#just a line of coke to really get the blood pumping

[lostinsaltburn]

Just thinking about how Felix would have fucking absolutely loved Oliver's dance scene ( if potentially the context wasn't the take over of his family home due to Oliver murdering his entire family and him ) but still.

He would have been shouting and screaming, Olivers cheerleader ! So proud of his confident little weirdo for his insane and cheeky nudie dance through the house. Such a funny juxtaposition to the decor and meaning of Saltburn.

Venecia and even Farleigh would have loved it too. All of them would have cheered Ollie on for sticking it to those stuffy rich societal norms and just dancing naked and free, grabbing a line of coke along the way.

[littlefreya]

The Kitten & the Bear - Part 1

Intro: This story is a collab and was written by both @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ and I. It was born out of a fun role play we have going on. We ended up having so much a fun with this particular idea that we thought we should post it as a 3 part story and share it with the rest!

| Read Part 2  | Read Part 3 |

Summary: After a night of drinking in town get Walter’s bratty wife ends up with pure chaos and the overprotective grumpy husband is having none of her shenanigans. 

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC (first person pov) 

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Bratty behaviour, vandalism, dominant overprotectiveness, BDE, husband stalking his wife, sexual innuendo, dirty inappropriate talks, mentions of sex and oral, weed and alcohol usage. Sex in the next parts :D Walter is a Boomer. 

A/N: We didn’t beta it and did transform it from 2nd to 1st person POV, really hoping you guys will enjoy it as we did. Feel free to share your thoughts. 

Title: The Kitten & the Bear

Nothing chilled my heart more than waking up in an empty bed. Walter was already gone, leaving his side of the mattress cold and abandoned. A heavy sigh broke from my lips, I stroked the ghost of the kiss that still tingled on my cheek, knowing he planted it there before heading to work. 

Sadness seeped into my heart as I realised I won't see him today. Our work scheduled conflicted and I have scheduled a "date night" with my girls in the evening. Picking up my phone, I texted him a pouty emoji and then headed to get my day started.

Walter left me on read, which just fuelled the brat in me. When he called during his lunch break, he was taciturn as usual, and most of the call was about his disapproval of us girls going out without at least one male friend or a boyfriend to chaperone.

"Oh my god, Walter, this is not the 50s! Women can leave their house without a husband tagging along!" I grunted and berated him, "stop acting like someone is going to kidnap me!!! I'm an adult woman!" I snapped at him while sitting at the cafe. People sitting around stared quietly as I hung up the phone, and stormed out.

~~~

Walter looked at his mobile phone, shocked. He couldn't even remember the last time someone hung up on him, let along his wife.

"Fucking brat," he muttered as he pocketed it. 

After lunch, he went into the precinct. Since it was flu season and they were having a shortage of uniformed officers, he volunteered to patrol tonight. Assuming he might even be able to check up on me wherever I get to town. Just to keep me safe. That's right. Not from jealousy. Not because I'll be all dolled up and tipsy and every man in the vicinity will ogle me.

~~~

As the evening loomed, I was in dire need of letting loose. Walter had left me incredibly frustrated, acting like a police officer from hell rather than my husband. Going through my closet, I stumbled upon the most outrageous piece of wardrobe: a black strappy thing with corset details at the front. The same one I've worn for our first date which of course ended up with Walter and I dry humping like two horny teenagers at the back of his truck and him eating me out until I came all over his beard 4 times. 

I slapped a dark red lipstick and put on a pair of red "fuck me" pumps before leaving to meet the gals in a new night club that had just opened. I might or might not have a rolled-up joint in my purse.

~~~

Walter was sitting in a patrol vehicle on the opposite side of the street from the new fancy club with translucent walls. We were all sitting beside the window at a small table full of cocktail glasses, but the girls were gesturing toward the dance floor. Walter chose a dark spot on the street to park the car and was wearing a beanie. 

But he didn't need it. He knew I was oblivious to him and also to the men staring at me from 3 different tables. He ground his teeth frustrated when he first noticed that I was wearing that dress. His blood boiled as I was slowly sipping a cocktail with a sexy little pout around the long straw.

"Let's dance!!! I wanna dance!!!" I whined at my friend Keylah, grabbing her wrist and dragging her with me. My posture was slightly unstable after two cocktails and probably not enough food to pad my belly. She followed me to the dance floor while Stephanie remained in her seat, talking to some guy just for the sake of trolling. He'd been hitting on each one of us unsuccessfully. 

After an hour of dancing with Keylah, swaying my ass in ways that didn't leave any imagination to the men lurking, I remembered the little treat I had in my purse and decided we should take a small break to breathe some fresh air. 

I grabbed the girls, and we walked outside.

"Okay, don't you dare mention this to Walter," I warned them as I took the joint out from my purse.

"Daddy Magnum gonna punish you?" Steph teased while I lit the weed. 

"Oh, you have no idea, he gave me shit about seeing you tonight without a male chaperone, like this is Mad Man or something." 

"Woah! Walter is a boomer!!!" Keylah teased, and we all laughed hysterically. 

~~~

Unbeknownst to me, Walter was watching us dance from his patrol car, getting more and more frustrated by the hour. He observed as I gathered both girls and came out on the street, walking a couple of meters away from the entrance. A frown fell on his face as he saw me taking a lighter out from my purse.

"She doesn't even smoke, what the hell?" he fumed. 

His eyes widened when he saw the telltale shape of a joint between my fingers. His mouth was agape as I lit it up and started smoking and passing it around. "What the fuck? Where did she get that?" he muttered incredulously.

'It's fucking illegal in Minnesota, what the fuck? A cop's wife at that!' He thought, rage simmering in his gut.  

The police radio suddenly began buzzing, the sergeant calling on the line. 

"Hey Marshall, Toby came in for the night shift after all. Do you want him to keep you company?" 

'And see Walter's wife going to town on a spliff? No fucking way.' 

"No, Sarge, thanks. It's uh... calm tonight." He frowned from afar. "Nothing but law-abiding citizens," he replied, hoping his sarcasm didn't go through while he was watching the wife of a respected detective drunk and smoking weed in the great outdoors.

"All right" the sarge concluded and cut the line, and Walter put back the radio.

‘Un-fucking-believable.'

~~~

The girls and I fell into a fit of wild giggles, thoroughly buzzed and high at the same time. My skirt rode up my thighs, and I didn't even bother fixing it as the combination of drugs and alcohol made me frivolous and careless. 

"Is Walter such a nerd in bed too? Is he one of those guys who won't even make a sound because they are ashamed of it?" Stephanie asked to which I immediately snorted.

"Walter fucks like a beast from hell," I answered and put off the remains of the joint against the heel of my shoe. 

"I had to go to the gyno at least four times in the past because he was too violent, and trust me, the noise he makes, luckily no one called the police yet…" 

"Jennifer, your husband is the police!" Keylah answered, and we burst into another fit of giggles which then gradually died down. 

The same man who bugged us from before followed us outside, giving us some stares and making a suckling voice with his lips. I snorted at him and told him to fuck off before putting my arms around my girls. 

"This place sucks, let's go grab something to eat from the store, if Walter sees me like this I will NEVER hear the end of it".

~~~

Walter was watching us walk away, still furious about my illicit behaviour. He promised himself that he'd have a serious conversation with me about this tomorrow. He gave us two blocks of a head start and then ignited the engine of the car and made a U-turn, slowly he rolled towards the store and saw us enter. He made another U-turn in front of the store to park across the street. He just hoped that we'll buy some nachos and a coke and then call it a night, and call a cab to go home.

~~~

It was close to 1am. We barged into the store, marching through as if we owned the place. Keylah stopped by the condoms section and threw a bottle of lube in my direction. "Here you go, Jennifer, you gonna need it".

I laughed and threw it back at her, grabbing a bag of chips and a bottle of water. 

"Better fuck his brains before he starts asking where you've been tonight," Stephanie added. 

"Can you girls please behave?" The clerk-lady requested politely, giving us a prudent look. I rolled my eyes at her and then stopped short as I saw a large stuffed grizzly bear that reminded me of Walter. I grabbed it and hugged it tightly just as I got the sudden urge to misbehave.

"Girls…" I whispered, making them come closer, "bet you a 20 I can sneak this out without paying!"

~~~

Walter's shoulders slumped, and he let out an irritated groan when he saw one of the girls throwing things inside the store. Though, he sighed in relief when I paused this stupid game, and a small smile tugged the edge of his mouth when I hugged a huge stuffed bear that reached down to my thighs and was high above the top of my head as I squeezed it to my torso. 

The way I looked at the bear reminded him of the loving looks I always gave him. But a sense of foreboding assaulted him as we started whispering and pointed at the door.

~~~

"Okay, okay… shush!" I whispered way too obvious and held the stuffed animal behind my back.

"Hey Keylah, can you pay for my chips?" I asked and backed away toward the door, nearly stumbling on my heels and holding the laughter in my gut. 

Noticing my attempt, the old woman cleared her throat, giving me a glare, "You are going to have to pay for that or I will call the police…"

"Her husb…"

"Shut up, Stephanie!" Keylah shouted and threw a bottle of lube in her direction, accidently hitting my shoulder, which made me drop the bear on the floor. 

"Key, you fucking bitch!!!" I answered and picked up the bottle, throwing it back at her. 

"Hey stop that!!!!" The clerk demanded and walked back behind the counter, picking up her phone. 

We ignored her, laughing like schoolgirls and throwing the bottle back and forth between us. Boxes of tampons and condoms fell to the floor as we moved through the hygiene section shouting playfully. 

As Keylah threw the bottle at me for the 12th time, I lifted it and threw it so hard it hit the window and broke it, causing the store's alarm to go off immediately.

"Oh… fu……..ck" I uttered.

~~~

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," Walter panicked as he saw us vandalising the store. He was immediately ready to jump out of the car, but then it would be obvious he'd been keeping an eye on me. He had to wait for the call. 

He wasn't even hoping that the clerk would not involve the police in the matter. She has to. ‘Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.’ 

When he saw the lady picking up the phone, he buried his face in his palms and rubbed it tiredly.

"Stupid, fucking bitches" he sighed, not believing his wife being so reckless. 

He picked up the buzzing radio and said, "Marshall. I'm here. On it." 

Without delay, he took the beanie off and got out of the car with his badge and gun ready.

~~~

Fingers dug into my hair, I stared wide-eyed at the broken window, immediately regretting all my decisions in the last couple of hours. 

'Walter was going to fucking kill me'. 

"I am soooooooo……." I began to say, turning to the clerk slowly while Keylah and Steph held their hands over their mouths. "So sorry." I stretched out while the alarm continued ringing in my ears. 

Then just like out of a nightmare, stepping through shards of broken glass with his big black boots, I saw Walter walking in, his brows knit together, his badge and his gun held out but kept low. He was enormous and menacing, yet the sight of him comforted me.

"Oh thank god, it's you!" I call out relieved.

~~~

The glass cracked beneath his steps as he walked in. He looked around and checked the store for cameras. 'Fuck, there were CCTVs'. 

He hoped to snatch me away and take care of the situation without involving... well himself but now that there was evidence it wasn't possible anymore. I was looking at him like a frightened little girl, but he couldn't help me, and frankly, he didn't feel like it either.

He looked at the clerk, showed her his badge and said in a neutral tone "MPD. What seems to be the problem?" 

~~~

My breath hitched at his "cop voice" and the way he asked the clerk. 

Stepping back and standing in the middle of the group, the three of us gaped at him with utter dumbfoundedness. Both my heart and gut dropped to the messy floor out of fear, and the way he carried himself, looking so menacing and authoritative made my panties drenched with arousal. 

"Officer, thank god you arrived! These three tried to steal a stuffed animal and started wreaking havoc in the store, throwing stuff around like children and speaking offensively!" The old woman explained and stood in the middle of the mess, looking helpless. 

My eyes rounded with false innocence, and I nibbled my bottom lip, giving Walter a vulnerable look. 

Walter was patiently listening to the clerk. Not a muscle flinched on his face as if he'd known everything. He took his notebook and a report form out and took care of the paperwork. 

The old lady eyed the three of us nervously while Walter was scribbling, and she hesitantly asked, "I'm sorry, Officer, but shouldn't you handcuff them? They might run."

Walter's curly head lifted, and he flashed the lady a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, ma'am. They won't run."

"Is he serious?" Steph whispered, and I elbowed her, giving Walter a rather pissed off smile as he pretended not to know us at all and treated me like any other criminal.

Was it that just for show? Probably. We were going to have a serious talk about boundaries once we'd get home.

Walter finished writing his report and made the lady sign it before turning to look at the three of us, clenching his jaw. 

After a long, stern silence, I finally spoke, "Can I still get the teddy bear?"

Walter's nostrils flared as he dug into his pocket, pulled out a 20-dollar bill, slammed it on the counter and said to the clerk "For the bear."

At first, the lady was dumbfounded, then she blurted out outraged "Why are you buying a gift for a criminal?"

Walter didn't even spare her a look. He picked up the bear and looked at me with unflinching, stern eyes that made all three of us take a step backwards.

"Because she's my fucking wife."

The tone of his voice made the three of us startle, and I released a small gasp, seeing the look on his face. Walter made a gesture with his hand singling us to walk out of the store in order, and we did as he commanded. At the same time, my eyes gave him a mischievous smirk, mistaking this behaviour for a show.

Walter left the store last and immediately commanded, "To the car".

When we got there on the opposite side of the street, he opened the car and shoved the teddy bear on the passenger seat, then turned back, crossed his hands on his chest, and looked at all three of us. 

"Here's how it's gonna happen. We go in the precinct, fill out the forms, you stay the night, and most likely will be charged with a misdemeanour. Although the weed might be more problematic." He glared at me pointedly. 

The girls and I collectively gasped. 

"Now get in the back seat, all of you."

With shuddering legs, Keylah and Steph obediently entered the patrol car. I stared at Walter as he stood there towering over me, his massive arms crossed around his broad chest.

Still intoxicated, I looked at him with disbelief, realising two things: he arrived at the scene in less than two minutes after the lady called the police, which is impossible. And two, he couldn't possibly know I had weed on me unless… 

"Were you stalking me?!" I called out, ignoring the police officer and speaking to my husband. My hands went to my hips, my face sulking. 

"Oh my god, Walter! You were! Weren't you?" I frowned and shook my head, grunting with disgust.

"You are in no position to reproach me for anything right now", Walter said, seemingly calm. "But if you wanna know, I was patrolling in the neighbourhood and decided to check up on you. I saw the way you were shaking your ass for strangers" he spat, but he let his eyes roam the tight dress, and the way he subtly licked his lips made me sure he remembered exactly which dress it was.

"Do as you're fucking told and get in the car or you're gonna find yourself in even bigger trouble." 

"Oh my god, Walter!!! Are you fucking kidding me?!" I yelled at him and stepped back, throwing my hands in the air furiously.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!! MY OWN HUSBAND STALKING ME?! What's next Walter? You gonna put an ankle bracelet thingy on me, so I don't get to leave the house without your fucking permission?!"

I got so angry, my hands pushed at his chest, to which he didn't even budge, and only his jaw tightened.

"I am NOT getting into that car, and you are going to let Keylah and Steph go before you are going to be in trouble!"

Keylah and Steph were both watching with utter fascination as they saw the growing tension in Walter's posture.

Once Keylah and Steph were inside the car, they felt like the immediate danger was over. Their drunkenness and high made them reckless again and they started cheering me in the verbal fight with my husband.

Walter was on the verge of bursting, it was evident from his face. He took a menacing step towards me and despite my anger, a pang of arousal shot in my core.

"Get. in the. fucking. car" he growled in a barely audible voice. He gave me one last chance to voluntarily obey him.

I moved closer toward him, my head tilting up to meet his menacing gaze, my breasts ghostly brushing against his hard torso.

"I am not going anywhere with you," I answered unflinchingly. "Keep this attitude up, and the whole town will get to enjoy me swaying this ass long before you do." I teasingly slapped my own ass and then smirked arrogantly as I heard the girls cheering at the backseat

"That's it."

Quick as lightning, Walter's hands uncrossed and shot out. He grabbed my arms, turned me around with dizzying speed and slammed my torso down on the hood of the police car.

"Jennifer Marshall, you are under arrest for destruction of property, public intoxication and obstruction of a law enforcement officer."

I gasped incredulously as I felt the metal handcuffs closing on my wrists while Walter was performing his duty automatically and methodically. I'd never seen him make an arrest, let alone manhandle me like this.

With my cheek pressed against the cold metal, I could see both Keylah and Steph gape at us, eyes and mouth wide with daze. 

Still intoxicated, I hissed as a shiver of fear and sexual arousal shot through my spine, creeping all the way down to my throbbing core. 

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I cried out in protest. "I am your wife!"

My attempt to stand up brought my ass to collide with his crotch, where I felt the unmistakable throb of his blood circulating down to his groin. 

"Are you also getting the feeling that they're gonna fuck?" Steph whispered to Keylah, loud enough for us to hear.

"Shush!" she answered and stared, licking her lips. 

"Let me go, you fucking pig!" I screamed and squirmed on the hood helplessly. 

"Anything you say will be held against you in the court of law" Walter continued in his deep cop voice as if I hadn't even spoken.

"Say his dick, girl!" Keylah shouted, and Steph wooed, but they quickly shut up and resorted to concealed giggling as Walter shot angry eyes at them. He stepped closer to secure his hold on the handcuffs, and I felt the warm coarse material of his jeans at the back of my thighs.

"If you don't want to add resisting arrest and possession of narcotics to your offences, shut the fuck up and stop squirming."

"Fuck” I hissed, which didn't go unnoticed by Walter. My ass naturally shifted against his hardening bulge, and I moaned gently, not loud enough for the girls to hear but definitely heard by Walter, who had his hand around my cuffed wrists.

"You're enjoying this, big guy?" I spit out sardonically, "controlling your wife like you always want to, hmm?"

With the alcohol flushing through my veins, mingled with the sheer exhilaration of anger, I became more daring than ever.

"I think you are just scared because we both know you are never going to tame me."

[sanaxking]

When Night Comes - Prologue

arrangement by @kaexloey • credit to all OPs, do not repost.

Genre: Vampire!AU

Rated: M, 18+

Word count: ~1.7k

TW: mild sexual themes, language, violence/gore, blood, mentions of alcohol & intoxication

As Sana opens the door to the dive bar, she is immediately hit with the smell of cheap alcohol and cigarettes. Taking a look around the bar, everything perfectly matches the smell. There are plenty of gross looking men (and women, for that matter) all over and in various states of intoxication.

“Ugh, I hate these fucking bars. Why did he have to be at a shitty place like this,” Sana mutters to herself as she takes her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans.

Unlocking the phone, she opens her photos app to a specific picture of a tall, fair skinned man with blonde hair and green eyes. He's smiling directly into the picture without a hint of anything he does in his free time. Looking up from the phone with her temper already boiling, she begins to scan the room in search of the man in the photo.

It doesn't take too long as her eyes settle on the handsome man deep into conversation with the unsuspecting bartender. "Got you, motherfucker," Sana says to herself with a villainous smile as she makes her way over towards the bar.

As she walks towards the bar, a pair of eyes watches her closely from the other side of the room. The unseen person slowly takes a sip of her drink as she watches Sana approach the bar next to the blonde-haired man.

"So that's when I said, 'I'll have whatever he's having!’" Sana rolls her eyes as she hears the punchline of what was no doubt a terrible joke from the man she was searching for, feeling bad for the bartender that has to act like she likes this in order to boost her tips.

"I'll have a Jack & Coke on the rocks," Sana says to the bartender, giving her a look to know she'll be taking this idiot off her hands for the rest of the night. The bartender looks incredibly grateful for the gesture, mouthing "thank you" before turning to make the drink.

Within seconds of settling onto the barstool, Sana can feel the man already burning the side of her face with his intense gaze. "Just push through, Sana. You need this," she quickly says in her head as a way to work up the courage to continue on.

“I haven’t seen you in here before, blondie. You must be new in town. I would have for sure remembered a face like that,” he says to Sana, raising his voice to get above the chatter of the crowd inside the bar. Her skin crawls slightly at his cheesy pickup line as she gathers herself to respond.

“Somewhat. I’ve been here a few months, but just thought I would try somewhere new. Can’t find many men as hot as you at my usual spots,” she responds, hoping that she didn’t lay it on too thick with the comment. Thankfully, this guy is as dense as he seems, not noticing at all that she’s obviously just leading him on.

“Well, you’re not wrong there. How about we get another round on me?”

Sana really would rather not spend more time talking with him than she absolutely has to, but in order for this to work, she knows she needs him to drink a bit more. She begrudgingly obliges as the drinks flow for three more rounds. By this point, the man is pretty drunk. Not drunk enough to blackout, but certainly too drunk to drive. Which is all Sana needs.

“Alright, alright,” Sana says into the man’s ear after he tries to push the date to a fourth round. “As much as I would love another drink, how about we call it a night and get out of here? I know a perfect place.”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s go,” he responds, while fishing his car keys out of his jeans.

“Not a chance in hell. No way are you driving us anywhere like this,” Sana says as she snatches the keys from his hands.

“Hey, you had just as much as I di-,” he begins to say in protest as you put a finger up to his lips to silence him. “I’ll be just fine, trust me,” Sane replies, hoping that he buys it without further explanation.

Once again, the guy is too dense to notice much of anything as he simply shrugs and grabs her hand as the pair head out of the bar into the misty night air.

Getting him to the car wasn’t much of a struggle, as he was perfectly content to lean as close as possible into Sana’s body to steady his stumbling feet. As she slammed his door shut and made her way around to the driver’s side, Sana took a quick look around, making sure no one saw her getting into the man’s car. Not a single soul was spotted on the empty street, giving her enough peace of mind to see this through.

As she got into the car and started the engine, a pair of eyes once again was keenly watching her every move. A few seconds after Sana pulls the Audi out into traffic and down the street, a black BMW slowly falls into place half a dozen car lengths behind.

After a painfully long 30-minute drive filled with plenty of handsy advances from her passenger, Sana pulls the car up to the seaside cliff she had previously scoped out. She puts the car in park and shuts off the engine before turning in her seat to face her passenger.

“How did you find out about this place? Seems kind of random. Hey, were your eyes always that red?” he asks her as he undoes his own seatbelt with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. All you should care about is making this a night neither of us will wanna forget,” Sana responds, internally cringing at the ridiculousness of her words. She always hates this part of these encounters. As she utters her response, the man seems to catch a glimpse of something flashing in her red eyes before his expression seems to go slack.

Sana then crawls over the center console and into the backseat, making sure to jut out her ass to give him an enticing view. When he seems to hesitate for a few moments, she quickly takes off her shirt and tosses it into his face in the front seat.

This seems to be all the encouragement he needs as he quickly snaps out of his trancelike state and climbs into the backseat with far too much eagerness for her taste. Swallowing her own hesitation, she then crushes her lips into his, allowing herself to get lost in the moment. He may be an asshole, but she was going to let herself enjoy this, even if briefly.

Sana feels his hands slide up her waist towards her semi-exposed breasts, completely bringing her out of the moment as she remembers who he is and what he did. She then feels something take over her senses as she pulls back from the kiss to get a better look at his neck. Her vision begins to pulse and it’s as if she can see his blood pumping through his veins.

A slow, sinister smile begins to spread across her moonlit face.

“How about we take this a bit furth-,” he begins before his sentence is cut off by a searing pain in his neck.

As he was beginning to mutter his advance, Sana was seeing red and finally exposes her fangs. She slowly ran her tongue along them, taking one last whiff of the intoxicating smell before swiftly latching onto his neck.

The man’s guttural scream is cut short as her fangs sink deeper and deeper into his neck, Sana attempting to suck out as much blood as she can in her first few swallows. It takes less than a minute before he loses consciousness, his body going into shock. By the time 20 minutes has passed, any traces of life have completely left his body. She continues to drain his body until she’s finally had her fill.

Feeling satisfied, Sana sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. As she leans into the front seat to grab her shirt, she looks down and catches a glimpse of her bra, noticing the blood that’s smeared all over it.

“Fuck. I just bought this last night!” she curses out loud, annoyed at the carelessness of wearing brand new clothes out tonight. Before she has too much time to berate herself, a pair of headlights illuminate the interior of the car. She quickly grabs her things and hops back out into the cool air.

Just as she slams the door shut, she hears the tires of the black BMW screech to a halt along the dirt road.

"It's about fucking time, Sana! The sun is up in a couple hours and the crew still needs time to clean up your mess. You always cut this shit so close."

"Calm down, Momo. We have plenty of time to get back before dawn. You worry too much."

"Maybe if you actually followed the rules for once in your life, I wouldn’t have to worry so much," Momo responds with an annoyed look on her face.

Sana rolls her eyes at the insinuation. “Whatever. I follow the stupid rules just fine. Let's just get the fuck out of here, okay?"

As Sana gets into the passenger seat, Momo doesn’t even wait for Sana to get her seatbelt on before she throws the car into gear and speeds off down the road.

It was at about this point that Sana used to feel guilt for taking the life of a stranger. Looking into the mirror in front of her, she sees that her eyes have gone back to their normal, warm brown tint.

“Eh, he was a piece of shit anyways,” she thinks to herself with a sly smile as the car lurches forward towards their estate.

[ill-skillsgard]

Blue and Yellow - Part 8 - Axel Cluney

Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/strong language/medical themes/mentions of blood+injuries/hospitals/violence/drug and alcohol use **In this part: drug and alcohol use, violence, mentions of blood, violence/assault, mentions of alcoholism, smut**

Description: Saberrah Asta, Featherfall General’s newest nurse, finds herself entangled in the complicated life of an underground boxer with a slew of problems she can’t fix. Will Axel’s love knock out the voices telling her to run, or will their explosive romance fizzle as fast as it flourished?

Note: Thanks to everyone who continues to enjoy this series and reblogs the chapters as they come out. I really, really appreciate your support. If you can’t reblog, consider dropping a like and a comment... It really makes me happy and lets me know I’m not wasting my time posting on this website. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

In the ruddy glow of the UV lights, eyes stuck on a woman twirling around a powdered pole. She started the show wearing a yellow underbust corset, a ruffled skirt and a matching bikini top. The music came on, and the corset flew off with it as she sidled up to the chrome pole and arched her back until her crown touched the floor. Sabi watched the sweat drip from a man's forehead onto the edge of the stage. The dancer rolled over the droplet, absorbing the perspiration, and continued bending her body into impressive shapes.

Not all eyes focused on the yellow-clad exotic dancer commanding the stage with her long legs, nine-inch stiletto boots and stiff, blond wig. Some eyes were on the girls swapping empty cups for full ones, some on the women grinding on laps, and one set scanned the floor for lost money. One of the first things Sabi noticed about the strip club—other than its low, dark, and claustrophobic ceiling and walls—was that the carpeting around the stage littered with dollar coins. They glinted under the disco lights and beckoned her pick them up. She'd asked Axel why there were so many toonies on the floor, and he told her it was because people weren't allowed to tip with coins, and since the lowest notes were shiny fivers, the dancers often came away with a day's worth of money in two songs' time if their patrons were generous.

Sabi collected the coins, stored them in the pockets of her scrubs and until she swapped them for gin and tonics.

Arty sat on the other side of a horseshoe-shaped table, gawking up at the dancers like a boy witnessing his first Christmas tree. Only between songs did he shut his mouth and make his way over to his cousin to ask, "did you see that? Did you see her? I think she likes me. Think I should buy a dance from her?"

Axel spread out his hand and waited for Sabi to take hold. When she did, Axel pulled her from her seat and asked for a cigarette since his pack had run out on the trip to Nikki's. They went outside and stood under a neon sign of a buxom woman riding a sausage in cowboy boots. The sign flashed, and the large-breasted rider's hat came off. Axel lit his cigarette first and swapped it with Sabi's dry one.

Sabi looked around the lot, then back at Axel, who leaned against the brick wall, blowing smoke rings into the night air under the deep red glow. The weed had worn off during the ride up and left a residual sleepiness Sabi continued to chase off by flexing her toes and noticing how plain she looked, still dressed in her hospital scrubs.

"So, why do you guys call it Sticky Nikki's?" Sabi asked.

Axel's mouth tilted to one side, smiling as he exhaled. "Most people say it's because the dancers here don't shower, but it's really because of the bathrooms."

Sabi's full bladder clenched. "What about them?"

"Every surface of the bathrooms besides the toilet seats are covered with oil."

She contorted her top lip in disgust. "Um, why?"

"So people don't do coke in there."

"I don't understand."

"You can't bust lines on a greasy surface. The coke will stick and clump up. They've been raided before, so I guess they took that route. Now people just do coke in the VIP booths or in their cars."

"Wow, that's very... Innovative?"

A yellow Firebird chugged into a parking space across the lot, headlights closing before the engine cut. The vehicle caught Axel's attention, and he threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground to stamp it out.

"Come on. Let's get back inside—"

"AXEL?"

"Oh, fuck."

"Axel! Hellooo!"

The driver stepped out of the Firebird onto the asphalt in strappy silver heels coiling up her naked shins and thighs. Her matching dress ended at her hips, revealing a small triangle of silver between her legs as she walked and urged the dress down. The unforgiving material slid back up as she trotted toward Axel and Sabi, bangles, necklace and dangling earrings jingling as she went. The woman wore a bright pink, faux fur bolero around her shoulders with her silvery hair piled high on her head. Sabi noticed large, pierced nipples straining through the Mylar dish towel of a dress and an illegible tattoo seated between her breasts.

"Oh, Bluebear! C'mere handsome! Give me a hug right now!" The thin, knobby woman threw her torso at Axel, knocking him into the brick wall. He returned a brief hug and dropped his arms, but the woman clung to him and kissed his cheek. She clutched his face and peppered his jawline with kisses. "Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! Did you come just to see me?"

Axel chuckled nervously and pushed her off with two hands on her fur-lined shoulders. The woman ignored Sabi and continued trying to land kisses on Axel's face and hands.

"Marley, calm down, Jesus," Axel said.

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe you're here. I've been thinking about you. You never call?"

"Busy. Always busy."

"Apparently not too busy to be here."

Axel nodded to his left, where Sabi stood, stunned. "You can thank her and Arty for dragging me out."

Marley gave Sabi a quick glance, then turned her attention on Axel with a broad smile full of crooked teeth. "Are you gonna watch me dance tonight?"

"No, Marley. That's weird."

"Oh, come on, Bluey! We're not related anymore since Greg and Juney divorced," she giggled. "I'm fair game."

Sabi fluttered her lashes and scoffed. "Excuse me, Marley, is it?"

"Yeah?"

"Take your fucking hands off my boyfriend."

Marley stepped back, one heel wobbling on a loose stone. Axel pressed himself flat to the wall. The vicious edge of Sabi's voice cut through the din of music filtering from the inside, leaving the three of them in strained silence. Sabi took one last puff of her cigarette and flicked it at the dancer's feet. Her last few drinks curdled her blood and pumped her chest full of adrenaline.

"Damn, you're a feisty one," said Marley with a scoff. "Axe, are you just gonna let her talk to me like that?"

Axel nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. You should go inside, Marley... Before you catch hands."

"And a cold," Sabi spat, ridiculing the woman's outfit with a furrowed brow and blazing eyes.

"Wow, that's fucking rude. Can't believe you, Blue."

The front door swung open, and Arty came stumbling out with another couple of friends who'd driven up to the strip club with them. In his drunken haze, Arty missed the tension and gasped at Marley.

"Mar-Mar!" He approached her with his thick arms akimbo. Marley ducked away from the large man's embrace. "What's the matter?"

"Blue's girlfriend is the matter."

Sabi clenched her fists as the cousins murmured in surround sound. Axel caught Sabi's arm and tugged her back into the club as she twisted her neck, eyes sweltering on the blond woman. Once inside and clear of the entrance, Axel spun her to face him.

"Easy, Saberrah. Easy. Deep breath."

Instead of inhaling, Sabi launched herself at his chest, poking his sternum with a stiff finger. "I'll gouge that bitch's eyes out, Axel. I promise you!"

"No, no, no," he shook his head. "Don't. I know you're pissed, but you can't let her get to you. That's just Marley for ya. She's a dumbass."

"She's gonna be a dead dumbass!"

Axel smothered Sabi in his arms, brushed his fingers through her hair and shushed her until she stopped struggling. "Don't fucking start a fight at Sticky Nikki's, babe. You don't want to be that person."

The multi-coloured lights shifted along the walls and floor, illuminating the couple as Axel held Sabi's head in place between his hands. He ducked to kiss her in hopes some affection might disperse her anger, but it only fanned the flame.

"Who the fuck does she think she is walking up and practically making out with you? Like what the fuck is that, Axel? Have you fucked her before? Why did she do that?"

"What the fuck, Sabi? Of course, I haven't fucked my fucking cousin."

"She sure acts like there's a fucking chance!"

The bouncer at the door caught wind of the heated exchange unfolding between the bar and the tables. He snapped his thick fingers at Axel.

"Take it outside, man!"

Axel nodded, gave a courteous wave to the bouncer, and guided Sabi to a darker corner. "Babe, come on. It's done."

"No, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have let you get me drunk. We're broken up. I shouldn't even be here with you. Look what I'm wearing, Axel. This is fucking ridiculous."

Desperate terror broke Axel's composure, and he gathered her in his arms, clamping her shoulders. "Don't fucking say that. We're not broken up. Please, Sabi, don't do this to me again. I thought we were cool?"

"No, we're not fucking cool! You're a goddamn liar, and your stupid family are a bunch of fucking lunatics!"

"I know they are, I know, but please, God, just don't fucking do this, Sab. We're together. I'm here. I won't ever lie to you again, I swear on my mother's life. Can we please just forget about this and go home? Let's go home, babe."

"Why are you like this?" Sabi moaned. Her head spun, senses awash in cheap beer and liquor, anxiety mounting. She begrudged her furious outburst, but it wouldn't subside no matter how loud her inner reason screamed out to stop. "Why did I ever get involved with you?"

"Sabi, Sabi, please," Axel's tone flattened into a serious line. Sobered and despairing, Axel bent at the knees to meet her eyes, hands squeezing her arms. "Baby, I love you. I love you. Don't talk like that. Jesus, I've never loved anyone in my fucking life the way I love you. I'm sorry I'm not perfect, but please, don't do this to me again. You're just drunk, babe. Come on, we'll go home and sleep it off."

A bubble burst in Sabi's throat, and she whimpered. Close to tears, she buried her face in his chest and threw her arms around him. Axel melted into the embrace. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her in the UV light, white tank top glowing pale blue.

Sabi mumbled incoherently until Axel pulled away and asked what she said. She sniffled and wiped her nose, muttering, "I love you, too. I love you so much, and I hate it."

The bouncer kept eyes on the arguing couple until yelling from outside the club took priority. As the stage lights dimmed and the flaring shower of red and blue sprayed the stage, Axel took Sabi's hand and led her to a row of curtained booths. He pushed her through a heavy flap into a cubicle with a C-shaped couch and a small television on a shelf displaying a feed of the stage. To the right, on a small ledge, was an empty cup containing a few torn condom wrappers. Potlights behind the red leather sofa soaked the space and reflected off the mirrors on the ceiling and floor. Sabi chuffed as Axel pulled her close and kissed her.

"This place is disgusting, Axel."

"I fucking told you! But you wanted to come. We could have gone home and cuddled and went to bed, but you wanted to go out."

"I haven't partied in a long time. Thought it would be nice to do something fun."

"Strip clubs aren't my idea of fun," Axel said.

"What? You don't like tits in your face? Looks like the last ones in here had a great time," Sabi indicated the square foil packets in the plastic cup.

Axel sat on the lumpy cushions and pulled Sabi onto his lap. "The only tits I want in my face are yours."

"But mine aren't huge like theirs."

"You mean they're not pumped full of silicone? Oh, no," Axel rolled his eyes.

"Did you mean that?" Sabi sniffled. "Do you really love me?"

Axel stared up at her with his arms around her waist, eyes blasted open and shining as his bottom lip wobbled. "Sab... I've never loved anyone. Up until we met, I didn't think it was possible. I thought maybe I was fucked up and emotionally damaged. Maybe I saw my parents hate each other so hard, it ruined any chance of me wanting a relationship. And I'm sorry my family is so fucked up. I'm trying hard not to be like them. I've always wanted to do better, and then I met you, and everything changed. I love you."

Thunder rolled through Sabi's skull. The alcohol fuzz and adrenaline receded, exposing an agitated sore through the air of Axel's confession. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Axel returned the motion with a tilt of his head and two roaming hands. He hoped he was in the clear, that Sabi wouldn't turn around and chastise him or claim they weren't together. The unburdening of truth left his chest empty but warm. Axel had practiced his speech in several forms, never once thinking he'd deliver it to Sabi in the VIP booth of a strip club after she threatened to kill one of his cousins.

"Please, Axe, please... Don't lie to me ever again. I want you to tell me the truth about everything. You can't sit here and tell me you love me if you intend to lie again."

"I won't lie. I swear. You're everything to me, babe. Just stay with me. Don't say we're not together... I can't stand the sound of that."

"We are together," Sabi said, pressing her forehead to his. "We're together."

"Thank you," he whispered against her lips.

They stayed in the booth, kissing and holding each other while Aerosmith, Motley Crue and Whitesnake played over the PA system. Sequestered from their group, the couple talked shit about Axel's cousins and poked fun at themselves for indulging the white trash rhapsody they so often condemned. Sabi fought off her sleepiness by teasing Axel until he couldn't stand her grinding and whispers. Still, her intoxication erased all bashfulness, and she climbed off his lap to dance for him when Cherry Pie by Warrant blasted over the sound system.

"Oh, nurse, are you gonna make me feel better?" Axel asked.

"My routine is all method. Nurse by day, slut by night," Sabi giggled.

"I like that. You should get up on that stage and shake that sweet booty. Show those girls what it's all about."

Sabi whirled around, cheeks prickling red. "No way. I'm not dancing in front of those gross old dudes and your cousins."

Axel chuckled until he sighed. "Speaking of my stupid-ass cousins... We should probably find them. I'm about ready to split from this festering anal scab. What do you think?"

"It would be nice to get out of these scrubs. I feel like a total nerd."

"You wear it well, babe. Real well."

The two left the booth, skirted the tables and found Arty engaged in conversation with Jack, another one of their cousins, at the opposite corner of the club. For once, Arty wasn't gawping at the dancers but motoring through an explanation until he caught sight of Axel and Sabi. He slammed his fist on the table, startling Jack and sloshing beer over the plastic cups.

"There you fucking are! Christ, I was looking all over for you! Thought you left until I saw the Monte still in the lot. Where the fuck have you been?"

"We were just talking."

"Marley's pissed. Said she's gonna have the guys throw you both out."

Axel jeered. "Yeah, whatever. Marley's a fucking cunt, and we're about ready to take off anyway."

"Hey, I got a little something, Axe. Wanna pitch on this gram?"

Sabi cocked her head until Arty flashed a small vial he'd been holding in his meaty palm. She looked to Axel, then back at Arty, who pumped his eyebrows. Jack, their younger, skinnier and quieter cousin, hid a grin behind a crudely tattooed fist. It clicked then that the two had already partaken, and the full effects motored through their mouths and tapping feet.

"Man, fuck that shit," Axel said.

Sabi's heart raced. She'd never seen cocaine before, and the thought of Axel snorting drugs filled her with an itchy sensation that wasn't as worrisome as she thought. Memories of overdose patients riddled her brain, drowned only by the glamour and taboo of the powder in Arty's hand. She pinched the inside of her cheek between her teeth and looked up at Axel, squeezing his hand.

"What? You wanna do some?" He asked in a lowered voice.

"I don't know," Sabi shrugged. "I've never tried it before."

"It's really not that great."

"Well..."

"Come on, Blue."

Axel let out a hiss of air. "You only want me to so I'll pitch on it."

"Nah, you don't have to. My treat," said Arty. "You don't owe me for the 'dro either. You guys said you wanted to party, so let's fucking party."

Inside the Monte Carlo, Arty and Jack took the backseats, and Sabi sat upfront while Axel dipped his house key into the vial. Arty and Jack had already tipped a pinch onto the backs of their hands and shot it up their nostrils with ease, roiling their noses around and sniffling as the substance absorbed. The key came out with a small white peak and soon disappeared up Axel's right nostril. He sat back, eyes wide as he sniffled and cleared his throat, blinking wildly until he smiled and looked back at his cousins.

"Jesus."

"Right? It's good blow. None of that fenny bullshit. Don't worry, we already tested it."

Jack tapped the fanny pack around his waist. "Naloxone, just in case. Playin' it smart after Tracy."

Arty sighed, "rest in peace."

Sabi's palms and feet moistened as Axel dipped the key in the vial again and came up with a much smaller amount of powder. He twisted in the seat and handed the vial to Arty. "Ready?"

"Um... I don't really know what to do," said Sabi.

"Here," Axel pressed her left nostril shut with the tip of his middle finger. "When I say so, inhale like you're trying to hawk a loogie."

Sabi made a look of disgust until Axel brought the edge of the key to her nose.

"Okay, go."

Powder shot into her nasal cavity, coating the walls and setting off her salivary glands. After a few seconds, she felt her nose dripping and sucked the fluid back until her throat went numb. She hauled the mucus into her mouth and swallowed, then ran her tongue over her teeth and gums, feeling nothing.

"Did I do it right?" She asked as her eyelids drew back, and the lethargy gave way to an intense rush of energy.

Axel and his cousins tittered. "Yeah, babe. You did it right."

"Am I supposed to feel like my head is numb?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Jack. "Funny feeling at first, but you'll get used to that. It goes away pretty soon."

Axel shook his head. "Nah, there's nothing to get used to. This is a one-time thing. Just for shits and giggles, okay?"

"Okay," said Sabi as Axel grabbed her hand and squeezed.

In minutes, Sabi's top row of teeth pressed down. Her heart thumped in her chest like a spastic drum, and a sudden urge to kiss Axel overcame her. She leaned forward and crushed her mouth to his, only pulling back when a worried grunt left Arty's throat.

Ahead of the car, a muscular man wearing a braided mohawk stomped out of the club with Marley in tow. The blond pointed directly at the Monte Carlo as another pair of men followed out the door. The one with the mohawk clenched his fists and stomped toward the car, snarling viciously. He rose the hammer of his fist and brought it down in the hood of Axel's prized ride.

"I don't fucking think so," Axel said. "Arty, Jack!"

Arty opened the door and was halfway on the pavement when Axel shot out.

"Yo, what the fuck, man?" Axel yelled.

"You piece of shit! Get the fuck out of here, you pussy bitch!" Marley screeched. "And take your ugly slob of a girlfriend with you!"

Sabi choked on her battering pulse as Axel widened his stance, opening his arms in invitation. Axel chuckled at his assailant, which only toughened the menace on his face.

Axel taunted him. "Come on, cocksucker. I dare you to take your shot. I'll give you one good one, then I'll fuck your shit up so bad your crackhead mom won't recognize you,"

"Get him, Brian!"

"You're making a big fucking mistake. That's the Cobra, ya fuckin' idiot. He's a pro boxer! Like, you're gonna die, dude!" Arty laughed.

"Fuck off, Arty!" Marley stepped up to her cousin but met a wall.

"Why don't you go back inside and suck some meth-head cock for rent? Ya fuckin' slut."

The people gathering around reminded Sabi of Axel's illegal basement fight. Their taunting and jeers sounded just like the rousing of the crowd. Axel bounced on his toes, beckoning the guy with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Come on. Hit me, pussy. I want you to!"

Arty wrestled with Marley until the man took a swing at Axel's face. The boxer dodged the punch and reciprocated as fast as a jolt of lightning, throwing a hook that sent him stumbling backward. A stream of blood burst from his nose. With his fists up, Axel cackled and shifted back and forth, throwing jabs to the air.

"Aw, fuck yeah! Come on, pussy! Let's see if you can land one on me!" He stood still and tapped his cheek. "Right here, motherfucker."

"Fuck him up, Blue!"

Sabi had enough. Her limbs tingled while she got out of the car and took a running start at Marley, who was yelling for her protector to hit Axel. She wound her arm, closed her eyes and thrust forth in a blind fury. When she opened her eyes, Marley had toppled onto her ass, screaming and clutching her face. Her accomplices froze, and the lot went quiet for a breath. Then the doors flew open, and 3 security guards ran out. Sabi scrambled back into the car, chugging air and shaking. She stared at her quaking hands and saw blood on her knuckles. By the time the security made it to the vehicle, Axel had jumped in and locked the doors.

"Holy shit, babe. Holy shit!"

The bouncer who had yelled at them earlier to take their arguing elsewhere banged on Axel's window.

"Out of the car, motherfucker!"

Axel threw up his hands in a shrug. "No can do, muchacho!"

He turned on the engine, throwing light over the group. One guard smacked the hood while the others gathered around Marley to help her stand.

"Oh, Jesus, Axe. What if I broke her nose?"

"I hope you did. Now, let's get the fuck outta here."

Axel revved the engine, threatening to pull forward despite the human barricade in front of the car. He laid on the horn, deafening the yelling into inaudible chaos, then revved again. Pulling forth an inch, the guards and screaming members of the Cluney family dispersed, and once the way was clear, Axel peeled out of the parking lot and sped onto the road toward the city.

 The couple hollered and laughed, speeding down the country line. On the crest of a hill, Axel spotted flashing lights in the distance. He slowed the car and held his breath while Sabi squeezed his thigh. He pulled to the shoulder and waited for the police cruiser to pass. Axel watched in the rearview, then twisted around until the lights disappeared. They both let out heavy sighs of relief.

"Christ Almighty... That was fucking insane."

Sabi held up her quivering hands. "I... I can't believe I did that. Axel, I punched your cousin in the face!"

"You punched through her face. Through it. Fuck! I've never seen a girl rock someone that goddamn hard in my life. It was like... All slow motion for a second. Everyone just stopped."

"Oh my God... Am I gonna go to jail?"

Axel tossed his head back with laughter, clapping Sabi's thigh. "No, babe. You're not going to jail."

"What about your cousins? What if they tell the cops I assaulted her?"

"They got no proof. Well, except the epic shiner Marley's gonna have. But it's Sticky's. Nobody cares if some stripper gets popped in the mug. Happens all the time. It's par for the course, baby. Don't worry."

"Fuck, I think I get why you fight now. I feel so gangster."

"That was so hot, Sab. Not gonna lie. I'm totally switched on."

"Me too."

"I'm not kidding. Look," Axel nodded at his erection pressing against his jeans.

The Monte Carlo slowed over a rocky strip, chucking pebbles and dirt into the stream of the headlights. Axel eased the machine to a stop beside a line of pine trees, hidden from the road going South but exposed to the North. He didn't care. Not when Sabi had her hand buried in his pants, toying with his cock. A moment after he cut the engine, Axel whipped off his seatbelt and chased Sabi to the backseat where the stick shift didn't obscure their reach for each other. Once comfortably splayed on the seat, she tore open his jeans while he lifted his hips. His chucks were another roadblock easily vanquished in their haste to undress. Axel kept his tank top on, lifted Sabi's over her breasts, and pulled down her bra to suck her nipples into his mouth.

"Axe, don't come inside me."

"I won't, baby."

He slipped inside of her, senses heightened by the drugs and adrenaline still raging through his veins. The sensation of her wetness wringing true around his length made him shiver and burn.

"Fucking you without a condom is so much better. Christ, I don't believe what I've been missing."

Axel propped her on his groin, one foot behind either seat as he sank low enough to thrust without bumping her head on the roof of the car. A moan burst from his mouth. He rested his palms on her hips and let his eyes roll from the pleasure of the slick sounds, the wetness coating his length, her dew clinging to his pubic hair.

"Love it when you ride me. God, you have no idea how good that feels, baby."

Despite his claims, Axel lifted Sabi and placed her on her back so he could deliver several harsh thrusts. The cocaine seated his teeth together, imbued him with enough stamina to rock until the car joined in with the momentum. Desensitized, Axel continued the motion, hovering inches above her, pressing kisses to her lips and cheeks.

"Do you love me?"

Sabi stared at the man above her, plunging into her, squeezing her breasts and burying his face between them. Some gelled pieces of his hair fell out of place until she smoothed her palm over his crown.

"Yes... I love you, Axel."

"You sure?" He grunted.

"I'm positive."

"Even though I'm trash? Even though you're better than me?"

"I'm not better than you. What are you saying?"

"Yes, you are. You're perfect. I never wanna lose you. Please, don't say you love me unless you really mean it. Unless you can't live without me."

"I don't want to be without you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Promise you'll love me no matter what."

Sabi giggled as though Axel made a joke. He stopped thrusting, laid his head on her chest and took a deep breath of her sweat and perfume. "I'm for real, Sabberah. Don't leave me again."

"I won't," she said in a small voice. "I love you, Axe. Why do you think I'm here?"

"'Cause, we're drunk and on drugs. I'm afraid you'll wake up sober tomorrow and realize you made a mistake."

Sabi propped her upper body on her elbows and clicked her tongue. "Don't give me a reason to feel like I made a mistake then."

"I won't. I won't, baby, I promise."

"Okay. Good. Now shut up and fuck me hard, you bad, bad man."

~*~

The sky was a gradient of royal blue and violet, crisping along the edge of the horizon when the couple untangled and drove into town. Rundown and exhausted from the night's events, they agreed on a local eatery called Ronnie's Poutine Palace for a needed meal. They wandered into the tiny restaurant and avoided the old man staring at them from the corner behind a newspaper. Sabi felt the grease clinging to her scalp, the sleep pulling her eyes, and the vapour from the grills only made it worse.

The restaurant seemed built into a wide hallway with only a few tables and a flaking mural of a chef caricature holding a dripping plate of fries and gravy. Underneath the cartoon chef, the wall advertised forty different kinds of poutine ranging from classic to mixtures that made Sabi's stomach gurgle unpleasantly. They served all-day breakfast and homemade Pogos and pastries. That morning, the pastry case was bereft of any of the advertised eclairs and cupcakes.

A young, gap-toothed girl came to take their order. Axel requested two coffees, a breakfast poutine and then turned to Sabi with shaded eyes. "What do you want, babe?"

"I'll have the French toast," Sabi said.

"Would you like any powdered sugar or strawberries? They're fresh. Just picked them from Cate's Farm yesterday."

Sabi nodded. "Sold. Uh, hold the sugar, though. Just berries. And maple syrup, please, if you have it."

"Of course."

Axel pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and instructed the girl to keep the change, then added a few dollars to the tip jar. Sabi rooted around in her pockets and found a sticky toonie to add.

"That's nice of you," Sabi commented.

"This place has cured some major hangovers in my day. I owe them my life."

The girl at the counter nodded. "We're open twenty-four hours and deliver all night. This city runs on our poutine."

Axel smiled, wheeling Sabi to a table near the front window.

They dug into their food when it arrived, Axel hacking the fried egg in half, so the yolk spilled over a pile of the greasiest fries Sabi had ever seen. She grimaced as he poked half a breakfast link in his mouth.

"Why not just have breakfast? Why taint perfectly good poutine?" Sabi asked.

"Because you don't just go to Ronnie's and not get poutine. Look at the size of this thing, and for eight bucks? Come on. You can't beat that."

Sabi prodded a heart-shaped strawberry with the tines of her fork and swirled it in a ramekin of syrup before eating it. Axel pointed at the stack of fried bread.

"Now that's gross. I don't know how you can stomach sugar right now. I'd barf."

"French toast is the tits. Don't hate."

"Yeah, but strawberries in syrup? You're weird, kid."

"You're weird. That yolk is all mixed in with the gravy. And the cheese. It's like slime."

Axel made a purposeful slurping sound, grating her nerves. She scrunched her nose and turned away to chew a mouthful of toast without the imagery.

They sipped coffee and ate as much as their stomachs could handle. Sabi blew her nose into a napkin and paled at the white snot. She sniffed the dried, flaky remnants of coke clinging to her nose hairs and smothered a sneeze with the back of her hand. "God, I feel like ass."

"Well, you look great."

Sabi looked down at her wrinkled work uniform. "I've been wearing the same outfit for a full twenty-four hours. How can you even say that?"

"'Cause I love ya."

"Stop," she angled her face.

"What? I don't care what you're wearing, and neither does anyone else. You look cute. Little rough, but we had a long night, didn't we Muhammed Ali?"

"Don't remind me."

Axel put down his fork and wiped his face with a napkin. "Hey, listen. Speaking of that... I wanted to talk to you about... The boxing."

"I'm not becoming a professional boxer, Axel. I already told you."

"No, not that. I mean, I wanna talk about my situation."

"Oh," Sabi chirped.

Axel took in a monumental breath, laid his hands flat on the table and gazed into her eyes until he was sure he had her attention. "I want to be honest with you and say I have no intention of stopping right now. I have a few more fights—"

"Wait, Axel, before you say anything, I have something to tell you as well. That night when I broke up with you for lying to me... I was at the fight. I watched you beat that guy."

"What? You're serious?"

"Yeah. I went out to the corner store for snacks and passed the gym you said you work at, but it was closed. I thought maybe you lied and had gone somewhere else. Maybe to another girl's place or something."

"Sabi, no."

"That's just what I thought. I know you wouldn't cheat on me. Anyway, I went around back, and some guy asked if I wanted to come in for the fight. It all just clicked in at that point. So, I went down there."

"Christ," Axel pinched between his eyebrows. "I don't want you around those maniacs."

Sabi pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through a few pictures until she found the flyer she'd found on the street with Axel's face on it. She held up the screen for him to see.

"What about this? This looks legitimate. You said you don't fight professionally anymore, but why not? You could be something if you tried."

Axel shook his head. "That was a while back."

"So, what? You can do what you love, Axel. Nothing's stopping you."

"Plenty is stopping me, Sab."

"Like what?"

"Like money."

"What do you mean?"

Axel pointed at her phone, grimacing. "See, that fight earned me three-hundred bucks. Do you know how much that fight at Vince's got me?"

"No."

"Three thousand."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and that was on the lower end of the scale. Three thousand for three minutes in the ring."

"But what good is that money if you get busted?"

Axel snickered and stuck out his hand for her to take. "Babe... There's a lot about Featherfall you don't know yet. We don't get busted. Half those bets were cops, lawyers, and shit. Bikers."

"Doctors?" Asked Sabi.

"That's another thing,” Axel said. “Farber... You obviously know him from work."

"I do."

"I don't want you tangled in that life, and Farber won't want one of his subordinates knowing his business."

"Little too late for that," Sabi muttered.

"I'm serious, Sab. Some of those guys are real dangerous."

Sabi leered. "Rufus Farber?"

"Maybe not him on his own, but you don't know the types he runs with."

"Well, I know you, don't I? Are you one of the dangerous types?"

"I'm the type that has debts to pay and doesn't want his girlfriend getting involved in the mess."

"What debts?"

"I don't know, just debts."

Sabi sat back in the booth and crossed her arms. "Thought we were being honest with each other?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it here," Axel gestured at the old man at the other side of the dining area staring at them. He leaned closer, and under his breath, said, "my mom owes some money. I'm trying to dig her out of the hole before she kicks the bucket."

"What kind of debt?"

"Sab..."

"Just tell me."

"The house. The bills. Shit, before I met you, the city shut her water off. She's so fucked, she can't work. My dad left money when he died for her to retire, and she drank and partied it away. So, now I'm cleaning up that mess."

Sabi went quiet for a while, and Axel picked up his fork and combed through the remaining fries for bits of bacon.

"I'm sorry your mom was an alcoholic."

"Is an alcoholic," Axel corrected. "She'll always be one."

"Babe... You're amazing. Helping your mom like that is a testament to how generous and kind you are. I just wish you could help her more legitimately."

"Nothing more legitimate than cash, Sab. That, and how much I love you and need you to stay out of this. Let me figure it out. I don't want you at any more fights."

"Well, I don't want you at them either."

"I have to. I'm locked in for another three matches."

"What if I help you? I make decent money. I can help with her bills."

"You help enough already. Keep your money. It's done, babe. I'm in it for a little while, then I'm out. Maybe I'll go legit after, and you can come watch me fight."

"I've seen it. You're fierce. I never knew you could move that quickly."

"They don't call me Cobra for nothing."

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[skywalkerstyles]

Skin (Bakugou x OC!Reader insert)

Warnings: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, quirkless AU, criminal Bakugou, robbery, hostage situation, anxiety, mysophobia

Summary: Katsuki Bakugou is a killer, hell bent on revenge. Hikaru Moshimoto is a college student with a dark and cloudy past. When Hikaru is taken hostage and forced to work with Bakugou in order to survive, will the be able to get passed their differences, and see the people behind the scars? A stalker seeks to finish something Hikaru started a long time ago. When they come head to head, will Bakugou protect her? Or will he add another victim to his list? 

Hikaru Moshimato felt sick when she woke up that chilly september morning. Monday, September fifteenth to be exact. It was a day she would never forget or get over. It changed the course of her life forever. 

It started out like any other morning, she got up, got dressed, had breakfast, fed her little cat Yoshi and headed out the door on her way to work. But there was a presence, it was dark and gloomy, and hung over her like a shadow. Something was coming, and she wasn't ready for it. At all. 

She pulled up to the little gas station by her job, it had a little convenience store attached, a place she could grab snacks and drinks before work, the vending machines there were usually way overpriced, so it was easier to just bring food with her. She got out of her car, locking the doors as she held her wallet close to her chest, tucked her head down and walked inside. 

She sighed, upon stepping into the cool air conditioned building, and instead of walking up to the counter and just paying for her gas she eyed the slushie station. She loved slushies,  and she could never pass one up. She smiled to herself thinking, fuck it, and strolled over to the slushie machine. There was a man standing to the side of the machine, where the fridges held the drinks, he had a Redbull in one hand and a smartwater in the other. He wore an unbuttoned, navy blue flannel with a black t shirt and grease stained blue jeans. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses and his hair was covered by a blue and white striped baseball cap. Hikaru was hyper aware of his presence, making sure to keep aware of her surroundings. She didn’t like the vibe she was getting from this guy. He scared her. Seemed like trouble.

But if he noticed her presence, he didn't show any signs of it.

So Hikaru relaxed her shoulders, shaking her head and began to ponder the flavor she’d get today. Hikaru had never been one for conversation anyway. She always kept to herself, due to some social anxieties and quirks she had, that made her ‘unapproachable’ as her mother had put it. But if you had a doctor mother who abused prescription medication and neglected you after your father’s death, you might have some fucked up issues too.

 Which is why she found it strange when she felt the man’s presence shift, he’d come closer to her, and she could feel him staring. She kept her eyes down, feeling her cheeks heat up as she pulled a cup from the slot and got ready to pour her syrupy drink into it.

 "What's your favorite flavour?" He asked suddenly, and the deep rough voice startled her. She twitched and peek at him curiously through her hair, that thankfully, covered most of her face.

 "Coke." she answered meekly. The man cracked a smile, his teeth were perfect and bright. It was almost, alluring. Definitely charming.

 “Really?” he asked, reaching out and taking the cup from her. She didn’t have time to react, before he plucked it from her hands and filled it with the drink of her choice. “I like blue raspberry best….sometimes cherry’s good too.” He handed her the drink and she took it hesitantly. He chuckled at her demeanor, cocking his head to the side, that ridiculously handsome smile still plastered to his face.

 “Thank you.” she managed after a moment, she placed a lid on her drink and grabbed a straw.

“No problem,” he replied, following her as she turned towards the cashier. She can feel the panic and the nerves rising within her. Why was he following her? As they stood in line, waiting for the other customers to leave, she could feel the man change, his whole demeanor took on a darker, more serious tone. She curled in on herself, hoping he wouldn’t try and follow her to her car. Hikaru hadn’t always been this way. Afraid of germs, afraid of touch….Basic human contact. No. If you looked at her high school yearbook, you wouldn’t even think it was the same person. She used to be bright, and outgoing, willing to chat it up with just about anybody, a regular teenage girl. Until Amano. And...Hina... She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand, get the drink. Get the gas. Go to work. She took a deep breath, she would complete her goals today.

 “Hi! How are you today?” a cheery red head smiled at Hikaru, she tried to smile back, and return the enthusiasm, but the feeling of dread was starting to creep back up on her and she couldn’t shake it off.

 “I’m fine thank you. Ten dollars on pump-”

 “Shut up.” Hikaru feels a strong hand wrap around her upper arm and tug her back, she looked up to see the man who had been by the slurpee machine, pulling her towards him, a pistol in his hand, pointed right at the cashier. Hikaru squeaked as the man pulls her into him, jabbing the gun into her side. “Give me all the money in the register, or you, and her die. Now!” Hikaru flinches at the last word, which he snarled at the cashier. She had her hands up, tears streaming down her face. “Move.” he ordered. The cashier slammed a metal grate down and an alarm began to sound. The man held onto Hikaru even harder, yanking her around as he turned to find an exit. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. Hikaru shifted, trying to wriggle free. He pulled her closer, he was big and intimidating. He reminded her of Amano. “You’re not going anywhere.” he said. “I need you. Come on.”

 Panic began to rise within Hikaru, she could feel her breath growing more ragged by the minute, all the things she needed to get done shooting through her head. The man dragged her towards the back of the store and into the warehouse, once inside, he shut and locked the door, shoving her from him and holding the gun to her. Surprisingly, the slushie hasn’t spilled. “Don’t move.” he said coldly. A sob escaped her throat, the bubble was rising, she could feel the panic getting ready to burst.

 “P-Please,” she rasped, her throat was closing, she couldn’t breathe.“I-I have money.”

 “I don’t want your money. We need to get out of here.” Hikaru looked at him confused.

 “W-we?” the man grabbed her again, yanking her towards the back of the warehouse.

 “Yeah. We. You’re my hostage,” fear filled her as the man’s lips curled into a confident smirk. He pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket and yanked her forward, cuffing her. “Don’t struggle. And you live.” She was about to faint. The alarm was blaring, but through the sound Hikaru could hear the doors bursting open. The same doors she had walked into only minutes ago, it seemed like hours now. The man cursed again, kicking the back exit door open and shoving her through.

________________

They hid behind a dumpster, he peaked out, looking around to see cops, flooding into the gas station, Hikaru shifted uncomfortably, the cuffs were tight on her wrists, digging into her skin. He didn’t seem to notice. “A-are you a criminal?” she asked. He didn’t even turn to look at her, inching forward slowly, his hand still gripping her tightly.

 "Yeah."that was it. No explanation. Just a straight no bull answer. As the cops go into the front of the store, the man gripped her tightly and yanked her towards an older Astro van. Hikaru pondered why no cops were looking over towards them, how no one could see he was taking her. But it would be just her luck. He threw the passenger door open, shoving her inside, before running around to the otherside and climbing in. The door shut with a slam and he pealed out and away, the cops just noticing as you leave the gas station. The sweet and tasty slushie, left on the floor of the warehouse.

 ____________

The van was loud. It sent deep rumbles of vibration all the way down to Hikaru’s bones. Like a  massage after the chaos back at the gas station. Her hands are still bound but the man had finally stowed the gun. There was no handle on the inside of the passenger door. She was stuck and she stayed quiet. Out of fear. The man drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, listening to a song on the radio. The silence wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t comfortable either. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked softly, so low he might not even hear her. He stopped drumming and turned to look at her for the first time since he’d taken her.

 "Wasn't planning on it." He replied. “I just needed some cash….but damn that cashier was quick on her feet. Taking you was the only way I would have gotten out of there alive.”

 “W-why do you say that?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. He cocked his eyebrow, finally taking off his glasses, his eyes were a deep blood red.

 “You...You don’t watch tv do you ?” she shook her head. The news gave her anxiety. The only time she left her dorm was for class or work. Necessities. She kept to herself. He chuckled and shook his head as he turned on his turn signal.

 “Why do you ask?” she asked a bit louder. She watched his adam’s apple bob and his eyes scan the road, searching for the right answer.

 “I uh, I’m in a business most don’t agree with.” he said.

 She decided to push a little further, “what do you do?”

 “I’m...I’ve killed people.” he said it solemnly. Like he wasn’t proud of it, but he had to do it. Hikaru feels the panic begin to rise again. He cleared his throat. “What’s your name?” he asked, changing the subject.

 “M-my…..it’s Hikaru.” she said, wishing she sounded braver than she felt. “Hikaru Moshimoto.”

 “I’m Bakugou, Bakugou Katsuki.” he responded, “You know, you’re the first person I’ve met in a long time who didn’t know who I am.” he sighed, clicking his tongue, “You’re a weird girl.”

 “Says the man who just admitted to murder being his occupation.” he laughed, shaking his head. She didn’t want to admit it, but she liked his laugh.

 “Yeah, maybe we’re both just weird.” He paused and then said carefully, "I won’t hurt you."the tone of his voice is softer, calmer, and surprisingly soothing "Unless you make me." He added with emphasize on ‘make’.

 “H-How many…” Hikaru trailed off, unable to finish her question. It was strange, she could never talk and be this open with just anybody. She usually just kept quiet, and stayed in her lane. She wasn’t the type of person to make waves. Not since before…..

 “How many people have I killed?” Bakugou finished for her. She nodded, glad to have been pulled back from the darkness of her thoughts. He can tell that she’s got something going on. She looked so small and fragile. Like the china plates his mom used to collect. He really didn’t want to hurt her, and silently prayed he’d never have to. He bit his lip, trying to think of the right answer, “If I had to count….possibly sixty.” Hikaru’s mouth fell open in shock.

 “Oh my….” she instinctively moved further from him. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of rejection. She focused on her shoes, on the scuffs and the threads in the laces, anything to keep her from going crazy. They sat in silence for a long while. Bakugou began to twitch as it stretched, it was slight, barely noticeable. Except she saw it. "So where are you taking me?" Hikaru asked awkwardly, eyes darting to his before looking ahead again

 “I’m taking you to my family. You’re my hostage for now, but they’ll decide if you know too much or have seen too much.” Hikaru swallowed hard, wondering what that could possibly mean. He must have sensed her worry, because he reached out, only to pull his hand back when she flinched, with a sigh. “Just don’t worry….You seem harmless enough.”

 “Can you take the cuffs off? Please? They hurt.” Bakugou pulls off onto the side of the road.

 "Don't try anything, okay? I have a gun." Bakugou met her eyes as he shut off the van and turned to her, he looked down to her hands. He quickly unlocked the cuffs and sat back. She rubbed her swollen wrists and he started the car back up.

 “Are you scared?” he asked after a while. Hikaru looked up at him again. She noticed he had freckles, they were light and scattered across his cheeks...He’d be a good subject to draw.

 “I….” she bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed, “I’m terrified…..I know that mentally….But I guess I’ve shut down. I don’t really feeling anything.” 

“Why?” he asked, suddenly curious. Did he want her to be afraid. 

“I’ve been in….I’ve been in a lot worse situations,” he scoffed at that, disbelievingly.

 “You’re my hostage. I had you at gunpoint. I’m kidnapping you and you’ve been in worse situations?” she smiles at how ludicrous it sounds.

 “It does sound crazy but….I don’t know. I have a lot of anxiety disorders and I’ve been struggling with depression so I….maybe this was too much and my body is protecting itself.” he pursed his lips together.

 “How old are you?”

 “22.”

 Shit. He thought. She’s just a kid. “I’m sorry it had to be you.” she gave him a questioning look. “In the store. If you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have taken you.” she nodded, not quite accepting his apology, but understanding, that he knew, she had been through some shit.

 “I haven’t…..I haven’t left this town my entire life.” she said quietly, changing the subject. Bakugou picked up her switch in demeanor and followed it, trying to lighten the mood.

 “Yeah?” she tried to smile, it was small and tight, but she could feel the uneasiness begin to grow again.

 “Yeah….where is your family?”

 “You’ll see,” he said, flashing her a grin. “You’ll like it better than this dump.” he snorted as they passed the ‘Leaving Town’ sign.

 “Why did you come here?” she asked before she could stop herself.

 “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” she nodded, sinking back into her seat. Bakugou cleared his throat and turned the radio back up. “Better settle in. We got a long drive…..what kind of music do you like?”

 ________

He shut the door behind him. The dorm room was quiet and he couldn’t feel her presence as he looked around. Everything was in it’s rightful place, meticulous and germ freak as ever. He missed her so much. He walked over to Hikaru’s desk and lifted the sketchbook that sat open on it, he touched the lines of the person she drew, imagining the way she drew it, the way her hands moved. His heart was racing. It was 4pm and she should have been home now. She didn’t have any friends.

 Where was she?

 Where was the girl he’d been searching for for so long?

 He was dying to see her again…….

[clonewarslover55]

Walon Vau X Kal Skirata  Hate sex (NSFW of course)

@anstarwar and I decided to do a spicy thing together!! She’d draw it and I’d write it! 

Here is her amazing and spicy art!! Go check out her blog and her beautiful art!! 

Notes: Based off of cursed conversations and this amazing drabble I wrote. And of course the art drawn by @anstarwar

Find more of my Repcomm work on my masterlist and AO3 

Warnings: plot?? Hate fucking, angy Kal, asshole Vau, height differnce, hand jobs, anal sex, arguing while fucking, they’re loud, unprotected sex(Wrap it even if there isn’t a pregenacy risk!!) Dom!Vau,Skirata is more of a bottom than a top(Surprising I know…)

Kal was pale with anger as he marched down the pristine white hallways of Kamino. He was beyond pissed off at Walon Vau currently. He had a lot to say to the man too, which only made Kal walk faster. His bad ankle wasn’t very happy with him, but he was too mad to really care. 

“Vau!” Kal shouted, finally spotting the tall man who was leaving his room. Kal walked up to him, their chest plates nearly touching at the closeness. Kal stretched his neck and leaned up a bit on his toes so he could be more at Walon’s level. Vau looked offended by the sudden invasion of his personal space.

 Walon looked Kal up and down before leaning down so he could look him in the eye. “Is there a problem? Skirata?” He spoke slowly, Kal’s name dripping from his lips like honey. Kal’s cock twitched, he hated how he said his name. 

“You know exactly why I’m here Walon.” Vau’s crooked nose brushed against Kal’s they were so close, “Do I?” He nearly smirked. Vau knew exactly how to turn him on and piss him off at the same time. 

Skirata shoved him, Vau stepping back and straightening his back. He snarled, barring his perfect white teeth at Kal. Walon shoved Kal back, his quarters door opening as soon as Skirata was shoved back against them. 

Kal backed into the room, Vau following him closely like a predator. Mird growled at the intruder, protecting its master. Vau gave hand signals, ordering the growling Strill to the bedroom. The beast left with a huff, the door closing behind it. 

Walon backed Kal up to the nearest wall, “Your training tactics! They’re-” Kal was silenced by Walon’s lips smashing against his own. Kal’s angry mind took a moment to react, kissing Vau back after a few stiff seconds. 

The kiss was a messy clash of teeth and tongue, but it got Vau’s point across. Shut up. Now. 

They pulled away from one another, panting, “My tactics? Mine?? Your men are going to be soft and foolish!! Just like you!” Walon shouted as they both stripped their armor, Kal even kicking off his boots. They continued to scream at one another, until Kal pulled the top of his flight suit down to his waist. He dropped his weapons belt, Walon doing the same. 

No weapons were going to be out this time. 

Walon pinned him back against the wall, his lips going straight to his neck. Skirata gasped, he forgot that Vau bites. “You’re a kriffing bastard Vau.” Walon only smirked against his hot skin. Vau stepped back after he left a large hickey on Kal’s neck, shoving his top down to his hips as well. 

He was still incredibly in shape for his age, his body still quite toned. Skirata’s cock twitched at Vau’s V-line, the tent in his pants enough to make anyone drool. Kal didn’t get to stare long, Vau flipping him around so Kal was facing a wall. 

He kicked his legs apart, bending his left knee some so he could put it between Kal’s legs. He stretched his right leg back a bit, lowering himself so he could be at Skirata’s level. Kal braced himself against the wall with both arms out, his hands flat against the cold wall. Vau’s hard cock was pressed against his ass, still covered by both of their flight suits. 

“Are those the socks I-” Kal grinded back against him, Vau shutting up quickly. “Yes-” He was cut off this time by Vau. Skirata shouted and cussed when Vau dug his teeth into his shoulder, a hand snaking its way from his hip into his boxers. He gripped Kal’s cock, squeezing it so Skirata would cry out. Vau continued to bite and suck all over Kal’s shoulders and neck, grinding his hard cock into Kal’s ass. 

They stopped arguing when they fucked, usually, but it was replaced with shouts and curses. So they were still far from quiet. 

Vau finally pulled Kal’s cock out, smearing the precum along his sensitive head. Kal hissed slightly through his teeth, Walon slowly stroking his cock with a large hand. “I hate you.” Kal growled out, Vau squeezing his cock and biting down a little harder in reply. 

Skirata blinked and looked back when Vau stepped away grabbing his weapons belt. “Do you always have lube on you?” Walon smirked, “Of course I do. We do this a lot, plus you never know when you’re gonna need it.” He gripped his ass, licking a bite mark on the side of Kal’s neck. 

Walon Vau always knew just how to distract Kal. 

Vau pulled down Kal’s flight suit enough to expose his ass, pulling his own cock out quickly. They usually had rough and angry sex like this, so they both always made sure to work themselves every now and then so the hate fucking didn’t hurt. 

Vau lubed his cock, pumping his fist along his shaft a few times. He used his free hand to grip Kal’s jaw, his nails digging in slightly. They’d leave small crescent moon marks in Kal’s skin. He guided his cock into Kal’s tight hole, both of them moaning loudly. 

Walon didn’t waste any time. He quickly slammed himself fully into Kal, starting at a rough pace. He moved his lubed up hand to Kal’s cock, stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts. Vau moved his hand from Kal’s jaw to his throat, squeezing it a bit. 

Skirata growled when Vau squeezed his throat and cock, Vau growling right back. Walon bent his knee a bit more, so he could fuck Kal at a better angle as he went faster. They knew one another pretty well, especially their special spots. 

Kal cursed loudly when Walon bit his shoulder hard enough to nearly draw blood, his cock brushing that spot deep inside of Kal his fingers could never reach, at the same time. Skirata closed his eyes now, his mouth open as he breathed heavily and moaned like a bitch in heat. 

Vau’s thrusts were still ruthless and calculated, picking up the speed as they both got close to their orgasms. More curses left Kal’s mouth as he pushed back against Vau so he could go even deeper. Walon was just as loud, his noises muffled by Kal’s hot skin. 

Vau’s fist moved even faster, which brought Skirata to the edge quickly. They came together, Kal coating Vau’s fist. Vau didn’t pull out, he loved leaving Kal full of his cum as a reminder. He filled him to the brim, growling out curses as he did so. Walon pulled his softening cock out once he was finished. 

He leaned on Kal for a moment, both of them catching their breaths. Neither of them remembered what they were arguing about, but they couldn’t care less after a good fuck. 

Vau was the first one to shake some the haze of sex from his mind, stepping back so he could tuck himself away and zip up his flight suit. Kal shook his head, stepping away from the wall. 

Skirata jumped into his boots again, “Clean up then get out.” Walon said as he geared back up, looking Skirata up and down again. Kal had to hold back the urge to mock the taller man. 

(Walon Vau does not have a breeding kink, like at all. He is just possessive and a brat.)

The people who I cursed with my smut idea: @cherry-cokes-posts @cherry-cokes-world @leias-left-hair-bun

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

        “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - IV

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 4781

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Some violent nightmares, nothing too bad.

Chapter I  Chapter II  Chapter III - Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Jungkook was ready to fight.

After eating cake and tons of meat, taste coke for the first time and fall in love with it, you showed him another thing to love about his new life. Something exciting, entertaining and beautiful... He wasn't good at it at first, but seeing you doing it so well just motivated him to do better. Video games of course. All the sounds and colors made his eyes sparkle. The characters were so amazing too. You let him choose what game he wanted to try first, without much reference he didn't know where to start, using as a criterion the cover that most caught his attention and the little you said about each one. In the end he tested so many games that the order wasn't even important. 

You noticed that he avoided violent themes, like fight games, and he preferred the sports, adventure, or cute-looking ones. You came to that conclusion when you decided to show one of your favorites, Dead By Daylight, and before you could start a match he wanted to change to Plant vs. Zombie. At some point you both stopped by Mario Kart and that was the thing. One hour later Jungkook was better than you, throwing all the bananas on you, like losing wasn't an option to him. The bastard is competitive.

"AAaaaaah! nonononon noooooo!" You lose the control of your kart just before finish line as he passes you, crossing the line and winning for the sixth time in a row.

"Yeah!" He jumped from his spot on the floor, running circles arond the couch and you, who was also on the floor.

"That's not fair, half of an hour ago you didn't even know how the controls work..."

"Let's play again!" He seated beside you again, and then his ears perked up. "Can I eat more cake?"

He already ate almost half of the cake, and was clearly in a sugar rush. "Of course. The cake is yours."

With a happy squick he ran to the kitchen, sliding the new pair of white socks over the apartment's wooden floor. As you waited for hi to come back you once again searched your games, looking for any more he might like, and came to the conclusion that you have a very violent taste to games - you are a fervent Outlast fan, for example. You have never dealt with a hybrid so full of trauma so directly, let alone inside your home, so involved in your life, and despite having some sense of Jungkook's past, you don't know everything that torments him or how much, so making him one hundred percent comfortable in this new life is your plan. What you need is to pay more attention to the small details. And maybe you can start by letting him choose some lighter games himself in the online store.

Jungkook emerged from the kitchen, now walking slower, balancing two plates of cake in one hand, and a huge glass of coke, full to the top, in the other, taking care not to make a mess. Carefully he sat next to you again.

"I brought cake for you too." He gave you one plate and got ready for another round.

"Oh, that's sweet of you. Thanks." You played for another hour or so, Jungkook's victories proving that it was not beginner's luck but that he is indeed a fast learner. You were already more asleep than awake, as a result of bad nights and unregulated sleep in the last week, when he got tired of running and decided to change the game. "What is this about?" Jungkook asked, showing you another one. "Ah, is a remake of one of my childhood favorites. It's about a bandicoot who lives on an island in the south pacific, and a magic mask that flies around him, and has a big-headed villain. It's pretty fun." You yawned. "Let's play this one then." He excitedly stated. "Sorry, Jungkook. I'm really tired, and even if I'll work from home, I need to get up early tomorow... I'm going to bed now." You saw the disappointment in his eyes, his ears and tail falling, and added. "But you can keep playing without me." Jungkook looked around, clearly not so happy as before. "Ok. I will play another one that is not your favorite then. See you tomorrow?" He was pouting again, and you thought to yourself if you're going to be able to get used to it. Despite being upset, you could see that he didn't want to have a tantrum asking you to stay. "You are so cute." You said before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the hands for a hug. You rested you head on his chest and reasurely passed your hands on his back. You couldn't see right now, but the brightest smile settled in Jungkook's face. "See you in the morning. Sleep well, JK." "Sleep well, Y/N." _____________________________________________________________________________________ You took a fast shower, put yourself in comfy pijamas and dropped your tired body in the bed. In less than five minutes you were fast asleep. You are the type that has a heavy sleep, that doesn't wake up with anything, and if it happens it is not fully awake, easily coming back into slumber. Normally a lightning storm would not be enough to get you out of dreamland, quite the opposite, the thick rain hitting the window glass has always been like a lullaby. But for some reason, by two in the morning your sleep-pumping eyes were open and alert. Something was off.

You sit, checking your surroundings, listening. Everything seemed ordinary. You got up, looking for your phone, trying to remember where you left it last. You found it lying on the floor beside the bed, between your slippers, some social media notifications and messages that you didn't see before stamping the screen.

Opening one of the messages, a smile formed at the corners of your mouth, as you rubbed your swollen eyes. Still half asleep you played the audio massage, a male voice sounding low. "Hey sweetheart, I'm coming back already. If my flight doesn't delay, I'll be home in the late afternoon... Then I will see you before anything else ok! I'm missing you so fucking much it feels like dying... So..." Before you could finish hearing the message something else caught your attention. You were silent trying to hear again. A soft sound from the floor below. A cry. It brought you from the brink of slumber, zombie mode of yours, to full alert awake mode.

"Jungkook" You went to the door and, knowing the way even in the dark, did not even bother to turn on the lights in the corridor, or the stairs, to run to the hybrid who now lives with you. The closer you got, the more certain you were that the crying came from Jungkook's room, a tightness in your chest leaving you worried at every step without knowing what was happening.

You entered as quietly as you could, stepping inside on the tip of your feet, the room was lighter than the corridor you came from, because of the headlamp on. Jungkook was lying in the shape of a ball, his back to you, wearing silk pajamas that you bought him earlier, the cover lying on the floor indicating he was having restless sleep. He was crying, but still asleep, clutching the pillow as hard as if his life depended on it, his body shivering, from cold or stress, or both, you couldn't say. Regardless, the nightmare he was having must have been horrible. Sitting next to him on the bed next to him, you put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Jungkook, wake up." As if your touch had burned him, Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his body reacting defensively before you could do anything. In a second his hand was around your wrist, holding tightly at a sore angle, making you gasp in pain. For a moment it seemed that even looking directly at you, he didn't recognize you.

"Jungkook, it's me. Y/N. You were having a nightmare, but is everything ok. You are ok." You softly said, ignoring the pain in your wrist he was still holding, and reaching your other hand to his face, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You are ok, Jungkook." "Y/N..." His lips quivered, small voice barelly reached your ears. Jungkook is a pile of muscles, much taller than you, bigger in every way, but at that moment, with scared eyes full of tears... you never thought he was so small. "It's, ok." You whispered, afraid that if you spoke a little louder it might scare him. "I don't know where you were, or what was happening... But now you are home, safe."   

He blinked a couple times, looking around, recognizing his own new room, his things, the smell of the surroundings. His tense, ready to fight body, relaxed as his breathing was soothing. He finally noticed his tight hold hurting you, released you and more quickly he sat against the headboard, moving away from you and your touch. The boy's pale face acquired a feeling beyond fear... guilt.

"So- sorry..." He weakly apologized.

It is not the first time he has had this nightmare. It is always the same, sometimes with small differences, but in short it is a ring, metal screens closing all sides and the ceiling, with electric barriers and poles, that if he tries to escape or fall out by accident the injuries will be terrible, that if he doesn’t die by it. There’s a white light on him, as if it were a show and he was the star, but it’s a show of horrors, the fans screaming loudly, from the dark, asking for blood, dozens of men without face wanting someone to die in front of them. Jungkook experienced this so many times in real life, that in a dream it shouldn't be so scary, but here comes the worst part... He's losing, this time he's the one going to die today. While the other guy is sitting on top of him, giving blow after blow he can't defend himself, he looks back, looking for his owner. Jungkook's owner is sitting in a deck chair in the middle of the audience, watching the fight with his eyes without emotion, he is not happy, and Jungkook knows why: he has not been a good boy, he is no longer valuable, and doesn't bring tons of money anymore... So the owner won't help him, he won't find a way to stop the fight to save Jungkook, because it's not worth it. When Jungkook looks up again and faces his opponent it is his own face what he sees, like a mirror, violent and empty... He sees himself as the scariest hybrid in the world.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry." He started to sob, bringing his knees close to his chest, turning into a ball again, to look smaller and not threatening.

Carefully you risked approaching him again, placing your hand on his knee in an attempt to make some comforting contact, without being too invasive.

"Shhhh... No need to apologize now." Seeing that he didn't withdraw from you again, you finally took his face in your cold little hands. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" A tear ran down his cheekbone, wetting your hand.

"I want to know if you are ok, JK." You smiled softly. He hurting you it's not ok, even if by accident, but that's a subject for another moment, now the focus is on him only. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax at your touch, feeling the soft tips of your fingers drying his tears. He took a deep breath once, twice, three times before nodding.

"I'm. I just need to go to bathroom."

"Ok." You let him get up, his well-built body looking so fragile as he walked out of the room, disappearing into the dark corridor. You got up yourself, to fix the bedding, get it ready for when he returned.

Jungkook washed his face several times, trying to get the bad impression he could still see when looking in the mirror. "When you're scared, laugh in the face of fear, he won't take you seriously and then he'll leave you alone." The child's voice rang in Jungkook's mind, making him give a weak little smile when he thought that this silly psychology has kept his sanity for years. He wiped his face with a soft towel, and then looking at himself in the mirror he made a funny face. And then another ... And one more. One funny face after another until he feels like smiling for real.

Your happy bathroom, with a nice scent of soap and cute plants, also helped a lot. The urge to cry went away much easier than at any time in Jungkook's old life.

Not really in the mood of trying to sleep again, he dragged himself back to the room, feeling the weight of the world on his legs, considering returning to playing video games and staying up all night... He saw you still on his bed, waiting for him, and stopped by the door, surprised.

"You still here..." You were zoning out, due to his delay in returning. His voice - now more peaceful - put a smile of relief in your distracted face.

"Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep again?" You suggested. Jungkook felt something in his chest, almost like a heartache, warm, when he heard that question.

"You don't need to..." He spoke before he could stop himself, regretting immediately, because it wasn't what he wanted to answer.

You left a warm laugh scape your lips.

"That's not what I asked, JK. Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." You caring for him like this is like a dream to him, so, afraid of making a mistake that would make this moment end, he camly walked to you, lying on the spot you were invitingly tapping beside you, almost with his head on your lap. Almost... You covered him, taking care to wrap every inch of him with the blanket, to keep him warm, as you would do to a child, or at least, how you like to sleep when it's cold, like a comfy burrito. He felt loved. A few minutes went by, you patiently petting his hair. When you thought he would have fallen asleep, Jungkook opened his eyes to look at you thoughtfully.

"Y/N..." His voice was already sleepy.

"Hum?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" It's not like you're not expecting such conversation to happen sometime in the future, but at that moment the question took you by surprise.

"What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Jungkook had a hard time finding the right words. He didn't expect you to respond with another question, he wanted you to answer more objectively. A line of frustration formed between the boy's eyebrows as he thought hard on it. You just kept petting him, waiting for him to elaborate his thoughts. "I don't... know. Everybody does... I'm a pitbull and I was a fight dog... I've done so many bad and scary things, so everybody is afraid of me. The people that didn't want to adopt me, the employees of the shelter who beat me, even the doctor who saw me... She was so sweet to me, but she always saw me with a security guard in the room. Even my former owner was always armed when he came to talk to me..." He was frustrated and agitated when speaking. "He always told me that being a fighter is the only thing I good at... That I'm good at being violent. So why aren't you afraid?"

He could sense you getting dark feelings as he spoke. You were pissed, just thinking about what they did to his head made you want to punch someone. Making Jungkook think he deserves to be feared instead of being loved, pampered and adored every day of his life is unforgivable.

"First of all... Get ready because I'm going to give a speech here. Second: it is a protocol, standard procedure, to have support staff when treating new hybrids, especially when they have a history of abuse. It's not because the doctor was afraid of you, it's because she wanted to take good care of you." You paused for a breath, taking care not to be too harsh when speaking and it looked like you were scolding him, which was nowhere near your intention. You sighed and pulled a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Jungkook, you can't believe in any word your former owner told you. If he was always armed when he came to talk to you, it wasn't because he was afraid of you, it was because he wanted you to be afraid of him. He is very bad person. And he's in jail for all the evil he's done, for you and many other people ... And he's a liar. Nothing he has ever said or done to you can define your future or who you are. Can you believe me?"

"Yes." He said with a soft and vulnerable voice.   

He was crying again, with a little smile forming in the corner of his mouth, but still crying. And your heart can't take it.

"And the reason I'm not afraid of you...?" You raised an eyebrow and looked deep into his eyes, as if you were going to tell an incredible secret. "I recognize a cinnamonroll when I see one."   

At this, one laugh left Jungkook mouth, and you couln't think he is any cuter. "Seriously... Look at this doe eyes and sweet smile! You are a cutie pie, JK! The most precious one..." He let you squish his check with a blush taking over his whole face, but then he noticed the bruise forming in your wrist and his smile fell.

"But I did hurt you." He sadly took your hand in his. "Yes, but it can be fixed. It will heal, and it can heal even faster if I treat it right. And you can never do that again." You said logically. "How?" You pointed your index finger to the middle of Jungkook's forehead, and then to the middle of his chest.

"Healing yourself too. I know you're messed up, and that's ok. I'm here to help. We can start with therapy, you know..." Jungkook didn't like the idea of therapy at all, but for now he won't discuss it. You were probably right. "Ok." He said, snuggling closer to your leg. A very loud thunder burst outside, coming very close to the lightning, startling Jungkook, who reflexively grabbed the hem of your cotton shorts. You didn't refrain yourself from hugging him with your whole body, planting a heavy kiss on his cheek.

"Saw what i mean? You are too precious."

With his heat beating frantically he answered in a timid way.

"I don't like loud sounds... That's all."

"Is just loud, it can't hurt you." You said looking into his eyes, your nose almost touching his nose. "As long I'm here no one can hurt you." And there it is again. The smell of truth. The idea of someone as small as you protecting Jungkook from anything or anyone may seem absurd, but for no second he doubt your words, because each one of it smell like sincerity. Your eyes too, so intense as you said it, that made him want to protect you too.

"And what if you are not around when I need you?" He tested playfully. "Then you scream my name as loud as you can and I'll be there in no time!"

"Seriously?"

You seated straight, handson your hips.  

"Of course! I was on the athletics team at college. I'm super fast!" He was laughing, your work was done. "Sorry I woke you up... And thank you for saving me." Jungkook said it with so much affection it made you heart skip a beat.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I woke up to the thunder." You simply said, but he knew this one was a lie. _________________________________________________________________________ After the incredible conversation he had with you in the middle of the night, and the rest of the night well slept, Jungkook started the day very willing and happy. He could barely walk, instead it was as if his legs were jumping around the apartment by itselves. You were up hours before him, but waited to eat breakfast with him - you already had a liter of coffee by yourself anyway. Despite not being what you like to do with your life, and and having another job - running a chain of stores for your family - you have been working as a lawyer for a member office for a few months. Even working from home, you have soooo much paperwork to fill out and study, reports with deadline to deliver, to be a suuuuuper efficient employee. So after you finished eating your cereal bowl, you left Jungkook to play video games alone and locked yourself in your personal upstairs office to work.

He can hear you walking around as you talk on the phone, your voice sounding serious and professional. He was having fun by himself, such a good time with snaks and left over cake, but at the same time he was struggling on not gonna check you out. You strictly asked him to not interrupt you till lunch time. Jungkook spent an hour in this internal fight to go or not to see if you didn't need something or want a glass of juice, to maybe get scratch behind his ear and a smile from you as reward. Like... You were just upstairs and he miss you too much. He was so focused on the game and his own thoughts that he didn't even notice his steps down the stairs and into the living room.

"Jungkook. I need to sign some papers in the office. If anything I'm downstairs."

"Ok." Then you left the apartment. You were too serious. Too cold. Too focused on serious and adult things. A world-sized pout formed in Jungkook's cute face. It is only the third day with you in his life, but he already feels very used to it - your presence of light and warm hugs was able to erase all the years of loneliness that in which he learned to be alone and be satisfied with his own company. Thinking about it he decided to change his plans. He turned off the video game, stretched out and went on an adventure ... He was going to inspect every corner of the house. Field recognition.

He started in the kitchen. He found out where everything, utensils, different types of pots, foods, is kept, and with that he learned a little bit about your personality too... Everything is so methodically organized by category and size that it became very clear that you are a tidy freaky. No problem, learning to respect your habits and quirks, being clean, shouldn't be that difficult. The same style of organization also in the hall closet, and in the bathroom, and on the bookcase for games and movies. He did not enter your room or private office - although the door was open, and he could see a very large bookcase and a table full of papers and an open notebook - because he thought it would be too much intrusion. So the only place on the top floor that went through Jungkook's inspection was the terrace, where your plants are also very well cared for and categorized by type and alphabetical order - including name and scientific name signs. In the tool cabinet, he found gardening tools - as expected - and some useless things  or at least he hadn't imagined you'd have ... Like a neon pink pilates ball and an inflatable Santa Claus.

Jungkook lay on the deck chair on the terrace to sunbathe - few times in his life he had this luxury - and took the opportunity to take a nap. He woke up just before lunchtime.

"Y/N?" He checked on your office, and then in the living room. You weren't back yet, but since it was time for lunch he could finally go after you. Without hesitating he ran downstairs when he saw what time it was, escaping some steps to go faster, and without thinking, or rather remembering, that you probably wouldn't be alone in the office, Jungkook knocked twice on the door and went in before hearing an answer. So he froze by the door when he saw the two men from the other day with you in the room.

You were sharing the office chair with that hybrid - in fact he was practically sitting on your lap while you typed something on the computer, arms around him, both focused on the screen. The other guy, the human, had his back to Jungkook, hunched over the table, also looking at the same thing as you. It must be something important, because none of them noticed Jungkook's presence at first. Once again he felt that he was interrupting something he shouldn't be getting into - the little line forming between your eyebrows, while you read something on the screen in deep concentration saying it. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he also felt that he should be interrupting for sure. No other hybrid should be on your lap while he is home alone. He was about to cough to get your attention, ready to make it very clear how unhappy he was with the scene, to let you know that your attitude was not cool, but the hybrid looked up from the computer, making eye contact with him. All of Jungkook's feelings are gone all of a sudden, leaving only the need to hide in a hole on the ground.

"Hi." The hybrid smiled at him, eyes turning into two crescent moons. This made you and the other guy see Jungkook too. The man, who today was dressed as a very stylish grandpa, turned around, sitting on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. JUngkook felt his face getting hot with all eyes on him.

"Oh, JK. I didn't see it's lunchtime already. Sorry." You said, checking your wristwatch.   

Jungkook couldn't answer, his voice stuck in his throat.

"We ran into each other in the hall yesterday, right?" The human calmly asked Jungkook, not really waiting for an answer. His eyes were so intimidating, a whole dominating vibe coming from him. "He's the one living with you?"

"Yes! This is Jungkook." You pridely said, giving a light pat on the hybrid knee, so he could let you get up. "And this is Taehyung, my friend who rents the studio across the hall. And this little cutie here Jimin he works for me as a counter."

"I like numbers!" Jimin said, cat ears excitedly pointed up. "Nice to meet you." Jungkook finally put some word out, still avoiding eye contact. You closed some folders, saved some docs... Finding it super cute that Jungkook was so shy.

"Let's eat." You stated. "Finally..." Teahyung and Jimin whined in unison. Taehyung out of nowhere lost his frightening posture, practically becoming a child right in front of Jungkook. A very excited child.

"Can we get hamburgers today? Last time Jimin chose, and before him was you..." He picked his shoulder bag and went to the door, stopping right next to Jungkook, who practically froze in place.

You followed suit, stopping on the other side of Jungkook, pressing a reassuring hand against the boy's back.

"I actually want to put Jungkook on a healthier diet. A regular meal would be better." You softly but certainly said with a smile, no room for debate. You wouldn't say that out loud, because it would be exposing Jungkook unnecessarily, and you don't know if he would like it, but his blood tests, done at the shelter, showed anemia, among other consequences of a poor diet, even though he is strong his health was not very good, and your plan is to take care of it.

" I think Jungkook could choose, since he is new." Jimin practically put everyone out to lock the door.

The silence that followed made Jungkook look up from the floor to see that the three were looking at him expecting him to say something he wanted to eat.

"Me..meat?" It was the first thing that came to his mind.

________________________________________________________________

Tag List:  @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich @namjoonies-dimple @givebuckysomelove @imluckybitches @hoseokslefteyebrow  @yzkyzkuniverse @flaring-vibes @justpeachyjoon​

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If you want me to tag you, pls tell me. 

AND PLEASE GIVE LOVE TO THIS WORK OF MINE: Clumsy

[tansypoisoning]

Yandere asks Prompt 35 with thor please ( if you write for him ) otherwise anyone of your choice

Not the best way to defend a fair maiden. Idk if I wrote Thor well - I think he sounds larpy.

Yandere asks

Warnings: Not very descriptive smut, alcohol drinking (reader is a bartender in this) anal play, oral sex (female receiving), yandere, violence, blood, gore and death of a side character.

When you landed on the County Line to work your first job as a bartender you were excited to make all the cocktails you’d spent hours perfecting. You should’ve known it was all for naught. Brentwood was a small town, filled with people with small minds; if someone ordered anything more complex than a rum and coke you had cause to celebrate.

Your days at the bar dragged by, and you longed to escape to a place that was less dead, where people gave you the chance to show your artistry. With your pay, that was nothing but a pipe dream.

That is, until he walked into the bar.

He was a beautiful man, and huge too. Unlike the locals, who dragged their tired feet to a seat and ordered their beers sullenly, he waltzed to the bar, a big smile on his face, slapped the counter-top and asked for your best drink.

“No preference?” You asked. This never happened.

“I’ll drink whatever you give me,” he declared, puffing out his chest “You are the mead master.”

You laughed. “Mead master? I like that.”

You mixed him a Last Word, and he chugged it down in one gulp.

“Another!” He called, setting the glass down with almost too much strength.

“The same one?”

“Anything you want to make.”

“Right, mead master,” you grinned.

You fed him drink after drink, at first worried that he was ingesting enough alcohol to kill him, but by the time the bar closed, he only looked a little buzzed. You felt a little buzzed too. His joy was just that contagious. He loved the Dark and Stormy, and he was very impressed with your Tiki drinks pyrotechnics. It was so refreshing to have someone who wanted to talk about fun subjects, and asked you questions and showed so much interest in your craft. Most clients spared you no more than a greeting, and the ones who did were usually just looking for someone to share their problems with, or trying to be sleazy. Not this guy, though. He was way too boisterous to be called a gentleman, but he was nice, and friendly, and respectful, and a respite from your daily grind.

Letting him wait for you while you locked the bar felt right, as it did letting him walk you home. You two made jokes on the way, laughing like old friends. The hand he would sometimes press against your waist or hip was very much not a friendly gesture, though.

You asked him up; asked him if he wanted coffee. Way past midnight. He kept his hand on your ass as you climbed the steps up to your studio apartment, above the drugstore. You two fell onto your bed, a heap of limbs pulling at clothes just as soon as you’d closed the door.

It was the best sex you’d ever had, and he had the biggest cock you’d ever had. It startled you when you reached into his pants to pull it out. He chuckled at your reaction, and watched as you stroke him to full hardness, fascinated. You were worried you might not be able to take him.

He ate you out, and he was unfairly gifted in that area too, making you cum with his tongue alone. You were face down on the mattress before you even knew what was going on. It was disorienting, but you couldn't say you were unhappy with the position.

With his fact cock in your pussy and two fingers in your asshole he brought you to one earth-shattering orgasm after another. You were sobbing on your pillows by the time he finally reached his own end.

You passed out with a heavy, yet surprisingly comforting weight on top of you.

The mysterious stranger came back to the bar the next night, and you got to ask him his name. Thor. Weird, but it suited him.

He was just as charming and just as eager to try your concoctions as before. The rest of the patrons all but vanished as you listened to him talk about how long he’d been in town, what he liked best about it and for how long he planned to stay. He gave you the impression his date of departure was malleable.

You went home with him again, and spent the better part of the night riding him. The other part you spent being bounced on his cock while he kissed your collarbone and breasts.

It became a daily thing fast. You’d wake up in the morning, slide from under his arm and watch him snooze on your bed like a big lazy cat while you made coffee. You’d eat breakfast together before sending him on his way while you went about your day, did your chores and ran your errands. He would already be waiting at the bar when your shift started, and he would sit at the counter while you served him drink after drink and you two talked until closing time. He’d walk you home and then fuck you senseless until the sun came up – then you’d do it all over again. This was the kind of routine you could get used to.

The sound of a shot glass hitting the wooden surface of the bar drew your eyes from the spot you were wiping. More than a week into your strange relationship, Thor was bright as ever and ready to imbibe as ever. Looking into his blue eyes, crinkling with his smile, you knew this would come to an end, likely sooner rather than later, but you were determined to enjoy his company while it lasted.

“Another!” He cried out and you laughed.

You were reaching for the wine to make his New York Sour when you heard one of the stools creak under the weight of another patron. You raised your head and smiled to the customer. You didn’t recognize him – probably from out of town. The grin you received in return wasn’t very charming.

“Can I get a beer, hun?” He drawled, emphasizing the last word.

“Sure.” You struggled to maintain your smile as you went back to your work.

You handed Thor his drink and filled a glass with beer from the tap. The stranger kept his eyes on you as he drained his cup, but you were lucky to have Thor there to keep your mind off of him.

“This is the best one yet,” Thor said.

“You only say that because I made it.”

“You have caught me,” he grinned, rising his hands in mock surrender. “I would drink anything that came from you.”

You placed a hand over your burning cheeks and turned away.

“Beer me,” the other man said, sliding his glass over the counter to you.

You filled it back up again and set it in front of him. This time, though, his fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could pull away.

“Excuse me...” You tried to free yourself from his hold while not calling attention to yourself.

“C’mon. Isn’t that why girls get jobs in places like this? To get attention?”

“Sir, you need to stop this,” you said, a little louder this time, pulling away harder.

His grin grew wider and sleazier. “You’re really gonna make me work-”

The man gasped when a third hand joined your tug o’ war contest. Thor had reached across the bar and grasped the stranger’s wrist, bending it at an awkward angle.

“Let go,” he said, his already deep voice even lower. A growl bubbled in his throat like a storm brewing inside of him.

“Hey, man,” the other gave a nervous giggle. “My bad. I wasn’t trying to steal your mark.”

You screamed when your arm was yanked up, then fell on your ass when your wrist was freed. There were shouts on the other side of the counter, then the loud noise of something crashing on the ground and a scream. You didn’t have the courage to stand up and see what had happened. It took your boss storming in from the backroom and pulling you to your feet while she yelled at the patrons.

“Get out!” She pointed at the scumbag who had harassed you and was now lying on the floor, crawling away from the broken stool just an inch away from him. She then turned to Thor. “You gotta leave too.”

He bristled at her request. “What?! I was defending her!”

“I don’t care. Just be thankful I’m not going to charge you for that stool. Get out before I call the cops.”

Thor’s breathing was labored, his powerful chest and shoulders rising and falling rapidly. He looked from your boss to you, his face contorted into an outraged scowl. He was so large – that had been a plus before, but now something inside you was afraid of his size, of what he could do with it.

With a final heave and a roll of his shoulders, Thor walked out of the bar, stepping over the man on the ground.

Your boss asked you if you needed the rest of the day off, but you declined. If you didn’t have something to occupy yourself you’d mull over what happened before you were ready to do it.

Even busy serving the customers that hadn’t left after that fight, you still found yourself thinking about what was no doubt the end of your relationship with Thor. Maybe he wouldn't even want to see you anymore, after you didn’t back him up. You were thankful for his defending you, but the way he went about doing it… You didn’t feel bad about the harasser, but the wrath in Thor’s eyes was paralyzing. You could barely look at him, let alone defend him.

You finished your shift and dragged yourself out of the building. Just knowing you’d not see Thor that night, that you’d probably never see him again, weighed on you like a ton of bricks. You’d grown more attached than you’d expected. You didn’t see yourself rejecting him if he came to the bar the next day to see you.

You weren’t paying attention as you made your way to your apartment, thus you only noticed the puddle on the ground when you stepped on it. It didn’t feel like rain. The fluid was too tacky for that. You started walking around the puddle and only stopped when you noticed you left a footprint.

Now fully awake, you examined your surroundings. The puddle was coming from an alley, and you couldn't see anything beyond it, but you could hear sounds from the darkness. There was a gurgling like a fountain pumping something thicker than water and a dull scratching. You didn’t know and you didn’t want to know what was hiding in the shadows, but your feet refused to run to safety.

The noises died down, leaving only a slow dripping behind. Something dropped to the ground and footsteps echoed in your direction. You could almost get your legs to move when a hand emerged from the shadows and pulled you in.

A wet palm covered your mouth before you could scream, and you were whirled around and pushed against a wall. You whimpered when your eyes adjusted to the dark and you recognized your captor. You had wanted to see Thor again, but now you weren’t happy to meet him.

“Finally,” he sighed, resting his free hand on your shoulder and letting it slide down your arms. His fingers felt warm and sticky. “I thought you were coming out sooner.”

“What are you doing here?” You tried pulling away and his hand squeezed your arm to the point it hurt.

“Waiting for you,” he frowned. “I’m sorry for how I behaved in the bar, and I’m sorry I rushed things.”

You were about to tell him you didn’t think he’d rushed anything when he adjusted his position and you spotted something on the ground. You thought it was a sack at first – you wanted it to be just a sack – but it was too large and too solid. You didn’t know how you recognized him, with blood staining his clothes and his face beaten into a pulp, but you knew this was the guy who had harassed you in the bar.

Your limbs started shaking. You couldn't tear your eyes from the bloodied corpse. It felt as if something perverse was holding your head in place and your lids wide open. Your lips parted, and even though you didn’t remember using them to say anything you must’ve had, because Thor began speaking again as if answering a question.

“I defended your honor! I thought you might like to watch his last moments, but I couldn't get him to stay alive longer.”

You finally managed to look at him again. The smile on his face turned into a pout when you remained silent.

“What’s the matter?”

You started shaking your head and you couldn't stop. “You killed him. You killed him. Why did you…?” Your voice dwindled to a whine and you didn’t know what you were saying anymore. At the corner of your eyes, you could still see the man lying on the ground. The ex-man. The pile of meat that was walking and talking and breathing just a while ago.

Thor held you by the shoulders as he peered into your eyes. It reminded you of the times he would look at you while you were having sex, too steady and too intense. It was clear now that all those times he’d looked at you, he saw you with feelings much stronger than the ones you had for him. “I was protecting you! I could tell what he wanted just by looking at him. He was a vermin.”

“Please let go of me.”

“No, no!” Thor shook his head and brought you even closer. “I can’t let you go. Do you know how many people like that exist? They’re countless! If you can’t protect yourself, and if none else is going to stand up for you… I felt this was destined, and now I know it is.” He moved his hands to the side of your face and held you in place as he leaned in. “I’m madly in love with you, and I will always protect you.”

He crashed upon you, his lips devouring yours and his body caging you against the brick wall. The taste of iron in his mouth, combined with the awful smell of the alley or the corpse, you couldn't tell, did something to you. Your head pounded and your stomach revolted, but before you could expel all its contents, the floor vanished beneath your feet and the world went dark.

[obxparadise]

Habits

Rafe Cameron

Word count: 2,670

~Rafe Cameron’s drug addiction becomes too much for him to handle~

Song: Habits by Machine Gun Kelly

Warning: This is a pretty deep fic. It includes drug use and death by overdose/heart attack. It’s not too graphic, but a warning was needed. 

A/N: Drop a comment if you enjoyed and reblog :) 

*GIF is NOT mine, found on Google. Creds to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Complicated

Frustrated

Underestimated

Can’t sleep, mind racing

Hard to stay concentrated

2017: Alcohol dependence.

2018: Cocaine addiction.

2019: Spiraling into insanity.

Hair follicles flutter to the floor, lying beside sharp shards of glass hiding in the bedroom rug. Rafe’s hands tangle in his hair, tugging, tugging. Eyes flicker between a bottle of bourbon and three perfectly measured white lines on the windowsill. Black Veil Brides blares through the speakers at full volume, but he can’t focus on the lyrics as his father’s words are loud in his brain.

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

Addict.

The veins in his neck are throbbing, working in overdrive to pump blood through his body. His hands find the sides of his neck, squeezing, head falling back, eyes concentrating on the spinning fan hanging from the ceiling.

Round and round and round it goes. His eyes follow, blinking rapidly, until he tears them away, unable to focus for another second longer. Open palms drag down his face and he lets out a heavy breath that morphs into a dark laugh.

He isn’t a fucking disappointment.

He isn’t worthless.

He isn’t a good for nothing.

And he certainly isn’t an addict.

And if he was, that was the result of an overbearing, abusive father.

It all came down to pressure.

Pressure to be perfect.

Pressure to fit in.

Pressure to please his dad.

Rafe needed an escape from his father. From reality. Everything became too overwhelming. He couldn’t sit back and press pause or rewind or do over. But when the liquor flooded his veins and his nostrils absorbed the cocaine, time stopped. His responsibilities, his life outside of the drugs, ceased to exist.

Sweat drips down his body as he rubs his hands together. A cold shower would fix that no problem, but it would wake him up. Sober him up. He doesn’t fucking want to be sober.

He laughs at the bottle of bourbon that’s dying to be used. It sits there, teasing him. And Rafe gives in, flicking off the cap, downing a quarter of the liquid. It used to burn, but he’s immune to any sort of pain.

He eyes the three white lines next, licking his lips, craving another high. His heart races as he kneels in front of the windowsill. Rolled up beside the lines is a dollar bill and he grabs it, making each line disappear after it. He snorts, snorts, snorts, until there’s not a trace left behind.

The effects don’t happen immediately, but when they hit, they crash hard. His pupils dilate. Blood pressure rises alarmingly. He giggles one minute, and is irritable the next. And as the high wears off, he takes another long swig of bourbon. Over and over. A repeat of a vicious never ending cycle.

Rafe barely hears the pounding on his bedroom door over the music. Ward Cameron lets himself in, face twisting with rage. “Rafe. Rafe!”

He spins around, blood rushing to his ears, baring his teeth as venom drips from his voice. Is this a hallucination? Or is Ward really there?

The bottle is clutched between his fingers and his palm, suffocating in his grip. The mere sight of his father changes his mood instantly. Once pleasant, now violent. “Get out!”

The bottle barely sails over Ward’s head, crashing into the door behind him, shattering to the floor. Rafe’s hands are balled at his side, sucking in sharp breaths as Ward watches his son in disgust, horror, a combination of the two.

When the door closes, the tears fall. Rafe’s body warms, clenching and unclenching his fists. Frustration boils in his blood. His brain is racing, all with thoughts of pure hatred for his father.

Calm. He needs to be calm.

He stalks toward his bed, and as his head hits the pillow, his body relaxes.

Rafe closes his eyes, but he knows he won’t sleep.

He never does.

I fell in love with a very bad habit

But I feel alive for the very first time

“You have a problem.”

“Yeah, and it’s you. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

It was in Sarah’s nature to care, even about her brother, but Rafe wished she wouldn’t.

He kneels beside his bed, emptying the bag of cocaine on a silver platter resting on the night stand. The sight makes Rafe’s mouth water and he fishes inside his wallet for his debit card, splitting the powder into even lines.

“Nineteen years old and addicted to cocaine. You’re going places, Rafe.” Sarah taunts, slouching against the window as she watches her older brother’s descent into darkness. She has no idea just how bad her brother’s addiction is.

He ignores her, fidgeting with the rolled-up bill between his thumb and forefinger. The first line disappears from the plate, and he wipes the excess from his nose with the back of his wrist.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna sit there and snort coke in front of your little sister? What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?”

“Sarah, until you experience the kind of pressure I’ve been under for the last three years, you don’t get to judge how I handle it.”

Another line disappears.

“Have you ever thought of something rational? Like I don’t know, maybe therapy?” Sarah suggests in a sarcastic tone.

He chuckles darkly. “I don’t fucking need therapy. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You know, we used to talk about things,” Sarah whispers, doing her best to try and distract her brother. But the only thing on Rafe’s mind is how badly he wants to be high. “I looked up to you. Now I don’t even know you.”

Another line vanishes.

“Rafe, please just stop.”

One more fades.

“Rafe, stop.”

Another one.

“Rafe, stop!”

And then he collapses.

~

Three sets of eyes stare down at him, one of which belongs to Sarah, but the other two he doesn’t recognize until someone speaks to him. “Young man, we’d like to take you to the hospital.”

Paramedics.

Fuck.

He blinks once, twice, eyes darting from his panicked sister to the stone-faced EMTs who probably had better things to do than to tend to a nineteen-year-old addict who shouldn’t be doing drugs in the first place.

“Is he going to be okay?” Sarah questions, tears welling up in her eyes as she grabs Rafe’s hand, clutching it to her chest. “Rafe, can you hear me? They want to take you to the hospital.”

“No.” A chill shoots up his spine as he opens his mouth, voice hoarse. His answer requires no hesitation. “I’m not going. Help me sit up.”

“Rafe-“

But his body falls back against the floor as he begins to shudder violently. Rafe’s eyes flit around the room, inhaling deep breaths as he tries to find something to focus his attention on, but his brain is screaming for him to find his next fix. Words from Sarah and the EMTs go in and out of his hearing, and he flinches as two sets of hands hold down his arms and legs. The tremors explode through his body and Sarah covers her face, crying frantically into her palms.

“It’s alright ma’am. He’s just experiencing withdrawal symptoms. This usually happens after someone is given Narcan. He’ll be okay in a minute.” The male EMT informs, hoping to put Sarah at ease.

When the tremors dissipate, the paramedics assist Rafe to a sitting position. He’s weak, he’s tired, his throat is scratchy, and blood trickles from his nose. Rafe glances up at his sister, and his heart squeezes in his chest as he watches her cry. For the first time in his life, he feels guilty.

“We cannot take you to the hospital without your consent. So, if you’d like to go, it’s best we take you now.”

Rafe shakes his head and looks toward Sarah, but his words are directed to the EMTs. “No, I’m-I’m fine. I’d like to be alone with my sister.”

~

Rafe’s shoulders fall dejectedly as he huffs out a breath, watching as Sarah flushes the rest of the cocaine down the toilet. He’s seen his sister sad, angry, hurt, but never in full blown panic mode. Her cheeks are stained by old waterworks, and her eyes shine bright with unshed tears. Sarah’s lip trembles as she tries to keep from losing her cool, and Rafe worries if he’s made a huge mistake.

They sit across from each other on the bed, Sarah playing with her fingers as Rafe stares at his sister. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” his voice leaves in a whisper, and he reaches out to touch his sister’s arm, but she pulls away. “Sarah, please.”

“Don’t.”

He throws his head back. “That’s the first and only time I’ve ever OD’ed. It happens.”

Sarah’s face twists in disgust, mouthing hanging open. “What you should’ve said is that will be the last time you overdose, Rafe, as in you’re going to fucking quit.”

“Come on, Sarah-.”

“Why did you even start?” Sarah queries, hugging her arms. Her voice is small, timid, and she avoids looking at her brother. “Help me understand why people like you, who have everything they could possibly want, resort to drugs and throw their lives away.”

The question stuns him, but he won’t hide the truth. He owes it to her, even if it sounds pathetic. “Because of dad.”

“Oh, no,” Sarah breathes, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare blame your damn problems on dad.”

“It’s true!” He reaches over and grabs Sarah’s arms, holding her in place. “You don’t hear the shit he says to me when you’re not around. Worthless. Disappointment. Useless. Good for nothing. I walk on eggshells around him, Sarah. I can’t do anything or say anything without sparking some sort of argument. For the last three years, I have felt nothing. But now,” his laugh is deflated, shoulders slumped forward. “Now I feel alive.”

“Yeah, well guess what?” Sarah fires back, sliding off the bed. She glances back at her brother sadly. She doesn’t even know him anymore. “Tomorrow you might not be.”

I don’t wanna die

But I don’t, I don’t wanna hide

Or keep shit inside

Rafe finds himself barging into the worn out trailer, ignoring Barry’s protests for him to get the fuck out of his home. He beelines for Barry’s bedroom, tossing pillows, opening drawers and closets, until he finally spots the handgun poking out from underneath the bed.

It’s been two days since his overdose and Sarah’s words have been at the forefront of his brain.

Tomorrow you might not be.

Tomorrow you might not be.

All of the emotions he felt the previous two nights come rushing back, hitting him square in the chest, leaving him breathless. He was so close to death, so close. The cocaine had almost taken his life. He wouldn’t let it, though. Rafe would not let the thing he loved most be the cause of his death. He loved the drug, and the drug loved him back. It wouldn’t hurt him. Not again.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Barry’s voice rings out in his room, jolting Rafe from his thoughts. He grabs the gun from beneath the bed, eyes rushing from Barry to the weapon. “Bro put that shit back. That ain’t something to play with.”

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

Angry tears fall from his eyes as he clutches the gun tight in his hand. His body begins to tremble. From rage? From withdrawal? Fuck. He hasn’t had coke in two days. Barry swallows nervously, afraid of what contemplations are going through Rafe’s head.

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

The words are loud in his head, deafening, and for a second, just a second, Rafe believes them. He thrusts the gun into Barry’s hands and surrenders. “Kill me.”

Barry blinks. “Are you fucking with me, country club?”

“I said kill me!” His voice is piercing, laced with rage, hurt, despair, hopelessness. “I can’t-I won’t-I’m just a fuck up-He’ll never love me-I can’t-I just want-.”

Rafe sputters as he tumbles to the ground on his knees, body deflating. His sobs echo through the trailer, full of pain and devastation. No, he doesn’t want to die. He just wants the pain to end. “I just want it to go away, man,” he cries, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. “I just want it to go away.”

“A’ight bro, I get that. You good, you good.” Barry coaxes, setting the gun aside. He lowers himself to the floor, a good distance away from Rafe, but close enough to grab the gun in case he has any irrational spilt second choices. “You gave me a heart attack though, bro. Shit.”

Licking his dry lips, Rafe runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, man. I just-fuck. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What’s going on?” Barry asks, rolling his neck, cracking his knuckles.

Rafe releases a strangled breath. “I OD’ed man. I fucking OD’ed.”

“Shit,” Barry groans, hanging his head. “Look man, you gotta watch yourself. I ain’t tryin’ to be responsible for your death, you got me?”

Rafe nods. “I fucked up, bro. I’ve been fucking up for years.”

“Is this ‘bout your dad again? Bro, how many times I gotta say it? Fuck him. He ain’t worth getting this messed up about.” Barry answers, nudging Rafe’s leg with his foot. “He gets to you ‘cause you let ‘em. You’ll be free once you stop giving a fuck about him, what he thinks, what he wants you to be.”

And that’s all Rafe wanted.

To be free.

I wanna run away, yeah

I don’t wanna stay here

Rafe finds himself back in his room, head resting against the door as Ward bangs his fist on the other side. He’s persistent, pounding and pounding and pounding.

“I want you out of this house, Rafe!” Ward yells. “You hear me? Out!”

If only Sarah had kept her mouth shut about the overdose.

Rafe listens as his father’s footsteps disappear down the hall, and he puffs out a strangled breath. He’s entirely defeated. He feels nothing. Not pain. Not rage. He’s fully numb.

He wants to run, but where to? He can’t just disappear, no matter how much he wants to. There’s nowhere to go, but Rafe knows one thing. He can’t stay here.

His eyes flicker to the untouched vial of powder on his nightstand. It calls to him and he responds, heading in the direction of the stand. He kneels, opens the vial, and empties it onto the wood, dividing it evenly.

Rafe takes one look at the drug, the source of his happiness, the love of his life, and sighs. “I can’t stay here. There’s nothing left for me.”

And he doesn’t mean in his home.

No, he means on Earth.

For the last time, Rafe grabs the dollar bill, a single tear slipping down his cheeks. Bending down closer to the stand, he snorts a line, savoring in the instant high. He’d miss the feeling. Feeling happy. Feeling important. Feeling on top of the world.

He snorts three more lines easily.

But the last two he struggles.

The sensation overwhelms him and he pulls away from the nightstand.

Something drips from his nose.

Blood.

It slides down his lips, his chin, and he doesn’t bother wiping it away.

He can’t breathe.

He tries to swallow, but his throat is closing and his nostrils are clogged.

He’s dizzy, vision blurring.

He panics.

And then he cries.

But his cries are cut short as his chest constricts.

Rafe’s hand flies to his chest, attempting to clutch his heart through his sweat-stained polo, now gasping for air.

He collapses.

He tries to call out for help, but his voice is barely a whisper.

His back hits the floor and he lies there, helpless, crying, in pain, and alone.

Time passes.

The pressure in his chest surges.

But then it stops.

And just like that, he’s free.

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 9

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez x Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word count: 3k words

Warning(s): Explicit (+18) | sibling angst, mention of past drug use, roleplay sex!, UNPROTECTED sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), clothed sex, dirty talk, oh uh minor voyeurism. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: No beta, all mistakes are my own. Why is it so goddamn difficult to apply gifs to a post. I promise I’ll sort the masterlist tonight! Also tags will be moved to the bottom under the cut. Let me know if you’d like to be added

Gif creator @padfootwantsatummyrub​ thank you!

Alicia agreed to meet him that same night, and he tried to be presentable, and though he couldn't hide the alcohol on his breath, he was miraculously clean. That was thanks to the girls, of course, he hadn't had a second to snort coke with all their attention and literal begging. His sister was out on a job– Healy had given them the name of the low level thug who stole Porsche. Kennedy belonged to Jason Micic's organization, but Alicia discovered the boy usually did his own jobs. Diego met her just a few miles from his place and watched her work. His presence seemed to make Jason's Right Hand man nervous. 

"Look miss," he had been calling her 'lady' sarcastically before he noticed Diego lurking around in the shadows, "I hear what you're saying and I promise we're gonna fix it. By this time tomorrow, nobody's ever gonna know that kid's name." 

"Good." Alicia took a drag from her cigarette and held out a hand. The man reached out to shake it, but she snatched his wrist and put the cherry out on his forearm. He screamed, lurching his arm out of her grasp and gaining a few claw marks in the process. "Make sure it never happens again, claro?" 

They left him cradling his arm and stalked over to the alleyway of a greasy midnight diner. Diego held the door open for her, instructing her guard with a look to wait outside (his guard did the same). Alicia picked a booth in the back and ordered whiskey and fries– the very mention of which made Diego's stomach growl. 

"What do you want, Diego?" Alicia was stoic, already a note of disappointment fell from her voice as if she expected something childish. 

He took a deep breath to collect himself. 

"I'm sorry, sister," he said. She raised an eyebrow, but he continued, "I've been reckless and stupid and I almost got us caught because of it. You said those fucking pigs wouldn't have had anything on us except for my gun, and I can't let that happen again. So until we cross the border… no more coke." 

Alicia was, understandably, surprised. "No more coke? You think you can handle that, Diego?" 

His eyes were hard as stone– determined. "For us? Yes." 

His sister relaxed into the red cushions of the booth. Her eyes searched his– for mockery, for tricks, for falsehoods– until her jaw tightened and some raw expression flashed that Diego didn't know how to read. 

"On our mother's grave," he vowed. The trust Alicia was giving him now could not be squandered. It filled him with determination and a desire to be redeemed in her head. On our mother's grave. 

She hugged him. After sitting in perfect, tense silence while he ate all the fries and took a sip of her whiskey, as they were walking back out the door, she hugged him. He felt like a kid again. He felt like he had when their mother had passed away. Those were the only times she had hugged her brother, and it left him feeling raw and exposed like a nerve ending. His head drifted as he drove home and he swiped a tear from his cheek. 

I can do this, he decided. For us. 

It was nearly dawn by the time he got back to the penthouse. The cityscape was always bright at night, but there were a few precious hours in the evening and the morning when enough lights went out that made the city feel truly peaceful. Diego slipped into bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes before falling asleep watching the flurries of driven snow fly past his window. 

~

Someone was jiggling the doorknob. Diego had just enough strength to turn his head and look at the clock to read the time was 5:40 AM. The door to his bedroom opened violently as someone fell in. He lifted his head groggily and recognized the pretty kitten heels hanging from the brown arm with a death grip on the door knob. Jazmine pulled herself up with great difficulty, swaying on her feet like a drunk and slowly maneuvering the door to close behind her. Her half lidded eyes landed on Diego and she smiled. 

"Hey." She sounded hoarse and slurred. "I didn't think you'd actually be here…" 

Diego groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to sit up just a bit. "You asked me to be here. What do you want?" 

Something like sickness flashed over her face but only for a second. Her brow smoothed with determination and she sauntered with purpose to the side of his bed. Jazmine pulled his hair lightly and elicited a grunt from him. 

"I saw Haagen last night," she sighed. "When I left, I got a cab and got drunk and… well, here I am." 

Diego had a hard time focusing on her words, what with the gentle petting of his hair causing distraction, but he understood the unspoken story hidden between the lines. He rested a hand on top of her thigh and felt her twitch under his touch but not away from it. 

"If you're not too tired…" Her soft hand slid down, down, down. Stroking over the side of his neck and the open collar of his shirt, caressing his chest and pressing into the plain of his stomach until it mirrored his own touch on her thigh. She even gave him a squeeze which caused him to twitch as she had. "I could use a nice massage." 

Diego felt himself smirk involuntarily. She had his blood pumping now and pushing out the grogginess of a near sleepless night. He squeezed her back in answer but made no move to sit up or do anything else. 

On Jazmine's part, she couldn't take her eyes off of the man. There was something about the calmness and the plain white shirt that made him seem altogether a different man. He didn't look like a drug lord right now– he looked like somebody's husband. Maybe even somebody's dad. She could put that thought to good use…

"You like roleplaying, Diego?" His eyes had drifted shut but one opened curiously. "I can start." 

"Every girl likes doctor and nurse," he mumbled almost to himself. 

Jazmine shook her head. "I've got something else in mind." 

She stood up and tossed her shoes to the side. Only as she was taking it off did Diego notice she was wearing a t-shirt over her dress (in his defense, they were the same color). What she wore beneath was modest, something she could pass off in a church, which was a far cry from the little number she had worn to the club. Jazmine started her story by removing his belt with an agonizingly slow pace. 

"You," she said, tapping the buckle, "are a 9 to 5 office jockey who loves his parents and makes a decent living wage." 

"So sexy," he drawled sarcastically. 

"And I–" she ripped the belt from the loops of his pants eagerly and in one motion, "– am your wife." 

Diego's voice dropped. "Keep going." 

"I take care of the kids and our three story suburban house." She unbuttoned his pants with one hand, struggling and constantly bumping into his junk just to drive him crazy. "And we're so busy with everything we haven't had time to ourselves since our second kid. But guess what?" 

The button finally popping forced air out of Diego's lung, and he pulled his pants down himself as he became impatient. Jazmine was intent on keeping control and straddled his hips with force. His hands found their way up her skirt with ease and he fingered the strap of her panties as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "It's their first day of kindergarten." 

Diego's lust addled brain took a second to catch up. It was harder to do with her warm core putting pressure on his hardening cock, but he managed, and when he did he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying we haven't had sex in five years?" 

Jazmine hummed. She ground down on his hips, and he couldn't help but buck into her, feeling rock hard and ready. The woman slipped into her role like she was born to it, donning a face of longing with just a pouting lip. 

"I've missed you so much, baby..." 

God, he could not wait to get naked– this would just have to do. Diego sat up until he was chest to chest with 'his wife' and slipped his hands into his boxers to free his cock from its confines. Jazmine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held onto him for dear life as he pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger in. 

"So wet, baby," he groaned, "estas listo?" 

American girls loved hearing his Spanish and Jazmine was no different judging by the way she shuddered. He had to do everything by feeling since she refused to let go of him. She slid onto his cock like she belonged there, and although it was truthfully the first time, it felt like the first in a long time. 

Jazmine gasped when he finally bottomed out. Without a condom, she could feel every single vein and ridge of his thick length wedged into her pussy, and just the slightest movement caused the greatest sensations. Diego's warm breath fanned over her chest and she wished she could reach the zipper on the back of the dress to offer her nipples to him. He was content, it seemed, to try and taste them from the outside, and she squeezed his cock as a reward. 

"Oh fuck me." 

It wasn't meant as a request but Diego obliged her nonetheless. He gripped the soft curves between her hips and her waist and used them to bounce her in his lap, not too fast and not too deep, limited by the position but also like he wanted to keep her close to him. His watering mouth soaked through her dress and her lacy bra and when he pulled away to attack the other it left the last cold. 

The sweet burn of Diego's ministrations allowed Haagen's to wash away like footprints on a sandy beach. All that mattered now was Diego, and the unexpectedly tender way he fucked her like she really was the mother of his children. It made her ache where it shouldn't have, deep in her chest, but she didn't fight it and soon the tightening coil in her core won over her attention. 

Diego moaned with his mouth still on her and Jazmine keened in response, wrapping her fingers in his hair and dragging his head up to look at her. His pupils were blown wide but the light from the window still illuminated the deep brown ring of his eyes in a way that was so hypnotic she couldn't look away. 

His lip curled (of course) and the unhinged mischief of his former self shone through. "Want another..." 

She couldn't tell if it was a question for her or a statement from him. He kept her bouncing on his cock as his eyes drifted down to her mouth and back up again. Every time she came down it was harder and deeper than before as she let her whole weight crash into him. "Put another baby in you, huh, muñeca? Make it three…" 

That should not have been as hot as it was. Jazmine whined involuntarily and put both of her hands on his chest to push him onto his back, stalling their impeccable rhythm for a second as she basked in how deep his dick really went. 

He could do it. For real– his cock was naked in her pussy and he had the length to do it better than most. Oh fuck, it's curved, she thought, wishing she was fucking him the other way around. Can't stop now. Can't wait. 

Jazmine began to ride Diego and listened to all the filthy things that fell from his lips. No wonder I married you. 

"Yeah, querida? You like this dick? Want me to cum inside and paint a pretty picture?" 

"Yesss," she hissed. "Oh god. Fuck…" 

"That's it, mama, keep fucking yourself. Don't need my help, do you? Got it all figured out. Put a baby in you and watch you grow again…" 

Jazmine gasped, she was so close, hanging right on the edge. "Fuck, daddy…" 

She didn't even know she'd said the magic word, but the pair came together, and hard. Diego's grip on her waist was bruising and merciless, he filled her up with all he had and then some, and just to make it extraordinary, he made her hips grind into him for good measure. Jazmine's mouth dropped low and saliva dribbled out and dripped into his shirt, her hands tearing a button off as her pussy clenched down on his pulsating cock for a true flood. She was seeing stars when the torrent of endorphins finally drew back, and she collapsed onto his chest, boneless and gasping for air. 

When their breathing had finally slowed down, Jazmine moved just enough of her weight to make them both comfortable without adding distance– for her sake as much as his. There was sweat cooling in the small of her back, Diego’s chest rose and fell beneath her head, and the memory of Haagen faded away like static on a television set. 

“So,” Diego hummed, “I take it that was a bit of a fantasy of yours, eh?” 

Jazmine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Three kids, a house, and a spouse?” She thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “doesn’t everyone, in their own way?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

"I will admit it was probably most definitely brought on by this," she plucked at his white shirt, smirking with pride at the missing button and pocketing it in her drenched bra. "You look like… well I don't know exactly but this shirt screams normal and I figured you couldn't possibly own something like that." 

Diego hummed but offered no explanation for the unusual attire. He could probably go incognito through a crowd and never be seen with that thing. Now uncomfortable, Jazmine sat up and flung off her dress, admiring the red handprints on her sides. She lay back down into his embrace and chuckled. 

"What?" 

She started drawing circles on his chest with a finger. “I wasn’t sure you could get off without, you know, an audience.” 

Diego shrugged his shoulders (jostling her head in the process) and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “of course I can come without an audience. It’s a preference, not a medical condition.” 

“Oh right, sure. Sure.” The warm hand on her back began to slide, tracing up her sides and just short of cupping her face, she felt his fingers graze her earlobe. A groan of irritation ripped through her throat. “I guess you did get an audience after all.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean exactly?” 

Jazmine took her sweet time answering him as she rolled up and over top of him to get to the other side of the bed and to touch the room light remote on the nightstand. Now brighter in the slick black design of Diego’s bedroom, she leaned over him on her elbow and pointed. 

Directly at her fake hearing aid. 

Diego stared for a moment before his cheeks puffed and he blew a raspberry trying to hold his laugh. It exploded from his chest like a bark and his entire body curled into it, which in turn warmed Jazmine to join in. For as cool and unbothered as Agent Healy portrayed himself, there was no way he could have been able to ignore the sounds on the other end of the listening device by the sheer volume of the activities on the receiver. 

Ever the exhibitionist, Jazmine was not surprised to find Diego’s hand pressing into the back of her neck to draw her closer. She rolled her eyes when he leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone, “like what you heard, Healy?” 

The answer came in an instant. Just as Jazmine was debating whether to settle back into the bed or to get up, Diego’s phone rang. The man was having far too much fun as he pushed her under him and reached for the nightstand even though she was closer. His knee fell between her sensitive thighs as he checked the screen. Despite everything, he still looks at her with disbelief as Healy’s contact glares back at him. 

Healy’s voice sounded somehow right coming from a speaker. It matched the sometimes robotic way he delivered them lines about his purpose or his plan. “Yes, Mr. Jimenez, I am always on the edge of my seat when you make a pass at my informant.” 

The expression only flashes for a second across his face, but for a moment Diego looked as uncomfortable as Jazmine felt. It was strange, knowing the name and the face of the person who was surveilling you. Knowing they hear everything all of the time and forgetting, only to remember and wonder if you’ve done something to warrant the shame and embarrassment that floods through you upon recollection. Jazmine was more often than not completely unaware of the thing until it beeped its death notes. She would have to remember to set a schedule for charging it every night, as Healy had suggested before. 

“It’s fascinating the things people get up to when they think they’re alone,” Healy continued, “but if it is any consolation to you, Miss. Mann, I am accustomed to turning a blind eye– or ear, I suppose– to your nonessential activities.” 

Well at least that was something. Diego hung up (or Healy did, she wasn’t paying attention), then turned to look her in the eye with a mischievous glint. 

“What?” 

“Jazz Mann.” 

“Shut the– I’m going to fucking strangle you.”

~~~~~

Alrighty, I think this was pretty successful! But know that it’s all downhill from here (OK, mostly downhill from here). 

@1zashreena1​ @kid-from-new-zealand​ @nicke0115​ @girlpornparadise​ @mental-bycatch​ 

[jungshookz]

hot cheetos and cosmopolitans; pjm

🗡️ pairing: park jimin x reader

🗡️ genre: spooktober day (5/7); zombieapocalypse!au; angst; this is an end of the world drabble so blood has been shed 

🗡️ wordcount: 2.3k

🗡️ summary: hot cheetos probably shouldn’t be the first thing on your list of things to find when you’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. 

(here’s the picture source!) 

                                        ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤

“so help me god, if you even reach for the chips right now, i swear to god i’ll shoot you.” jimin’s fingers barely brush over the bag of hot cheetos when you call him out

he lets out a little huff and retracts his arm before spinning around to look at you

“it’d be insane of me to not take advantage of the fact that i could eat all the chips i wanted to right here, right now!” he scoffs and gestures to the shelves lined with all sorts of potato chips

you’re surprised there’s still this many bags of chips left

unsurprisingly there’s not a lot in the canned section which was what you were dreading

“i told you to grab the nonperishables-“

“chips count as nonperishable food item-“

“i’m talking about things that are going to fill you up and keep you energised!” you gesture to your backpack before turning around to show him how fAT it is after you filled it up “you know, tuna, beans, soups, stews- water, we definitely need water-“

“you think there’s some coke around here? i miss coke.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes

you’ll just grab two jugs of waters and then you and jimin can head back to the base camp

you don’t remember a world before the apocalypse

you don’t remember your life before the apocalypse

well

okay

you remember soMe bits

you remember living in a nice neighbourhood in a nice apartment with your soft, cushy bed and your one hundred and one decorative throw pillows

you remember going to a nice university

you remember some of the friends you made at the nice university (including jimin)

you remember the morning of the day the announcement was made

that there was some kind of virus that was starting to spread around town

something about a dead deer? or was it a cow? you’re not too sure

you don’t remember too much of that because you peRsonally didn’t think it was that big a deal

you had bigger fish to fry!

like your psychology midterms and your history papers

and then you remember how pale your professor looked when he walked into class that morning

it was weird

he was oddly vEry sweaty

the bags under his eyes were sunken in and grey

“god, he should’ve just stayed home. then i could’ve stayed home. i could be sleeping right now. we could all be sleeping right now.” jimin mutters under his breath and you nudge his side in an attempt to get him to shut up

professor kim didn’t look… that bad….. right?

his eyes would occasionally do this thing where it just rolled upwards for a brief second and it was kind of concerning how many veins you were able to see from all the way in the back

his jaw would tick every now and then

you remember watching him pace up and down the lecture hall steps as he struggled with explaining walter cannon’s theory of fight or flight

in all honesty the poor man looked like he was about to pass out

and right as you had that thought, he literally collapsed to the ground at the front of the classroom

you remember the hushed silence that washed over the classroom

there was no protocol for this

what do people normally do when their professor passes out halfway through the lecture??

a couple of the students up front rushed over to make sure he was okay

watching your professor jolt back to life is something that you think will stick with you for the rest of time

it was terrifying

you remember pale his skin was

all his veins had gone from a healthy green to a coal black and you weren’t a scientist or anything but you were preTTY sure that veins weren’t supposed to be black

you remember the aggressive gnashing of his teeth

you remember the way he sunk his teeth into namjoon’s arm and you remember the pained scream that slipped past namjoon’s lips

you remember the way the room burst into chaos with people sprinting every which way trying to get out of the lecture hall as quickly as possible

and you remember the way professor kim looked at you while he was practically devouring poor namjoon

you stared into those cold, cloudy eyes and you felt like you were under some kind of spell

the fight or flight response was developed in the early 20th century and occurs when a person experiences very strong emotions associated with a perceived threat

american physiologist walter cannon believed that it was a built-in mechanism that assisted in raining homeostasis of the body

there are several physiological reactions that happen when the fight-or-flight response is activated

your pupils dilate

your heart begins to pound, begins to beat faster

you breathe heavily and you start to sweat

you feel butterflies in your stomach

your muscles tense

adrenaline starts to pump through your veins in an attempt to get you to go go gO

but you remember how frozen you were

you remember how frozen you were as you watched the fresh blood dripping from professor kim’s chin to the ground as he got up onto his feet

poor namjoon was twitching in pain and you remember standing there, truly shocked at how quickly his veins began to darken

namjoon was always very nice to you

he lent you a pen once and told you that you could keep it

you still had the pen

in fact you used it when writing all of your exams

namjoon’s pen was your good luck pen

it was difficult for you to process right then and there that this was the beginning of the end

that you had just watched your zombie professor bite into one of your peers

what the heLL were you going to do??? was it safe to go back to your apartment? how many people had been infected? what happens if yoU become infected?? is this happening back home?? are your parents okay?? is your goLdfish okay?? can goldfish even become zombies????

you were so preoccupied with what do i do what do i do what do i do that you didn’t even realise professor kim was heading straight for you

crawling over the lecture seats with such ferocity and gnashing his stained, yellow teeth wildly

“y/n, come on!” the thing that snapped you out of your trance of shock was the sound of jimin’s voice and the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your wrist

you remember him practically dragging you up the stairs because it felt like your shoes were made of cement

“m-my lunch, i left my lunch-“ you turn to glance over your shoulder and you catch a glimpse of your abandoned lunch bag sitting on your seat before the lecture door is suddenly slammed shut and about ten students are working to barricade the door with spare chairs and desks

but yeah

that’s pretty much all you remember of what happened beFore the zombie apocalypse

it’s just been you and jimin ever since

well, no

that’s not entirely true

there were originally seven of you

jungkook, taehyung, hoseok, jin, yoongi, jimin, and you

they were all jimin’s friends to begin with but the more time you spent with them, the more they began to accept you as one of their owN

it’s weird

it feels like it’s been a long time since you even thought about them

you’ve been so preoccupied with keeping you and jimin alive that you haven’t thought about them

hoseok was the first to go

you guys had stumbled across some kind of field and hoseok, being hoseok, decided he’d pick some daisies and make a flower crown or something since there was nothing else to do

it was like the zombie came out of nowhere and in a state of panic, jungkook (who happened to be the closest to hoseok in terms of distance) just fired without mercy because there was literally a zombie right there and that was his immediate instinct

hoseok, unfortunately, got caught in the crossfire

you guys buried him in the fields

you hadn’t even known hoseok for that long but you remember weeping as you tucked a daisy behind his ear

you tried to make a flower crown for him but it kept falling apart and yoongi reminded you gently that you guys needed to head somewhere safe before sundown

jungkook and taehyung were the next two to go

you guys had reached some kind of abandoned parking lot and jin thought it’d be a good idea to check the cars and see if there was anything useful in there

jungkook had been bitten on the shoulder and taehyung had been bitten on his forearm when he tried to intervene to save him

you didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to them because by the time you and jimin got back from exploring your section of the parking lot, the deed had already been done

jin was out two bullets and he didn’t want to talk about the fact that he had no choice but to shoot two of his closest friends

and then it was jin

you had never seen yoongi cry before and it was truly a strange sight because he was typically so void of emotion

the three of you walked in silence that afternoon and yoongi went straight to bed that night

and finally

it was yoongi

the thing was, with the virus, if you caught it fast enough, it wouldn’t spread to the rest of you

yoongi, thankfully, had been bitten on the hand, and all you had to do was a quick chOp to his wrist with the machete and he’d be as good as new

“y/n, you have to do it-“ yoongi grunts through gritted teeth as he places his hand on the tree trunk

you can see how quickly the virus is taking over

the blue veins under yoongi’s pale skin are starting to fade which means you have to act now or else you’ll really be in trouble

“i can’t!” you exasperate as your grip tightens around the handle of the machete “i can’t cut your fucking hand off are you inSAN-“

“y/n, just do it!!!!! jesus chriST, just do IT-“ jimin is freaking out behind you because he does NOT want to deal with zombie yoongi but he also doesn’t really want to watch a live amputation

“well why don’t yOU DO IT-“

“because it’s GROSS-“

“how do you think i feEL-“

“can one of you please just-“ the sound of yoongi’s pained shriek combined with the crack of his bones will definitely haunt you for the rest of your life

you thought yoongi would be okay after the amputation

it was a pretty clean cut!!!! it was actually kind of impressive how clean it was

maybe you would’ve made a good doctor

yeah

maybe

you thought everything would be alright

but no

of course, of course it had to get infected

and of course yoongi had to fall sick

and of course you had to hold yoongi as you watched him die in your arms

“please don’t go…” your throat has gone raw from all the sobbing you’ve been doing and yoongi chuckles weakly and reaches up to brush his fingers over your cheek in an attempt to wipe your tears away “please, you can’t leave us like this-“

jimin is starting to get misty eyed as well but he tries his best to keep it together because onE of you has to be strong

“i’m just glad i’m not dying of a nasty zombie bite.” yoongi croaks

it’s obvious he’s trying to get you to crack a smile but you can’t

you can’t laugh when yoongi is dying and there’s nothing you can do about it

the last thing he said before his eyes finally fluttered shut was a) jimin is not allowed near anY chips because he’s going to eat himself sick and b) it’s up to you to save the world

which is how you ended up here

just you and jimin in the middle of this abandoned grocery store picking up bits and pieces of food

“we gotta huStle if we wanna make it back before the sun goes down, jimin…”

“yeah, i know, i know…” jimin turns to shove a couple comic books into his backpack

“here, i wanna read this later-“ you hand jimin a magazine and he scoffs at the cover

“cosmopolitan?? are you for real?? how is- hOW is the 8 types of booty-call relationships going to help us in a zombie infestation???”

“…horny zombies?”

“that’s just nasty.”

yep

it’s just you and jimin against the world

(you snuck a couple bags of hot cheetos into your backpack to surprise him with later)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a spooky request)

spooktober masterlist // main masterlist

[mendesmelancholy]

Iris - A Shawn Mendes Fic

Part Two // Part Three Synopsis: Shawn meets an interesting girl after one of his shows. Warnings: alcohol, swearing, suggestive speech Word Count: 4.3k Author’s Note: This is my first time writing for Shawn! Enjoy and be sure to ask me if you’d like a part two!

    There is something about sweaty skin of strangers that sets her senses on fire. It makes adrenaline course through her system in a way that most things can’t. It isn’t the only thing that intoxicates her. The liquor pumping in her bloodstream makes her lightheaded and vision blurry, her reactions and movements delayed, but in the most delicious way possible. As she swings her head from side to side, the heaviness of it on her shoulders sink in, only fuel the adrenaline more. Her feet, clad in her favourite platforms, her ‘drunk shoes’ she often refers to them as, are stood shoulder width apart, her knees bent and ass stuck out slightly. She steadies herself as she enjoys the music, the beat seemingly mixing both the adrenaline and alcohol in her system. In the distance, she can hear her best friend singing along to the Top 40 hit playing, dancing with her good friends, but her main focus is on the beat pumping through her blood. It reverberates in the most satisfying way and she can feel a smile creeping on her face.

     The fade of the song turns into a classic and this time, she can’t help but join her friends in their singing. She lifts her heavy head and moves closer to the group, holding the bottle of Kopparberg she has been sipping on, and joining the dancing circle. Her best friend hollers in her ear before pulling her into her side. Alexandra has always been a touchy drunk, but Iris doesn’t mind. She allows Alexandra to back up into her, grinding down on Iris as the rest of her friends whoop at the sight of Alexandra and Iris. Iris throws her head back in laughter, using her free hand to guide Alexandra’s hips on her. It is far from sexual between them, but to onlookers, it’s nearly pornographic. Her best friend rests her head back on her shoulder, smiling up at her through her insanely long, natural eyelashes.

  ��  “You having fun, bub?” Iris asks, moving her head slightly to take a sip from her Kopparberg.

     “I wanna do shots,” Alexandra slurs, pulling away from Iris and grabbing onto her hand instead. Iris’s lips quirk into an evil grin as she lets Alexandra pull her away from their group of friends and to the bar on the far side of the room. The platforms make Iris much taller than Alexandra, even though she’s usually only two inches taller. The short girls manage to push through the crowd at the bar and rest their elbows on the wooden surface. Iris makes sure to stand on her tiptoes and show her cleavage to the bartender walking by them. He catches sight of the skin and immediately stops in his tracks, leaning up against the bar and paying attention to the two girls in his line of sight.

     “Three shots of tequila and vodka and orange juice,” Iris ordered before tipping back her Kopparberg and downing the rest of her cider. The bartender nods and begins to fix the order. She nearly slams the empty bottle on the bar and looks at Alexandra.

     “Why tequila?” The question comes out as a whine and Iris jokingly rolls her eyes.

     “You don’t do vodka shots and I love tequila,” Iris’s voice has become slightly slurred, but she’s happy with her level of tipsiness. But truth be told, Iris wanted to drink more. She has more than enough money for both a taxi back to the hotel they are staying at and more drinks. She’s having too much fun to call it quits after this drink. So she continues.

     “You’re wild,” Alexandra giggles. The bartender places the three tequila shots in front of them with their lime and salt. Alexandra pours salt on the backs of both of their hands, holding her salt and lime in one hand and enormous shot glass in the other. Iris copies her and turns to face her.

     “To us.” 

     Iris grins at Alexandra’s words and Alexandra returns the smile, clinking her shot glass to her best friends’ and licking the salt off her hand. They mirror each other's movements, licking the salt and downing the first shot. Instead of biting the lime, Iris picks up her second tequila shot and downs that as well, biting into the lime afterwards. The salty, dirty taste of the shot tickles the back of her throat. She doesn’t even shiver. She simply embraces the alcohol and lets out a cheer of happiness when she finishes. Alexandra doesn’t look as thrilled, biting down hard on the lime and wincing at the strong tequila settling in her stomach. Iris laughs at her, shaking her head and letting her long brown hair move with her movements and fall into her eyes.

     “You go back to the group, bub. I have to pay and wait for my other drink.” Alexandra throws her a sloppy thumbs up before stumbling slightly as she turns around, weaving her way through the crowd back to their friends. Iris smiles to herself, turning back to the bar just as the bartender puts her drink on the countertop. She nods and hands over her debit card, watching lazily, and tipsily, as he collects her payment and hands it back. She slips it into her phone case, tucking her phone under her dress in a hidden pocket, and grabs her drink from the bar. The alcohol has affected her vision, but she doesn’t miss the wink the bartender threw her way. She smiles slightly as she turns around, weaving her way through the crowd and moving to stand at the end of the bar. She takes a swig from her vodka and orange juice, the strong scent of alcohol wafting from her drink and overpowering the juice. She notices it was most definitely a double shot of vodka and smiled at the free extra alcohol.

     The song fades into an old throwback, the entire crowd of drunk young adults roaring in approval, immediately beginning to rap along to the music. She shakes her head and takes another sip of her Screwdriver. In her concentration on the crowd in front of her, she fails to notice the tall somewhat-stranger approach and lean up against the bar next to her.

     “I have no idea what to say, but I just know I have to talk to you,” the stranger says in his soft voice, capturing her attention. Her head swivels to look at him and her breath catches in her throat. She gapes slightly, before closing her mouth and smiling.

     “You’re more than welcome to,” she answers.

     “I’m Shawn,” he introduces himself, “And you’re very familiar.”

     “I may or may not have been at your show and Q&A tonight, Shawn,” she replies.

     His grin got even wider, “A fan who is old enough to drink? Interesting,” he muses, sipping at his own whiskey and coke, his eyes never leaving hers.

     “Who ever said I was a fan? I could have been with my little sister.”

    “Judging by the way you gaped when you first realised who I am, I’d say you’re a fan.”

    “A man who’s observant. Interesting,” she mocks his earlier response and he throws his head back in laughter. She watches the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat and she gets an intense urge to lick up the column of his throat. She sips her drink to calm herself and waits for him to turn his attention back to her.

    “How’d you like the show?”

    “It was great,” she says honestly, “You really know how to work a crowd.”

    “I really know how to work some other things,” he quirks his eyebrow and she can’t help the snort that leaves her nose, “God that was so bad,” he caves, his confidence shaken a little, and shakes his head as she laughs at him.

    “It was memorable, that’s for sure,” her voice raspy from the alcohol and amount of screaming she had done at the show. He takes a second to truly admire her up close. He has been watching her from afar the second he stepped into the club. Something about her demanded each and every second of his attention. Her long hair is most definitely not naturally straight, judging by the way the baby hairs by her hairline are starting to curl and frizz. Her brown eyes are a couple shades darker than his, pupils blown from the adrenaline and the drinks she’s been consuming. In her platforms, she is still at least a good eight to ten inches shorter than him. He finds himself craning his neck in order to hear her soft, raspy voice. Her black, silk dress is short and cinches on her midsection, the deep cut of the fabric showing off her thick cleavage. Her legs are absolutely stunning, smooth and toned.

    “You done?” She smiles, noticing the way he shamelessly scanned over her body.

    “Oh, um,” he coughs, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at her sheepishly, the confident man that had approached her slowly dwindling away at his lack of game, “I’m sorry.”

    “It’s okay,” she smiles, “Am I allowed to shamelessly check you out, too?”

    “Of course,” he returns her grin as he backs up slightly and holds his arms out dramatically, giving her the perfect view. She holds her cup to her lips, scanning over his body in a similar way. He’s wearing a dark green, silk dress shirt with the first four buttons undone, a couple of long chains dangling from his neck. They rest against his firm, muscled chest which is dotted with small hairs. The shirt hugs his shoulders and arms, his biceps straining against the material and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He sports his signature black skinny jeans that cling to his thighs in just the right way. His boots match his whole ensemble. Her attention finally returns to his face as she licks her lips and finally takes a sip from her cup. His lips are pulled into a lopsided grin, his several-shades-lighter-than-her’s brown eyes watching her, his lazy eye slightly prevalent as he becomes more and more intoxicated. His cheeks are flushed and sweat has started to dot along his hairline, his curls beginning to fall onto his forehead and slightly into his eyes. He looks incredible.

    He jokingly spins around in a circle for her when she’s done, showing her everything. She laughs at his sense of humour, 

    “You have a nice ass,” she jokes, truth lingering underneath her words when he finally faces her again. He smiles widely, a small crack of laughter leaving his lips.

    “Would it be bad if I said you have the best ass I’ve ever seen?”

    “No, as long as it’s not a lie,” she teases, winking at him.

    A cheshire-like grin stretches across his cheeks as he moves the hand not clutching his drink to cross his fingers over his heart, “Swear.”

    She raises her eyebrows, clearly impressed, “You really know how to woo a lady, Shawn Mendes.”

    “I do my best,” he replies, “I know you’re with your friends,” motioning to the group she had been with earlier who are still dancing and singing their hearts out, “but I have a VIP table with some prosecco and Sambuca if you’re interested.”

    “Lead the way,” she smiles. He holds out his free hand for her to take. She does so and he laces his hands with hers. His fingers fit in such an incredible way, she can’t help but glance down at their adjoined hands and admire the way they look together. She loves it. He turns back to look at her only to see her eyes on their hands. He smiles at her small grin, turning back to find his way through the crowd. The intoxication running through everyone’s systems, drugs and alcohol alike, keep them distracted and even when they notice Shawn, they only blink and turn back to what they’re doing. The nonchalance of the crowd make his shoulders relax and ease his anxiety about causing a commotion. He feels normal. And he loves it. He squeezes her hand, just checking to see if she is still there, and he doesn’t turn around to look at her, but he feels the soft squeeze she returns. He grins even harder to himself and finds his way to the VIP table.

    He nods to Jake who gives him a small smirk and a wink as he and the nameless girl shift into the booth. She puts her drink down, crosses one leg over the other and leans towards him. He can’t help but notice the way her dress slides up the smooth skin of her legs, revealing more of her thighs and he swallows hard. She seems preoccupied as she takes her phone out of her dress.

    “I’m just gonna text my best friend,” she glances at him and turns her attention back to her phone. He sips at his drink, peaking at the screen to see several missed texts from her friend wondering where she had gone. He watches as she types a reply, grinning as she sent it. ‘Look at the VIP tables, bub. I’m fine.’ It takes a couple seconds, but the girl raises her hand and waves to another girl in the crowd, who sports a similar gape to the one she had worn before. The other girl looks at Shawn, who waved at her too and she looks back at the girl, mouthing, ‘Holy shit.’

    The girl finally turns her attention back to Shawn, smiling, “Sorry about that.”

    “I get it. Girl code. Gotta watch out for each other,” Shawn replies, throwing his arm over her shoulders. She leans into him even more, giving him an even more delicious view of her breasts, but for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off her.

    “I’m Iris, by the way,” she says. Iris suited her. 

    “Iris,” he says, drawing out the syllables. She giggles, “It suits you.”

    “Well, thank you,” she says coyly, picking up her drink and sipping at it. He notices the tattoos on her inner arms and takes his time examining them. ‘Mommy’ is written in handwritten script on her left pulse point, ‘jet black heart’ in messy handwriting at the joint of her elbow, a small ‘xo’ underneath it in another handwriting, a line of hand drawn hearts on her right pulse point and ‘babylon’ in a thick, handwriting on the opposite side of ‘jet black heart’.

    “I love your tattoos,” he mumbles, gently running his fingers up her inner arm and turning them outwards so he can admire them. Her skin heats at his touch, and so do her cheeks, but she swallows the insecurity and puts on her most confident smile. He catches a peak of more ink on her inner bicep, ‘heaven’s waiting’ in another different handwriting and a bull’s ring on the inside of her other bicep, “I love the theme. Handwriting, huh?”

    “Yeah, I guess it’s kinda my thing,” she responds in a relaxed tone, looking at him as his interested gaze crawls over her skin. She lets him look, admiring the swallow on his hand, “That one hurt?” She asks, pointing to the bird. He nods a bit,

    “Definitely one of the more painful ones. Because of all the bones, you know?”

    “Yeah, I get that. My most painful ones were these two,” and she points to her inner biceps, “Such sensitive skin.”

    “Well, they’re gorgeous. You’ll have to tell me about them next time.”

    She quirks her eyebrow, sipping on her drink again, “Is that your way of telling me you’re uninterested in what I have to say?”

    “No, that’s my way of telling you I want to see you again.”

    “You just met me, Shawn,” she gives him a look that’s quite indecipherable. Her emotions had always been hard to read to absolutely anybody. This was no different.

    “I’m drawn to you. Gotta see you again,” he replies, resting his hand on her bare thigh and it sends a tingling into her lower stomach that makes her shift slightly in his seat. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

    “I’m going to hold you to that,” she smiles, “Pour me some prosecco?” She asks sweetly.

    “In your vodka and orange juice?”

    “Of course.” He draws his movements, being dramatic as he pulls the expensive bottle out of the bucket of ice and unscrewing the cap, flicking it off and taking her cup from her hands. He looks her in the eyes, furrowing his brows in a joking manner as he pours in the prosecco. She watches the cup, holding up her hand when there’s enough for her liking. She laughs when he’s finished, taking a swig straight from the bottle, his hands firmly grasped around the neck. Her eyes trace over the veins in his hands as he puts the bottle back in the bucket.

    “Now that I’ve given you some prosecco, tell me a secret,” he muses in a silly voice, resting his free arm on the table next to him, his one hand returning to its spot on her bare skin. He notes how warm her skin is under his touch and the way that his blood seems to vibrate at her presence. His hand begins to tingle.

    “A secret?” She muses in the same tone, swirling her drink in her cup and taking a sip of it. He mirrors her movement, remember his own whiskey and coke on the table that he had brought over from the bar. His original excuse to get close to her.

    “A secret,” He confirms.

    “Hmmm… I’m flexible,” she says, a double meaning to her words. He has to restrain the mix of a growl and a groan in his throat at her answer. She smirks slightly, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. His gaze flickers from her eyes to the bare expanse of her neck and chest, only decorated with a diamond choker and a small, dainty necklace with an ‘M’ on it. He furrows his brows and starts to remove his hand. She quickly stops him, noticing his glance on her necklace.

    “It’s not ‘M’ for a boyfriend,” she says, looking at him in the eyes, ‘It’s for ‘Mommy’, like my tattoo,” she motions to her wrist and he relaxes.

    “So, you’re definitely single,” he suggests,

    “Of course. I wouldn’t have let you chat me up,” she smiles.

    “Oh thank god,” he mutters and grins, “Why so many things for your mother?” He notices the way the muscles in her body tense slightly, but as quickly as she tenses, she relaxes.

    “How about I tell you when we meet up to talk about my tattoos?” she questions, almost challenging him,

    “Sounds like a perfect first date.” She laughs at his response but scoots closer to him.

    “Your turn, you got two secrets out of me.”

    “Hmm….” Shawn thinks, “I’m allergic to both cats and dogs, but I pet them anyway.” Iris rolls her eyes playfully.

    “Wow, what a secret. What a badass,” she teases and he laughs.

    “Your turn,” he muses and she scoffs, not arsed arguing.

    “I used to dance and do gymnastics.”

    “I’m not sure these are secrets.”

    “Well, neither were yours.” She presses, sipping the last of her drink. She frowns when she places her empty cup on the table. He grins at her childish disappointment.

    “How about this,” he suggests, pulling the bottle of Sambuca from the same bucket the prosecco was in, “We both do a shot of Sambuca-”

    “-Ugh, you should’ve said this before I finished my drink-”

    “-You chase your drink down with more alcohol? How Irish-”

    “-I’m not even Irish,” she smiles and for the first time, he notices the mix of her accent. American. And Irish.

    “We’re in Dublin, how are you not?”

    “I live here, but I’m from America.”

    “Anyway,” Shawn teases, “We do a shot of Sambuca and go dance.”

    “Okay, but can you dance?”

    “Only if you lead.”

    “Hmm,” she pretends to contemplate. Then, as if the universe wants her to dance, the song playing fades into one of her absolute favourites of Shawn’s. He sighs and she begins to laugh. She grabs the bottle of Sambuca, chugging straight from the bottle, wincing and grabbing the prosecco to wash it down. He stares at her in astonishment as she hands him the Sambuca. He repeats her actions and as soon as he’s done, she’s pulling on his hand and out of the booth and into the crowd. Her sudden movement causes the alcohol to rush to her head and she stumbles. Shawn’s grip on her waist is instinctual and immediate in order to keep her upright. She rolls her eyes at herself and continues to pull him away from the booth. Shawn quickly throws a look to Jake, who’s giving him a nod, and follows her into the crowd. Her hand in his is tiny, but he admires her long, bright pink nails and her nimble fingers. They look perfect in his hand. 

    He notices how she leads him towards her group of friends, slightly pushing people out of their way. When they approach the gang, their attention turns to the two people who’ve just joined them.

    “Everyone, this is Shawn. Shawn, this is Alexandra, Nina, Ellie, Gabriel, Marcus and Catie,” she finishes, pointing to each person as they wave, sporting a gawking mouth and blown out eyes, seeing the man they had just watched perform mere hours ago stand in front of them, “He gave me free drinks, so now I have to teach him how to dance in repayment.”

    “Hey,” he scoffs, “I know how to dance.”

    “Yeah, but you don’t know how Iris dances,” Marcus muses, looking at his boyfriend Gabriel and smirking.

    “Oh yeah? And how is that?”

    She steps on her tiptoes, using one hand on the back of his neck to guide his head close to her and whispers in his ear, “Like this.” 

    And she’s off. She takes a second to find the beat of the song, but turns her back to Shawn and slowly presses every inch of her body against his. His instincts kick in as he rests his large hands on her waist, slightly digging his fingers into her skin. He can feel her hum in approval, her back against his chest. Her hips start to move side to side, punctuating each movement to the beat of the song as she sways. Shawn gets into it, bending down again to tuck his head into her neck, letting his lips ghost against her skin. He can feel her small body shiver under his along with a tightening in his pants and he smiles, pressing his lips further into the skin, matching the way her hips move with his. The sensation of her hips moving against his stirs something deep in his groin, pushing him to do more. He begins to use his hands to guide her and keep her in sync with him. He initiates a mouthing on her neck of the lyrics to his own song. At any other point, he would’ve laughed at himself, trying to seduce a girl with his music, but right now, with the way her hips were grinding against his, he couldn’t care less.

    “You take me places that tear up my reputation,” he sings lowly, grabbing onto her hand that she has resting on his thigh and pushes her outwards. She’s thrown off momentarily before he twirls her inwards towards his chest, allowing her to bump her chest into his stomach. She glances up at him with such curiosity and intensity in her eyes that he drops her hands and finds his grip on her waist again. He slots one leg between hers, guiding her pelvis against his. She can feel the hardness underneath his jeans in a way that she couldn’t quite with her ass pressed against him. It makes her drop her head to his chest, sighing out in her own pleasure and his, allowing the friction of their dancing bodies to alight her senses in ways that the alcohol in her system couldn’t. Her confidence wavers slightly as she succumbs to the way Shawn is guiding her body, but she doesn’t let it waver for long. She tilts her head up and places a free hand to the back of his neck, threading his fingers in his sweaty curls and pulls his head down, next to her mouth so she can whisper into his ear,

    “Trying to seduce me with a song you wrote about another girl? Interesting,” she again refers to one of the first things he said to her. She can feel the deep rumble of laughter under his skin and she can’t help but place her other hand on his chest to steady herself and to feel the movement of his muscles.

    “Who says I was trying to seduce you, honey?” He teases, picking up the small banter they had started. She quirks her eyebrow at him, realising he’s starting to play her game right back. And part of her wants to drop her act and beg him to take her the way she wants, but she’s not easy. She’s a challenge. And she embraces that.

    “Well, if you’re not...” she trails off, beginning to peel herself from Shawn’s grip, but his grasp on her waist tightens, pulling her back to him in a millisecond. Her own cheeks split into a grin, winning this round of her game. Shawn sighs deeply, pressing his forehead to her before looking her dead in the eye and whispering,

    “Alright, sweetheart, I’ve been sweet, but if that’s the game you wanna play, I’ll seduce you.”

    “You’re more than welcome to.”

[whatelsecanwedonow]

Below a cut/tagging for spoilers initial TROS things:

Here’s my brain dump. That wasn’t Into Darkness bad, not at all, and I thought it might be considering I saw the leaked image of Kyle Ron and Rey standing together with two blue sabers months ago. I’ve been dreading what that meant. And there are definitely problems. This film isn’t Endgame-type good for wrapping up a saga. Yet... this is my favorite Star Wars movie, I think? Right now it is, we’ll see if my opinion holds on multiple watches. Despite there being a few moments of this:

And one particular moment of OH MY GOD THIS IS SO FUCKING GROSS MAKE IT FUCKING STOP. You know which moment!! Even if you reconnect with some light side of that man, Rey ol’ buckaroo, my gal, he has committed acts so evil, he has ended so many lives, you can’t fucking kiss him like even if you have compassion and empathy for the goodness that resides in him and for the man he once was and has found again. I LOVE Rey so much, so so much, for having those qualities but you need to have limits!! This has always been my problem!! Idk. I’m going to have to block that out for the rest of time, tbh. But I can then focus on why I love so many chunks of this movie: it’s Rey’s movie. Bulleted points:

Teaming everyone up worked for me, a lot. I loved that most everyone was together for long stretches of the film. I love the family they are.

Keri Russell must have shot for this movie for like... 2 weeks total, max, and I love her for it. I only wish Zorri and Poe would legit fuck and we could have a movie of their adventures.

Whoever edited this movie literally snorted a mountain of cocaine and then shoved another mountain of cocaine up their own ass. This movie was paced and edited horribly. And the writing either suffers because of it or has its own problems, idk. That was a TWO AND A HALF HOUR long line of Star Wars coke I just consumed. Like... I loved it, in a lot of ways, but also it makes this film so hard to fully absorb and certain plot points just don’t have the impact they should if within 5 minutes you’re onto another HUGE moment. If TROS were three hours long like Endgame in and the story had time to breathe I would have enjoyed it even more. It would have been more satisfying for other characters, other stories... it would have been something really special maybe, if it weren’t so fucking frantic.

Rey realizing her commitment to the light. REY TALKING TO LUKE AND REALIZING HER COMMITMENT TO THE LIGHT!!! MY TEARS!!! So many tears. Rey looking at his old X-Wing!! REY FLYING LUKE SKYWALKER’S X-WING LEADING THE RESISTANCE. Rey being spoken to, encouraged, given power by all the Jedi that came before her. “THESE ARE YOUR FINAL STEPS.” I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT “AND I... AM ALL THE JEDI” is Tony Stark-like I’m still so emotional I can’t even properly express it. And her GOLDEN REY OF SUNSHINE SABER!!!! REY SKYWALKER - not by blood, but by CHOICE. 😭😭😭 I’m crying again. I love REY SKYWALKER.

Rey’s goodness is a choice - one that is always a struggle, but always guided by her purest of hearts - her FRIENDSHIPS, her care for people, it leads her to the goodness in people, even one as awful as Kylo Ren. I just cannot EXPRESS MY LOVE FOR THIS CHARACTER ENOUGH.

Finn is FORCE SENSITIVE??? HELLO!!!! FINN IS FORCE SENSITIVE!!! WE NEED MORE INFORMATION. Will we EVER GET more information?? Maybe we will in the LITERALLY telegraphed spin off with Jannah lol.

I don’t love that she seemed willing to relent to the Emperor to save the Resistance but I know she was doing it because of her love, and her heart - she was being taken advantage of because of her capcity for empathy. Plus, I’m not sure if I buy that the Emperor ever intended for that to really happen, seeing as how he was able to resurrect so much of his life force just by draining from Rey and Kylo and leap right into “I’LL ALWAYS BE THE EMPEROR” bullshit.

Rey defeated ALL THE SITH by PROTECTING HERSELF and all her friends, her family, the galaxy, not by lashing out, not reacting in anger but by turning the evil of Palpatine around on his own dumbass. GOD.

The humor and banter between everyone was wonderful, this kinda goes along with “teaming everyone up” but I loved that. Even as messy and rushed as some of it felt, a lot of it worked for me.

God I hated the kiss. I hated that she force healed him lol I fist pumped and almost jumped out of my seat when she got ‘em.

We got so much more Leia than I expected and only a small bit of the effects they used to get her in the film that much felt off. I loved that she got to be such a significant part of the story.

CHEWIE GOT HIS MEDAL!!!

[chancellormatt]

Voltron Rewrite Episode Thirteen - All fun and games...

Honerva steps inside the cell, followed by two very nervous-looking guards. The walls within are scarred by energy burns, cutting across the remains of what were once. The table in the middle of the room is empty.

Honerva studies the table, looking troubled. One guard clears his throat.

“We wish we’d noticed sooner, but after the battle...well things were a little hectic.”

“...how did she escape?” Honerva asks.

“We think that the power to this room momentarily failed during the attack, and she was able to free herself from the chair. After that she destroyed the glyphs and must have uh…found her way out.”

Honerva continues to study the empty table for an extended period. Finally she turns to the guards. “Only the soldiers on this base have been permitted to know anything of the truth about us. It must remain that way. If this other Honverva, this...Haggar starts a power struggle within the galra ranks, it will be...unfortunate. She’s to be treated as an imposter and killed on sight.”

“Understood.” The guards salute, and step outside the room.

Honerva sweeps one more look across the room before leaving herself.

***

Keith and Allura stride towards a Garrison rover, with the sun setting on the horizon ahead. They make it all the way to the front doors on either side, when they are stopped by a voice calling over.

“Hey guys wait up!”

They turn to see Hunk running up, dragging with him the reluctant looking Lance and Pidge. 

“What’s going on Hunk?” Keith asks, suddenly concerned. “Is it the galra? Did Darktron appear again? Are we under attack-”

“No, no.” Hunk waves a dismissive hand. “I just heard you guys were going out to eat and thought, ‘hey, it's been a while since we all did something as a team.’ So I grabbed these two and decided to ask if there was room for a few more.”

“And I,” Lance says pointedly, “said that they’d probably prefer to be alone...to uh...relax and stuff.” He shoots Keith and apologetic look.

Keith sighs.

“Yeah if you guys would rather keep the group small we can just leave…” Pidge adds.

Allura shoots a quick glance at Keith, then back to the other three. “Well...the more the merrier, I suppose. Let’s all have some fun, why not?”

“Yeah!” Hunk says pumping a fist, while Lance and Pidge roll their eyes.

“Everyone pile in then.” Keith says motioning to the rover.

The five Paladins all cram themselves inside the vehicle, and are soon speeding off towards the setting sun.

***

“So...this is the Landing Pad.” Keith says, holding the door for the others, and waving a hand into the restaurant. 

Inside, booth seats lined three of the four walls, with a bar at the back in front of the kitchen, and tables all in between. It appeared to be a busy night, with many of the table filled up by hungry customers. 

“It's a great place for Garrison personnel to come take a load off, since it's so close to the base.” Keith explained over the clamor of the room.

“Oh yeah I remember back when me and Hunk were cadets and we used to sneak out and…” Lance clears his throat. “I mean uh, come here totally authorized, and not during hours we were supposed to be studying.”

“Paladin of Voltron, everybody.” Pidge snickers.

Lance shoots her a look.

  “Fascinating…” Allura says taking in the view of the restaurant. “...what do you call this sort of establishment, where the everyman eats here on Earth?”

“Uh...it's a diner.”

“A diner…” She says as if the word might be important. “So you frequented this diner often, then?” Allura asked.

“Oh yeah, Shiro used to take me here all the time back in the day. When I’d do well on  cadet exams, or broke a racing record, or just when I was feeling down.”

“I see…” She gets a thoughtful look. “...this must have a good deal of history for you then.”

“Yeah I guess so…” Keith smirks, giving a slight shake of his head. “Anyway, we wanna booth or table.”

“Booth…?” Allura says confused.

“Booth it is.” Lance cuts in.

Keith nods nods leading the group over to one of the many booths and sliding in. Hunk slides in first one one side followed by Lance then Keith. Allura and Pidge slide into the opposite booth, the former looking enamored by the quaint setup.

A waitress strolls over, setting of menus in front of each of them.

“Hello there, can I get you all started off on some drinks?”

Allura opens her mouth to speak then hesitates and looks to Pidge with a small smile. “Do you have the heated chocolate here?”

The waitress gives her an odd look. 

“She means hot chocolate.” Pidge explains.

“Ah. Course we do, hun.”

“Two of those.”

“Make that three.” Lance pipes up.

“Coke for me.” Keith says.

“Alright, and you big guy?” she directs the question at Hunk.

“Just water for me.” He pats his stomach. “Prefer to save room for the grub.”

“Gotcha, I’ll have those right up for y'all in just a second..” The waitress nods and walks off.

Keith watches Allura as her gaze once more takes in the diner. She smiles to herself and shakes her head. 

“You know...back on altea, when I was young, there was a place my father used to take me. ”

“Was it like this place?”

She thought about it. “Not exactly. But there's a similar...aura, I suppose. It was this restaurant and an old friend of my father’s ran. They’d know each other since before my father was king. So every once in a while, my father and I would dress in common clothes and go have lunch. And for a while we weren’t the King and Crown Princess. Just a father and daughter, enjoying a meal.” She smiled, and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bore you all more of my reminiscing.”

“Don’t be.” Keith shakes his head. “It's actually nice to hear about some good memories for once.”

“You wanna talk about good memories?” Hunk says. “You all remember the day after I first battle, when Allura and Coran were having us jump through all those hoops, and we ended up getting in a food goo fight?”

Allura laughs. “How could I forget that? That goo wasn’t easy to get out of my dress, you know.”

The other Paladins chuckle.

“You know...that was the first time we really bonded as a team.” Keith ponders after a moment.

“...guess we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Hunk adds.

The grow quiet for a moment. 

“...I sure hope so.” Lance smirks. “If we still can’t form Voltron without having a food fight first, I think the Coalition’s in big trouble.”

They all laugh at that.

“How…” Pidge stifles a laugh. “...how about that time in the space mall, when that mall cop came chasing after us because he thought we were pirates?”

“And we escaped on a Kalternecker’s back!?” Hunk adds.

Another round of laughs.

“How how about when were playing that game...uh…” Lance heistates, then snaps his fingers. “Monsters and Mana!”

“I...don’t actually think I was there for that one.” Keith points out.

“Oh right because you were…” Lance’s voice trails off, and he cringes.

Keith heistates as well, but then after a moment he smiles. “Why don’t you guys tell me about the game, then?”

“Gladly.” Pidge smirks. “So you start by making a character…”

***

Sincline Lotor sits on the floor inside a cell, alone. His eyes are closed, and he has both arms propped up on his knees. Outside, there is the sound of a door opening followed by footsteps. The door pulls open, revealing Acxa standing there, with Krollia just behind. Both are clad in Blade of Marmora garb. 

“You have five minutes. I’ll be right outside, along with a full squad of Garrison soldiers.”

“I understand. Thank you.” Acxa nods.

She steps inside and the door slams shut behind. Lotor remains motionless.

“...hello Lotor.” Acxa finally says.

Lotor opens his purple, glowing eyes. He turns his head towards her, noting her existence then shifts his gaze to the opposite wall.

“It’s...been some time.” She goes on.

Still Lotor remains silent.

She sighs. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

“...in all our years together,” Lotor’s voice comes with a slight rasp, “did I ever give you the impression that I had any interest in talking to traitors?” 

Acxa narrows her eyes. “That’s rich coming from the man that claimed he wanted to destroy his own kind.”

“The galra are a plague on this universe. They ravaged everything they can sink their claws into. It is my greatest shame that I share even some of their blood.”

Acxa stares at him for a long time. Finally she shakes her head. “What happened to you Lotor?” 

“What happened to me!?” Lotor shoots to his feet, eyes wide with fury. “What happened was I tried to clean up some of the filith in this universe, and lost everything for the effort. Allura, voltron, my empire, everyone turned on me.” He sneers. “Even my ‘loyal’ generals betrayed me in the end. Now all I have to show for it is a ruined face.”

“You really do see it that way, don't you?” Acxa says with surprise.

“What other way is there to see it?” Lotor replies scornfully.

Acxa takes a breath, as if preparing herself. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I saw then. I saw a man I respected, a man of principles, and of honor. A man...a man I cared about.” She hesitates, then shakes her head. “And I watched that man threw away everything he ever cared about out of spite. Because he hated his father with so much blind rage that he couldn’t see how much he was becoming like him.”

“You’re comparing me to him!? Do you know how much-”

“Lotor look at yourself!” Acxa cuts him off. “Look at what you turned yourself into for power! You killed Narti without a second thought! You were murdering people that worshiped to steal their quintessence! Now who does that sound like!?”

Lotor goes very quiet. It's as if all the energy has drained out of him. He slides back down to the floor, with his back against the wall, staring at the floor. Neither say anything for several moments. 

Eventually Acxa sighs and turns away, making for the door.

“...did you get what you came for?” Lotor asks.

Acxa pauses at the door. “...no.” She turns back. “I’m not like the other people here. I know you. I know that you did everything you did because you thought it was the best choice at the time. But I also know that somewhere along the way you lost sight of what you cared about. In the end, you spent more time trying to prove Zarkon wrong than helping everyone else. I came here, Lotor, hoping to see if there was still something left of the man I...the man I served under for all those years. The man who fought on the front lines, because he didn’t believe his men were worth less than himself. The man that didn’t care that I was a half-breed, didn’t care I was born in a slum on a far-off, forgotten world. I came hoping to find the man who…” Her voice cracks. “...who took a chance on a half-starved girl that never had anyone else.” She turns away again, and rubs a sleeve across her face. “...I didn’t find him.”

With that, she taps on the door. It slides open, revealing Krollia again. Acxa steps outside.

“Acxa.” Lotor finally says.

She half turns. Lotor looks up, a tired expression on his face. He looks at if he is about to say something then hesitates. He shakes his head suddenly, and returns his gaze to the wall.

“What...what’s with the suit?”

She looks surprised. 

“It's the garb of a member of the Blade of Marmora. I’m...training with them now.” Acxa explains. “Wasn’t easy to convince them because of my...previous loyalties. The Paladins put in a good word, though.”

“The rebels.” Lotor says thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d join their number.”

“Desperate times.” She says simply.

“...good luck.”

She stares at him for several moments, then gives a short nod. “Thank you.”

With that Acxa walks away, and the door slams shut, leaving Lotor alone once more.

***

“...so then it turns out the Barmaid was actually the Evil Wizard Dakin all along!” Pidge explains animatedly.

“Woah.” Keith says raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah...man what a great adventure.” Hunk sighs.

“We should see if Coran could host another one sometime.” Pidge says, taking a sip from her hot chocolate.

“Y-ah!” Hunk manages through a mouthful of cheesecake. 

“Manners Hunk.” Shiro says.

Hunk swallows. “Sorry.”

Then they all turn in surprise. “Shiro!” they say in unison.

“Hey guys.” He chuckles. “Fancy seeing all of you here. Sp Keith ya took ‘em around to the old place I see.”

“I...yeah.” Keith shrugs.

“Hey why don’t you pull up a chair Shiro?” Lance suggests.

“Yeah.” Hunk agrees.

“Oh I dunno if you want me running all you kids' fun…”

The comment is immediately met with a clamor of refusals.

“Alright alright.” Shiro chuckles dragging a chair over to the end of the booth.

The waitress walks over.

“Coffee, black?” She says.

“You know me too well Cadence.” Shiro smiles.

She nods and walks off.

“So,” Shiro says turning back to the group, “what are we talking about?”

“We were just telling Keith about that time we played Monsters and Mana.” Pidge explains.

“Oh yeah! Did you tell him about my Paladin...Shiro.”

Pidge, Lance, Allura and Hunk all groan. Keith only smirks. “Sounds like you.”

***

Sincline Lotor is pacing in his cell when a burst of purple energy lights up the cell. He jumps back, getting into a defensive stance. When the light fades Haggar now stands in the cell.

“Hello son...It's good to see you alive.”

“I’m not your son, Witch.” Lotor sneers, not dropping his guard. “I didn’t buy that lie then, and I don’t now.”

“You may believe what you wish. But right now there is little time.” She holds out her  hand. “We must go. Now, before they discover I am here.”

Lotor steps back. “...why?”

“Why?” Haggar looks confused. “Because you’re being held captive here. Regardless of what you think, I am your mother, and I’m trying to help you. Now, please, we must go.”

Lotor hesitates. “...you spent my entire life caring for nothing by helping Zarkon. The only thing you ever displayed any interest in was in making him more powerful. It didn’t matter who he hurt, or what was destroyed in his wake. It was all for him. And now…” Lotor looks down. “...now that I’ve become like him you suddenly want to help me?”

Haggar looks desperate. “My memory it was...difficult...please there’s no-”

“Enough.” Lotor shakes his head. “I...I don’t know if you and I share blood. I don’t think it really matters.  You aren’t my real mother.”

Haggar steps back, as if struck. “...even if you hate me, I can still help you. I’ll free you and after that you can...do as you wish.”

“But-”

"I didn't ask for your help! And I don't want to either. You've never cared about me before, and I don't see any reason why you should now?if you really want to help then leave. And don't come back.”

Haggar steps back looking sick. She is silent for some time. “...I-” “Go!” Lotor growls. “Before I call for the guards.

Haggar gives him one final pained look. Then, in a flash of violet light, she vanishes. 

Lotor lets out a deep breath. Then, he sits back on his bed, against the wall and closes his eyes. 

***

The Paladins and Shiro are finishing up what remind of their meals, laughing and telling stories, when across the restaurant a man steps up to the small stage there.

"Alright ladies and gents," the man says over a microphone, "it's about that time of night, the band's ready to play. So if y'all wanna move some of these tables over we can open up the floor for some dancing."

The announcement was met by a chorus of excited cries from the other patrons. Tables were shifted as room was made for the presumed dancing. 

“Almost forgot it was dance night.” Shiro smiles.

Keith groans.

“What is it?” Allura asks.

“Keith doesn’t dance.” Shiro shakes his head.

“Really?” 

“Never.” Keith confirms, pointedly looking away from the stage where instruments were being set up.”

“Man I never knew they had dancing. This place is better than I thought.” Lance remarks.

“You? Dancing?” Pidge says skeptically.

“Oh yeah, I’m a great dancer. I’ve got a few moves that are...” He slicked his hair back. “...pretty smooth.”

“Riiight.” Pidge smirks and rolls her eyes.

The band, quickly having set up, begins to play some experimental notes. People quickly crowd into the dancing floor.

“Alright everyone…” The guitarist said into the microphone. “...we’ll start off the night with a little song called Stars Alive.”

The crowd cheers, and the band begins to play. Its a quick, upbeat song that does a good job of riling up the crowd. Rhythmic dancing brakes out almost immediately.

Lance’s eyes flicker back and forth between the crowd and Pidge. He taps the table nervously. He clears his throat.

“You uh...wanna see them?”

“Huh?” Pidge looks up with confusion.

“Those sick dance moves of mine. You wanna see ‘em? Up close, I mean.”

“Do I…” Pidge glanced out at the crowd. “..want to dance, you mean?”

“Uh...yeah.”

Pidge shifts uncomfortably, and gives an awkward laugh, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. Think I’d prefer to watch from here...”

Lance stares at her for a moment, then sighs. He stands up steps over in front of her, and holds out a hand.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” He attempts a confident smile, only partially succeeding.

Pidge looks at the hand, back to the crowd, then finally down to the floor. Just when Lance looks about to falter, Pidge takes his hand. Lance actually looks surprised that she did. She still doesn’t look up, cheeks flushing. He smiles slightly, and leads her out onto the dance floor. 

Allura watches the go, curiously. “Are they…?” She glances around the table.

Keith and Hunk only look confused. Shiro gives a half-smile but shrugs noncommittally. Allura sits back, thoughtful.

Shiro catches Keith’s eye. He nods ever so slightly towards Allura, then towards the dance floor. Keith gives a slight shake of his head, then pretends to get interested in something on the far side of the room. Shiro leans forward, looking at him pointedly. Keith shifts uncomfortably, occasionally shooting a glance at the dancing crowd, then Allura. 

Eventually he lets out a long sigh. “...hey Allura?”

“Yes Keith?” She says, turning to him.

“You seem like...you might want to go out there.”

She shrugs, but clearly is excited by the prospect. “I wouldn’t really know what I’d be doing. I’m afraid I know very little of earth styles of dance.”

“I can’t help you there.” Keith snorts.

Shiro clears his throat.

“...but, I guess I could, you know, also be out there. So you’re not as...alone. Or...whatever.”

Her eyes light up. “I thought you never dance.”

Keith suppressed a groan, turning it into a sigh. “Well...everyone’s gotta have fun sometime, right?” He manages a smile.

Allura grins. “It would be my pleasure.”

Then before he can stop her, she grabs Keith by the hand and drags him out of the booth. Shiro laughs as keith is forced to awkwardly try and gain his footing amongst the writhing crowd. Hunk also gives a chuckle.

“Welp,” Hunk says, standing up. “Since everyone else has joined in the fun, might as well get in there too. Time to show these guys what it's like to rumble with a Barrett.”

“Have fun,” Shiro says also standing.

“You aren’t going to join in too?”

Shiro stares out at the crowd for a moment. His eyes fall across each of the Paladins one by one. Finally he smiles and shakes his head.

“Nah. You guys don’t need an old guy like me cramping your style. Besides I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh...well good night then.”

“Night Hunk.”

And with that, Shiro leaves the diner.

***

A pair of Garrison analysts lounge in front of their computers. One is solving a hand-puzzle, while the other seems near sleep. Suddenly the one solving the puzzle gets a beep coming from his computer.

“...what is it?” The other analyst groans, shifting in his chair.

“New communication from deep space. Probably one of those Coalition guys reporting…” The analysts voice trails off as he sits up and looks at his screen more closely. He taps on his computer, and a video begins to play.

The other analyst sids up wide-eyed. The first man reaches over and picks up his communicator without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Get me the Admiral…” The man hesitates“...we got something that the Paladins will probably want to see…”

***

The Paladins are all dancing, moving in time with the music, shooting each other awkward, but amused glances. Even when one of the gets tripped up they all laugh it off as a group. The song comes to an end, and none of them seem ready to speak, just smiling and panting from the effort of exertion.

Then, as one, all of their communicators start pinging. The Paladins release a collective sigh.

“...what’s the situation?” Keith asks, being the first to answer his communicator.

“We’ve just received a message from deep space.” Admiral Sanda explains. “I need all of you back here ASAP.”

“Can...it wait?” Keith asks, tiredly.

“As you’ve pointed out before, none of you answer to me, so I suppose you can come around whenever you please. But I’m pretty sure that Princess is going to be mad if you do.”

“What? This message concerns me?” Allura asks confused.

“Be here. Ten minutes.” The communicator shuts off.

The Paladins share a quick look, then scramble out of the diner.

***

The Paladins rush inside the meeting room where Sanda, Shiro and Kolivan are already waiting.

“What’s all this about?” Keith asks.

Sanda puts a finger to her lips, then presses a small button on a remote in her hand. A holographic projection materializes above the table, showing three cloaked figures. The figure in the middle steps forward.

“This is a message for Voltron and its allies…” The figure pulls down it's hood.

Allura gasps. Before them is a woman with red hair, pointed ears and a small mark under either eye. “...we are alteans, and we need your help.”

Allura’s eyes widen further. The other cloaked figures pull down their hoods, revealing that they too are alteans.

“Prince Lotor is not who we thought he was.” The first woman explains sadly. “We’ve slowly come to realize what a vile madman he is. Those of us that could be trusted worked together to slip us three off the colony. On our way out we stole some information that we believe we can help you to defeat Lotor and free the altean people once and for all. We’ve transmitted, along with this message, a location where we may be able to meet up. If anyone other than the Paladins show up, we will be forced to flee. We can trust no others with this. I can speak no long, without risking discovery by Lotor…”The woman looks down, wearily. When she looks back up, there is a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Please Voltron...you are our only hope.”

Allura looks as though she wants to reach out and touch her through the projection. The image vanishes.

“That’s the whole message.” Sanda says.

“We have to help them!” Alllura immediately exclaimes. She seems to realize her outburst, and clears her throat. “...we should help them.” Her eyes flicker to Keith, in silent question.

Keith stares at where the image used to be for several moments, looking deep in thought. “...Kolivan, what do you think?”

“I think the likelihood of this being a trap is high.” The galra says.

Keith nods as if expecting this answer.

“But we cannot just abandon them because of what might be!” Allura argues.

“I’m not saying we are, but we can’t jump into this either.” Keith explains.

Slowly, Allura nods.

“Sanda?” keith asks next. 

“Oh do you care what I think now?” The admiral asks, bemused.

He gives her a long suffering look.

“Very well. I agree with Kolivan. All warfare is based on deception. It's far too likely that this is a trap. Risking the greatest weapon we have in this war is too great a trade for such a vague reward.”

Keith nods again Allura looks as though she wants to speak up again, but stops herself.

“...Shiro?” Keith asks, finally.

Shiro lets out a sigh. “...it's tough, Keith. Kolivan and Sanda aren’t wrong. This is a big risk.”

Allura’s eyes fall. 

“But,” Shiro adds. “We are the Voltron Coalition. We started this to liberate people like the alteans from galra rule. If we ignore this...well I guess it just wouldn’t sit right with me. But at the end of the day, it's your call Keith.”

Keith nods to Shiro. He glances at the other Paladins. “What about you guys?”

Pidge and Lance share a look and shug uncertainty. 

“I just dunno man.” Hunk says shaking his head.

Keith’s eyes fall on Allura last.

“...I think you know my thoughts.” Allura says at first. “But I will simply say this: Please don’t abandon them. They’ve been through enough.”

Keith holds her gaze for a long time. Her eyes continue to ask a silent question. After what seems like an eternity, he sighs. 

“...Kolivan, I want all the information we have on the enemy movements. Sanda I need the Atlas ready for deep space, I don’t want us out there alone. Shiro find Coran and Romelle, they should see this and I want to know if she can tell us anything about the people in this video.”

“Then we’re…” Allura says hopefully.

“Going? Yes.” Keith nods. “We’re the Voltron Coalition and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

***

Prince Lotor, of Darktron watched as Luca and the other two alteans pulled off their cloaks. They stand in a dark room, with a viewport out into space set in one wall 

“That was an excellent performance Luca.” Lotor says. “I am glad you were able to meet me here to do it.”

She smiles. “It is my honor to serve. Though, it pains me to speak of you in such a matter.”

“It was necessary.” Lotor waves a hand dismissively.

“...so what’s now?” Luca asks.

Lotor steps over to the viewport. Gazing out it shows a field of debris from broken space-faring vessels. The druids fly among the wreckage, constructing something. Lotor smiles, causing his scar to stretch taut on his skin. Luca winces noting this, but says nothing.

“...now I break Voltron, and end this war.”

[morbid-mary]

What A Furry Ride

GUESS WHO’S OUT OF SCHOOL AND CAN WRITE NOW! Before I finish chapter 8 I really really rEALLY wanted to write this. I’ve been thinking about chapter 2 lately and I really want to share how I originally wanted the gas station scene to go, but I’m already at chapter 8 so i can’t really go back and change everything. Originally, I was contemplating waiting on Allison and Dani’s friendship so imagine that Dani and Allison are simply acquaintances. That being said, it would’ve gone something like this...

Derek pulls into the gas station and climbs out of the car. Dani climbs out as well and nods to him. “I’m gonna get something to drink, you want anything?” she asks. “Um, a coke” Derek says. “Be right back” she says and heads inside the gas station. A red suburban pulls up in front of Derek’s camaro and a silver one pulls up behind, boxing him in. Christopher Argent, Allison’s father climbs out of the red car. Two other men hop out of the silver suburban behind him. Hunters.

Dani comes out of the gas station, carrying two cokes as she walks back to the car. She sees the two cars boxing him in and pauses mid-stride. A small wave of fear washes over her as she slowly moves toward the camaro. “Derek?” She calls as she reaches the pump. Derek’s whole body tenses when he hears Dani call for him. His heart beats a little faster as his mind registers the potential danger of Dani getting hurt. It was a very real possibility, but there’s no way he’d let any of the hunters even breathe near her.

Mr. Argent studies Dani, a small smile playing on his lips. He looks back at Derek. “Who’s this?” he asks. Derek gently grabs Dani’s wrist, pulling her behind him. He doesn’t respond. Mr. Argent presses his lips into a thin line and gives a slight nod. “Nice car” He moves closer to the car building the tension surrounding the three vehicles. “Black cars though, very hard to keep clean..I would suggest a little more maintenance.” 

Derek can hear Dani’s heart pounding in his ears. She reeks of fear and anxiety. Dani’s trying her best to stay calm and keep her head down. She glances back at the two hunters who are sizing her up as if she’s a target. A lump forms in her throat and takes in a shaky breath as she moves closer to Derek’s body. Derek feels her brush against him and takes a small step back into her, wanting her to stay close in case the situation escalates.

“When you have something this nice-” Dani watches Mr. Argent grab the windshield cleaner from behind Derek’s broad shoulders. “You want to take care of it right?” Dani’s eyes widen slightly as she watches the man swipe along one side of the windshield. He’s touching the car. Derek flexes his jaw as he watches Mr. Argent’s every move. “Personally, I’m very protective of the things I love-” Derek stands up straighter and squares his shoulders, blocking Mr. Argent’s view of Dani with his body. “That’s something I learned from my family.” His protective stance is obvious and duly noted by the hunter as he takes a step back from the car. 

“You don’t have much of that these days..do you?” Derek’s body turns rigid and his blood boils at the hunter’s inquiry. He clenches his fists and flexes his jaw. He has no right to talk about Derek’s family. Derek’s heart pounds in his chest as he grows even angrier at the hunter’s nonchalant body language. Before he can react, Derek feels two hands; one grips his wrist and the other wraps around his fist. Startled, Derek’s head snaps around, looking down at Dani who’s eyes are squeezed shut, her nose and mouth pressing against his shoulder. It’s her. She’s trying to ground him before he goes over the edge. 

Derek closes his eyes, focusing all his attention on her. He leans his head down, feeling her hair brush against his nose. He listens to her heart pound. Her scent mixes with her fear and a sudden swell of anger of her own. Derek feels her press against his back as her thumbs slide back and forth across his skin. Derek relaxes into the contact, allowing himself to come back. He relaxes his hands and Dani slides her hand into his, giving it a small squeeze. He registers the silent thank you for controlling himself. He waits for her to calm down a little more before turning his attention back onto the hunter in front of him. 

Mr. Argent silently assesses Derek as he straightens up again, flexing his jaw. He tilts his head slightly, several questions popping into his head about the small interaction they shared. He glances down at Derek’s hands seeing no claws and he nods. “There we go” he says. Mr. Argent turn back to the camaro. “Nicer look through your windshield.” Dani glares at the man from behind Derek. “See how it makes everything so much clearer?” Mr. Argent asks, the underlying message quite clear. 

As Mr. Argent walks back to his suburban, Dani visibly relaxes. Finally, they can get out of here. “You forgot to check the oil” Derek says. All Dani’s hopes are shattered by that little comment. Dani drops her forehead against his back and thumps it in between his shoulder blades. Derek got the silent message from the three thumps, most probably spelling out, “You. Fucking. Idiot.” Derek ignores Dani’s growl of annoyance as Mr. Argent turns back around. He’s wearing that small smile again. 

Mr. Argent looks over at his two friends waiting patiently by the silver suburban. “Check the man’s oil” Mr. Argent says, amusement lingering in his tone. While Derek and Mr. Argent resume their little stand off, Dani watches the shorter man grab a shotgun out of the car. In a surge of confidence Dani comes up with a brilliant idea. As the man slowly walks up the camaro, Dani climbs back into the front seat of the camaro. Mr. Argent has all his attention focusing on Derek so he doesn’t see Dani climbing over the center console, into the driver seat. 

The hunter carrying the shotgun reaches the driver side door. Thanks to the tinted windows and the glare from the gas station’s overhead lights, he doesn’t see Dani in the car either. Dani watches him flip the shotgun over in his hands and realizes he’s going to smash the window. Dani waits for the hunter to draw back the shotgun before forcing the door open as hard as she can, slamming it into the hunter. 

The unexpected commotion pulls everyone’s attention to the hunter laying on the concrete. The other hunter draws his pistol in reaction to his partner collapsing. Dani casually climbs out of the car and looks down at the groaning hunter. “S’cuse you” she says, closing the car door and stepping over the hunter. “That’s not where you check the oil, sir” she says. Dani picks up the man’s shotgun and cocks it. She turns toward Mr. Argent and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. "I think it’s time for you to go home Mr. Argent.” Derek stares at Dani intently, watching her every move. This is not the time for her to get ballsy. Dani can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn’t look. She knows that as soon as she does, her resolve would crumble. 

Mr. Argent doesn’t move. He carefully assesses the confident teenager threatening him, weighing his options. “Do I know you?” He asks. “No” Dani states. Dani shifts her weight from foot to foot, bumping into the hunter on the ground. She does a double take down at the pathetic man. “Would you get up? It was a car door not a bus” Dani says. Derek ducks his head trying to hide the inevitable smile spreading across his face. Dani looks back at Mr. Argent. “You got some fierce hunters here, man” she says. 

The other hunter comes up behind Dani and helps his partner off the ground. She watches them hobble back to their suburban and she shakes her head. She turns back to Mr. Argent and tosses him the shotgun. Dani challenges the hunter with his own words. “If you’re so protective of your loving family then why aren’t you at home protecting them from this monster mountain lion that’s loose?” she asks. Mr. Argent visibly tenses at her words. “I’m sure Allison would feel a lot safer with her daddy home to protect her.” An uncomfortably tense silence falls over the small group. Mr. Argent presses his lips into a thin line, glaring at Dani. She held his gaze with that smile that never reached her eyes. Dani was not about to back down. Mr. Argent takes a few steps back towards his car. “Drive safely” he says, flatly.

Dani watches the two cars pull out of the gas station. Once they’re out of view Dani lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She rubs her face growling into her hands. She turns and throws one of the bottles of Coke at Derek. “What the hell is the matter with you?!” she shouts. Derek stares, wide-eyed at her and kicks the fizzing Coke away. “What was that for?!” he asks. “We were so close, but you just had to open your mouth!” she scolds. Dani changes her voice to an annoying mock of Derek’s. “You forgot to check the oil...Who raised you?!” she says. Derek presses his lips together to hold back his amusement and looks away, dropping his chin . 

Dani sees that he’s trying not to smile. “It’s not funny Derek I was really scared!” Dani says. Derek forces a straight face and looks back at Dani. “Really?” Derek says sarcastically. “Shut up” Dani snaps. Dani walks around the front of the car and Derek makes his way around the rear, shaking his head. Dani reaches her side, scowling at him. “Forgot to check the oil... I’ll check you’re damn oil” she grumbles. Derek reaches the driver side, unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face at her frustration. “Get in the car, Dani” he says. She opens the passenger side door and pauses before climbing in. “You don’t want me to check your lights first?” she asks.

Dani has never heard Derek laugh before. His head thrown back, the biggest smile she’s ever seen, his amusement creating a lovely sound that Dani is thoroughly enjoying. She stands there, frozen. Memorizing every detail just in case she never hears that laugh again. She can’t help but smile as she watches his head rock forward, still wearing that amazing smile, shaking his head. He looks over at her, still smiling. “Just get in the car” he says, his laugh carrying each word. Dani nods and climbs into the car. She finally made him laugh. Maybe tonight wasn’t such a bust after all.

**That’s it! I hope you guys liked it! I’ll be working on finishing up chapter 8 since I’m out of school now and after that I’m hitting that prologue I had talked about! I’m so so so soooo grateful for you guys’s patience while I finished up my semester. It really meant a lot to me so thank you so much guys! <3