helped. There’s a feeling in her stomach almost nagging at her not to do it but another voice in her head is telling her this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“What if he does get mad?”

“I’ll handle him,” Asana holds out her hand, “come take a walk on the wild side.”

The pair venture out exploring the city and shop in almost every boutique they walk past. Asana made sure she had some security with them and had her own weapons hidden very discreetly on her person. She can handle Ashton no problem, but she’s seen him furious and hopes that her extra thought to protection would ease him up a bit.

After their quick dinner of true pasta cuisine, they arrive back at the villa to see Ashton waiting for them at the front door. He disappears inside, Asana and Nadia exchange a look before trekking up the steps after him, shopping bags jostling against each other before setting them down on the floor.

“I thought we agreed you’d stay in the villa?” his voice is low and controlled. Nadia can hear the slight aggravation in it though.

“If it was while I was sleeping than that’s not fair, I wasn’t that coherent,” Nadia defends crossing her arms. “I wanted to see more of Italy than out of these windows.”

“She was perfectly—” Asana begins but Calum clears his throat from the stairs. He shakes his head then motions her to come join him. Asana sighs moving next to him and Nadia is alone in front of Ashton.

“It’s dangerous Nadia, and I need to know you’re safe here.”

“What was the point of me being here if I can’t leave? I’m not your prisoner.”

“The point,” he steps forward, his jaw set and his eyes dark. Nadia stands her ground but can understand how intimidating he is to everyone else. “Is that you don’t get hurt. It’s the last night and you’re going to stay here. End of discussion.”

He stalks away down the hall with Calum following him. Nadia turns to Asana who has an apologetic smile. Nadia lifts up her bags of new clothes, grabs Asana’s hand moving upstairs.

“We’re going to that club.”

Ashton is listening to Angelo Guierrero over the pulsating music of the club, his eyes gliding over the dancing bodies below. The VIP suite is filled with members of both mafia families and the drinks keep flowing as women keep interloping between the men in seats. At his vantage point he has perfect view of the entrance and his heart plummets into his stomach when he sees Nadia enter with Asana.

“I am glad we have uh…how you say, come to agreement,” Angelo continues holding out his gold ring covered hand.

“I am too, Angelo,” Ashton responds shaking the man’s hand, his eyes darting away quickly from Nadia. “Do you mind if we enjoy the rest of our evening? No more business talk, yeah?”

Angelo gives out a hearty laugh squeezing Ashton’s hand.

“Si, si! Divertitevi!”

Ashton rises from his armchair leaning on the railing as he watches Nadia press through the bodies. He’s torn between anger and amazement that she disobeyed him by coming here. She looks exquisite in a sparkly maroon dress, her cleavage shimmers in the strobe lights while she dances to the music which is ironically a remixed version of Sexy Chick. Her flowing brown hair falls over her shoulder in a long ponytail while her back is exposed from the dress, and Ashton sees a tattoo inked along her spine.

He’s hypnotized by her movements, her arms are thrown into the air as she dances, her body fluid as water. It makes him want to see her dance ballet desperately. Calum joins his side who sighs in disappointment observing the two women in the middle of the dance floor.

“Do you think Asana convinced her to come?” Calum asks.

“No,” Ashton murmurs watching Nadia move seductively to the beat. Her eyes glide up to meet his and she gives him a sly smile. “This was Nadia’s decision.”

The two men watch Nadia and Asana dance and drink together for a few more songs until Ashton can’t stand it anymore and moves to the stairs without a goodbye to Angelo. He wants to get Nadia out of here and back to villa where she can’t get into trouble. She’s already in trouble with him but he’s not quite sure if he’ll reprimand her yet as he pushes through the hot sweaty bodies.

As he approaches her, there’s a man that’s trying to pull Nadia against him to dance but she’s clearly trying to push him away. Asana is cornered by two other men, but Ashton knows she’ll have them on their asses in about thirty seconds. When Ashton finally approaches, he shoves the man away grabbing Nadia’s wrist and drags her out of the club.

“What is your problem?!” she shrieks trying to twist her free of his vice-like grip.

“I told you stay at the villa,” he responds through his teeth.

“For my protection, right? What exactly are you protecting me from?”

Ashton ignores her as she continues to resist and yell drunkenly at him until they’re to his car. Calum and Asana’s voices carry over to them when he opens the door, pushing her inside.

“I’m not a child,” she glowers at him.

“You’re sure acting like one,” he growls back.

“Sorry, sir,” she snarls clambering into the car.

Ashton sets his jaw then shuts the door in her face. He slides into the driver seat easily, waiting for Asana and Calum to join them in the car.

Once everyone is settled, he peels away from the curb zooming back to the villa. He glances at her in the rearview mirror, his anger dissipates each time he looks back. He tries not to let his eyes wander over her long legs, but he fails miserably. They look smooth as satin and he’s desperate for a touch, but he tightens his hand on the steering wheel.

Back at the villa, Nadia storms out of the car slamming the door harshly in her wake. Asana glares at Ashton and Calum before following her inside. Ashton doesn’t see either of them until it’s time to drive back to the jet the next afternoon. Nadia won’t look or speak to him.

*

Nadia’s opening night is in a few days and in between that time and coming back from Italy, she still hasn’t spoken to Ashton, she’s been very cold and distant. Ashton had decided to be the one to drive her to practice and to her ballet class she teaches. At one point she looked like she was about to say something when he told her that bit of news, but she remained tight lipped, nodded, and walked away to her room.

Thankfully, when she accompanied him to La Belle Vie she would join Asana at the bar and talk with her. The two have become incredibly close since their rendezvous in Italy. Nadia’s laughter always follows him as he greets other associates in the bar area before inviting them to his office.

Nadia watches him disappear through the secret door to his office, his hazel eyes meeting her warm brown. For a moment she forgets she’s upset with him, that he treated her like a child by dragging her from the club in such a manner and forcing her to stay inside like she was a grounded teenager. Then she remembers how little he made her feel and her bitterness is returned.

“He’s very protective of people he cares about,” Asana tries to reason.

“He didn’t yell at you and drag you out,” Nadia mutters.

“That’s because he knows I would kick his ass. Don’t worry, I got a mouthful from Calum,” she shakes her head then gulps down the rest of her dirty martini easily.

“What’s going on between you and Calum, anyway?” Nadia peers at her friend with a slight smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Asana winks then pops her olive into her mouth. “Probably the same thing that’s going on between you and Ashton.”

It’s Nadia’s turn to blush.

She’s not entirely sure what’s going between her and Ashton. There’s no doubt some form of chemistry between them, but there’s so many secrets he’s keeping. She appreciates his protection but the way he treated her at the club was almost insulting. She’s not some fragile doll that will break.

The next morning, she speaks to Ashton for the first time telling him she’ll be at the studio late.

“What for?” he asks scrolling through his e-mails and drinking his coffee.

“I want to make sure I have all my variations down.”

“Opening night is tomorrow; won’t you be tired if you have to be at the theater by five?” his eyebrows raise, and Nadia is taken aback at his knowledge of her schedule.

“No, I won’t be. So, you don’t have to stay while I dance. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

“I’ll stay. No need for me running around and leave you there unprotected.”

Nadia sighs in defeat, she knows fighting him on this will only end in his victory. She’s not nervous about the performance at all, she’s more nervous about having Ashton seeing her dance.

At five thirty on the dot, Ashton enters the dance studio where Nadia teaches the smaller students. He holds the door open for the dance moms and dads as their little one’s prance along the sidewalk. Nadia is cleaning up small ribbons from the floor when he notices her.

“Can you lock the door for me, please?” she asks, and Ashton complies. “There’s a small office through that door you can use. You don’t have to sit out here and be distracted.”

“All right, let me know when you’re ready to go.”

As soon as Ashton settles in the quaint office area and has his phone opened to his e-mails, orchestra music starts to play, and he looks out the window of the door to see Nadia dancing. She’s everything he’s pictured in his head but so much more. He can see the true power in her body as she moves fluidly, her muscles pronounced in her movements.

He loses the concept of time as he watches her glide across the floor, he’s transfixed by her and realizes how deep his attraction and care for her truly runs. He rises from his seat, opens the door and the music fills his ears. With careful steps he moves towards Nadia, her legs lifting high in the air as she moves closer and closer to him.

She comes to an abrupt stop right into his arms, gasping at him being there. Her fingers squeeze on his suit covered bicep while his hand braces her lower back, her brown eyes shift to meet his honey green tea colored ones.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, chest heaving from dancing. “Is the music too distracting?”

“No,” Ashton shakes his head pulling a stray strand of her hair from her lips. “You’re distracting, I haven’t gotten anything done since you started dancing.”

“I’m sorry,” she tries to push away from him, “we can go—”

“Not yet, I have something to do first.”

“What?”

In an instant, Ashton dips his head to kiss her and as soon as their lips touch an electric shock is exchanged. Nadia hadn’t realized how desperately she wanted to kiss him until now and now she doesn’t want to stop. She gasps on his mouth letting him guide the kiss how he wants, her stomach filled with butterflies.

The hand that’s not on her back slides up her thigh underneath the practice skirt she’s wearing giving her chills at his touch. Nadia rises on her toes and Ashton lifts her in the air, their lips still connected in passion. Her legs wrap around his waist, she can feel his strong muscles as he holds her.

Already wanting to be closer to him, she tries to work open the buttons on his shirt and Ashton halts their kiss settling her back down on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop apologizing,” he holds her jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “The reason I stopped is because what I want to do with you shouldn’t be done in an open window studio.” He feels her shiver at his hushed words, and he smirks. “Let’s go home.”

*

Ashton leads Nadia through the skyway hand in hand, the sun is just setting below the trees and they’re cast in a burning red glow. Her stomach twists in anticipation at what’s about to come as they enter his bedroom. Cloaked in red, he pushes her to the edge of his bed, his fingers lifting up her skintight shirt. She pushes off his suit jacket, eyes widening at the shiny gun secured to his stomach.

“Let me put this away,” he tells her covering the weapon with his hand, “and you take this off for me, hm?” his finger dips below the waistband of her skirt. His finger leaves her skin ablaze.

Eyes glued to each other, he watches her pull her skirt down and off her legs, followed by her leggings so she’s standing only in her bra and panties. Ashton groans slightly as she pulls her hair out from the low bun, it cascades over her breasts in dark waves. When he’s finished with the proper safety precautions with his gun, he locks it in his case. He stalks towards her, unbuttoning his shirt then tosses it to the floor. She looks so tempting in the red glow of the night, she’s the epitome of desire and he wants a taste.

“Can you take the rest off for me?” his eyes gesture to her bra and panties. Nadia’s quick to comply, the air of dominance in his voice is apparent yet not forceful. His questions always give her an option for an out if she wishes. She slips her bra off slowly, relishing in the way his eyes practically devour her before pulling down her panties. “Sit down.”

Again, she obeys then Ashton falls to his knees in front of her. He spreads her legs open so he can lean up and give her a burning kiss, his tongue swiping in her mouth. She kisses him back in excitement, hands sliding over his shoulders and into his hair. His fingers tickle up her thighs to her waist, he pulls his lips from hers and smiles as she chases for more of his kiss.

“I’m going to make you feel good, okay?” he pants, and she nods, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Lay down.” She lays back and he falls with her because of her hold on his hair but he leaves sucking kisses down her sternum to her lower stomach.

He lifts her legs so her feet rest on the end of the bed, his nose skims up her thigh then he transitions to the other thigh.  He kisses on her pubic bone and Nadia sucks in a harsh breath. Ashton wraps his arms around her thighs, then flattens his tongue against her core in one long, slow stroke. Her body lurches from the contact. It makes Ashton smile glancing up at her as her eyes close when he stretches his tongue on her lips again.

He dips his tongue lower, teasing her entrance then adds his lips to finally get a full taste. Nadia gasps, her thighs tightening around his head. Ashton moves in quick motions, flicking his tongue against her clit then suctions his mouth on her, eating her out vigorously. She rotates her hips with his mouth, her moans sound quiet and restrained so Ashton pulls his mouth from her.

“Nadia, look at me,” he says kissing up her thigh lazily. Her eyes open heavily. “Don’t hold back. When you orgasm, you’re going to say ‘thank you’ after each one. Then I know you’re feeling good. Understand?” she nods, and he nips at her thigh which makes her yelp. “Tell me.”

“Under…I understand, sir,” she gulps breathless.

“Good girl, I love when you call me that,” he mutters lowering his face to her exposed core. He teases her by ghosting his mouth over her pussy lips, inhaling her in. “Taste better than I imagined,” he sighs then dives right back in. Nadia gasps, circling her hips with his mouth again, back arching as his tongue licks the right spot.

Her thighs quake as she comes on his mouth, he slurps at her excitedly tightening his fingers on her thighs until they relax but Ashton doesn’t let up.

“Thank you,” she sighs quietly.

He hums against her, his tongue circling her clit while he adds a finger inside her. The moan she makes causes the strain in his pants become noticeable, but he ignores it to please her more. He pumps his finger inside her easily, curling it then tickling her spongy wall as his tongue frantically licks.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he sighs.

She’s wriggling beneath him, thighs clenching once more and her orgasm leaks on his tongue and finger. This orgasm lasts slightly longer, her whimpering drives him crazy and he needs to be inside her. He slides his finger out, sucking her taste off him as he does, and her body deflates against the bed. Ashton wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, appreciating the way she looks coming down.

He removes his clothes quickly, slipping on a condom then lifts her up placing her in the middle of his bed. Nadia lifts her legs so he can slot himself in between her thighs, he kisses up her stomach, tongue swirling over her nipple then he hovers above her, his arms on either side of her head.

“You forgot something, angel,” he sighs kissing her neck. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she responds automatically. He smiles, happy with her quick submission to him. He drops his hips against hers, she lets out an impatient huff. “Please, Ashton…need you.”

Ashton plants his knees on the bed pushing her legs up farther, the head of his dick nudging inside and clipping her clit. Her nails are scratching up the sides of his back urging him further until he bottoms out then begins an even rhythm. Nadia’s fingers slope up his back, meeting his thrusts evenly then he kisses her. He pushes her legs even further to her elbows so he can pound into her with ease and power.

“A-ash,” she pants, nails digging into his back.

He fists the comforter as he tries to keep his release at bay, he’s concentrating on his breathing but it’s so hard when she’s clenching around him. Her nails add another sensation he’s never felt, it’s pulling the burn for her from the inside out.

“Thank you, oh…Ash,” she whimpers in his neck and he quickly pulls out, flipping her over onto her stomach with ease.

He roams his hands over her ass then to her hips, dragging her closer. He slides into her easily, picking up a quick pace of fucking her from behind. From this angle he can see the tattoo inked up her spine, he glides his fingers over the intricate looped design and the flower that rests between her shoulder blades. Nadia’s moans are consistent at this angle, he feels her multiple orgasms lubricating him up, so he’s slick with her juices making it easier to snap his hips against her.

She’s pushing herself onto him, aiding in her release while a quick succession of ‘thank yous’ tumble from her lips. Ashton’s climax is approaching fast, so he leans forward, propelling his pelvis in quick movements. His nose is in her hair, he’s intoxicated by her smell, her pussy clenching around him as he finally lets go. She’s moaning with his groans until he’s finished then remains there for a moment catching his breath.

With kisses to her shoulder and down her back, he pulls out then steps off the bed. He removes the condom tossing it quickly into his bathroom trash. Nadia is still slumped over, her ass in the air and he loves the sight. He gives her a moment, pulling on some shorts and grabs a shirt for her to sleep in.

“Hey, look at me pretty girl,” he coos gently, brushing her hair from her face. She stares at him with tired eyes. “Put this on, use the bathroom and come back to bed.”

Her movements are sluggish as she flips onto her back taking the shirt from him. He helps her pull it over her head and pulls her arms out. She takes his offered hands leading her to the bathroom. He closes the door for her privacy then lays on his bed, the sun has well gone down now but the city lights and moon fill his room with a dim radiance. That fiery red haze is gone but he still feels it in his bones.

Nadia shuffles slowly back to his bed after using the bathroom and he welcomes her into his arms, she snuggles against him as if they’ve been doing this for years instead of the first time. He kisses her hair and she sighs contentedly.

“Now I might be tired for opening night,” she teases and Ashton laughs. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

“Slept with a beautiful woman like you? No, not until now.”

“No—I mean, you’ve never brought someone back here to your own bed. It’s always been in your room at La Belle Vie.”

Ashton sighs. “No, I haven’t. How did you know about that?”

“I know about the Gold Room, why else would you have a bedroom in your office?”

His heart sinks. Does she think she’s just another notch in his belt?

“Nadia, I’ve grown to adore and care for you in a way I’ve never felt towards another person,” he admits, and it feels so good to say it out loud. “You’re very special to me.”

She tilts her head up, her hand finding his cheek in the dim light then drags his mouth to hers for a sweet kiss.

“You’re special to me, too. I’m glad no other woman has been in your bed but me.”

The next night for her opening night as the Lilac Fairy went by without a hitch. All of Ashton’s associates filled the front row seats that he bought with Calum and Asana to his left while Luke and Michael were on his right. His eyes never left Nadia as she danced across the stage. Her name was whispered amongst the people around him and he felt smug that he’s the only one who knows her so intimately.

An hour before the show, Calum told him that Aleks has been keeping a low profile. There haven’t been any purchases on his end or deals that have been scheduled. It left Ashton feeling unsettled because if he knows Aleks, he’s plotting something for sure.

It’s in the background of his mind to set up more eyes on the Rozhkov mansion but Nadia’s performance is on the foreground of his mind. He’s transfixed by her just as last night but the stage lights and the make-up she’s wearing exemplifies her beauty. When the show is over, he plans on taking her to Caesar’s Palace, the most notorious restaurant in the city, after congratulating her in her dressing room on a job well done.

***

Five forty-five on the dot, Nadia breezes into his office with a radiant smile that grows bigger at the sight of the garment bag hanging from his fingers. Ashton grins back welcoming her into his free arm giving her a hello kiss that she deepens, hands roaming over his shoulders and into his hair.

“What’s the matter?” she sighs pulling away feeling how tense he is under her touch. “Did your meeting not go well?”

Ashton clenches his jaw. “It went good and bad, but we have to go to The King’s Club at eight o’clock, Liam’s requested us.”

“Oh, all right,” she shrugs then eyes the dress bag hanging off his fingers. “Can I see my dress?”

“I thought you don’t want to be seen as a sugar baby, angel,” he teases extending his arm away from her grabby fingers. “I can always send it back if you don’t want it.”

“No, please I want to see,” she pouts.

“How about you take it in the bedroom and put it on for me then let me know what you think,” he smiles handing her the bag.

She squeals quietly, snatching the bag the same time she pecks his lips then skirts to his bedroom but keeps the door open. Ashton shakes his head knowing she’s doing that to torment him, but he resists temptation and waits patiently. When he hears her gasp, he knows she’s opened the bag.

“What do you think?” he calls crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s gorgeous!”

He smiles then continues to wait patiently for her to change and grace him with her presence. It’s not long until she’s strutting out in the tight-fitting iridescent dress. It’s two toned with gold and silver fabric with the gold wrapping asymmetrically over the silver and Nadia looks like a bombshell. The colors contrast beautifully with her tanned skin and the plunging neckline showcases her perfect breasts.

“This is perfect, I love it,” her eyes dance with excitement as she parades in front of him.

“You sure? I didn’t know if this area right here would fit you,” he trails his finger down the middle of her ample cleavage, a smirk ghosts his lips.

“Seems like you didn’t really want it to fit,” she giggles then pulls his arms off his chest. “How can I ever thank you for this?” Her hands move to his belt already undoing the buckle and snatching his zipper, falling to her knees.

“Seems like you already have an idea,” he grins enjoying the view of her breasts even more at this angle.

“Just a little thought,” she shrugs shucking his trousers off his hips. She takes him in her palm, he’s hot and heavy in her hand and she gives the head of his dick the gentlest kiss, but it spurs his member to life. She continues to give him soft, wet kisses, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Ashton strokes his fingers across her cheek trying to keep his breathing even. “Don’t tease me, angel,” he sighs just as she darts her tongue over his slit. “Fuck, baby.”

He watches her open her mouth, eyes still on him, as she takes him in. Her tongue and lips are soft and warm around him as she swirls her tongue up and over his shaft. She works him over, salivating the more she takes him into her mouth until he hits the back of her throat for the smallest second before she tightens her lips on his shaft and pulls off him with a pop. A string of spit clings to her lips and Ashton is aching to be in her mouth again.

“So pretty like this,” he sighs as she wraps her lips around his head again. This time she sucks him into her mouth as she goes down, slightly gagging as he hits the back of her throat once more before she pulls off again. Ashton threads his fingers in her hair, halting her from moving forward. “Don’t strain yourself for me, okay?”

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” she blinks and Ashton groans. She knows what calling him does that to him.

“You always make me feel good. Don’t hurt yourself, Nadia. Keep going,” he nods.

Nadia smiles excitedly latching her puckered lips over his tip, her hand grasping the base that is now slick with her spit. Her hand and mouth work in tandem, sliding up and down effortlessly slurping as she goes. Ashton steadies his breathing keeping his climax at bay so he can enjoy his Nadia this way. His fingers are still in her hair but he’s giving her full control of the situation.

She takes him all the way to the back of her throat for a third time, her tongue clicking against him. The pulsation has his stomach clenching and he’s so close.

“C’mere,” he says gruffly pulling her off him. He spins her around, so she’s seated at the edge of his desk and hooks her leg over his waist sinking into her swiftly. He fucks into her with quick snaps of his hips, groaning against her neck.

She gasps in time with his thrusts, arms and legs wrapping around him like a vine as he fills her with the utmost pleasure. Ashton bites into her neck, sucking on the warm flesh until she’s screaming his name and they’re coming together. He stills inside her as he releases himself dry and her legs fall limp against the desk.

Ashton hums pulling his mouth from her neck that now has a dark bloom flourishing from his love bite. He cradles her cheeks in his hands, nudges his nose against hers then kisses her with a smile. He pulls out of her slowly, Nadia groaning as he does.

“See? Felt so good,” he sighs, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” she whispers on his lips, legs trembling from the loss of his girth. He tucks himself back into his pants as she leans against him, still coming down from their shared pleasure.

Ashton makes sure she’s stable against the desk before retrieving a towel from the sink along his wall. He wets it then makes his way over to her again to clean between her legs. He kisses her bare shoulder as he does, her hand rests on his shoulder for balance.

“Good thing you didn’t have panties on,” he commends on the corner of her mouth. He tosses the towel on his desk, rubbing his palm on her inner thigh.

“I planned it,” she smiles.

When their dinner date is over Ashton speeds to The King’s Club, his hand on Nadia’s knee as he drives to the destination. He’s second guessing gifting her with this dress because now all eyes will be on her. He holds her hand as they walk past the black velvet ropes and two bouncers that he recognized from his past. They let him in easily and others inside guided him and Nadia to the second floor where Liam is waiting on a white couch. Veronica is next to him looking bored.

To Ashton’s surprise, Calum and Asana are sitting on chairs beside him. Nadia smiles at them tugging a preserved Ashton over to them, his eyes are on Liam who is smiling widely.

“You made it!” he announces rising from his couch. “Last minute I invited Calum and Asana who just finished informing me that you two had dinner plans. I hope I didn’t cut into that.”

“Just a little,” Ashton responds tersely. Nadia squeezes his hand.

“It’s no trouble,” she speaks up.

Liam steps forward grabbing her elbow and kisses her cheek affectionately in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it. Please, take a seat, take a seat. What would you like to drink?”

When the acquired drinks are served, Ashton watches Liam very closely as he interacts with Nadia. He’s somehow pulled her next to him on the couch with his arm thrown casually behind her shoulders. He’s telling her about how he and Ashton bonded over the loss of their fathers and all the wild things they got into.

Ashton watches on high alert, his drink held carelessly in his fingers. He feels smug when Liam notices the love mark on Nadia’s neck. Calum and Asana’s gazes are set on their boss wondering how he is so calm while Liam is so close to Nadia. Ashton assesses the situation with a tight jaw but Nadia’s constant smiles at him lets him know she’s fine.

Calum and Asana are getting restless. Then when Liam laughs loudly at something Nadia said, his hand falls to her knee, Ashton slams his drink on the glass table.

“I think it’s time for us to use the bathroom,” Asana says grabbing Nadia’s hand. “We’ll be back gentleman.” She throws a look between Ashton and Liam tugging Nadia along.

Ashton gives Asana a look of gratitude and appreciates Nadia’s hand cupping his chin as she walks by. Her simple touch eased his irritation slightly. He knows she’ll be safe with Asana but nods his head to the guards that accompanied him here and they followed the girls. Liam watches the small party leave to the VIP bathroom then moves to sit on the table in front of Ashton. Calum leans forward wanting to be a part of the conversation.

“What are we doing here, Liam?” Ashton asks bored, he wants to get Nadia home and away from Liam.

“I know Aleks wants to get Nadia,” Liam starts. “Veronica found that out for me and I think we should let her take him.”

In a light of blinding rage, Ashton launches at Liam, his fist connecting with flesh as the sound of glasses shatter to the table and floor. Shouts of surprise are heard all around and Calum pulls on Ashton’s shoulders yanking him off before he could do worse damage.

“Not with Nadia here,” Calum hisses and that’s what really stops Ashton. Liam rubs his jaw where Ashton hit him, but he doesn’t seem surprised that he was hit.

“Listen to me,” Liam growls standing close to Ashton. Calum tightens his hold on Ashton’s arms. “I have the best trackers with the best equipment. We give Nadia a tracker and follow her to wherever Aleks is.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this.”

“What have you been telling her all this time? You’ve been lying to her for how long, Ashton? She needs to know the life she’s wrapped up in and that she’s the key to stop it. I’ve seen the reputation you’ve built here and Aleks has been threatening that since Nadia has come into your life. She needs to know.”

“Tanya knew and look what happened,” Ashton blurts before he really thinks of his words.

Liam’s eyes flash and he rushes at Ashton. They’re both scuffling on the floor of the suite while others try to get the men away from each other. Calum shouts them away though because they need to solve their differences in their own way. There’s so much history and discord between the old friends it needs to be hashed out. He won’t let it get too ugly and he hopes Asana is keeping Nadia occupied in the bathroom while the situation plays out.

After a tiresome ten minutes, Liam and Ashton are left panting on the floor. Their suits are ruffled, their hair tousled, and their knuckles bruised but their five years of hurt and anger have finally come forth.

“Nadia is safer not knowing,” Ashton sighs standing to his feet. He holds his hand out to Liam who takes it as help. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Tanya. I wanted to tell you five years ago but you left before I could even try and help you.”

“I know…but my whole world ended that day. I had to get out. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“How is letting her get taken going to keep her safe? You know what Aleks wants to do before he sends her off to this anonymous dealer?”

“She will be safe because Veronica is a double agent. She’s been getting into Aleks’ good graces for over a year.”

Veronica appears beside Liam and hands him a napkin to clean the blood from his face. He takes it graciously.

“Then why don’t you lead him to wherever Aleks is?” Ashton asks her. “Why does Nadia need to be the pawn?”

“Aleks is all about his power trip. He has to believe he’s the one in control right now because whoever this anonymous dealer is, has him scared,” Veronica explains. “He’s on a time crunch and if he doesn’t deliver, he’ll be killed. He won’t hurt her because we won’t give him the time to.”

Ashton glances between Liam and Veronica, Calum calls his name. Ashton turns and Calum waves his fingers signaling Ashton to follow him to the railing.

“Excuse me,” Ashton says then meets Calum.

“How can we trust Veronica? Or Liam, actually,” Calum asks glancing at the pair.

“Liam may have left but he’s never lied to me.”

“It’s been five years, Ashton. You of all people should be questioning if he’s not really working for Aleks. For all we know, he could be.”

“Tanya was the whole reason he walked away from this, and if…if Nadia knew what I do, and she asked me to leave…I wouldn’t question it. I’d leave this all behind.”

“So, you’re seriously considering having her taken, just like that?” Calum is baffled at his friend, his boss, giving in so quickly and releasing Nadia to the lion’s den.

“No, not just like that. I want every detail. I know Liam left, but he came back and is offering to help. Family is family, Cal, you know this.”

Calum eyes Liam and Veronica some more than stares at Ashton for a long time. Nadia is going to have a field day at the state he’s in wondering what the hell happened while she was in the bathroom.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Calum shakes his head surveying the situation.

Then the club cracks into darkness and a deafening silence, screams echo throughout the building and Ashton quickly races blindly to the bathrooms. Any sign of trouble and his mind reverts to Nadia. He stumbles with Calum and Liam trying to find their way blindly. The sound of two gunshots and more screams fill the air then he hears Asana’s voice calling for Nadia. Ashton panics, his heart racing.

The three men skid to a stop as the lights power back on, the club fills with the loud bassline as he looks in front of him. Asana is on the floor with a cut on her cheek, Calum is quick to aid her by standing up. He touches her cut cheek delicately.

“What happened?” Ashton asks. “Where’s Nadia?”

“We were coming back out; I was hit and fell to the floor just as the lights went out. I heard Nadia struggling then two shots…” Asana shakes her head looking in the direction Nadia must have left in.

“Veronica—”

“He knows. He knows I knew his plan and he executed it early,” Veronica gasps. “Liam, I swear he told me in confidence it was supposed to be on her opening night.”

“Where is she?” Ashton demands, his fingers shaking because his Nadia was taken right from under his nose.

***

It took Veronica a few hours to pinpoint exactly where Aleks was which resulted in giving him a few hours head start to run with Nadia. Asana didn’t know if the gunshots meant Nadia was harmed or not and it left Ashton uneasy not knowing. She could be hurt or dying and he’s not with her to help.

Aleks took her to Spain which is where Ashton is now killing the few men keeping guard outside an elaborate mansion. He races inside with Veronica’s voice in his ear telling him where to go.

On his way, he takes out more men until he’s in the elevator descending into the basement. He made sure Asana and Calum stayed outside for visuals and had an ambulance and the police on standby. The basement is dimly lit with shelves along the walls filled with bottles of wine. The guards standing inside didn’t even approach him as he stepped inside, they simply watched him pass by.

“You’re right on him, Ashton,” Veronica says in his ear but Aleks isn’t in sight.

“You’ve always been too trusting, Ashton. I knew it would be your downfall.”

Ashton stops dead in his tracks. Stepping into the light from behind a large wine barrel, is his father, Frank Irwin. He smiles cynically.

“Hello, son.”

“What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Aleks?” Ashton is baffled to be looking at his father who left him nearly eight years ago. His hair has thinned and has a few more wrinkles on his face.

“With Nadia, I’m assuming. He was meant to bring her to me like we agreed,” Frank responds moving in front of the barrel. He folds his hands in front of his stomach, Ashton can see the family crest ring is still on his finger.

“It’s you? You’re the anonymous dealer?” Ashton feels like he’s going to throw up from this information.

“Yes, and Nadia is very lovely, isn’t she?”

“Where the hell is she?” Ashton is shouting now advancing to his father. The guards in the room step forward but Frank holds up his hands.

“It’s all right, gentleman. I need to explain to my son here how Nadia is teaching him to be the best boss. Nadia, dear, please come out.”

In horror, Ashton sees Nadia stumble from a closet or room of some sort. In the short amount of time they’ve been apart, her hair has been chopped off to just below her chin. Her beautiful hair that she’s always cherished, and he’s ran his fingers through so many times, is gone. Her face is pale with chapped lips, bruises and cuts are scattered all over her body as the dress he bought her is ripped.

He’s torn between his love and the need to protect her and his anger in realizing she’s been working with his father. His anger wills out and roars inside him.

“Ashton…” she sniffs, tears spilling over her cheeks. “What—”

“Is it true?” he interrupts, voice shaking. “You’ve been working with my father to get to me?”

“What? Ashton, I don’t know who he is—”

“He’s right there!” Ashton shouts pointing to his father. Nadia jumps. “You’ve been fucking with me this whole time under his order, haven’t you? Tell me the truth, Nadia.” He advances towards her, his voice dangerous, and Nadia is visibly shaking at his outburst. He’s never spoken to her like this before.

“Ash…please, believe me. I love you; I would never hurt you and I’ve never met him before in my life.” She’s sobbing, reaching for him but then gasps as a loud bang echoes, and she’s clutching her stomach. Beneath her hands, red blooms in the fabric of her dress.

As if in slow motion, Ashton turns to see Aleks with his gun poised at her from another doorway. Then Liam appears in the elevator and kills Aleks quickly. He’s finally avenged Tanya and his unborn child. Aleks is dead before he hits the ground then the guards jump into action. Ashton and Liam are quick to fend them off, either by injuring them or using their guns until they’re all slumped to the ground.

“Asht—”

Ashton turns around from his most recent casualty in time to see Nadia collapse in a small heap. Frank is laughing behind her.

“She’s right, son. We’ve never met but I arranged for you two to meet. I’ve been a guiding voice in the now late Aleks Rozhkov’s head to egg you on to be a better boss. I thought the continuous chase of her wanting to be taken would flip a switch in you.”

Ashton’s mind is racing with questions and doubts.

“Ash…” Nadia whispers from the floor. Her warm brown eyes are half-lidded as she stares up at him. “Please, I love—”

He knelt beside her immediately because his need to protect her is stronger than his doubts. He helps apply pressure to her wound, and through her blood, he sees the two small condor tattoos on the outside of her wrist, and he’s transported to another time.

“I love this tattoo of yours,” Nadia told him as her fingers daintily traced over the dark ink on his neck. He was in his study at home writing figures down on a pad of paper. “I read that condors mate for life.”

“Is that so?” he asked and pulled her onto his lap. That’s when he noticed the all too familiar looking bandage on her wrist. “What’s this?”

“I got my own birds on me,” she smiled. “I love you, Ashton and I wanted to match this one you have.”

“If I’m a condor bird, then you’re a condor bird, huh?” he grinned taking her hand in his delicately.

“Something like that,” she giggled. “Take it off so you can see.”

Ashton carefully peeled the tape and gauze from her wrist to reveal two birds in flight. One is larger than the other which he’s assuming is meant to be him, and he’s so enamored by the gesture.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he nodded then met her brown eyes. “I love you, so much. You are my soulmate, Nadia.”

He’s kissed those small birds so many times since then and he feels downright idiotic and gullible to believe that she would double cross him. He is too trusting, and he was much too trusting of his father who was never trustworthy in the first place. His trust really is his downfall and it might cost his whole world.

He knows Nadia would never hurt him, and these two birds are proof of that whereas his father has been hurting him his whole life. Nadia’s eyes begin to close and Ashton panics.

“Liam!”

Liam runs to him quickly, sliding on the floor and int the small pool of blood that’s coming from Nadia.

“Shit,” Liam mutters.

“Get her upstairs and to Asana. I’m going to deal with my father.”

Liam rips off the sleeve of his shirt pressing it into the wound. Nadia grunts at the pain trying to keep her eyes open. Ashton touches her cheek the best he can without smearing her own blood on her face.

“I’m sor—”

“Shh, shh, you’re going to be okay. Liam’s going to help and make you better, okay? I’ll see you soon, stay awake for me.”

Liam lifts her carefully into his arms, murmuring a soft “I’ve got you love.” He gives Ashton a look before leaving the basement quickly and then it’s just Ashton and his father.

“How could you do this to me? Is this some kind of sick training session you’ve been instigating for the last eight years?” Ashton asks.

“I’ll admit, I did leave because I would have been stuck in jail well past my dying days. Then I wanted to use this opportunity to build you up to be the best boss there could be. I kept tabs on you, Ashton. You were doing everything right from partying, having women but you were lacking in one major role: being a boss. My leaving was really a chance for you to be great.”

“You left to save yourself. When you were around it was never a family. We protect our own and after you left we finally became a real family,” Ashton says.

“You’ve befriended the authorities and other families that we’ve always held an animosity with. They should all be beneath you.”

“No, we’re equals. I’ve helped with other dangerous mobs in the area and we keep the cities safe instead of stealing from it.”

“You’re abusing your power.”

“I’m utilizing it. There’s a big difference. You’ve hurt a lot of people Frank, me especially and you won’t do that anymore. Your little puppet, Aleks, is now dead and we’ll take down the rest of his Snatchers and whoever else follows him. But your time is over,” Ashton says reaching for his gun.

Frank laughs again.

“Is all of this really because of that girl? You can have hundreds of women, son, that’s the glory of being in this business! You take what you want when you want it.”

“No, that’s not how this business works. It may have been for you, but not me. I won’t leave my men or women behind. I have their back and they have mine.” Ashton raises his gun and clicks it; it’s aimed right at Frank’s head.

“I can keep teaching you to be better, how to be feared. You’ll really kill your own father?”

“I never had a father.”

He pulls the trigger and Ashton turns not even willing to spare his father another glance. He knows he’s dead, he has an excellent kill shot but he couldn’t look at the man who’s hurt him for so many years. He trudges to the elevator, eyes glued to the blood smear on the button as he ascends up. Ashton thought it hurt when he left but the fact that he used Nadia to try and hurt him? Nadia, the one person who loves him so completely and….

Ashton slams his palm against the elevator wall in anger. She’s been loving a liar this whole time because he’s kept so many secrets from her. Her blood on his hands is the last he’ll ever have, it’s because of him she’s hurt when he’s fought so long to prevent that from happening.

His mind is still reeling as he steps outside of the house in the blazing sun. An ambulance is parked near the cars he and the rest travelled in. Police sirens are heard from the distance, but Ashton needs to see Nadia. He finds her in the back of the ambulance with an EMT working on her wound and Asana holding her hand. There’s an oxygen mask over her mouth but she’s more alert, her hand slips from Asana’s and she reaches for him, eyes wide.

Ashton and Asana switch places quickly, he kisses Nadia’s hand fiercely, keeping it pressed to his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Nadia. This is all my fault, but no one will hurt you now. I swear it. It’s time I’ve come clean to you,” he confesses.

She winces as the EMT continues to stitch her up, her lips move beneath the mask, but he doesn’t hear her words.

“What?”

“She already knows, Ash,” Asana says from the doors of the ambulance. Nadia nods at him.

“She knows? How?”

“She figured it out months ago. The Sheriff stopped by when she was home alone once and wanted her to relay a message of thanks to you for taking out the LeBlanc’s. Hotchkiss assumed she knew everything and kept talking, giving her all the information she needed,” Asana continues to explain but he’s watching Nadia as if she’s speaking. Her eyes are soft at her admittance through Asana.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” he asks, and Nadia pulls the mask down slightly so she could speak.

“Because all you’ve ever done is protect me and part of that was not telling me what you do. I was protecting your secret just the same because I love you.” Her voice is soft and quiet.

“And Asana knew this whole time?” he asks bleakly but his smile is of relief.

“She filled in the gaps. I made her swear not to tell,” Nadia whispers.

“I’m sorry I kept these secrets from you.”

“I know, but it’s okay,” she sighs falling deeper into her pillow.

“We are going to transport to the hospital,” the EMT says, “she needs rest.”

Ashton nods then turns to Asana but doesn’t quite know what to say.

“We’ll meet you there and take care of everything else here,” Asana nods. “You take care of her, boss man.”

The doors close and the ambulance rocks as it starts to move. Ashton presses his lips to the birds on Nadia’s wrist, she cups his cheek as tightly as she can. His world fell apart and has been restored by having her in his life.

“I love you so much, angel,” he whispers squeezing her hand. In her eyes she sees the same love reflected back. Their past, present and future are held between their gazes. “You’ve always been the beauty to my madness.”

• • • •

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