#i'm so sorry vince

[momentomori24]

I don't know how it took me to TODAY to find out Vince's uniform is based off an actual uniform for Chefs, but it did 💀 I'm so dumb

[bearenjoyers]

sorry im just thinking about bcs but like. why not add a few smaller scenes of gus interacting with his own men? why does it seem like, in comparison, mike is almost immediately elevated to a higher status than those two in bcs purely because we actually get to see him having normal conversations with gus? like i understand they might not keep the plot moving as well because of the fact obviously if victor is currently doing something it’s because gus told him to etc. but for the most part all of the smaller interactions gus does have with those two ends up being in a somewhat high stress situation where it feels very tense between everyone. and it’s just like damn! is it always like that?? why do those two even care that much about their jobs if their boss is a bit of a dick? etc. i think even an additional scene or two with those guys (either alone or the both of them) talking with gus in a more normal situation could’ve both added a bit more depth into how gus treats his employees (we got a lot with how he treats lyle and co., but not a whole lot with the illegal side of things), how comfortable vic and tyrus feel around him in a calmer setting, and exactly why they both feel the need to be as loyal as they are to the guy.

and also on the other side of this i don't think it'd hurt to maybe elaborate on their pay just a bit..? i'm not saying to randomly put a number out into the atmosphere but i just mean some smaller things like. do they buy nicer things for themselves? what's their housing situation? what's their car situation? are the escalade / yukon their own vehicles or does gus just use those two for business situations? do they use them when they're doing their own stuff off the clock or do they have their own cars? etc. that can also help with understanding their motivations a bit. don't get me wrong i don't think they should be visibly rich or something because that's not what gus would want but just smaller things! cause it's easy to write their loyalty off as Well they probably get paid super well, which i'm sure is true, but if they don't show a single hint of that then what's the point. even something as simple as giving tyrus a nice watch, or maybe victor having a nicer looking gun, etc. something small like that. because as it stands right now the average 41 year old viewer who watched the show once only knows and will only ever know victor and tyrus as those two guys in the background who do random stuff for gus with no clear motivation. just the personification of "On it boss (salute emoji)". and to be honest this is true for a whole lot of fans who do watch the show multiple times and enjoy thinking about it more in depth, because on screen we barely have anything about the two.

and to be clear i'm not trying to say we should have an episode just for them or something like no i understand they're side characters. i understand we don't need all that. and i understand this is also primarily Jimmy's show. but it's not like these two are on the same level as like, arlo or paige and kevin etc. these guys have been around since brba. victor was literally introduced in the same episode gus was. and they are a huge part of gus's story, especially in brba. s4 wouldn't have been what it was without victor and tyrus. and in bcs, ignacio's situation wouldn't have been the same if it weren't for victor and tyrus as well. and i just personally believe that if their goal with gus in bcs was to go back and elaborate on how everything came to be and show what he was like a few years younger, they could've dragged victor and tyrus into that. and i think his character would've benefited from taking that extra step with those two.

[eiran-eye]

Now why tf would you bring up May 17, 2013. The day before gay marriage is legalized in France. Meaning the gay people that died that day never got to have basic human rights and are forced to live all their lives miserably at the fact that a legal union is frowned upon/illegal at the literal "city of love". Let me put this into perspective, a woman and a man can peacefully love each other in any part of the world and is hugely embraced at the "City of Love". But when a man and a man love each other, they can't even imagine holding hands in public much more, having a legal union. And when at the "City of Love" wherein Love is a general term for everything that can be considered as such, they can't even be accepted, they feel like nothing at a place built for everything.

[pussinbuss]

Abuse of women in the wrestling industry

In light of the situation with the Vince lawsuit I want to share a great article on issues in wrestling relating to misogyny, which touch upon allegations aswell as the neutral up to positive attitude some wrestlers and workers have around sexual assault and blatant disrespect of consent ( upholding r*pe culture, even by more modern wrestler ), aswell as misogyny and abuse of women : https://www.fanbyte.com/legacy/a-brief-history-of-creeps-in-professional-wrestling

I think it's important to remember what many men, with the help of other men or women, did in this business, to women and even children.

It's also extremely important to remember the women who were brave enough to talk about the abuse, and fight it. Women in this industry like in many entertainement business, from wrestling to fashion or even animation are used and abused by men on a, well, industrial level.

We have to be conscious we are watching a media built by those men, who have those ideas, and be critical of it.

It can be small like a wrestler wearing an Art Barr tshirt on TV

Or it may be big, watching the royal rumble, and hearing the name of it's creator, we have to remember the ring boys and Pat's misogynistic storylines and jokes he infused into the program.

Same can be said about Vince and the attitude and more modern era. How many women abused behind the scene, kept as eyecandy or not used for their wrestling abilities, simply because they are women.

When you are looking at a woman being humiliated in a fetish way on this show for a " storyline " ( you are looking at a women being abused, even if it's for a story ) it's because someone enjoy that power and dominance, and he feel so free about it he show it in front of you. If I say "women pro wrestling" to a woman my age in my country, they think misogynistic fetish fest !

Another point that bother me is the use an toss aspect given toward women in the business and sadly make it even more sad when women are helping men to shine, only for them to be awful men and make their legacy hidden. What would be Ric Flair without an Olivia Swithen Walker robe ?

To speak on use and abuse, I can only think of the so many female relegated to valet and manager ( as in classic celebrity manager ).

Behind Chris Benoit there was Nancy Toffoloni , who also helped tremendously Vickie Guerrero after the lose of her husband. She was horrendously killed by him.

Managing Snuka behind the scene was Nancy Argentino, who was killed by him.

How many wrestler's wife were and are holding together the household just to be beaten by their husband ? Too many

I also want to highlight the more insidious exploitation of women's ressources through unpaid labour, their body and money. ( and being educated to be kind, patient and caring help in it )

Take that awful interview of CM punk and Colt Cabana in 2005. Yes Punk is a good wrestler and speaker, did he exploit and abuse the shit out of some women for his benefice and treat her like scum ? Yes, and look at where he is now. He can wear as many "abortion is a human right " shirt as he want, because he sure did not see the humanity in the girl he used.

I'm sure this whole trial situation may bring strong emotions to people who were abused in such ways, and awarness by others of your situation is very important, even if it's simply a sibbling or close friends. The more people know it happen, and it happen often sadly, the more people will realise it's a common reality.

On a bit of positivity to end this I want to make clear the solution is not to give up wrestling, give up all entertainement and live in a cave. They actually want you to do that ! The solution is more women in charge in those industry, Shareholders, managers, creative team, places of power... Women and girl are around 50% of the world ? We got to take our sit at the table. As a viewer, we also have to "vote" with our time and money. Be vocal online about turning off the tv when an abusive wrestler you don't like is onscreen, make jokes about it even ! PR is power in our era.

Girlies, don't fall off the wagon, they want you to !

peace, Puss in Buss.

[mushroompollution]

Chapter 55: Black to Black

Previous Chapters: The Sablier Arc Masterpost (35-42) || 43 || 44 || 45 || 46 || 47 || 48 ||

[ Ceremony Arc: 49 || 50 || 51 || 52 || 52.5 || 53 ]

Read the manga: imgur || mangaread (ad warning)

We start out seeing a slightly different side of Gilbert. He remembers a time when he was much younger, when Break had told him if he wants to dedicate himself to protecting one person, he must be ready to destroy anyone else.

And then we see a different side of Vincent, too. For once, his Dormouse isn't useless. Oh well, at least it's still better than Reim's, he says. which really makes me wonder why he knows March Hare's power while Break doesn't. But I digress--

Gilbert asks if Vincent knows anything about Reim and Break, saying that Break had been acting strange when he ran off. Isn't that guy always acting strange and running off on his own, though? Vincent dismisses his brother's concern, but Echo speaks up and calls his bluff. She admits to Gil that they had seen Break fighting two Baskervilles outside.

Now we see the fight between Fang and Break wasn't really over so quickly. Which is a surprise to Break, too.

Fang tells Lily to stay back, but she insists on fighting too, saying she heals faster. She understands the risks of fighting Break and his Mad Hatter, the Chain that kills other Chains.

The Chain he was hoping to not need. The Chain that weighs so heavily on his body, it's already taken his eyesight.

But it seems he has no choice. He just wonders, who will die first? The Baskervilles, or him--?

Back in the hall, Vincent tells his brothers what he knows. That Isla Yura is planning a new Tragedy of Sablier, and that Oz, Alice, and Leo were captured and taken as sacrifices.

But Vincent notices that Gil seems distracted and asks if he's worried about Break. Vince just chuckles and says he shouldn't be, Break's too strong to be killed by a mere Baskerville.

Gil tells himself to listen to his brother. After all, Break is always right, and overwhelmingly strong. So why does he still feel so uneasy...?

And just like that, Gil finally pieces out that Pandora's swordsman is blind.

As they enter a passageway hidden behind a bookshelf, Vincent reminds his brothers of the plan. Elliot will help his servant, Vincent will find and break guard the Sealing Stone, while Gil will, of course, save his precious master Oz. After all, he needs to remember his priorities...

Gilbert suddenly bursts into laughter, remembering when Break had said those exact words to him once before. He's ready, he professes with newfound resolve.

And Vincent smirks.

As strong as Break is, he can't possibly defeat both Fang and Lily without using Mad Hatter, Vincent thinks to himself.

They found Oz! Yay!

But the scene returns to Break's fight outside, where we finally get to see Fang's Chain. And it's adorable.

As he begins to summon forth his Chain-killing Chain, Break remembers the promise he had made to the Will of the Abyss after his first Contract had expired, dragging him into her chambers in the depths of Abyss.

Another promise he can't keep.

But, well.

As Gilbert summons Raven, we get a flashback of the scene cut short previously. After freeing Oz from his restraints, Gil falls to his knees in front of him, begging him to let him go help Break. He's Oz's servant first, so he needs his permission.

Oz explains the situation and all he knows, that Alice and Leo will be killed at midnight as part of the ceremony. Which means Gilbert has exactly 10 minutes to carry out his task and return. Until then, he can manage things. But the thought of Oz fighting makes Gil reconsider, for just a moment.

Oz assures him he'll be alright. He'a able to fight on his own now, instead of just being protected. And it makes him happy.

[somepoetwannabe]

I'm one more panic attack from ending it all

[blbcabelts]

if anyone ever wanted to talk shit about becky ever, i will simply remind them that she wrestled injured and/or sick to put over the hometown hero more than once, she's taken men's finishers better than some of the male talent, she works as face and heel which not everyone can especially female talent, she literally is one of the women who walked so those coming up now could run, and she literally shattered gender norms in wwe with a single punch to the face

and this barely even begins to scratch the surface of what she's done since she was fifteen years old....

[bellysoupset]

Hmm thoughts on Angie Banks - I'm very curious about her. She was so happy to see Jonah despite their separation and him not reaching out. Luke mentioned she asked him about Jon, so she is clearly interested in being close with him. An with Jon's strong reaction about not knowing about her life and feeling guilty...looks to me like great potential for some estrangement siblings bonding 👀 which I absolutely love, cause this is the person you kinda know, but that you also don't, and you recognize little pieces from childhood but you also have to get to know each other anew, you had similar homes, but were your experiences the same? Did one take it differently than the other? What perspective does this person have? And how will they react to each other's friends and partners, how will, if they do at all, fit in that group?

I see lots of potential here and I'm super curious if Angie gets any places in the next arcs 👀✨️💙

@writing-whump

Idk that much about Angie yet. I definitely like her, but I LOVE the idea of a storyline where she and Jonah develop a relationship with each other. I feel like she has so much potential in that regard. - @wussifer

------------------------------------ Hi Soup! Personally, I love the idea of getting to know Angie more! I think it could be really interesting to have her back in Jon's life, or becoming part of it at least. And developing a sister-of-your-boyfriend relationship with Leo! A plot involving Angie could be really cool, if it's what you choose to do, and I would look forward to reading it. --------------------------------- hiii like angie a lot so far!! i think she’s super nice and interesting, and im curious/excited to learn more about her! so i’d def be interested in the storyline you mentioned!!! 🦦

Thought I'd reply to all of you in one ask, since you're basically all agreeing on more Angie! I'm very excited to bring her in as a character (though it'll take a couple more fics and she'll mainly be a caretaker) !!

It's been a while since I introduced a new OC, so I'm feeling a little green, but very excited about the new dynamics to explore

[dixidin]

"Happy valentine's day-" WRONG. HAPPY CHILD BIRTH TO RODY FROM DEAD PLATE🔥🔥🔥

💞🍫💘 HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY/RODY'S BIRTHDAY 🥳🎁🎉

[...?]

[There's a package addressed to you.]

[music-for-them-asses]

hi! random question, but have you ever heard Ane Brun and Vince Clarke's cover of Fly On The Windscreen? it has such a lovely eerie vibe and I was curious what you'd think of it. (also, wishing you a very good next week!)

I'm so sorry this fell through the cracks of my inbox, Anon!!

I just listened to this cover and I love it!!! Thank you for recommending it to me!! Just in time for Vince's birthday 🥳🥳🥳

[ceesimz]

Highs and Lows

Your past is your past, but your future is hers. (angst -> fluff)

After everything you’d been through in the past, you always thought you would end up alone. Every failed relationship was another sucker punch to your heart, causing cracks that allowed doubts and insecurities to leak through into your mind, forming iced walls to your soul no one could melt to get to you.

“Perdoni? Vinc a buscar el meu vestit.”

Her voice was so warm, so polite, when she first spoke. How her accent wrapped around her mother tongue was smooth and welcoming, like it didn’t matter that you were about to disappoint her upon first greeting. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Catalan.” 

She met you with a forgiving smile, shaking her head and waving her hand to brush off your apology. 

“Está bien. Uh, my… my suit? I pick it up?” 

The suit wasn't ready for pickup at that time, a mixup between you and the owner of the small tailor shop you worked at who had seemingly gotten a bit too festive the night before and forgotten to do the schedule for the day. So she stayed and chatted with you as you did it, which was actually very helpful since she could try on her blazer that needed the most work doing, though it was more her asking you questions and you giving her curt responses than an actual, normal conversation. You couldn't help it, it had become second nature to you at this point. People had betrayed your trust in all kinds of ways before, and it was sure to happen again.

It was Christmas Eve when you met her, but it took some time before you really let her in.

“So, I ask you, will you be my Valentine?” 

That day, the thirteenth of February, when she'd come in with a dress that needed adjusting slightly for her sister, she was a woman on a mission. Alexia wasn't used to people shutting her down when she had her mind set on something, and since you were the first to tell her otherwise, she knew you were the one.

“How many times do I have to tell you I won't go on a date with you? I'm not looking for relationships or even friendships right now.” 

She was kind. Compassionate. Every time she spoke, you couldn’t help but hang on to every word she said. That didn’t mean you were falling for her tricks though. Your walls were up, and they were high. You didn’t know a thing about her, and her you, but she was like a dog with a bone. Sometimes, you feared she had bad intentions with it. That’s the kind of roads your mind took you on.

“Okay, no Valentine. But, coffee? Conmigo?”

Why was she so adamant to get to know you? Just some nobody that worked at a tailor shop, spending hours on the nights you couldn’t sleep drawing and designing all kinds of clothes that’d never see the light of day outside your notebook. Judging by how she dressed, she was definitely comfortable financially, at least. She had good taste, and dressed in a way that exemplified her mindset and who she wanted to be. With every smart coat and fresh out-of-the-box pair of trainers she wore, you felt like you got a peek inside her mind each time you saw her. Then there was you, dressed down and comfortable for a day sat in front of a sewing machine and a desk.

“I told you, I don’t want to.”

Alexia remembered vividly the day she first heard you laugh. The sound of it made her laugh too, not because she found it funny, but because she got such a burst of euphoria out of it that it was her body’s natural instinct to react like that. All day and every night, you were on her mind. And, something that was completely out of character for her, she found herself looking for excuses to come to the tailor shop just to see you.

“Hm. People do not say no to me. I will keep trying, lo prometo.” 

A tap on the counter, and she left after that. 

As you expected, she kept to her word; the next day, she brought the coffee to you. Four coffees, actually. One without milk, one with normal milk, one with almond milk, and one with oat milk, just so she could find out what was your favourite.

“I don’t drink coffee. Of any kind, with any milk.”

That was the day you laughed for the first time, you couldn’t help it, the way her face fell after you revealed your secret was way too funny to not laugh. She feigned disapproval when you went into the backroom, grabbed a sharpie and a square of cardboard, and wrote ‘free coffee with every pickup!’ on it to put on the counter.

Though, you came to a realisation that day, one that kept you up through the night. She was the first person in years that actually stayed true to their promise. So maybe you did crack a little then, and when she walked in the next day to collect what she’d left the previous morning, you handed her the cardboard with your number on the back. Hardly two minutes passed after she left before your phone pinged. 

For a few days, instead of her coming to you as you learned she was travelling for work, the pair of you exchanged texts. All day long. Sometimes, all night long too. There was just… something about her that pulled you in. You were tired of resisting that. 

“So I see you tomorrow? I will pick you up. With, with flowers! Hasta mañana, cariño!” 

The excitement that radiated off of her as she scurried out of the shop, late for work, after you caved and took her up on her offer for dinner together was addictive. Her smile was a beautiful one, you’d come to realise, and you wanted to see it everyday whenever you could. Someone hadn’t shown this amount of interest you in… ever. You had hoped it’d be different this time around- surely she wouldn’t disappoint you like everyone else, you’d think. 

There was a brightly coloured bouquet in her arms when she met out outside the shop when your shift had finished. By that point, you’d known her for a number of months now, and as you ate dinner and talked, laughed, smiled, with her that evening over some of the best tapas you’d ever had, you felt bad that she had to wait so long.

You decided, there and then, you were going to be more proactive about your feelings which had been there since the first day she walked in. Repressing them was only preventing you from exploring something that could be your whole future. 

“I… I really want to kiss you goodnight. Can I kiss you?”

Never did you think that the beautiful blonde woman who showed up on a cloudy Sunday morning would be the one to make you break all the rules you’d made for yourself. They weren’t rules, really. They were insecurities you told yourself were rules, because you believed them so wholeheartedly that you never thought they’d be snapped in half by someone like her. Someone that started buying oversized clothes, trousers that were too long or suits with sleeves too loose for her liking, just so she could see you.

“You can kiss me goodnight, Ale.”

Takes one small mistake for a good thing to be ruined. 

You didn’t know exactly what she did for work. You knew she worked in the sports industry, but that was it. You never really asked in detail what she did, you didn’t want to talk about your job so when she said the same thing, who were you to deny her of that?

So, imagine your surprise, when you’re at your friend’s house, only to see Alexia on the TV, bowing in a stadium of almost one hundred thousand spectators that chanted her name. Alexia, the slightly shy and quietly confident woman that took any excuse to meet up with you, was someone else entirely.

“My job… it’s not that important. There are more, ah, interesting topics to talk about.”

That wasn’t the truth. She had lied to you, about her job, about who she really was. 

Even in the four walls of your friend’s home, the sheer amount of people began to make you feel overwhelmed. You’d never seen that many people in your life, nevermind in one place. But Alexia? It was just any other day at work, obviously. For you, it was just another day where someone you trusted turned around and betrayed you.

The night before, she kissed you for the first time. It was something you couldn’t ever forget, and the resentment towards yourself began to set in as you sat there on the sofa, watching this stranger run up and down the grass pitch, you far from her mind. From the colours she wore that matched the ones by the winning team by the scoreline in the top corner, she was doing well. And you were happy for her. 

You didn’t know a thing about football, and that was yet another thing to add to the list of differences between you both. Alexia, confident, controlled in everything she does, determined. You, lost in your life, lost in yourself, and unmotivated. 

“Can’t be worse than mine, right?”

That night, after you went home, hands shaking and chest heaving with short, panicked breaths as you walked, you turned your phone off. You didn’t want to hear from her, and you knew she would text you before she went to sleep. 

When you got into bed, you didn’t feel a thing. You lay on your back, eyes unmoving from the ceiling above, and simply sighed. All those months ago, you knew you should have stuck to your rules. Getting close to her and letting her in was the reason why you were hurting now, it was all your fault that you were left like this.

Yet, you didn’t feel a thing, in the end, you were just… numb. 

“Why did it take you so long to go on a date with me?”

This was something you were used to now, a dance you knew every step to. The end result was different, however, because it had happened so often that it never surprised you anymore. It had just been a matter of time. 

No tears were shed, no anger was held, there was nothing but emptiness. Every second since that first meeting on Christmas Eve had been taken up by Alexia, whether that was her physical presence in front of you or the daydreams in your mind. Now, there was only regret, as you thought over every moment with her. The feel of how her hand felt in yours was substituted with coldness, the same chill that encased your heart again. The taste of her lips, how soft they felt against yours, was something you got to experience once. This aftermath was worth that. Nothing could ever compare to it.

“I… I have a past. I don’t want history to repeat itself. I guess I was just… scared.” 

It was foolish to have admitted that to her. You didn’t intend to, it was more a moment of weakness. Her arms were around you, your back to her chest as you lay together on her couch in the comfortable darkness of her living room only a few nights before she kissed you. The admission was out in the open before you could stop it, and you hated the fact she had heard you say that and still continued to lie to you. You had no idea how the woman you thought she was could whisper her next words whilst keeping her own secret locked away.

“You don’t have to be scared with me. I would never hurt you. Lo prometo.”

After a sleepless night that was entertained by memories of you and the stranger you were in love with passing through your mind like a slideshow, you returned to work like nothing happened. You showed up even earlier than normal, a whole hour earlier, the sun only just beginning to peek over the horizon. The bell rang as you opened the door to the little hole-in-the-wall shop, the same one that became the anthem to Alexia’s arrival and departure whenever she paid you a visit. 

There were countless visits, each one a memory you could describe in detail, though there wasn’t any point in doing that, seeing as they’d just led to another broken promise.

You were knee-deep in repairing a zipper on some old lady’s favourite jacket when the bell rang again. Of course, your mind immediately jumped to her, but in reality it was probably just the owner. It was still another half hour before the shop opened.

“Perdoni? Estic buscant la…” You knew that voice anywhere.

She trailed off when you rounded the corner, and you gave no reaction whereas her eyebrows shot up, before falling straight back down as she sighed in relief. 

“Gràcies a déu. You are here.” Just like the first time, the way she spoke was ineffably soft. Though, there was an allure to it, like she knew something was wrong and she desperately wanted to fix it. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked in what could only be described as an insecure whisper. 

She took two steps towards the counter, the only physical object that separated you both, nevermind the recent events. 

“You did not text or call last night. And you look…” She shook her head and frowned, taking another step. “You look tired. And upset.”

That was one thing that had transpired in the time you spent with her, she came to read you surprisingly well. 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve. I'm not sure if you know that.”

Nobody ever truly knew you well enough to identify that. But to her, it was obvious.

“I am tired. I'm okay though.” You nodded. Alexia saw right through you.

“No, you're not. Something is wrong. Please, tell me. I want to know and I want you to feel better. If… if I have done something, I want to fix it.” The blonde said definitively.

What else did you have to lose? You'd already made peace with her being your past, it wasn’t like she could make your future any worse.

“You… lied to me, Alexia.” You stated quietly, averting your gaze to the scratched wood of the counter in front of you. The shop was silent for a few moments, and you knew all was said and done in terms of this… whatever it was between you both.

“I did? A-about what?” She asked, a tremor in her voice that did little to calm your racing heartbeat.

“Your job. I saw you on TV last night. You were on TV.” 

All the anxiety you felt at the idea of confrontation tripled when you saw the corner of her mouth twitch the tiniest bit. She found this whole thing funny. 

“I don't want to do thi-”

“I never lied. I really didn't lie.” Another step closer, her waist an inch from the counter. Her hand reached for yours that rested on it, but you pulled it away and moved back a bit. 

It was then that she realised how serious this was for you. 

“I just don't want you to lie to me, ever. About anything. And we'll be fine.”

Refraining from talking about her job, the thing that everyone overlooks her for as a human who wanted normal things, instead of the player that got harassed for signatures that'd be on the market minutes after she put the lid on her pen or the player that was expected to be perfect all the time, had caused all this. In her eyes, it wasn't a lie, but the minute you voiced your hurt, she recognised how it would have come across for you. 

“You did! You can't keep something like that a secret and expect me to be okay with it. How could you do this?” You could never get angry like everyone else could, never feel it normally. You had to let it consume you, to the point of tears. The first of this whole ordeal.

“I said it wasn't important, I never lied to you. I see now it is important, but you never asked me about it and I was relieved about that because everybody sees me as my job and you are the first person outside my family to see me as something more.” She rushed out, taking a deep breath afterwards to try and gain her composure back. It cracked once more when she saw how you tried to hide the fact you had to wipe some tears away, but she remained strong. “Last night, the partit, I know it seemed like a lot. But that is all it is. Just football. And as much as I love it, it was nice to not have to talk about it all day every day with you. You are a normal person, a beautiful and unique person, but… ugh, I do not know how to word it. I do not want to hurt you with what I say because I can't find the right words.”

Despite her frustrations, you sort of knew what she was saying. Judging by the importance of the game you saw yesterday, you could imagine that she never really got to leave the intensity of that with the people she was surrounded by and the fans that followed. 

You had a normal job, a normal daily routine. From the sounds of it, her life was far from normal. So, despite the current distance between you both, you sort of understood where she was coming from. You just didn't know what to say.

“I can see now that it was wrong to not tell you about something so big in my life. I will tell you everything you want to know. Everything. You can ask so many questions, I will not hide a thing from you.” She looked and sounded desperate for you to forgive her. 

If anyone held a gun to your head in that moment, you couldn't tell them how you felt. As a result of your uncertainty, the silence stretched on and on, only causing more of a gap. With every passing second, Alexia was consumed by dread. 

She should have been more considerate, more aware of how you felt and what you needed from her. Instead, she'd gotten tunnel vision on who she could be around you, rather than who you wanted her to be. That revelation made her sick, because there was no one to blame but her if this was something that couldn't be repaired.

“Do you… do you want me to go?” The Catalan questioned. 

There was nothing else you thought to do, other than nod.

“Okay.” Alexia said, frowning as she actually processed what she had just said. You saw the gloss in her eyes shine when she turned towards the door, and it tore your heart in two to see her leave.

When the bell rang as the door closed behind her, you knew instantly that you had made a mistake. You were stuck to your spot for a couple seconds, frozen at the decision you decided you loathed. 

Seeing her walk out wasn't right. Asking her to go wasn't right. She belonged in your future, and though the thought terrified you, you had no choice but to push out your comfort zone and do something for yourself for once.

With the force you opened the door with, you wouldn't be surprised if the poor bell above it broke. But she was there, just about to round the corner, her head bowed as she tried to leave as quickly as possible. Until you called her name. She turned on the spot, her face pinched in confusion as tears raced down her cheeks. There were matching ones on your own, though you let them fall freely, considering there were more important things on your mind.

Cautiously, Alexia began heading back towards you, unsure if that's what you wanted her to do. Then she saw the way your hands fidgeted and how nervous you seemed, and she sped up a little. 

She stood before you, her eyes already red, and you floundered for a moment, wondering how on earth you could come back from telling her to go. Instead, you took one of her hands, waiting for her to nod her permission for you to do so, and led her back inside the shop. The bell rang, again, and it echoed off of the walls until the pair of you were left in silence once more.

Your anxiety mirrored hers, both your futures riding on this moment. It was in your hands to decide what happened next.

“I… panicked.” You started, exhaling sharply afterwards, the truthful words a weight off your chest and making it easier for you to continue. “I got scared, and told myself you betrayed me, as a habit. Which I know you don't want to hear, that's not what anyone wants to hear from someone they're seeing, but it's something I do. Because people do it to me all the time and I'm tired of it. I feel like I was maybe waiting for you to do it, I expected it to happen at some point. Not because of who you are but who I am and what I've been through. So at the first sign of… whatever, I blew it up and turned it into something that it wasn't. I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Alexia told you when you finished, her free hand taking yours and squeezing them both. “You cannot help being scared of something. And especially if it is something that has happened before. You panicked. You let your mind take you somewhere and got stuck in it, that is normal. It has happened to me before, it happens to everybody. But, look, we are talking about it and we are fixing it. Together. Because I want to be with you, it does not matter to me what habits you have, I want to be here to remind you I still want to be with you. I do want to be with you. Really do.” 

Everything she said then was exactly why you knew it was right to go after her. Why you should have let her in after months of her trying. You wished you trusted her earlier and accepted her advances the first time she asked, but if you did that, you wouldn’t have this moment here, where she was showing exactly who she was.

This woman in front of you, she was more than the footballer you saw on TV, and she was so much more than you first gave her credit for. Getting hurt by her not telling you about that portion of her life was unnecessary, because the person on the screen was endlessly talented and extraordinary, sure, but the person in front of you was who she really was. She had many sides and personas, but none of them were on show around you. No, she was Alexia. She was the woman you loved, the gentle and caring soul you had the privilege of knowing for the past months. She was your future.

“I want to be with you too. I’m scared by that, I think it might take a while for my anxiety to go, if you… if you’re fine with that.” At that, she smiled. Her soft, forgiving, welcoming smile that drew you in in the first place.

“I am fine with that. I will do anything, tell you anything, to remind you that I will be here and to make those anxieties go quiet. We will go at your speed from here, whatever you want and need. I just want you. Just want to be yours.” For some reason, you found yourself giggling quietly when she finished speaking. And like the first time she heard you laugh, she joined in with you. “What? I mean it.”

“I know. I know you do. I can’t really believe I found someone like you. Everything in the past seems worth it now that… now that you’re here. And you’re mine.” She frowned, unhappy at one of the things you said.

“It might seem worth it now, but that doesn’t mean you deserved it, cariño.” Her arms wrapped around you, bringing you in gently for a much needed embrace that quelled your worries indefinitely.

“I know. But we don’t need to think about that. I don’t… want to think about any of that anymore.” You admitted, to which Alexia instantly agreed with.

“We can swap those memories with better ones. Of us.” She chose to say, not wanting to dwell on the past that she didn’t know much about, and honestly thought it was better that she didn’t. To know what you’d been through before her would surely break her heart.

“I can’t wait to make memories with you.” You whispered quietly. She hummed in acknowledgement.

A smile grew on your face, and one grew on hers. Both relieved this miscommunication over, happy to be with each other (finally), and excited for the future together.

—

other fic is still in progress, this is something quick fun and short i had the inspo to write before a very long story comes your way soon!! thanks for reading :)🧡

[the-californicationist]

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding. 

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month. 

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside. 

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s. 

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found. 

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table. 

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice. 

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly. 

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled, 

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed, 

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was. 

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor. 

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself. 

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you. 

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you. 

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant. 

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway. 

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland. 

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him. 

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse. 

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground. 

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body. 

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine. 

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched. 

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date. 

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him. 

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily. 

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth. 

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike. 

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight. 

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words. 

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest. 

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.” 

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again. 

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will. 

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady. 

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin, 

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?” 

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband. 

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap. 

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions. 

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring. 

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal. 

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention. 

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest, 

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth. 

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss. 

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you. 

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed. 

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath. 

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time. 

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex. 

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth. 

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth. 

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs. 

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time. 

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric. 

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh. 

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it. 

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below. 

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped. 

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center. 

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in. 

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise. 

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was. 

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body. 

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum. 

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence. 

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed, 

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life. 

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar. 

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling. 

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you. 

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused. 

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again. 

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping. 

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below. 

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears. 

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino. 

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away. 

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could. 

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car. 

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth. 

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively. 

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side. 

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers. 

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down. 

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase. 

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed. 

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries. 

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

[nylonnye2]

Off to the human flesh farm with you, mousey. Meeuuahahahha

Dream sweet dreams for you.

[charliedawn]

Hey I was wondering how do you think the slashers would react if they're s/o was wearing a piece of their clothing or mask (for the masked ones)? Honestly I think if Michael found his s/o wearing (or even touching...) His mask that's a killable offense right there lmao.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was asleep when you took his mask. When he woke up and didn't find it—he started panicking.

He made a mess out of his bedroom in a desperate attempt to find it and locked his door so that nobody could come in.

You frowned as you found the door locked and knocked on the door.

"Jason ? Are you alright ?"

He wasn't.

He hesitated to open the door, but you then slid his mask back to him through the door.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to surprise you."

He understood what had happened and opened the door a little to look at you. You seemed genuinely sorry and he finally opened the door for you to come in.

Jason wears the mask for a reason. He is insecure to the extreme. It's the only way for him to hide himself and if it had been anyone else than you ?

...That person would have been dead and buried.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms actually woke up when you were looking at yourself in the mirror with his mask on.

He seemed stunned for a moment before he silently got out of bed to stand next to you.

Once you saw him in the mirror, you turned around. You were ready to apologize, but then saw the way he was looking at you.

He wasn't angry. Far from it. He just stared at you and smiled before slowly removing the mask from your face.

He then put it back on his and took a deep breath—as if smelling it. He then hummed appreciatively and wrapped his arms around you.

"...Brahms' mask smells good now." He whispered and held you closer.

…

Well—that backfired.

Vincent Sinclair:

Panic. Immediate and irreversible panic.

Unlike Brahms or Jason, Vince is deeply ashamed of his face. It isn't about being insecure or having a couple of scars. He is TERRIFIED of his own reflection.

Vincent used to be attached to Bo. Being twins at birth, it made him feel as if there was someone out there who understood him.

But, the mask is a mark of shame—the constant reminder that that connection is severed. And he feels ugly because of it. Because he was disfigured from the operation—while Bo wasn't.

They are different now, when there were supposed to be one and the same.

Plus, he’s only got one mask. It took time to make as he had to get Bo to agree to mould a mask with his face.

So, he would get mad. He would also be pretty physical about getting it back.

He COULD hurt you.

Do not steal his mask, unless you are absolutely sure and asked permission beforehand.

Michael Myers:

...You have a death wish. There is no other possible explanation.

Michael values his mask more than anything in this world.

He hides his face for a reason. It became a part of him over time and he HATES when people see his true face.

So, do not steal his mask.

But, I don’t think you’d be able to anyway.

Michael almost never takes it off and if anyone tried to take his mask away ? Wrists would get crushed. Just saying.

Freddy Krueger:

"If you take the hat, sweetheart…Be ready to face the consequences."

Freddy LOVES his hats (Yes. Plural. He’s got a full drawer of them in his room)

He counts them all before going to bed and when he saw that one of them was missing, he was ready to track the person down and draw blood.

But, when he understood you were the little thief, he smirked and simply closed the door behind him. He then sat down and grinned mischievously at you.

"Looks good on ya. But since you stole it…How about you offer me a show as compensation, hmm ?" *pats his lap and smirks*

Sleazy lil’ goblin to the end.

Pennywise:

If by some MIRACLE, you managed to get Pennywise’s gloves…He’d be furious. Pennywise hates touching people and his gloves are like a second skin to him.

Pennywise *appears behind you and screeches*: "GIVE THEM BACK THIS INSTANT, YOU STUPID HUMAN !"

Pennywise is usually pretty chill. So, for him to get really mad ? Yeah…No stealing the clown’s gloves. Never.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo's cap is his own way of hiding his insecurity. He has a scar at the back of his ear from the operation to separate him from Vince.

He doesn’t like people looking at it, so he wears that cap all the time.

One day, you decided to remove it while he was sleeping, and he grabbed your wrist before you could run away with it.

He then smirked and tutted playfully.

"Careful, darls. You take my cap, I take your life."

You knew he was only kidding, but there was also a little bit of a warning in his eyes.

He likes his cap. It’s the only thing he got left from his dad and his tolerance is zero. So, do not try to steal his cap, or ask first. He would allow you to wear it eventually, but still…Bo is not someone to be messed with.

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Muti slasher with an child reader headcannons request

The slasher learns about the fact their child is growing a part from them cuz of their murdering. The child has shown that they feel feel force to

plz

OK! I'm gonna choose the characters randomly through wheel and do a few of them. And I am so sorry it took me so long to get done with this.

Characters: v.sinclair, b.sinclair, c.spaulding, art, d.sawyer, b.sawyer

Warnings: teen!reader, slasherchild!reader, mentions of murder, mentions of manipulation, teen!reader runs away, theft, underage drinking, possible underage driving, drinking and driving, underage smoking, drug use, underage drug use, gn!reader, suicide mention, angst

Runaway

V.SINCLAIR

He doesn't exactly like it either, but what Bo says goes

He tried to sypathize with you, but the further you pushed yourself away, the harder he found to communicate with you

He tried taking you downstairs to his "art studio" once so y'all could spend time together but he chose a bad time to do so as Bo came downstairs carrying a dead body which sent you into a frenzy

You locked yourself in your room and cried most of the night while Vincent, silently, went off on Bo

After awhile Vincent walked upstairs to your room to apologize, just to see you not there and the window wide open

He also noticed tons of empty beer bottles and medicine containers

He runs over to the window and notices your getting into his truck and quickly rushes out after you

By the time he makes his way downstairs, you've already drove off and almost out of town

He is absolutely crushed

His darling child ran off, and it's all his twins fault

He's gonna get Lester to go looking for you, and he his going off even worse on Bo now

Bo actually feels bad now, although he is calling you a little priss, he does feel bad for scaring his brothers child away

So now Bo is looking for you too

Needless to say, they find you eventually on the side of the road throwing up

They take you home, however you start staying with Lester on the outskirts of town so you are less likely to encounter victims or the bodies of victims

B.SINCLAIR

He doesn't care

He does, but he doesn't

He loves you, but no child of his is going to be a little priss

He eventually tries manipulating you into killing people

^Like he done with Vincent

He tries talking to you about how proud he'll be of you, how proud uncle Vince will be of you, how proud Grandma will be of you

And eventually he wears you down, getting you to agree to kill

However, what he doesn't realize, is he also drove you into drug use and abuse

He only figured this out when he noticed three bottles of liquor gone from the freezer

It was a pretty rough night

A mother and her daughter had found their way into town and instead of going out himself, Bo sent you

He handed you the shotgun and sent you on your way

Well, you killed the mom, but couldn't kill the little girl (not like he would make you kill a child) so you instead took her to your dad's (Bo's) truck and told her to sit there

Anyways, at first, not thinking you would do such a thing, he asked Vincent and Lester, receiving the same answers from both of them

"I ain't seen no liquor in a while."

After a while of thinking he had drunk it and forgot, he heard a thud upstairs, in your room

The thump was followed by a small "Ow" and some giggles

He slowly made it up the steps, calling out for you

He goes to push the door open, but he hears a truck start outside

He rushes out just to see you in the front seat of his truck with a little girl in the passenger seat

You pulled out of the driveway and handed the little girl one of his liquor bottles to throw at him

And throw she did, it landed directly between his eyes, knocking him out on contact

You had stolen his wallet before leaving, so it's safe to say, you're not coming back

C. SPAULDING

He doesn't even really kill unless he's like protecting his family, himself, or his gas station

He doesn't mind you not wanting to be around the violence and won't go out of his way to shield you from it, but he'll place his hand or arm across your eyes if your close enough

Overall, possibly the best parent

ART

Definitely mimes empathy then (silently) laughs in your face

Makes sure you see so much gore it's a bit much even for the gore enjoyers

Once snatched a still beating heart out of someones chest and shoved it into your mouth, forcing you to eat it

The worst parent if you don't like killing

And you aren't running away either, he and (I'ma refer to her as ghost girl) will find you no matter where you try to go

And don't even think about killing yourself, Ghost Girl will just reincarnate you

D.SAWYER

*eats you*

I'm just kidding, but seriously?

You are in a family of cannibals, but you hate violence?

I imagine since he doesn't really like it either, he'll just keep you at the gas station with him when Nubbins, Bubba, and/or Chop-Top are killing people

He tries to be more sympathetic with you, but gives up eventually and hits you with his broom until you stop crying or Bubba runs him off

Don't get me wrong, Bubba is scared of him, but he will push him away from you or fuck something up else where to get Drayton off your back a little bit

Leave it to uncle Bubba to take a beating for you

Nubbins also tries to help sometimes by spitting at Drayton and getting him to chase him, but it doesn't really work half as much as it does with Bubba as Nubbins just runs off and hides while Bubba actually takes the beating

Chop Top doesn't really care but if he does see it getting excessive, he will throw something at Drayton and run

Once again, not as much of a relief as Bubba's unless Bubba rushes in, picks you up and hides you from him

B.SAWYER

100% the most caring one

He tries to shield you from it, can and will go out of his way to shield you from it

^A few victims have gotten away because of that

He kinda feels like if you're around it long enough then you'll get used to it (desensitized to it like he is)

He tried testing the theory once, but after witnessing you go through a panic attack so bad he was scared he almost killed you, he never done it again

He definitely shields you from Drayton too

He makes sure to send you into the field of sunflowers when he knows that they are gonna kill people that night

That ended after a victim tried to kidnap you tho, so now you are sent to your room with a pair of headphones and Chop-Tops records

Tags:

@puppet200 @zeroisreallygood @purpleeggyboi @th3-r4t-48 @im-a-simp898 @aflairforthemelodramaticc @luciluck2046 @caretaleandotherstuff @evry1h8s-me

[sweetandabitspycho]

Fast & Furious HC set in the first movie when Brain saves Dom from the cops after the race, so you cuddle and listen to his heartbeat

“Thank God Dom!” I looked at him, making sure he wasn't hurt, no blood is on him.

Once he saw me walking down the stairs he relaxed a little. He was still pissed at the group.

I jumped off the second step of the stairs, and hugged him. His strong arms engulfed me in a tight hug.

“I'm so, so, so sorry. I should have gone. I should have been there for you.” I whispered into his ear after kissing his neck.

“No. You needed to study baby. I'm fine Brian was there to have my back.” he said kissing my head. I smiled softly at him.

“I'll be back, and after we can go lay down.” and with that he walked away to go yell at everyone.

I turned to Brian, “Thank you for saving him.” I said offering my hand for him to shake it and he did.

“All good, baby?” Dom asked as he walking back to us eyeing me and Brian, he had three beers in hand.

“Yeah, all good.” I said as Dom handed two for Brian to pick, he picked Vince's. Dom then throw the other one in the trash and handed the last one to me.

“Lets go lay down,” Dom said before turning to Brian to say thank you for one last time.

Once I was on top of Dom I kissed his lips softly and put my head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

I feel Dom chuckle lightly before saying. “You don't have to listen to my heartbeat to know I'm here.”

“Yeah, I know but it relaxes me. It helps me know I'm not dreaming.” Dom lifted up my chin to make me look at him. “I'll give you something better to know your not dreaming.” he said before kissing me.

After I took of his cross that he gave me earlier to make me feel better. I sat on top of him and put it around his neck.

“Told you I'll be back for it and you.”