#not to mention the fucking swagger in his walk and the casual confidence and his stupid swords and his tiny waist sir that's illegal!!!!

[saviourkingslut]

one of my favourite fanfic authors posted a clive rosfield/cidolfus telamon story and i don't go there but i know enough abt ff to know that clive is a sad guilt-ridden breedable hunk with great tits (promising) so i go and look up cid and find out he's 1) middle-aged, woohoo !! and 2) handsome in that kind of generic rugged kind of way so im like, great, ill go and read that, but then all the fics keep mentioning his voice? so im like, obviously, we need to navigate to youtube and see what that's all about and i click on a vid and 👁️👄👁️😳. UH. SIR. HELLO.

[themanicmuse]

Broken Souls| Mollymauk Tealeaf x femReader

Word count: 2262

Summary: During their stay in Zadash the three men of The Mighty Nein have a boy's night where a certain purple Teifling meets an interesting young woman

Warnings: casual alcohol use, mentions of arranged marriage, consensual sex work

a/n: This was originally posted on my ao3 in 2020 as an OC one-shot. I have converted and polished it into my 1st y/n style xreader. Let me know what you think

The warm Zadash air was bustling with the usual energy of a Friday night in the large city. A band of three tipsy men walked through the busy streets, each distinct in their own varieties of strange. One hunched and shuffling, one tall and proud and the third overly confident and swaggering, leading the group. The cocky leader raises a purple hand in front of his companions with a mild flourish, bringing them to a halt.

“Gentlemen, what do you say to us stopping here for a few drinks?” The other two men follow the purple man’s eyes to the sign above the large building.

“Belle’s Boudoir?” The red-headed man said, confusion clear through his noticeable Zamnian accent.

“Just for a drink, right?” The tallest of them states while somehow also questions. The purple man nods lightly, the chains adorning his horns and neck jingle lightly. With a moment of reluctance from the half-orc, the trio enter the establishment.

Two of the men find a seat, bewildered by the numerous scantily clad yet heavily made up women around them as their teifling friend saunters over to the bar. He leans against the countertop, drumming his heavily ringed fingers while waiting to be noticed by the barmaid. After a few minutes of waiting, an attractive but ageing brunette Half-Elf woman makes her way down the bar towards the ostentatiously dressed man.

“Well good evening, handsome,” the woman greets with a flirtatious voice and a bat of her long eyelashes “What can I do you for?” she asks as she gently strokes her thumb over the teifling’s lavender hand.

“Well... well, first tell me your name. I’m sure your name is just as beautiful as your lovely self.” The teifling asks as he places a soft hand on the woman’s.

“Well aren’t you a charming one.” The half-elf answers with a mild blush “My name is Sasha, and yours?”

“Mollymaulk Tealeaf, but my friends call me Molly as shall you now as we are now friends.” Molly replies with a wide fang toothed grin. “So my dear, I would firstly like three ales for myself and my friends over there, and put on a tab under nein, the Zamnian spelling.” Molly nods his head towards the human reading a large book and the handsome half-orc awkwardly trying to reject one of the working girl’s propositions, causing the teifling to wince in second hand embarrassment. The Half-elf hands over three flagons of ale with a small chuckle.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well actually I would like some... private company.” Molly says with a knowing smile and a wink.

“Why of course, Molly, do you have any preference? We have the largest and finest variety in all of Zadash.” Sasha replies, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her long ear.

“If you truly do have the largest selection, and I do fully believe you I do, how about you show me something amazing, something that takes my breath away, something... That I’ve never experienced before.” On the last word Molly lightly taps the counter with the tip of his index finger and a cheerful smirk on his face.

“And what have you seen?”

“I was in the circus game sweetheart, that’s a long fucking list I assure you.”

With a wildly disappointed sigh Sasha leaves to a back room before returning to the teifling. She hands him a key with a small tag with a number on it and instructs Molly to use that room when he has made his choice. With a parting wink the man takes his drinks to the table to join his friends.

“Took ya long enough.” The half-orc said in his strange southern accent quickly taking his drink as Molly shooed away the annoyed working woman as he took the seat she was occupying.

“Yeah sorry, I was doing a little recon on the local customs of this city.” Molly answers with a shrug. As the three men make idle chatter about adventures, magical weapons and spells, the teifling’s eyes scanned the room for a companion worthy of his standards. Eventually his eyes are drawn to a beautiful (h/c) haired girl, adorned in a dress of silky deep greens, almost hiding in the far corner. Molly thanks his wizard friend as he receives a fresh drink, his eyes not leaving the girl for a single second. After realising just observing wasn’t enough for him, Molly abruptly leaves the table and hastily makes his way back to the bar.

“That girl in the corner is she one of yours?’ Molly asks the second he makes eye contact with the barkeep.

“Oh her, yeah she came to us only a few days ago. Is she definitely the one you want?” In response the horned man nods his head vigorously causing his many chains to rattle. “Ok... I’m afraid I can’t tell you how good her services will be since you’re the first to request her. If you’re truly sure, go to the room and I’ll send her up with some ale and food.” Molly replies with a quick nod of thanks before jogging up the stairs.

After removing his boots and heavily embroidered coat, the teifling paced the floor waiting impatiently. When a knock sounds on the door Molly rushed over, quickly composing himself before opening the door. His burning red eyes scanned the form of the girl as she walked in and placed the tray of food on the small table. After closing the door Molly sat on the edge of the bed studying the girl before him.

“My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, but please just call me Molly.” He greets reaching his hand out towards the girl. He watched as the girl glanced between her face and hand, failing to mask the fear and discomfort in her eyes. Eventually She reaches her shaky hand out to meet Molly’s purple one, gasping with shock as she feels the raised remains of many old scars on the teifling’s strong hand.

“Oh don’t worry yourself about them.” Molly says softly as he gently caresses the girl's (s/c) hand. “So, What’s your name beautiful?”

“(y)... I mean. What would you like it to be,” She replied, with a shudder and a tear threatening to escape her (e/c), pupil-less eyes. “S-sexy?”

“Your real name, please.”

“Um... (y/n).” She replied while fiddling with some of her (h/l) (h/c) hair.

“Well that’s a name truly worthy of your beauty. Please, sit down, eat, drink, make yourself more comfortable.” Molly offers with a small smile before getting to his feet. A few seconds later he hears the shuffling of fabric, Molly instinctively turns around to see (y/n) hesitantly slipping her green silk dress off of her body, once the material reached her waist a full pair of wings sprung up and ruffled out. Speckled light brown feathers covered the top while deep grey covered the bottom. Shaking himself out of his shock Molly quickly grabs his coat and hands it to (y/n), trying but failing to avert his eyes, catching a glimpse of the curves of her body and the speckled white of her inner wings.

“I have no intention of doing any of that with you, please cover back up.” Molly says softly as he wraps the coat around her rigid body from behind before guiding her to sit on the bed before turning to face the wall. “I don’t want to see you like that.”

“Oh. I understand.” The soft voice answers behind him. Molly listens with confusion as he hears the soft thud of his coat hitting the bed followed by a rustling of fabric causing him to spin back around.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Molly questioned causing the girl to freeze holding her dress most the way up her body.

“Y-you weren’t pleased with me so I’m going to request someone more suitable for you.” (y/n) answers with a look of both sadness and relief as she walks to the door, her dress now back in place.

“No!” Molly shouts quickly grabbing the girl's delicate wrist with his strong scarred hand stopping her movement “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean Mollymauk?” (y/n) askes, her large (e/c) eyes meeting Molly’s red ones for the first time, filled with caution and confusion.

“When I saw you in the bar,” Molly started with a sigh as he led the confused girl to sit down on the bed next to him. “I knew you didn’t belong here. So I decided to hire you in order to rescue you from that discomfort. So please, eat, drink, nap, whatever you wish to do.” With those words Molly twice taps (y/n)’s hand softly before standing and heading to the door.

“Stay. I want you to, just for a little while.” A voice speaks with confidence for the first time causing a small, soft smile to form on Molly’s lavender lips. The teifling silently sits on the opposite side of the bed, removes his loose shirt, handing it over to (y/n) before laying down with his hands behind his head. Sensing (y/n)’s new found confusion at the new item in her hands.

“I know that dress isn’t comfortable on your wings, that should be big enough to cover you and give your wings some more space.” Molly answers without even opening his eyes.

”Aren’t you going to...”

“Oh please, honey, you are not the first aasimar I’ve met. You are however the first one with feathers so there is that. Anyway just put the shirt on, I promise I won’t peek.” Just as (y/n)  slipped Molly’s large shirt over her shapely body, the room door silently opens.

Back downstairs, after realising that their friend hasn’t been seen for a while, The half-orc warlock Fjord and Caleb the human wizard decide to split up and search the establishment. Caleb quickly climbed the stairs as the handsome Fjord was swarmed by women the moment he’s alone. After checking numerous empty, and some not so empty, rooms he quietly opens the door to room number nine. His eyes are met with the sight of a shirtless Mollymauk laid out on the double bed and a beautiful human-looking girl sitting next to him wearing nothing but Molly’s long white shirt.

“Oh, I-I am so very sorry Molly und your lady company. I did not know, um. I will... I will leave you be. See you later. Ja, good, good bye. Ja, bye.” Caleb apologises as he stumbles over both himself and his words. Spinning around on his heels and walking into the doorframe before finally finding the wide open door somehow remembering to close it behind him. Brushing a mildly charred and calloused hand through his mess of ginger hair as he waits for the horde of women crowding Fjord to disperse.

"Did ya find Molly?" Fjord asked over the heads of the numerus women circling them.

"Oh Ja I did."

"Then where is he?"

"Upstairs being Molly"

Back upstairs (y/n) sits on the bed, her face bright red, hands covering her embarrassment.

“I’m truly so sorry about him my dear. Caleb is impressively unskilled in the social graces.” Molly laughed as he rolled to his feet and picked his coat up from the floor. As if seeing the future, Molly wraps his coat around (y/n) as she shivers “So why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“I don’t...”

“I just want to get to know you a little, beautiful.” With that final word a strange warmth floods the aasimar’s body as she feels her trust in the handsome purple devil grows. She looks into Molly’s blood red eyes with a deep sigh as though opening up to an old friend.

“It’s a classic tale I’m afraid. I was promised to a vile old lord. The night before my marriage I realised that I wanted more from my life. I took all the jewels I could carry, spent it all on ship passage to Wildemount. I only discovered that I’d been conned when Sasha took me in in exchange for work. Of course I didn’t know this was the work she meant. So now I’m stuck here until I save up enough gold to start my dream.”

“And what dream would that be?” Molly asks as he takes (y/n)’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing her eyes to meet his and leans in closer.

“I want... I want what you have.” With a hesitant yet strangely confident hand, (y/n) gently traces some of the scars on Mollymauk’s bare chest. “Adventure.” Molly looks deep into the girl's beautiful eyes full of hope and wonder for her future. A large smile spreads over the teifling’s face, his tail swinging absentmindedly happy. He stands to his feet, puts his boots on and swaggers to the door.

“Molly, where are you going?”

Molly doesn’t answer, he only flashes her a kind fanged smile.

“I still have your things.”

“You can just give them back to me tomorrow, don’t worry.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m hiring you for the whole day my dear. I’m going to give you some training, show you the ropes, that kind of thing” Molly instructs as he throws a decently sized bag of gold on the bed. “That’s for the whole night, you can stay here. I’ll be back to get you in the morning.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I’ve always been a sucker for broken souls.”

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 12: Stubborn as a Mule

November 1877

Blackfish, Montana

There was a certain meticulousness to Hosea Matthews, as Bessie had long since discovered.  Silver tongued and charming as the day was long, but he liked things just so, planned to the last nicety. Quite helpful to a rogue and a confidence man, admittedly, who prepared for just about anything, compared to Dutch who liked to more or less come up with things in the moment.  Made them an effective team, she supposed.

The thing with Hosea was that when something got a notion to put a crick in that plan and throw it awry, it stoked his irritation readily enough.  

Such as the fourteen-year-old boy glowering at Hosea across the table, bucking in the traces at Hosea’s insistence that he learn to read.  “The fuck do I need that for anyway?” Arthur demanded, scowling at Hosea.  “I got this far without a lick of reading, didn’t I?  Three years on my own, thank you very much.”

That was Arthur.  A wild young boy whose years on the streets meant he was still more or less growling and baring his teeth at any suggestion that he didn’t like, or the notion he didn’t measure up in some way.  Not to mention being stubborn as a mule to boot, and determined to show the four of them that things would only happen by his say so, thank you very much.  “Well,” Hosea said, eyeing the boy right back with that ferocity in his gaze that Bessie knew full well meant this had become a contest of wills and Hosea wouldn’t tolerate this particular wrinkle in his plan, “congratulations on being an illiterate delinquent.  Though I have to say, it’s only an idiot who’s proud of his ignorance.”

“This is going to be a very long winter, Arthur,” Susan pointed out with a sigh, “snowed in as we are, unless you cooperate some.”

Bessie saw the flicker of guilt, the way he cringed momentarily, before charging forth again with that defiant ferocity.  This was how it went–they vacillated between moments of him being grateful, almost shy for their attention to him, and then being a swaggering hellion again.  As if he couldn’t quite decide what role to play, and anything that challenged or scared him threw him right back into old habits.  She could see the fear in him so clearly beneath the angry bluster.  Surprised her that none of the others seemed to see it as well.  “What are you lot gonna do about it anyhow?  Toss me out into the snow?”

Hosea just stared at him.  “Try me, kid.”  Arthur glowered at him, eyes shining with an impotent fury, fists clenched.  “I don’t relish the notion of sitting through the next five months with you acting like a shitmouthed little brat, I tell you that.”

It was like watching two rams butting heads, and Bessie kept watching it go back and forth, looking for where she ought to possibly break in.  “So what, I just learn to read cause you say so?”  

“That’s about the way of it.  Our cabin, our rules.”

“You ain’t my pa!” Arthur barked at him, and swung to look at Dutch, chin tipped up defiantly.  “You ain’t neither!”

Dutch raised his eyebrows, pointedly looking up from his book.  “Did I say anything?  Though I’d advise you to do as Hosea says, Arthur.  As he points out, it’s a very long walk through the snow from here to anywhere.  And I thought you had real potential besides, my boy.  Shame if you choose to be nothing more than you are.  That’s…rather disappointing.”

Arthur looked crushed.  Dutch had that way about him that would make people want to go to any lengths for him, and she’d just seen him casually turn it onto Arthur.  The boy looked at Bessie, his look almost desperately pleading.  She saw her chance.  He needed some way to retreat gracefully, that was all, so he could pretend he hadn’t been brought to heel by running up against a force he couldn’t beat.  “Better you learn to read, Arthur.  It’s going to help you in life.  Ain’t no shame in you not having had the chance to learn so far.  Plenty of folk have it like that.  But there’s no reason to keep yourself in ignorance just out of foolish pride.  That lets them win.”

Hosea’s words, more or less, but less peevish and derisive.  She could see the angry tension in Arthur and Hosea both draining by it, and Arthur finally gave a single jerky nod.  “Fine.  Might as well have something to do for the winter.  But it ain’t just cause you say so, it’s cause maybe you’re right it’s a smart thing to do.”

Arthur took to reading like a duck to water, surprising all of them with the speed of his learning and then his sheer hunger to read everything he could get his hands on.  Including the labels on boxes, cigarette packets, bottles, and anything else in that cabin.  For a boy who’d insisted he had no use for reading and writing, he changed his tune considerably even before Christmas.  But sometimes watching him absorbed in a book by the fire in the evening, Hosea would look over at Bessie and smile, the first traces of something like pride to it that Bessie wished so much the boy could see.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Lilac (when she's an attending) would totally be the one attending every intern has a crush on. Some might be young and bold enough to flirt with her outright. Lilac thinks it's hilarious, Ethan is grumpy about it

Here we go:

Attending

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC  (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 700 Warning: language  

“Hey, Dr. Allende,” a suave, casual voice interrupts her from her chart. 

Lilac glances up, surprised to see one of her new interns leaning against the doorframe of her office, all confidence and gleaming smiles.

“Hi Dr. Mercado,” she returns after going through her private, mnemonic strategies of remembering names. She makes a point to memorize the name of every intern in her charge. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

The young, gallant doctor takes that as an invitation because pushes off the frame and strolls in. The easy swagger in his step leaves no doubt of what he is hoping to achieve. 

Lilac presses her lips together, summoning her best poker face. 

“There's a new show at The Orpheum. It's supposed to be really good.” Young Dr. Mercado dives into a long synopsis, spliced with mentions of critical acclaim. 

Meanwhile, Lilac offers him placid, polite nods, humming in appropriate pauses as he speaks. She almost admires the charming young man's unmeasured bravery to ask out an attending who is ten years his senior. 

Suppressing a laugh, she reserves all judgement, pointedly reminding herself she did exactly the same thing on her first day. In her defense though, she hadn't known he was her boss when she made a sexually charged pass at Ethan Ramsey. All she had seen then was the infuriating and gloriously handsome man in front of her and how she longed to slap him just as much as she yearned to kiss him. 

“I was wondering if you'd like to come with,” Dr. Mercado finishes, breaking her from thoughts of Ethan's striking blue eyes pressing into every part of her flushing body that first day. 

“I'm flattered, Dr. Mercado, but I'm afraid that's not possible.” 

He blinks, genuinely confused. “Why's that?” 

“Because she's your boss,” a voice says from the doorway, commanding and lusciously deep. “And because she's married.”

Ethan stands at the doorway, arms firmly crossed, surveying the scene with something akin to disdain. Those thunderous blue eyes bore into the back of Dr. Mercado's head with such intensity, Lilac is surprised the young doctor hasn't burst into flames. 

“She's—” the young man stammers, stunned. Wide, terrified eyes fall on a framed photo of Lilac and Ethan, taken during their honeymoon in Rome a few years back. He visibly swallows at the exact moment the magnitude of his fuck-up settles in. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, glancing between Lilac and Ethan with the conviction of a man pleading for his life. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”

Lilac offers him a kind smile. “Think nothing of it, Dr. Mercado.”

Ethan raises a dark brow at her, wordlessly disagreeing with that statement. She almost laughs. 

“We can forget this happened if you promise to focus on your patients moving forward,” she continues, much to the young doctor's fervent gratitude. 

After another mumbled apology, he scurries away before Ethan Ramsey breaks his stony silence and gives him the verbal lashing of his life. 

“What is that now? The second one this week?” he asks dryly when they're finally alone.

Lilac shrugs dismissively, far more concerned about walking into her husband's embrace. 

“That's what you have to deal with when you're married to a solid ten,” she teases, kissing the ridge of his jaw. “Lots of these poor interns developing crushes. They usually aren't so bold as this one though.”

“Hrm,” he grunts, though Lilac can see the cracks in his severe demeanor with every kiss. “Even if you weren't his supervisor and unmarried, Dr. Mercado set his sights too high and he knows it. He wouldn't even know what to do with you if he had you alone.”

At that, she pulls back to give him a coquettish smile. 

“And you do?” she asks in a deliberately husky murmur, fingers toying with his tie.

His stormy, iron facade finally melts with the charming smile he gives her. It stuns her, turning her skin into a humming bundle of nerve endings, much like the first time. There's a playful challenge in her husband's eyes as he leans in to kiss her, expertly pressing her against the closed door. 

“Want me to demonstrate?” he whispers darkly against her neck, his hot breath drawing out a little moan. 

Her response is an eager plea in the affirmative as impatient fingers reach behind her to lock the door. 

Author’s note: If I haven’t answered your ask yet, it’s because I might be writing a nothing fic for it. Sorry! 

Thanks for reading! 

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Except Bryce x MC: @openheartthot , @casey-v , @binny1985 , @tsrookie, @perriewinklenerdie , @drakewalkerfantasy​ ,

@choicesfanaf (except Bryce x MC/ Blaine x MC)

Open Heart- Ethan x f!MC Only

@octobereighth,   @helloblueeyedcat , @genevievemd ,  @stygianflood , @ohchoices,  @choicesaddict5 , @aworldoffandoms, @mysticaurathings , @myusualnerdyself , @ruinedbypixels, @custaroonie, @caseyvalentineramsey, @jooous​

Unsorted Tags (Assumed Ethan x MC)

*Please message me if you want to be moved or removed <3 

@openheart12 ,   @enmchoices,  @kites-in-our-skies,  @kingliam2019,  @cinnamonspongecake,  @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, , @lilypills,  @nooruleman,  @lonely-mxxnlight, @shadynaturehilariouscookie @togetherwearerapture,  @rookiemarsswiftie,   @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04,  @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble,  @ethanrcmsey,  @aarisa-frost,   @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover, @caroldxnvxrs, @ramseyandrys, @whatchique, @varikasnuori, @dimitriwife,  @shanzay44, @fabi-en-ciel, @trebondialanna,     @alookseeblog, @whimsicallywayward15

@emotionalswift2,  @lion-ess24,  @forcverandalways

[sector-i-closed]

Runaway

Warning: Mentions of abuse, emotionally manipulative parents and a couple of curse words

Rockstar AU

"But mom I really want to go to Hongjoong's concert! I already have the money for tickets and-" You excitedly made your case to your mother in hopes to see your favorite rockstar perform live in concert which for you was going to be a once in a lifetime event. "Look... We can't have you in the midst of complete strangers. Neither I nor your father are going to be able to be with you to make certain that you won't find yourself in the middle of something that you shouldn't be in." Your mother's emotionless words grated at your feelings and stabbed you with bitter disappointment that made you want to run to your room and sob into your pillows. "But aren't I an adult, mom?" You bring up innocently while tilting your head at your sighing parent. "You're our child, Y/N." She stated firmly without blinking an eye. Without another word you turned and went to your room, leaning up against the door after shutting it behind you while feeling tears of anger and disappointment pouring down your cheeks. Your age was a legal adult's age and you were apt in your judgment as you had shown your parents time and time again, so really you had no idea why 'our child' was preferred by your parents over 'our son/daughter' which only proved again that they didn't see you capable of knowing what was best for yourself. You sighed in exasperation, listening to the sound of your mother walking down the hallway and calling out to you. "I'm leaving for work, Y/N. Make sure dinner is ready when we're back." She called out in a tone that was clearly one that had taken you for granted as was so often heard by you and provoked what was wounded within you even more after year upon year of the abuse you took from the people who were blood relatives but nothing anymore sentimental then that. You sighed again, this time your eyes narrowing when the sound of the front door closing snapped you out of the despair that weighed on you heavily. "Fuck you, mom." You growled under your breath as she started the engine to her vehicle and drove away. Without conscious thought your body moved and you went to your closet to select an outfit that in your mind would not draw attention to you. Once dressed in jeans, a tee and jacket in a relaxed casual fashion you stole a glance at the poster on the wall. You blushed as you took a long look at the image of Hongjoong standing with attitude and seemingly effortless swagger, his dark eyes directed at you and always prompting butterflies to circle in your stomach when you would look at him. With that you snatched your savings and headed out the door. "I'm on my way to see you." You spoke to the picture on the wall before shutting your bedroom door and leaving your home altogether.

It was pure luck that there were any tickets left at the venue where the concert was to be held and you kept your distance to the best of your ability as you took your seat, sensing adrenaline pulsing through your entire body while you waited for the show to begin. Already you had experienced a bout of dizziness from the stimuli present as the fans cheered loudly and the lights flashed in tandem with the beat of the song that had began to play and shake the floor with the energy of bass and drums. You jumped to your feet immediately and cheered while the only person that mattered to you in the whole universe strutted confidently to the mic waiting on the stand that was located a few yards from the stage. His dark and magnetic eyes scanned the audience present and you thought his eyes might have lingered in your direction for a moment longer and you hoped that it was the case for some reason. Hongjoong began to sing 'Runaway' and it incited goosebumps to overtake your arms and neck as you listened and sang along with the other fans. It was already a favorite song of yours but tonight it hit differently than before, because in the back of your mind you wondered if you should not return home tonight and make a new start at life while he sang out 'Let's fly away together just like Wendy and Peter Pan' which made you wish that you could run away with the kohl rimmed brown eyed rocker that you had an undying love for so deeply but you knew reality didn't work that way though hope lived on. You appreciated the sound, energy and top level hard work of his entire live performance and it was all over too soon, already post concert depression was creeping in but you were happy to have had the opportunity to see him perform. His leather clad form left the stage when the show was over and you made your way out past the throngs of people that were excited and thrilled with the performance that Hongjoong had put on. Once outside you began to meander along the highway, it was dark and the flashlight on your keychain was your only companion. You wanted out of here and the concert that you witnessed somehow compelled you to make the first steps on your own. It was frightening to you, cars passing you while walking along the side of the road as you determinedly pushed on. After two hours of walking a heavy vehicle that you guessed to be a bus pulled up to you from behind. Your heart pounded as you hurriedly walked forward while fears of abduction and human trafficking danced through your head fueled by anxiety. "Are you running away?" You froze in your tracks and turned slowly to face the owner of the voice who was standing on the retractable steps. The voice was Hongjoong's but you were certain that your mind and ears was playing tricks on you.

But apparently your eyes were being a complete trickster as well because Hongjoong was standing there dressed in his leathers and a scarf to keep the outdoor winter chill at bay.

"H-how did you know?" You accidentally stutter, eyeing him suspiciously. "I can tell by your actions, sweetheart~ It's not safe out here for a pretty person like you so I suggest that you join me." Hongjoong murmurs as his voice was filled with concern.

You felt that you had nothing to lose, he was a stranger but you felt that you could trust him moreso then the elements of the chilly outdoors.

"Really?" You ask in a small voice.

"Really, because I would be extremely worried about you should somehow you decide to keep going on your own and who knows what the hell might befall you ahead. There's room for you I promise and I won't judge you. And I'm not expecting anything in return. I am willing to wait at the side of the road for you to take the time that you need to decide what is best for you." He nods firmly and somehow sets your feelings at ease.

"Okay I'll g-go!" Your teeth chatter from the cold as you reach to board the bus, allowing Hongjoong to help you get on. It all seemed unreal but you felt happy as the bus resumed traveling, smiling shyly at Hongjoong as he draped his jacket across your shoulders before you seated yourself away from the band members and tour crew that made up his band.

Gratitude filled you while the sound of the bus engine filled your ears, the rockstar sitting at a distance with his nose in a notebook scribbling away.

You watched him quietly in awe before finding yourself lulled off to sleep with no idea of what to do next but you felt safe now and that was all that mattered to you.

[starrynite7114]

roommates: four

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy weekend! Hope your week has been a good one! So my brain has been going 100mph. I’m trying to calm it down and focus on one thing, but that’s proving to be hard. LOL BUT I’M TRYING. Sorry the updates are taking longer, I’ve been getting ideas and it just takes over my brain. School is starting back up next week so I’m going to try my best to go on a writing spree this weekend so I can try and update every week. Emphasis on TRY. But thank you for continue to support me, you all are just too lovely. 

Also, I have two Angel request I’m going to try to post since they are half way done along with the EZ request. I’m really lagging on EZ, but it will be posted. 

EZ request

Dance (Angel)

Always you (Angel)

Lake Part Two

Sex Guru Angel

Everything is you: part 12

Graduation (EZ request)

Rio request

Two Daddy Angel request: Snuggling and Trip to the aquarium

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! My tag list is a little messy, but please let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist

roommates

Word count: 7697

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, smut, angst

You looked at your closet, thinking of what to wear tonight for your date with Angel. He suggested that you wore something comfortable, casual, no dressy outfits. 

‘But if you want to wear a skirt for my benefit, by all means mami, go right ahead.’

Angel was too much, but you weren’t complaining. Ever since you agreed to go on a date a few days ago, Angel has been occupying your bed. He always reasoned that it was due to the fact that your bed was comfortable, but you’ve slept on his bed before and it was equally as comfortable. You stopped trying to kick Angel out of your bed since you enjoyed his company. And you figured it wouldn’t be long till Angel got over this need to be with you. You felt like he was just scratching some itch about going down memory lane. You didn’t think Angel was interested and you figured this need he had for you would fade. You had no plans on furthering your relationship and it was to protect yourself and Angel. Agreeing to this date, you didn’t regret it, you wanted to go on a date with Angel, see how it was after all these years. 

“It shouldn’t be this difficult to pick out clothes.” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking at yourself in the mirror. 

“You don’t have to try and impress me, I’m already impressed.”

You jumped hearing Angel’s voice. You turned and found him leaning against your doorframe, looking sinfully good. His kutte was not on him for once. He was wearing a short sleeve black button up, jeans and boots. His hair was slicked back, newly trimmed along with his beard. But you had to remain strong, you couldn’t let Angel know that he made the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Or that whenever he smiled at you, you found yourself flustered since even when you were younger, Angel’s smile was your favorite thing about him. You made it your mission to keep that smile on his face. Whenever Angel was with you, you noticed how carefree he was and that’s all you could ask for. 

You and Angel were always able to be yourselves around one another. 

No bullshit, nothing. 

“Impress you? Absolutely not, I dress for me baby.” You blew him a kiss before turning back towards your vanity. “Besides, just in case I see some other good looking guy wherever we go, at least I’m dressed to impress.” That was a lie, your eyes wouldn’t leave Angel’s tonight, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Look at you talking shit again.” Angel walked over to you just as you stood up from your vanity. When you turned around, you ran into Angel’s chest. One of his arms wrapped around you, while his hand cupped your face. Without any warning, Angel kissed you, which took your breath away as always. You thought that if you kept kissing Angel, the effects of his kiss would wither away, but you were wrong. It was like every kiss was different on a miniscule level, but it was and it always took your breath away. “This ass is mine baby.” He grabbed your ass, a moan escaping your lips. “God, let’s just order pizza and let me show you who that pussy belongs to.” He bit your ear, another moan coming out of you.

You bit your lip and looked up at him, your fingers began to unbutton his button up. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“No, no, don’t tempt me.” He captured your lips again, his hands stopping you from further undoing his buttons. “I got a night planned for us, but we can definitely have a happy ending later.” 

You laughed. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Somewhere nice, fun.” He pulled away from you to stop the temptation he faced. 

“So we’re going to a strip club?” You teased.

“Listen, if you want to go to a strip club baby girl, I’m down, but I would rather you strip this outfit for me later tonight.” He twirled you around, your skirt flowing along with the twirl. You wore a white v-neck for your top and a navy blue skirt, shorts underneath.

“Hmm, maybe.” You held up two pairs of shoes, one were heels, while the other were Air Jordan’s. 

“Heels or Jordan’s?” 

“Jordan’s, you don’t need heels where we’re going.”

“Can you just give me a hint?” 

“It would defeat the purpose of a surprise.”

“You’re annoying.”

Angel chuckled. “Learned from your annoying ass.”

Angel had been driving for forty-five minutes and the sun had setted. It was nice to watch the sunset, listening to some old school jams, and with Angel’s hand was intertwined with yours. You could get used to this, but at the same time, you had your reservations. While Angel made it clear that the scars didn’t bother him, it was still an insecurity for you. Why would he want damaged goods? It was a thought that Carmelo basically embedded in your mind. Why would anyone want damaged goods? Why would anyone want to touch a woman who had someone else’s initials carved on them? He wanted to mark you up so that no one else would want you, so he could have you, you would have no choice. It was all about choice with Carmelo. He would be your choice, your only choice. He isolated you, made sure that you had no choice but to stay with him. 

But then Medina came along and gave you a choice. 

At first, it was just an escape from your reality. 

Then the outings with his wife came about and Carmelo didn’t mind since he was mildly afraid of Medina’s wife.

Then eventually he helped you escape Carmelo.

You never asked for details, you didn’t want details. All you cared about was that Carmelo was gone.

“Baby, I lost you.” Angel softly squeezed your hand. 

“Sorry,” you offered him a smile and you noticed that he had stopped driving. Looking at the place before you, you smiled. “Angel Reyes, you want to get your ass kicked on our first date?” He brought you to your favorite mini-golf place, a date you two had plenty of times when you were still teenagers.

“This isn’t our first date and kick my ass?” He scoffed. “Baby, daddy’s winning this.”

“Odd term to refer to me as, daddy, but I mean, whatever floats your boat.” You shrieked as you exited your car, grabbing your stuff. 

You closed the door and Angel made his way over to you, backing you up against your car. “You’re such a shit talker today.” He smirked. “We should make this interesting.” 

“How so?” You were intrigued. 

“Let’s make a wager, if I win, you left me fuck you in your car after we finish, but if you win, you could have your way with me.” 

“Ooh, or, if I win, we go home right after this, forget the rest of your plans and you can fuck me at home.” You whispered this in his ear, making Angel groan.

“Fuck it, you win, let’s go home.”

“No,” you shook your head. “We just got here, let’s play, just so daddy can hand your ass to you.”

Angel chuckled. “Keep that energy up.”

You were currently at the last hole for mini-golf. Angel was kicking your ass, which didn’t surprise you. You always knew he let you win when you two were younger.

“I can’t wait to have those legs wrapped around me.” He whispered into your ear as you made your way to hit the golf ball.

You scoffed. If you made a hole in one, you could win. But of course, the last hole was rarely the easiest. 

“You look good sticking your ass out like that.” Angel licked his lips, the gesture was not amiss by you.

Looking over at Angel, you playfully glared at him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Is that your excuse of why you’re doing so terribly?” Angel smirked.

“Fuck you Angel.”

“That’s the plan baby girl.”

You rolled your eyes and hit the ball. And much like you predicted, you lost. Angel walked with that damn swagger towards you, but it seemed to have grown tenfold. His confidence made Angel so much more attractive. He was already an attractive guy, but this swagger, the smirk on his face, that shirt that accentuated his newly sculpted body, it was sinful.

How could you keep resisting him?

“I’m glad you wore the skirt.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“Easy access.”

You moaned, your fingers became entangled in Angel’s hair, your back arching as he continued to eat you out. His lips parted from your nether lips, the devilish smirk on his lips, your juices make his beard glisten.

“Fuck,” you breathed out. You would never tell Angel he was the best oral sex you ever had. Best sex you ever had, period. “I’m so close daddy.” 

“I know baby,” he spat down on your pussy, the added lubrication was not needed, but the mere act of it turned both of you on. Angel slid in two fingers in you, your skirt was bunched up above your stomach, Angel watching his ringed fingers disappear in you. His rings would bump against your entrance, the cold metal making the experience that much more erotic. “So fucking tight like always.”

“Uh huh,” you panted. “Daddy please let me come, let me come on your dick.” Control was something you rarely gave, especially with everything that happened with Carmelo. But with Angel, it was almost natural. 

Angel bit your inner thigh. “I told you that you would be begging for daddy’s dick.” His mouth was back on you once again, adding a third finger sliding in and out of you. 

“That feels so good.” You whimpered, moving your hips to meet his. 

“Don’t move.” He held your hips down, he sucked your clit in, the added sensation felt so good. You felt your legs shaking, the tears welling up in your eyes. Angel had already made you come three times prior to your impending one. “Look at you, my pussy is just clenching my fingers, wishing it was daddy’s dick. You want daddy to stretch his tiny pussy out?” 

“Yes daddy,” you begged, your hand resting on his hand that was holding your hip down. 

Angel chuckled. He increased the pace of his fingers and before long, you were arching your back, seeing stars as you screamed out Angel’s name. Angel continued moving his fingers in and out, your walls sucking him in, keeping you feeling full. Pushing him away, you moved down your folded middle seats and took a deep breath. Angel’s eyes were locked with yours, licking the juices that were on his fingers. He pulled you towards him, cupping your face as he kissed you, his tongue massaging yours, your hand drifting under his shirt. His lips hovered above yours as he stopped your hand from moving further. 

“Not yet baby, let’s eat and then I can fuck that pretty little pussy.” He gave you one last peck and moved down to sit at the edge of your trunk. You two had gotten some In N Out burgers with fries and a shake. Once you were at the lookout that rarely anyone frequented at night, Angel tore your panties off of you and ate you out. Your food was cold now, but you didn’t give a fuck, Angel gave you some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had and you hated him for it. 

You sat next to him, the wetness in between your thighs should have made you feel disgusted, but knowing it was due to Angel, it made you wetter. Angel handed you your burger. You didn’t realize how hungry you were till the burger was in your hand. You two quickly ate your burger and fries, the melted milkshake still hit the spot. Angel moved to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

The view of Santo Padre below you was breathtaking. You always enjoyed the peace and quiet, something Angel always tried to provide for you. Whenever you were stressed out, Angel provided the escape for you and you always appreciated how well he could read you. 

“Why’d you come back to Santo Padre?” Angel always meant to ask you when he first saw that you had come back to this little town of his. He didn’t understand why you would come back, there was nothing here.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. After the whole thing with Carmelo, I wanted to disappear. Being up north just had too many memories and I was just embarrassed for everything that happened.” You leaned your head back against Angel’s chest. 

“Embarrassed?” Angel’s head lifted, looking at your side profile. 

“I was always so strong willed and wouldn’t take shit from anyone.”

“Say that again.”

You playfully elbowed Angel and he laughed, kissing your cheek. “I was embarrassed, I shunned my family and friends. Then when I finally opened my eyes, I could barely open them.” The memories of Carmelo’s abuse never waned, it was always present like it occurred the previous day. It was easier to mask your feelings or the fear you felt during those times. The scars on your back were nothing compared to the scars he inflicted within. How low you felt always came to hunt you. Confidence was always something you possessed, it was reinforced by your family along with your friends. Cheating was a deal breaker and abuse was above that. After the first hit, you always questioned yourself why you didn’t leave, then you realized that the emotional abuse started before the physical. Carmelo caught you in a low point, a patient had died on you, a nine year old and he swept in. The way he belittled you, it made you feel like an inadequate nurse and that’s when the abuse truly started. He knew how to make you feel low, reminding you that due to your inadequacy the nine year old passed. 

But you realized now that it wasn’t your fault. 

But Carmelo already had done his damage. 

It took you some time to recover, but being up north suffocated you. The further south you were the better and for some reason, you ended up in Santo Padre. Your mentor, Pierre, an older ED physician took a job in Santo Padre Medical Center and you followed. Santo Padre always held special memories for you and a change of scenery was needed. You didn’t think you would run into Angel, but fate had another thing planned for you.

“This wasn’t your fault you know.” Angel hated hearing the defeat in your voice, the embarrassment. A man who was supposed to cherish you and protect you was the one who did such incredible damage to you. Angel could not forgive that. He had to find Carmelo and kill the mother fucker. He didn’t deserve to be walking on this earth after what he did to you. 

“I know that now. He got me when I was in such a low place. He made me feel like a million dollars, but he also made me feel like I was the lowest scum in the world. I loved him, all I wanted was for him to love me. He always told me he did, that when he hit me, he was trying to correct bad behavior so that I would remain perfect.” You felt your chest tightening up thinking of Carmelo’s words. How he sunk his claws into your brain was something you never understood, but it happened. 

Angel didn’t want to indulge in going down memory lane about Carmelo, but he wanted to know just how much he hurt you. Though, Angel realized that this may not have been a good idea since he felt his blood boiling. This was supposed to be your date, he shouldn’t be fucking worried about Carmelo. But he was going to find this man and make sure he endured the pain you went through, even greater than. 

“He’ll never be able to touch you again.” Angel whispered against the side of your head. 

“Medina took care of him.”

“I know baby, but you’re with me now. He will never go near you again.” 

And you believed Angel. As long as he remained your roommate, you felt invisible, untouchable. The Mayans were well respected, well feared in Santo Padre. They didn’t need to be like, their presence invoked different types of emotions from everyone. 

“When you get married, you should let me rent out a room so you can assure I would stay safe.” Angel knew your tactic. You were subtly trying to put him in the friend zone by mentioning his future without you by his side. It was cute, but that wasn’t going to work on him. He would show you that he was worth a second chance. 

“Why would you need to rent a room when you’re going to be sharing a room with me?” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “You’re too smooth Reyes.”

“Maybe, but don’t act like I didn’t just give you a couple of mind blowing orgasms. You can keep trying to push me away, but it’s not going to work.” Angel turned your face towards him, kissing you. 

You pulled away, your eyes closed as you relished the feel of Angel’s lips against yours. “Has it always been this intense between us?” Your forehead rested against his.

“Do you just try not to remember our relationship?” He gave you a quick peck again. 

“Shut up, I do, but I don’t know.” You turned to face Angel, wanting to see his reaction to your conversation. “Sometimes I look back at our relationship and wonder what would have happened if we had stayed together.” It was a thought that was always at the back of your mind. The what ifs scenario.

What if you stayed with Angel? Where would you two be? Would you two be together? Would you two have fallen apart?

What if you decided to come back to Santo Padre after you became a nurse? Would you two have reconnected?

For years after you left, you thought of Angel often. Your connection was always strong when you were younger and at times you felt it may have been too early for you two. That if you met at a later time, things would have been different. You remembered when Angel would sneak into your room, sleep over and pretend he was coming to pick you up in the morning. It wasn’t often but you enjoyed those late nights, talking about your future. He always spoke about your future, how you would be together. Yet when you told him you love him, he just said thank you. 

He was your first love.

And they always said you’ll always love your first love.

It irked you how true it was. 

Ever since you came back, seeing how Angel grew up after all these years, the love you had for him resurfaced and it grew stronger. But you weren’t willing to take the risk. Angel never seemed interested to rekindle your relationship till recently. At times, before this whole thing when you would share a bed, you would watch Angel sleep. He had no worries in the world and had to always be touching you while you were asleep. His arms and legs didn’t have to be around you, at times, his fingertips were just touching your arm and he was good. Or his arm would be against yours as he slept on his stomach and it helped his craving to be always touching you.

Angel wasn’t sure when it started, maybe it was after the first time you two shared a bed, but regardless, Angel craved your touch. It was his love language. 

“We’d be married by now with at least three kids.” Angel’s answer was so firm and sure. 

You grinned, shaking your head. “Yeah? You’re so confident about this.”

“Listen, just because we broke up or we were young, it doesn’t mean our relationship was nothing. I knew that I wanted you for the rest of my life then and it hasn’t changed now. You came back to Santo Padre in your own accord and I knew that meant that this was our second chance and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.” Angel took your hand in his, intertwining it. “I know you’re not ready, I know the wounds he left you are still fresh, but I’ll wait. I’m inpatient, but you’re worth the wait. So all these doubts in your mind? About me not wanting damage goods or your choice to not rekindle previous relationships? That’s well and fine, but I’m here to shut those thoughts down.” He didn’t want to tell you he loves you, not yet. He would wait because he knew when things became too much, your default was to just freeze everything out.

“I’m scared.”

“You have no reason to be.”

And you wanted to believe him, but it was going to take time. You just hoped he didn’t get tired of waiting.

=================

As soon as you stepped through the door, Angel was all over you. Once you managed to lock the door, he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his body. He made his way to your room, softly placed you on the bed. He unbuckled his belt and removed it, your eyes never leaving him. Biting your lip, you stood up and maneuvered him to sit down. Unbuttoning his pants, you kissed him, pulling away so you could help him remove his jeans and boxers. Once they were pooled around his ankles, you got on your knees, wrapping your hand on his cock, your thumb spreading the precum on the tip of his cock. Spitting down at his cock, moving your hand up and down causing Angel to close his eyes. You proceeded to give a few kitten licks on the head of his cock before you engulfed it in your mouth. 

Angel groaned, holding your hair together as he watched you hollow your cheeks as you moved up and down his length. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning out your name. 

“Fuck baby, you look so fucking hot like this.” You moved away from him, sliding your hand up and down his hard length. You take him all the way in, swallowing around him making Angel groan once again. He was trying hard not to fuck your mouth, but you were making it difficult. Dipping your tongue at the slit on the top of his length, Angel caught the smirk on your face as he lost himself watching you engulf his length back into your mouth. Using both your hands and mouth, Angel laid back on your bed, his hand wrapped around your hair, guiding you up and down. The moans that he was letting out was turning you on, you could feel just how wet you were. Knowing you brought such pleasure to Angel, it made you feel good. “Shit, I’m coming.” You took him in deeper, Angel fucking your mouth, groaning out your name as he came. 

You let him go with a pop, you smirked as some of his cum seeped from the corner of your mouth before you put it back inside, swallowing it. 

“You’re such a good girl,” Angel sat up, his hand still entangled in your hair. He bent down and captured your lips with his, you moaned as you felt him slightly tug your hair, his lips hovering over yours. “Daddy should reward you for being so good.”

“Please daddy,” you were giving Angel total control tonight. You could always be a brat, but tonight, Angel could have you.

Standing up, you stepped away from him to remove your skirt. Your hand was at the hem of your shirt, but you hesitated. Angel saw your hesitation and he gave you a small smile.

“You don’t have to take it off baby girl, you can keep it on.” He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wanted to make you feel good. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry about your scars.

You bit your lip and took off your shirt. Angel’s smile widened as he saw your body for the first time. You took off your bra and threw it at him. He laughed and caught you when you jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your lips together. One of your hands went back down to his length, moving your hand up and down wants again.

“Does daddy want his pussy wrapped around his dick?” Your lips hovered over his lips, smiling as Angel was catching his breath, his attention obviously on the sensations he felt around his length.

“Yeah baby girl, let me get my pussy.”

You positioned yourself above him, slowly sliding down his length. Moaning as your pussy stretched to accommodate him. Throwing your head back, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails digging in on his skin.

“You’re so big daddy, it feels so fucking good.” You whimpered out as he bottomed out. 

Angel looked down at where you two were connected, biting his lips as he waited for you to adjust. You moved up and down, your walls clenching around him making Angel moan your name out.

“Baby, stop clenching my dick.” He chuckled, kissing you to help you relax.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly.

Guiding you to move up and down his cock, Angel watched your face, memorizing every facial expression you had.

“You feel so fucking good baby, tight, wet, always ready for daddy.” Angel whispered against your ear. 

Your pace was slow, the burn Angel provided was basically imprinted in your mind. Ever since you two slept together, you haven’t slept with anyone and your dildo, vibrators, definitely did not compare to him, but gain, you would never let Angel know that. Angel’s fingers came in contact with your scar and you slightly froze. Before he could lose you, Angel cupped your face, brought your lips down to his. 

“Don’t, stay with me.” He thrusted up into you, your brain fogging as the overwhelming pleasure Angel was giving distracted you. Watching Angel as he licked his thumb, he pressed it against your clit, even adding greater pleasure to you. Increasing your pace, you used his shoulder as leverage as you moved up and down his length, walls clenching around him. “You’re safe, you’re with me and I would never let anything happen to you.” 

One arm was around his neck, his hand cupping his face. Your lips were above his, your breath mixing as you chased your high. Angel rubbed your clit, biting his lips as he watched you bounce on his length. 

“Yeah baby girl, daddy can feel it.” Angel latched his mouth around your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple.

“Daddy, oh my god, just like that.” 

You threw your head back, black stars filling your vision. Both of your arms were around Angel, your walls still spasming around him. Angel peppered your skin with kisses, sucking on a few spots on your neck that was sure to make a mark. 

“You were talking so much shit not too long ago and now look at you.” Angel smacked your ass, making you yelp, biting your lip. “Have to stop fighting the inevitable querida.” He grabbed your ass, grinding you down against him. 

“You’re so determined about us.”

“I’m confident in every aspect of my life, especially when it comes to you.” 

You laughed at his comment, which turned into a choked moan when you felt Angel thrust up into you. 

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me?” He questioned, making sure you were comfortable. He wanted to show you that your scars, they were nothing to be ashamed of. It didn’t change you. He would never force you out of your comfort zone, especially about something that truly traumatized you.

“Okay.”

“Put your chest on the bed.”

You did as Angel instructed. You rested your chest against the bed, you turned your head so you could see Angel. He was looking at your back, no trace of disgust in his eyes. For once, you didn’t feel judged, scrutinized or even pitied. He just looked at your scars as if he was memorizing them.

“Angel,” you called out to him, bringing him back to you. “Come back to me.”

Angel was mesmerized by her scars. Thinking of how many times Carmelo must have hurt you, what he used to inflict such damning scars on your back. And that carved ‘C’ on your back, he tried not to focus on Carmelo’s actions, not wanting to lose himself right now, but he was angry he wasn’t there to protect you. It seemed irrational, he wasn’t part of your life then, but if remained a part of your life, Carmelo would have never been able to harm you. All he could think about was covering these bad memories up, a design to show you that with every scar, every hurt he caused and every tear you shed, there was life after and while he could never make you forget what occurred, he would build new memories to show you that you were worth it, that you were beautiful.

That you were loved.

“Sorry baby.” He kissed your back. Angel took his length in his hand, moving it up and down your slit, and pressing it against your clit, teasing you. When he finally slid in, you both groaned, your hands gripping the sheets. “Daddy’s too big, huh?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip drawing blood. At times you wondered what would have happened if you slept with Angel. You’re certain he improved his skills over the years, but fuck, you would have been addicted. And there was no shame, Angel’s stroke game was strong.

“Didn’t hear your answer,” Angel stopped moving, only the tip of his cock inside of you.

“Yes, you’re too big daddy, but I love how you stretch me out.” You gripped the tip of his cock, Angel groaning and pushing back in. You hummed, content that he was buried inside you once again. 

Angel slid in and out of you, slow, deep. His slow pace was driving you crazy. You knew he was trying to restrain himself, savoring the moment as best as he could. He heard you sigh, leaning down so his front was against your back. He moved his hands from your hips to your hands that was gripping the sheets. He intertwined your hands, placing small kisses on your upper back before moving to your neck, nipping at your skin, earning tiny moans from you as he stilled inside you again. This wouldn’t be the last time you two would be intimate, but with everything that has occurred, he was just reveling at the moment. 

“Daddy, please go faster.” You pleaded, gasping as he began to pound into you.

“Like this querida?” He moved one hand to wrap around your neck, slightly pulling you back so you were slightly lifted off the bed, while his other hand remained on yours. Angel began pounding in and out of you, the pressure he had on your neck was just the perfect added sensation. 

You moaned out his name, his hand gripping yours along with the sheets. His lips was beside your ear, grunting as continued to pound into you.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He coaxed. He felt your walls clenching him, your impending orgasm 

“Angel,” the way you whimpered his name, it was intoxicating. It was embedded and his memories, a sound he wanted to head over and over again.

“You ready to cream daddy’s dick?” Angel was close as well, that familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach was there. His pace became stuttered, continuing to pound into you.

“Yes daddy.” 

Angel moved the hand against your throat down your front until he reached your tiny nub, the one that’s been screaming for attention. Wetting it with your own combined juices, he rubbed your clit, your orgasm almost came instantly. You cried out his name, your volume would sure have the neighbors aware of what was occurring. Angel came after you, his throbbing cock stilling inside you as he coated your walls. You felt your legs shaking as you came down from this high. Angel slipped out of you, his come seeping out. He smacked your ass, causing you to moan, but that’s all you could do. You were spent in the best fucking way.

Angel kissed his way up your body, turning your head to face him when he got to the top. He kissed you, turning your body so that you were on your back. Cupping your face, the way he caressed made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“So you gonna quit playin’ and be my girl?” Angel pulled away from you long enough to ask before kissing you again. 

This man’s lips were sinful.

Hell, everything about Angel Reyes was sinful.

How was he going to kiss you after asking that? 

You sighed, pulling away so his lips hovered above yours. Opening your eyes, you met Angel’s intense stare and caressed his face with your hand. 

“I thought I was already your girl?” You teased, closing the gap between you for a quick kiss. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am, are you?” Angel wanted it to be your choice. If you needed more time, he would give that to you. 

You moved the back of your hand against Angel’s cheek, his brown eyes looking at you, waiting for your answer. The fact Angel always put the ball on your table, it was different and much appreciated. 

“Yes, I am.”

=================

You sat beside your co-worker at work, watching the clock so it would go faster and you could go to lunch. You were at the clinic today and you had a surge in the morning, but currently, you had no patients. Trying your best not to yawn, you hold it in and check your phone. Angel’s name popped up and you smiled.

Favorite Roomie 🍆😏 ‘You want some meat for lunch? 😏’

You cackled. 

‘Mmm, feeling veggies today.’

You placed your phone down feeling eyes on you. Looking over, you found your work bestie, Jasmine giving you a knowing look.

“What?” You asked.

“What did BD want?”

“BD?” You were confused by her abbreviation.

“Big dick.”

“Jas!” You playfully smack her. “He’s just being a little shit.” Lifting up your phone, Angel’s reply made you cackle once again.

Favorite roomie 🍆😏

Stop being a little shit, you a rabbit? I know your kind of rabbit. 😏 But for real, what do you want from Wendy’s? I’m in line.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

‘Nuggets and fries, and a frosty.’ ‘Also, how did you know it’s lunch?’

Placing your phone down again, Jasmine shook her head. “You two have been dating for how long now?”

“Two months?” You couldn’t believe the two months passed as quickly as it did. One day you were just roommates, the next he basically moved into your room and the next, he was your boyfriend. The adjustment hasn’t been difficult at all. Angel was always very affectionate, but the biggest difference was the intimacy. The kisses, the sex, and just the sweet little things he would do for you.

“You know it’s been a year at this point. He was just waiting for Adam to be gone and boom, slid in.” Jasmine was ecstatic for you. She was the first friend you made in Santo Padre. When you told her you lived with Angel Reyes, she applauded you. She knew of Angel’s reputation, it was hard to not know about the Mayans. From her friends who had slept with Angel, she heard nothing but raving reviews. And besides that, it seemed that Angel was a solid guy, nice, but ghosted them afterwards. But then when you spoke to her about Angel, the things he did, even she knew he was in love. Then she witnessed your interactions at the Mayans Clubhouse or the BBQ’s you two held at your place, she knew it was only a matter of time.

Picking up your phone, Angel had replied.

Favorite roomie 🍆😏

I literally eat lunch with you every fucking day. You always play like I don’t know you.😒🤔 A creature of habit.  Got it baby.  You got time to suck daddy’s dick though? 🤔 Also, did you change my motherfucking name on your phone?

You choked on the water you were drinking, shaking your head. Angel has been changing his name on your phone to future husband and you would change it back to your favorite roomie. Ezekiel was named future brother in law, which surprised you.

‘You’re too damn much.’ ‘Hmm, since you’re bringing me food, sure.’ ‘I’m not saying you don’t know me, I just didn’t think you’d keep on track of that.’ ‘Of course I did, you’re my favorite roomie.’

“Did you tell him that you got a job offer in LA from Pierre?” 

Pierre, your ED doctor friend/mentor, lived in LA predominantly and did a few shifts in Santo Padre as some community outreach. He worked at Cedars Sinai and got you a job, which was amazing since Cedars Sinai was at the center of LA and you could learn so much more.

“No, I mean, I doubt I’m going to take it.” You shrugged. 

“It’s Cedars Sinai, it would open opportunities for you.” Jasmine knew why you were hesitant, but this opportunity didn’t come by often.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Angel’s voice startled you.

“Give me your phone. Favorite roomie.” He scoffed, extending his hand towards you.

“Boy, you’re not just going to demand shit without at least saying hello.” Jasmine scolded.

Angel held his hands up. “Sorry Jas, hello, how you doing, I got you some nuggets from Wendy’s.” He handed her the bag of food he got for her. “Come on baby, phone.”

“Angel, it’s not my break yet.”

“Yes it is, it’s 12:30 on the dot. Let’s go.” 

Jasmine chuckled. “Better listen to the asshole over here.”

“That’s right. Listen to me, let’s go.”

You rolled your eyes before hugging Jasmine. Taking your phone, you followed Angel to the van and went to the back where Angel usually set up a blanket for you two to sit in and fool around if you had time.

Settling on the blanket, you take out your food and your mouth watered. “You’re the best babe.” 

“Yeah I know,” he leaned over to give you a kiss and grabbed your phone. He unlocked your phone, keeping your phone away as you tried to grab it. “If you change this shit one more fucking time, I’m going to cuff your hands and edge you.”

You gave Angel an incredulous look, pushing him. “Angel, why do you keep changing it? Are you not my favorite roomie.”

“I’m not your fucking roommate, I’ve been upgraded to boyfriend.” Angel scoffed. He didn’t want to be offended by your constant need to change his name on your phone. He figured it was some weird defensive mechanism you had since you were the worst with change. He was surprised you had decided to move to LA, but he realized that you grew up in Los Angeles and moved to Santo Padre at the beginning of high school. He remembered how closed off you were and didn’t really open up till sophomore year and once you did, you and Angel clicked. 

“Should I put favorite boyfriend then?” You teased him. The word husband had such certainty to it. You two had just begun dating. Sure, you two dated in high school and you two have been roommates for years, but that didn’t equal immediate marriage.

“Or you can stop playing and put future husband.” Angel rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his burger, shoving a few pieces of fries in his mouth. “We have a party at the clubhouse later, what time should I come get you?”

“Come get me? Angel, I’m not going. I’m going out with Jas, you know this.” You took a bite of your nuggets, leaning against the van. “And don’t even say bring her to the clubhouse, we’ve been planning this for weeks.” Captain Marvel came out and you and Jas had been planning to see it since it was announced.

“Shit, that’s right. Stop by afterward?” He suggested. Being with you was easy for Angel. Eating lunch with you every day, cooking with you at home, grocery shopping, cuddling, laundry, fucking, building furniture you get for the apartment, and fucking, it was all easy for Angel. What he was finding difficult was when you would be lost in your own world, or revert back to just putting this distance between you two as just friends. A few nights ago, you had locked the door and he came home late, he knocked on your door till you finally answered, and you were slightly irate then apologized for locking the door on him. 

“Okay.” 

You two ate in silence, both of your attention mostly on your Instagrams. Angel didn’t like this type of silence between you two since it was just awkward. You two could usually talk about random topics, but as of late, if you two were together, you would occupy yourself with your cell phone. 

“You’re serious about us, right?” The insecurities Angel had screamed at him on the daily. His feeling of inadequacy stemming from him being in the shadow of his younger brother. The love he never felt from his own father, being second best. His mother tried her best and Angel felt she did love him, but his father was a different story. With the hesitancy and the hot and coldness you presented towards Angel, it frustrated him. While he was sure of his feelings for you, he felt that while you seemed present in the relationship a majority of the time, there were times where it seemed like you two weren’t together, that you two were just friends. He felt like he was your fuck buddy. 

You gave him an incredulous look and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You understood Angel’s questions in some way. You could be hot and cold, which made you feel terrible, but it was hard not to be. Keeping a distance between you two was the safer option for now. 

“I don’t know Y/N. At times, I feel like you’re just not in it. We literally eat together every day, so why ask me how I know it’s your lunchtime? You keep changing my name on your phone and girls usually find that shit cute. You know, I just don’t understand why you have this wall up between us. I’m committed to us, I’ve been committed.”

A frown appeared on your face, not liking how you made Angel feel. It wasn’t on purpose. You did this with almost every man you dated or boyfriend after Carmelo. If you didn’t get incredibly attached, you wouldn’t miss red flags like you did with Carmelo. Keeping yourself above the water, and alert, you wouldn’t have to worry about falling back into such blindness.

“It’s not on purpose. I told you, damaged goods remember?” You could feel his intense eyes trained on you, while your eyes remained on the nuggets on your lap. “Maybe this is too soon? Or I’m just not ready.”

“You fucking dated Adam.” Angel let out in frustration. 

“Yes but Adam doesn’t have any added complications with him. I had fun and my only worry is basically just my job. There was no stress with him because,” you paused, trying to form the right words. “I didn’t love Adam, he was fun to have around and I never had to worry about losing myself with him. But with you, every time I’m around you, I find myself falling even greater. If we ever broke up, I would lose our friendship. If I lost myself in this relationship, I may not catch red flags like I did with Carmelo.” The seriousness of this conversation was weighing heavy on you. You didn’t want to have this conversation during a fucking lunch break. “Fuck, can we please talk about this later? This isn’t the right place for this.”

“Nope, you’re going to find some way to ghost me. You don’t think I’m afraid of that too? You’re not fucking damaged goods, stop saying that. What Carmelo did to you was despicable, but look where you are now. You’re an amazing woman. You are also a woman who wears her heart on her sleeves and gives her all.” Angel watched as you fidgeted with your fingers, moving your food every once in a while. “I understand why you’re hesitant mi cielo, but, I’m not Carmelo and I never will be Carmelo. I’m in this relationship for the long run, I have no thoughts about us breaking up or anything fucking ridiculous like that. Open your heart to me Y/N, I’ve never hurt you once.”

“You said thank you.” The night of prom was still so fresh in your mind. You knew then that you and Angel weren’t going to last much longer.

“What?”

“When I told you I love you, you said thank you.” You smiled sadly, closing your food and placing it on the bag. “I should go, my break is over.”

Angel watched as you exited the van.

“Fuck!” He yelled out. 

He said thank you because he knew you two were going to separate. If he acknowledged his feelings for you, if he told you he loved you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go. 

And now, of course it would bite him on the ass. 

=================

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[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 7

Cassian provides comic relief.

And Gwyn and Az spar for the first time since... everything.

Read on AO3

“Well today was interesting.” Nesta raised a brow. Gwyn chose to play dumb.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged. Her head wasn’t really there, she knew, and her friend could have seen it from miles away.

“Gwyneth Berdara!” Nesta huffed, crossing her arms. “I held you last night as you cried over the shadowsinger and today you can’t stop ogling each other and grinning like fools. What. Happened?” Gwyn smiled sincerely, leaning in to kiss her sister on the cheek.

“I love you, and I will forever be grateful that you are by my side. And that you stalked straight into that study and gave him hell,” the priestess laughed. “We talked last night. I found him in the training ring.”

Gwyn and Nesta sat on the sofa in the library, legs tucked beneath them. Training had ended and hour before and Nesta had practically dragged the redhead inside after being caught in the middle of one-too-many sidelong glances between the priestess and the shadowsinger. Nesta’s ice-gray stare bore into her through narrowed eyes.

“So what? You’re miserable for three weeks and he says he’s sorry and magically everything is fine? I’m disappointed, Berdara.” Nesta scowled. “I wanted you to at least make him squirm a little.”

Gwyn’s head rocked back as she laughed, likely the most genuine mirth she’d experienced in weeks. “Don’t worry, dear Valkyrie. He’s not off the hook yet.” She felt her nose crinkle as her friend’s eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise.

“Explain, Gwyneth,” she commanded.

“Well,” Gwyn paused, contemplating how to keep the story succinct. “I made him explain himself, and he walked me through his past. He said he wouldn’t blame me if I couldn’t forgive him, but that he cares for me… as more than a friend. And I told him I felt the same.” Her heart swelled just as it had the night before, a quiet confession she hadn’t been sure she ever wanted to hear. Not unless it was from Azriel.

“WHAT?!” Nesta shot to her feet and began pacing excitedly in front of the fireplace with her hands covering her mouth. Then she stopped, turning to Gwyn and leaning on the plush armrest. “So are you an item now?”

“No.” Gwyn’s smile was smug as her friend groaned dramatically and collapsed playfully over the sofa arm. “Not yet, at least.” Nesta lifted her head.

“Oh?”

“I told him that things would go back to how they were before this necklace debacle. That’s how our relationship developed in the first place.” She absentmindedly fingered the pendant as she spoke. “He has to prove to me that he won’t fall into this cycle of guilt and self-loathing and deciding for me what I want or deserve. And once I can trust that he won’t push me away like that we’ll find out what’s next.”

“Darling priestess, I’m impressed!” Nesta pushed herself back upright, leaning once again on the couch. “What did he say?”

Gwyn felt the heat in her cheeks as she recalled the roughness of his declaration, his voice unlike any other time she’d heard him speak.

“He swore to me that he would.”

“He swore? Cauldron, Gwyn, you have him wrapped around your finger already!”

“And then I hugged him.”

Nesta’s lips quirked up on one side and she tilted her head. Gwyn wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction, like she was being studied. “And what did he do then?”

“What else does a person do when you hug them?” The priestess giggled. “He put his arms around me and hugged back.” She conveniently forgot to mention that he’d seemed to breathe her in after that. That it had felt like he was trying to pull her so far into him that she wouldn’t be able to pull away. It had been the most incredible feeling.

Gwyn looked to her friend but found a narrowed gray gaze and flaring nostrils.

“CASSIAN!”

The priestess squeaked as she launched herself to the opposite side of the couch, desperate to quiet her sister’s call. She balanced a knee precariously on the armrest, slapping a hand over Nesta’s mouth.

“Nesta Archeron,” she hissed. “What in the Mother’s name!”

“CASSIAN! Library! NOW!” Nesta held Gwyn’s wrists in her hands, lips curled in amusement. The redhead struggled to quiet her, a string of obscenities rolling from her lips. “Berdara, such language! Hardly becoming of a priestess!”

Said priestess pushed off the sofa arm and pulled Nesta down to the ground, pinning the eldest Archeron on her back between her legs. Her victorious smirk fell when she looked up to find the Illyrian general staring down at them, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I’m going to kill you, Archeron,” Gwyn growled before flashing a bright smile at Cassian. “Hello, General.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening here. I don’t know if I should be concerned, jealous, or aroused.” Cassian’s grin widened as the priestess scowled, even as she felt the blush burning her cheeks.

“You’re a pig,” his mate muttered before pushing her captor in the stomach. “Get off me, Berdara. We have things to discuss.”

“I don’t see how your mate belongs in this discussion,” Gwyn retorted, but rose to her feet and offered a hand to the other Valkyrie. Nesta got up and they helped dust each other off. She lifted an eyebrow at the copper-haired priestess, her smirk creating a coil of suspicion in Gwyn’s stomach.

“Cassian,” Nesta cooed before turning to face him. “Apparently our dear priestess and the shadowsinger shared an embrace last night.”

“Is that so?” Gwyn pressed her hands to her face, trying to douse the fire that was blazing in her cheeks as the Illyrian fixed her with an unyielding amber stare.

“It is. I’m guessing you didn’t know?” Cassian’s gaze moved to his mate.

“You think Az would tell me something like that?” He laughed, sending Gwyn a wink that only ignited her face further. She groaned and collapsed onto the fluffy cushions of the couch, desperate for this conversation to end.

“He’s your closest friend, isn’t he? I tell my best friend everything.” Gwyn peeked out from between her fingers in time to see Nesta fix a pointed glare on her. “Although, it seems my best friend may be wary to do the same.”

“Nes, Azriel doesn’t tell me anything about his love life. He knows I’ll immediately use it to make his life miserable.”

“Gods, Cassian, please don’t,” Gwyn pleaded, planting her hands on either side of her thighs. The Illyrian plopped onto the couch next to her and shot her a boyish grin.

“I make no promises, little Valkyrie.”

She took in his hulking form as she shook her head at him, a smile creeping onto her lips. Cassian was the personification of strength and power, with confidence that toed the fine line into arrogance. With those rippling muscles that were never truly hidden – no matter how loose a shirt he wore – it was any wonder he didn’t have females hanging from those thick biceps at every moment. But she imagined Nesta would put an end to anything of the sort quickly and in the most terrifying way. Gwyn had always been somewhat surprised that the general hadn’t absolutely terrified her, but she had been remarkably intimidated – his reputation, his swagger, his skill. There was a time not-so-long ago when she couldn’t have imagined feeling so self-assured. Even now she was sure she’d never quite make it to Cassian’s level of easy confidence, but she had come so far from that soft-spoken, timid nymph in the library.

“I don’t even know why I asked.” Gwyn rolled her eyes and flopped back against the velvet tufts and buttons of the well-worn couch.

“Aw, now don’t be like that, Gwynnie,” the general pouted and leaned toward her. She crossed her arms and grimaced, freckled nose scrunching at the nickname. “I promise I’ll try to be good. But that’s all I can promise.”

“He just can’t help himself,” Nesta mused.

“Well I appreciate your effort, I suppose. Since it will be so difficult for you.”

“Anything for you, little Valkyrie.” The general tapped a finger on the tip of Gwyn’s nose and guffawed at her glare. Apparently she wasn’t as intimidating as she’d hoped. But she saw Cassian’s eyes soften, amber gaze shining in the afternoon sunlight through the large windows. “I’m glad you were able to talk to him. Nes had us worried last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your boys’ night. I never would’ve asked her to –“

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” The honey-haired Valkyrie crossed in front of Gwyn and placed herself on her mate’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. Gwyn’s heart squeezed at the casual display, the intimacy of it. It wasn’t a big deal for the couple before her, but… was that something she could have? Something she could do? Would Azriel want that – closed-off and guarded as he always seemed to be? Smiling and laughing was one thing, but public displays of affection? “Shit got done thanks to me. And if that’s what it took to get him to stop being a fucking imbecile then I will never apologize.”

“I think things are on the right track now.” Gwyn smiled, though she kept her gaze focused on the whorls of dark wood grain in the coffee table. “Hopefully.”

~~~

Two Days Later

Azriel’s shadows wafted like smoke around him, an indication of a peace that was beginning to bloom inside him. Although he had awoken in the middle of the night, it wasn’t his typical darkness and demons that chased him out of bed. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the familiar weight of Truthteller in his grasp. Maybe his body was simply accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night, now, and it would take months – or years – of relatively peaceful sleep to change that.

The shadowsinger inhaled deeply, letting his body feel everything around him – the cool night air caressing his wings, the soft glow of the moon brightening the backs of his eyelids, the grounding presence of solid stone as he pushed his weight down through his booted feet and into the packed dirt of the ring. Then he lifted his foot and began the dance, a more elaborate form of the eight-pointed star that he had developed centuries ago, mixing intricate close-proximity blade work with feinting, defense, and hand-to-hand. Every flick of the wrist was carefully choreographed in time with a metronome of inhales and exhales, every shift in weight a perfect harmony accompanying the melody of blade and fist slicing the air.

This, he understood, was one of the most feared males in all of Prythian. Every step, every breath calm and calculated – the result of ruthless research and perfect practice. The Spymaster understood that physical strength and prowess were absolutely important, but the ability to predict and bend and break an enemy hinged on one’s ability to intimately understand every part of the mind inside the body. To so deeply know those who would do harm to his Court, his family, was to be them and see their chosen path, ideally before they even chose it.

And so the dance continued.

Azriel felt the skin of his bare chest and back tighten, pebbling as the breeze and the curling shadows wicked the perspiration from his tanned flesh. He loved this feeling, the quiet and cold of the night a safe haven against prying eyes. They were always on him. He felt them as intensely as if they were the brush of fingers on his skin – lustful longing glances, morbid curiosity over his scarred body and ruined hands, abject and wide-eyed terror at the Spymaster in the flesh. Sometimes his shadows helped hide him, and sometimes he loosened their leash, allowing the inky tendrils to writhe and pulse in his wake, reminding the world just what he was.

Darkness. Malice. Death. The vilified and reviled Court of Nightmares personified in the heart of the beauty of the city of starlight.

So many times he had resigned to himself that he should take residence there, in the Hewn City. Too many times he had been tempted to shut himself off from the love and light of his family and his court and let the shadows consume him. He was endlessly grateful to those who had reached out their hands and walked him back from that ledge – a cliff hanging over the raging black waters of sorrow, brokenness, anger, and fear. Cassian and Rhys. Mor. Feyre.

Gwyn.

Even in the solitude of his midnight practice he could feel the burn of her ocean-deep eyes and scent the hint of rain and water lilies –

Azriel’s eyes snapped open and he spun the quarter turn he knew would leave him facing the doorway. There he found the priestess, clad in those leathers that didn’t hide an inch of her, Cauldron damn him. She leaned against the frame with crossed arms and graced him with a soft smile. He could feel his shadows curl under her thoughtful gaze and he cursed them for once again not alerting him to her presence. It took him but a breath to take in the sight of her, not wanting to ogle her so obviously – a crass male instinct he worked desperately to beat into submission. Gwyn seemed to glow in the night, but while her smooth porcelain skin shone in the moonlight and her straight hair was a fire burning against it, he was captivated always by the teal depths of her impossibly expressive eyes. The emotions he had seen there had nearly brought him to his knees more times than he cared to admit.

“Please, Shadowsinger, don’t stop on my account.” She waved those graceful fingers in his direction, urging him on.

“And give you a free show? I don’t think so.” The sound of her full-bodied laugh may have been the most glorious thing he had ever heard, the sincerity of it something he’d taken for granted. The shadows over his shoulders seemed to vibrate in time with her mirth.

“And what of all I saw before you even realized I was here?”

“A free preview, of course.” He let his lips quirk into a wry smile. “To tempt you.” Gwyn snorted – Mother above she snorted at him. And when she only lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him, he continued.

“Spar with me. If you win I’ll let you watch.”

“You must think mighty highly of yourself if my beating you in a fight would win only the opportunity to watch you train the eight-pointed star, beautiful and elaborate as it may be.” Azriel knew his face was tinged with heat – beautiful – and could only hope the night was dark enough that the priestess couldn’t see. He knew his traitorous shadows would be no help. They seemed to revel in his vulnerability with her, always drifting in her direction and refusing to shield him in any capacity. Not from Gwyn. And while she was clearly unimpressed she pushed away from the wall and strode toward him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he wondered for a moment why she hadn’t tied it back.

“What brings you here, then, priestess? If not to spar, or to watch?” Azriel knew that her trips to the training ring were borne of sleepless nights, demons and nightmares he had not been able to save her from. But he also knew how she abhorred pity, bristling against it much like he did – a gleaming mirror to his shadowed soul. The spymaster shuddered and took a cautious step toward her as she stopped an arm’s length before him. Her eyes had never left his, and he couldn’t see the exhaustion and pain that had shimmered there only days before. But he still had to ask.

“Are you still having that nightmare, Gwyn?” He knew he didn’t need to explain further, knew that she would understand his ask. He flared his wings, trying to ease the tension between his shoulders that had lodged there as he recalled the wrenching shame of the night he’d been made aware of the full extent of her suffering, the consequence of his stupidity.

Her straight copper hair swished around her face as she shook her head. Azriel felt the unimaginable weight lifting from him as the corners of Gwyn’s mouth ticked up in a gentle smile. A shadow broke away and twirled through a loose tendril that had fallen over her cheek, as if boasting to its master that it could caress her skin and he could not. Azriel’s throat bobbed as he made to speak, but the Valkyrie beat him to it.

“Are we sparring or not, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn stepped away from him, giving herself space to execute a few quick stretches. “If you are to be believed, my viewing pleasure hangs in the balance.”

The spymaster rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t live that down for awhile. He kept silent as he centered himself, rolling his neck and shoulders as he waited for the priestess to take her fighting stance. She deftly wove her hair into an easy plait and tied the end with her ever-present white ribbon.

“Do you just keep a ribbon on you at all times?” Azriel teased.

“I’m always prepared, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s eyes narrowed as she answered matter-of-factly. “It’s practically my signature now.” And although the Illyrian chuckled and shook his head, he was inwardly marveling at how she could be so strong and bold and brave and yet still be… adorable.

As Gwyn lowered her hands to her sides, she took a breath. Azriel watched, transfixed, as she seemed to transform in the pale blues and grays of the moonlight upon the stone. Her eyes fluttered shut and she squared her shoulders, breathing in with a patient and measured ease.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Azriel could feel the air around them as it seemed to still along with the redhead – no longer the playful young priestess, but a warrior preparing for battle. He bent his knees and shifted his weight, preparing for what would face him when she opened her eyes. Even his shadows hung frozen over his shoulders, paralyzed in anticipation.

The Valkyrie didn’t give him time to admire how her incredible eyes had become dark and infinite with determination and deadly calm. She struck immediately.

The shadowsinger was taken aback for the briefest moment, but of course he knew that was what she had intended. Often when they sparred it began measured and slow. They knew each other too well, understood their strategies, strengths, and tells. So many times they would simply circle for what seemed like hours, silently daring the other to make the first move. Or relentlessly goading each other until one of them reacted.

Gwyn immediately jumping on the offensive was unusual, and he kept his eyes keenly focused on her face, her breathing, her movement, in an attempt to divine her plan. He deftly blocked punches and ducked under a kick meant for his face, grinning when he heard the muttered curse under her breath. His grin widened as she moved away from him, chest heaving.

“Winded already, Berdara?” Azriel cocked an amused eyebrow as they circled each other. “How disappointing.”

“My training has suffered a bit these last few weeks,” she retorted, wiping the back of her hand over her brow.

“Oh, I am well aware. I saw Nesta knock you on your ass the other day.” The shadowsinger aimed for that same shoulder, the one she left exposed when she was exhausted, throwing a punch, then a kick, and then another punch. Gwyn managed to dodge the kick but couldn’t fully avoid the second fist. She staggered backward with a grunt.

“I’ve been somewhat preoccupied,” she growled. A pang of guilt struck him, but he didn’t let it show, didn’t let it move him. He knew she hadn’t been training healthily, and he knew it was because of him. But their relationship in the ring was just as much about trust and accountability as it was about supporting each other and fighting their lingering darkness. He would not pity her, and he would not take it easy on her.

“Again, priestess. I am well aware.”

Gwyn’s response was to lash out, sending an uncontrolled punch at his face. Azriel caught her wrist and spun her around, caging her in his arms with her back against his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling of her panting body against his as he angled his head to whisper in her ear.

“Your enemy will not wait until you’re ready to strike. You must always be primed, skills honed and mind settled. Even when stupid males make your life unnecessarily difficult and painful.”

The priestess tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong as stone. But he wasn’t prepared for her to stomp her foot into his instep. She managed to escape his arms, but he kept his grip on her wrist as she whirled to face him. She wound her wrist from his hand and in the same breath he spun and kicked his leg out low, sweeping her feet out from under her. Azriel was upon her as soon as her back hit the ground, thighs straddling her stomach. Her loss of breath made it easy for him to grab her wrists and pin them to her chest.

“You must always take care of yourself, Gwyneth Berdara. Always be at your best. There must never be defeat for you. You will not falter. You will not be taken. Is that clear?” His voice had become thick as his throat tightened, the shadowsinger only just realizing the implications of her deterioration over the previous weeks. What if there had been an attack? What if something had happened? Gwyn would have been in no condition to fight. That was not a prospect he was willing to entertain. “Is that clear, Berdara?”

“Yes.” Gwyn’s answer was barely a whisper between gulping breaths. Pink stained her cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his fierce command, their compromising position, or the physical exertion. Azriel didn’t immediately release her wrists and instead leaned back onto his heels to stand. As he rose and stepped backwards over her legs he pulled her to her feet.

“You’re out of practice, priestess,” he scolded, chuckling as she scowled and pulled her arms away from him. She strode over to the water table and poured a cup from one of the half-empty pitchers left from training. Azriel had expected a retort, and when she didn’t fling one he took his time to join her, first retrieving his discarded shirt from the other side of the ring. They stood in silence, letting the night breeze cool their skin and steady their breathing. Gwyn’s teal gaze drifted to the city below, a rainbow of twinkling lights in competition with the black starlit sky. The shadowsinger was content to be silently near her, present for whatever support she needed. He took the chance to appreciate her lovely face in profile, the moonlight illuminating the freckles painted across her cheeks.

“There wasn’t any real reason for me to come up here tonight,” Gwyn admitted softly, keeping her eyes focused out into the night. “I just… wanted to see if you would be here. I wanted to spar with you again, finally. Like we used to.”

Azriel took a moment to soak himself in her confession and allowed the guilt to wash over him briefly. That there was even a shred of insecurity inside her, the smallest thought that he wouldn’t be there for her. He would snuff out those thoughts if it took him another five centuries. “I told you I would prove it to you, that I would earn your trust again. It felt… right. Tonight, I mean.” And then that beautiful smile graced her full lips. She still didn’t turn to him, but he knew without seeing how that smile would light up her eyes. His shadows lazily churned, basking in her contentment, and the shadowsinger allowed himself to delight in the golden spark of hope in his chest when his priestess finally answered.

“Yes. It does feel right.”

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[gloriainalbis]

Strangers

Part 1 - Losers (S1E1)

Nathan Young x Reader  Words: 4.4k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, drugs  Songs:  Strangers - The Kinks  Bad Reputation - Joan Jett 

“So you've been where I've just come From the land that brings losers on”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3

--

    As bad days go, you’re having a pretty horrible one when you arrive at the Wertham Community Center. It’s the first of many to come, part of the court-mandated service that goes along with your ASBO. Your dad keeps telling you that you’re lucky the judge had been so lenient and should be grateful that he’s allowing you to stay with him and your stepmum again– even though you have no one to stay with and nowhere else to go. And he’s your dad. “In the future,” you tell him while getting out of the car, “I think I’ll walk.” 

     Striding through the frosted glass of the front doors, you continue on to the locker rooms to change into the orange jumpsuits you find waiting for you. You choose a locker on the far wall and dump your stuff there. You decide to leave your t-shirt on underneath, zipping the suit up most, but not all, of the way. Finished, you lean back to take a look at your designated companions for the 200 hours to be dispersed across the next few months. One girl has chosen her locker to be in front of the mirror. Her hair is short, curly, and pinned back on the side to form some cute bangs-like fringe. You notice an ankle monitor adorning her lower leg as she strips down to a pink lace pushup bra and panties and steps into her jumpsuit, rolling up the sleeves and bottom cuffs and adding a gold belt around her waist to complete the ensemble. The color of her earrings and bangle bracelets– both large, round, pink, and plastic– match her underwear. She steps back to take a look at herself and smiles. Another girl brushes her hair back into a high and tight ponytail. She looks curvier than the first girl, but just as confident, pairing smoky black eye makeup with shiny, pale pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. The guy who’d taken a locker near yours fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it between his lips. He looks equal parts cute and odd, tall and lanky with a mop unruly, curly hair framing his face. He wears a red and black checkered shirt and an air of swaggering cockiness radiates from him with a pungency usually reserved for uncommonly offensive odors. He smirks at you slyly. The guy with the locker across from the two girls looks vaguely familiar to you. He has two gold chains, one with a cross, and a grey tank top. His jumpsuit is only zipped up halfway, with the arms tied around his waist. He looks remarkably fit, and, not having much of an affinity for sports, you wonder where you recognize him from. The last person you see in the locker room is shadowy and reserved. His hair is short and neatly combed and his jumpsuit is buttoned up all the way to the very last button. He holds a small, black camera phone in his hand and shifts his gaze between people nervously. As you start to file out, one last person stomps in front of you, looking you up and down as he nearly bowls you over. You grimace as he winks. The first thing you notice about him is the immaculate green flat-brimmed baseball cap. You suspect that this hat and others like it are a large part of his personality. Once you’re all together, a man introducing himself as your probation worker, Tony, leads you outside and has you line up against some railing as he gives what you believe is supposed to be a rousing speech. From left to right is Curtis, Gary, Nathan, you, Kelly, Alisha, and Simon. You would learn their names later, but for the purposes of clarity, we’ll start using them now. Tony paces before you, attempting to assume the macho, fear-inducing demeanor of a boot camp officer. “This is it,” he barks. “This is your chance to do something positive. Give something back. You can help people, you can really make a difference to people’s lives. That’s what community service is all about. There are people out there who think you’re scum. You have an opportunity to show them they’re wrong.” He has the tone of someone who has given this speech before and is just barely holding onto their faith in its underlying message. The girl to your left, Kelly, looks mildly offended at the word “scum,” as if Tony had been speaking directly to her. “Yeah, but what if they’re right?” Nathan interrupts on your right. He looks around at the rest of you, “No offense, but I’m thinking some people are just born criminals.” You smile to yourself and try to hold back a chuckle as a look of anger flashes over suspected-douchebag-Gary’s eyes and he bursts out with “Are you looking to get stabbed?” “You see my point there?” Nathan asks, turning back to Tony. A phone rings and Alisha answers with a casual “Hey,” while twirling a curl between her manicured fingers. Tony tries to continue, but he’s becoming increasingly exasperated. “Doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past-” “Doin’ my community service,” Alisha speaks to her phone. “Hey!” He tries and fails to catch her attention. “Boring as fuck,” she continues. It was getting harder not to laugh and you glance at Nathan out of the corner of your eye, amused at the part he had to play in the deterioration of Tony’s speech. “Excuse me!” He tries again. “Hello, I’m still talking here.” “What, I thought you’d finished?” She didn’t care, evidently. “You see my lips still moving, that means I’m still talking.” He tries to assert something akin to authority but clearly doesn’t realize how poorly that approach tends to work on rag-tag groups of rebellious young offenders. “Yeah, but you could have been yawning, or chewing,” Nathan points out facetiously in a drawling tone. Tony ignores him, but you are full-on laughing at this point. “End the call! Hang up!” He shouts at Alisha to no avail. “My probation worker,” she explains to the person on the other line. “You all right there, weird kid?” Nathan leans past you to point at Simon, who stood alone at the far end of your lineup. Tony fumed. “Don’t be disgusting. I’ll call you later.” She finally hangs up, looking over at Nathan, who was approaching Gary and making kissing noises at him. “I’ll rip out your throat and shit down your neck,” Gary snaps back. He looks amusingly short in comparison, you now realize. Curtis grimaces and leans away from the touchy ball of anger standing next to him. “I shouldn’t be here, man.” Kelly gapes at his arrogance as Gary starts to scuffle with Nathan, grabbing at his jumpsuit. “We need to work as a team here. Hey, that’s enough!” Tony takes a few steps forward. “Can I move to a different group? This isn’t going to work for me,” Curtis continues, even though Tony is clearly otherwise engaged. You lean back, nearly bumping into Kelly as she steps to Cutis’ indirect insults. “Um… What makes you think that you’re better than us?” “What is that accent?” Nathan comments, drawn out of his conflict by the way her “us” sounded a lot more like “oss” “Is that for real?” Curtis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What, are you tryna’ say something or yeah?” She speaks, the latter half her sentence mostly lost due to her lack of enunciation. “Its- you- that’s just a noise! Are we supposed to be able to understand her?” Nathan exclaims. You shake your head and raise your eyebrows at their audacity and Kelly’s incoherence. She sticks her hand out and flips him off, “Do you understand that?” Things escalate again when Nathan puts an arm around a violently unwilling Gary who responds by grabbing him and preparing to punch. “Hey, pack it in!” Tony lunges forward to separate them “It’s love, man!” Nathan yells. You double over, stepping back to get out of the way. Kelly meets your gaze and smirks at the growing scene before you. Alisha laughs, a high-pitched giggle. Tony stood between them now, pulling Gary further and further away from Nathan, who assumed a boxer’s stance and put up his fists comically. “Do it man! Do it! You’re a prick, man, look at you!” Gary calls, trying to push past Tony. “What the fuck are they doin’?” You say to everyone behind you as Kelly looks between you and Alisha. Simon looks like he’d rather be elsewhere, as does Curtis, but for different reasons. Nathan had taken to punch the air, which only served to further aggravate Gary. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, bruv! He’s takin’ the piss, come here!” Cue the intro music. --     Tony eventually diffuses the conflict between Nathan and Gary and finally leads everyone to some benches by the lake, which you are told to paint white. Paint drips everywhere, from your shoes to the concrete sidewalk, but you hardly care. How different is this from the reason you were here in the first place? You were reprimanded for painting on someone else’s property and were told to instead paint on someone else’s property to pay for it, how is that supposed to work? The only difference is that the first time had been art, and this was largely pointless. They wanted to cover up the graffiti on these benches, but the new paint job would only make future acts of vandalism easier to see. You did it anyway, though, happy to peel off with Nathan and Kelly as Curtis and Alisha and Simon and Gary pair off to the benches on either side of you. You watch as Gary leans down to pick up more paint on his brush, his hat brushing dangerously close to the fresh paint before it finally touches, leaving a stark white smear on the brim. You poke Nathan’s shoulder and point as Gary notices, ripping off his hat in horror and stomping off in a huff, kicking a bucket of paint into the lake and leaving behind a violent burst of white. “Oh, man! There’s paint on my cap, this is bullshit!” “Ooh!” Alisha whistles as he walks past. Everyone turns and stares as he struggles with a shopping cart that’s in his way, kicking it at first before trying and failing to shove it into the lake as well when it simply falls in front of him, still blocking the path. “I know you,” you hear Alisha say to Curtis, perking up due to your own curiosity. “No, you don’t,” he brushes her off. “Yes, I do,” She continues, unphased. “You’re that runner guy. You screwed up big time.” That’s it. You’d seen him years ago at your secondary school’s track meets and races, and later in the news for his accomplishments and subsequent arrest. “You noticed, yeah? Thanks for reminding me.” He grew increasingly annoyed, and it was abundantly clear. Overhearing, Nathan glances up at Kelly and tries to strike up a conversation, “So I’m guessing shoplifting?” She ignores him. “No?” He was about to speak again when she cuts him off, “Don’t act like you know me, ‘cuz you don’t.” “I’m just makin’ conversation!” He motions to you and Kelly, “This is a chance to network with other young offenders. We should be swapping tips. Brainstorming!” He looks at you to continue, but you stay silent, also curious about Kelly’s infraction. You shrug and he looks back at her. “Come on, what did you do?” “This girl called me a slag so I just got into a fight,” she admits, slapping her paintbrush to the bench in annoyance. “Was this on the Jeremy Kyle show?” He jokes. “No, it was at Argos.” “Argos?” you ask, finding the store an odd place to get into fights. “You know what you should’ve done? You should have got one of them little pens and jabbed it in her eye.” He was referring to the pens for filling out the catalog cards at Argos and you smirk at the image, but Kelly just stares at him incredulously. It’s an odd thing to say to someone you barely knew. He turns to look at you, “And you? I need to know what we’re workin’ with here.” “Ah…” You glance between Nathan and Kelly before continuing, “Graffiti, mostly, and throwing a party that bugged my neighbors, breaking the peace.” You had broken the law, technically, but it was nothing compared to punching someone and getting into a fight in the middle of Argos. He raises his eyebrows curiously, “Is there a story behind it or was it just mindless vandalism?” “It was on the wall of my apartment, my landlord saw it when he went to break up a party that my friends were throwing and he said he’d report me.” “Oh, what a wanker!” Nathan exclaims. “The worst part is I lost the apartment and now I’ve gotta live with my dad and stepmum again and it’s a living nightmare.” You don’t want to exaggerate or sound like too much of a cliche, but your stepmother is one of the meanest people you have ever encountered. You could understand it to some extent, as she has two young children and you aren’t the greatest of influences. You call these siblings stepfuck and stepcunt respectively, case in point. “Well, I can sympathize with that. But at least yours is a stepmum, they’re, like, inherently kinda hot, amirite?” You glare at him and begin to understand some of Kelly’s annoyance. He redirects, turning his attention to Simon, who is now painting his bench all alone after Gary’s outburst. “What about you, weird kid? Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like a panty-sniffer.” He holds his hands up beside his face, mocking a disgusting sniff of some invisible panties. “I’m not a panty-sniffer,” he responds. “I’m not a pervert.” He tries to return to painting the bench, but Nathan begins walking towards him, pretending to jack off with his paintbrush still in his hand, grunting disgustingly. You sigh and roll your eyes, glancing at Kelly. He could be funny, sure, but you were quickly learning about his tendency to take things too far. Kelly shrugs at you. “I tried to burn someone’s house down,” Simon blurts out to get Nathan to stop. Everyone who’d heard snapped to attention, as arson seems considerably more serious than vandalism or a few punches. “Fire?” Nathan laughs and walks back. Kelly looks up at him, “What did you do?” You were still curious about the fire and arson, but you let the conversation move on regardless. “Me? I was done for eatin’ some pick ‘n’ mix.” “Yeah, right,” you scoff. “Bollocks,” Kelly agrees. “What is goin’ on with this weather,” Nathan muses, distracted, as thunder rolls down from overhead and you quickly noticed the growing dark storm clouds in the sky just across the lake. Huh, odd. That hadn’t been there just a few minutes ago. “How did that happen?” you hear behind you, looking around to see Tony returning, an angry look instantly plastered to his face. He points to the overturned paint can, part of Gary’s carnage, and holds his arms up in exasperation. “I mean, you’ve been here five minutes. It’s painting benches. How’d you screw that up? You tell me, because I’ve got no idea.” From out of nowhere, a giant white ball of something smashes down on the car behind Tony, completely caving in the roof and sending the car alarm blaring. Shocked, you jump back and duck amid the various screams and cries of “What the hell was that?” and “Oh, Jesus!” Nathan’s smug grin immediately falls and transforms into fear and wonderment. Alisha shrieks, crying out in a warbling tone, “What’s goin’ on?” Tony turns around slowly in disbelief and gasps, “That’s my car!” “Oh, fuck,” you mutter under your breath. But Nathan isn’t taking it as seriously. “Classic,” he chuckles, thinking it to be some sort of prank. But then another thing falls from the sky into the lake behind you, whizzing past your heads and spraying you, Nathan, and Kelly in an onslaught of lake-water. “Okay, so I’m a little bit freaked out!” he admits. “No fucking shit!” you agree. “What is that?” Alisha asks, turning your attention to the storm Nathan had pointed out just moments ago. It had grown, somehow, turning dark and dangerous as it travels at an unnervingly fast pace towards your group. Simon holds his phone up to film the storm and its effects just as another ball crashes into the dumpster beside him, knocking over the heavy, metal container and spewing ice at him as he ducks and runs from it. More and more ice falls from the sky, huge blocks larger than your head, and you don’t want to think of what could happen if one of them hit you. “Right, let’s get everyone inside,” Tony instructs as more and more of them fall all around you. “Move! Move! Run!” You sprint back to the community center at top speed, holding your head as ice shards rain down on you, pelting and stinging your face and arms. Your heart practically beats out of your chest. One ball of ice pummels into the sidewalk in front of you, breaking a concrete tile. Another falls into a phonebooth, and the glass shatters to the ground around your feet. The storm seems to get thicker as you near the center, and your hair is plastered to your face from the mixture of sweat and water that you were drenched in. You could barely hear Tony yell “Keep going!” over the crashes and booms that fill your ears as you run for your life. Curtis reaches the door first, pulling on the handles and banging on the glass before stepping back and yelling over the din to Tony, “It’s locked! Open it!” Tony groans, “Come on…” and fumbles with the keys. You throw yourself against the wall, as far away as possible from the mega hail storm, and scream, “Just fuckin’ unlock it!” “What is happening?” Kelly shrieks as another massive ball of ice falls onto the pavement beside her. “Open the door, come on!” Nathan yells as Tony grows increasingly frustrated. “I’m finding the right key!” he bellows back “Open the door!” Curtis yells again, and Alisha agreed. “Open the fucking door!” Tony whips around in a burst of anger, “Don’t speak to me like that!” You were about to berate him for his poor priorities when a bright white burst of cold lightning cracks in front of you and sends you flying backward in a chorus of screams. Time slows as you fly through the air and the electricity transforms from a chilling shock to a burning flare, searing and snaking through you as you soar and tumble backward onto the hard pavement. You hit the ground with a sickening thud, from which groans and cries of pain follow. A few remaining snowballs hit the ground around you, but the storm appears to have passed. “I feel really weird,” you hear Kelly say. Your vision is still black, which has you worried until you realize it’s only because your eyes are still closed. You open them and sit up, rubbing the back of your head, which is still screaming in pain. “That’ll be the lightning,” Curtis says to try and explain what just happened. “We should be dead,” Simon points out. “Well, that’s comforting,” you snap back. “A little reassurance might be nice, you know,” Nathan agrees, instead directing his comment to Tony, who is sprawled before the door of the center and has just started to sit up. “‘You’re fine!’ ‘Looking good!’” he elaborates. “Wanker…” Tony groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Did he just call me a wanker?” Nathan asks, indignantly glancing at you and everyone else. He snaps his fingers at Tony, “Hey? Hello?” You see a quick look of anger flash across Tony’s face before he grumbles, “Is everyone alright?” “We could have died, you dick,” Alisha adds. “Are you alright?” Kelly asks tentatively as Tony shakes his head and coughs out a growl. “You’re actin’ like a freak.” He ignores her, “Maybe we should call it a day.” --     Tony finally manages to unlock the door, and you return to the locker rooms to gather your things. You feel like you should be annoyed, leaving early only means you’ll have to spend another day here, but you are too exhausted to feel anything. That was probably the closest you’d ever been to death. You can still feel your heart beating, a deep, steady drumbeat, and your lungs ache from the running and adrenaline. Beside you, Nathan closes his locker and leans against it before turning to you, “Do you think we’ll stick together now, bonded by our shared experiences?” “Dunno. I’d rather spend as little time here as possible,” you explain, closing your locker and stepping away to put on your hoodie. “Oh, you’re one of those types, are you?” Nathan smiles. “What type?” You glare at him. “The I’m-too-cool-for-this type.” “No, that’s Curtis,” you quip, knowing that he’d already left the room. “I just happen to not like community service.” Or any of these morons, all the other girls are total slags. “Hey!” Kelly snaps, swinging around to glare at you suddenly. “Oookay?” You turn away awkwardly and leave, you can’t imagine anything you’d said having offended her. Maybe she just really loves community service or something, but that is decidedly not the impression you’ve gotten from her so far. You walk out to the waiting area by the vending machines, where you find Curtis and Simon standing around in heavy silence. Nathan follows after you moments later. “Do we just go, then?” Curtis asks, clearly annoyed. “Where’s the probation worker?” “I think there’s something wrong with him,” Simon speaks up. “It’s like he was having a spasm.” “He was probably just faking it, trying to get some compensation. Cheap bastard,” Nathan scoffs. “I don’t think he was faking it,” Simon insists, looking back down at his phone. “And you know all about being… mental.” Nathan takes a few steps forward as he talks, leering at Simon and lowering his voice. Then he pretends to convulse and yells “Wanker!” You punch him in the shoulder. “Ow, what the hell was that for?” He sticks his head out at you almost comically. You stick your head out back at him. “Stop being such a prick, he might have a point.” Alisha walks in, already looking bored. “Are we waiting for something?” “Probation worker,” Curtis explains. She scrunches up her face in disgust. “I’m not hanging around for that dickhead.” She turns on her heel and leaves, which everyone else seems to take as their cue to leave as well. You can’t be bothered to be the only one waiting around, so you follow suit. Once outside, everyone pretty much goes their separate ways. Nathan, however, trots after you. “What’re you doin’?” You ask. “Thought you looked a little lonely, and, well, I’d like to recommend my own company as recompense.” He motions to himself like he’s all that, which honestly has you snorting to hold back your laughter. “You can’t be serious.” You raise your eyebrows. “Fine, I happen to live along this way, alright? I’m Nathan, by the way.” “Y/n.” You smile at him. “And I’ll have you know that to date, I haven’t had a single complaint.” He says it like you should be impressed or something. “Can’t have complaints if you haven’t been with anybody,” you joke, smirking. His jaw drops in mock surprise, “Oy! I have, too!” He keeps trying to impress upon you the depth of his sexual prowess, offering many stories as proof, all of which have you in stitches. He peels off when you were about halfway home. You say your goodbyes and wave as he walks away, grateful for the company. A few houses down from your own, though, you stop walking, contemplating what to do next. Home doesn’t seem like a particularly fun place to be right now, but it’s not like you have anywhere else to go. It’s still the early afternoon, so it would probably be only your stepmum at home, with your dad at work and your step siblings at school. It’s practically a worst-case scenario, as you doubt she would believe that they let you go early. You wish this day had gone differently. As you’re musing and trying to work up the courage to walk the thirty or so meters left to your front door, the skies begin to darken. You look up to see if a cloud had rolled in overhead, not exactly trusting the weather as of late, but as soon as you do so, it disappears and the sky goes back to normal. You think nothing of it, which is probably a poor choice on your part, but you are too burned out to care. You finally reach the front door, closing it gingerly behind you, but to no avail. “Y/n? Is that you?” You hear from the other room. “Yup.” You stand in the doorway to the kitchen, knowing you need to address this, but desperately wanting to leave. “They let us go early today.” She eyes you quizzically, “Really?” Now here’s the thing, the truth isn’t even remotely believable– There was a freak hail storm and everyone in our group got hit by lightning or something but now we’re all okay and our probation officer did too, he let us go early and then disappeared– so you have to lie. “Yeah, ‘cuz it’s the first day. They mostly showed us the ropes, got us started on something, and then let us go.” You wait, holding your breath. “Oh.” She looks disappointed. “I thought you’d be out today.” “Yeah, well I did, too,” you mumble as you walk away, not really caring whether or not she heard. “What’d you say?!” she calls after you. “Nothing!” you yell back as you walk as quickly as possible to your room. Once inside, you sigh and collapse onto your bed. You feel like a teenager again and it’s horrible, being forced to be somewhere where you’re treated like immature crap every day, living at home again, constantly having a row with your stepmum. You hope, but doubt, that the next day will be better.

[breakingsomething]

the fall part thirteen - the storm (part one)

basic summary: an unnatural storm rolls over brighton.

trigger warnings: descriptions of torture and seizure

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow @graveyardlettuce @lower-your-expectationss

they'd fixed the gate. and not only that, but they'd put bloody barbed wire on the top of it.

all anti could do was stare numbly. there had been a hole in the fence behind the bushes for years. it was how dapper had gone in and out when they'd stayed in these very waterworks, so long ago. now it was fixed. and anti couldn't glitch inside.

he walked around the whole perimeter of the building, but couldn't find any other way in. ok, so he'd have to climb. no big deal. he'd been tortured basically every other day for five full months. he could take a little barbed wire.

five minutes later, with hands cut up and bleeding, frustratingly still on the same side of the fence, he realized maybe he couldn't take a little barbed wire.

but what were his other options? growling as much as he could with his ruined voice, he shook the fence desperately, ignoring the sharp, throbbing pains in his palms. he was absolutely going to track down every fucking council worker who'd done this and tear their throats out. he was. but for now, he had to go somewhere. preferably somewhere sheltered. a quick glance at the sky told him it was oddly dark, and it looked like it was going to rain.

anti had lived on the streets for a full year after he left jack, and then for a few months before red had caught him. well, he had discovered the waterworks and claimed it for his own a few months in to his first time alone. but he'd still basically been homeless, still fighting against the elements and people going into his territory on the daily. he was used to this. all he had to do was go find some shelter and get away from the oncoming storm. no big deal. he could handle that.

he started off down the hill, through the trees and towards the road. not many people around. just a shopkeeper closing up for the day. he looked up when he saw anti, raising his eyebrows at his shivering form.

"there's due to be a huge storm," the man told him in a thick scottish accent. anti watched him lock the doors and swing the keys on his fingers. "weather warning. everyone's to stay inside, that's why i'm closing up early. better get home quickly, son. wouldn't want to get caught in it."

anti paused, then gave a quick nod before bustling past and speed walking down the pavement. the rain had started, very light at first, but continuously getting heavier, drenching him through his hoodie and shirt to his skin. his teeth chattered, and he numbly thought that at least there was no possibility of biting his tongue now. that was something.

his tattered trainers splashed through rapidly forming puddles as he walked, rubbing his arms with his bleeding hands to try and warm himself. all he succeeded in was getting stains on his blue hoodie. the sky was getting even darker, the sheet of rain coming even closer together, and then there was the sudden, inevitable crack of -

"- thunder, do you hear?" red was saying. he'd grown more comfortable with what he was doing now, anti could tell. there was more of a swagger in his step, the grin on his face less forced and more confident. he crouched in front of anti with an upturned smirk, victory sparkling in his blue eyes. "from outside. i don't know how well you can hear, actually - we are deep down, and i can barely catch it myself. but it's definitely raining. listen, anti, listen."

anti chose to squeeze his eyes shut instead, ignoring red's words. it was a pathetic act of rebellion, but it was all he could do in this situation. he almost flinched as something touched his face; a hand, warm skin against his. he hadn't experienced that for months before now. "oh, anti," red crooned softly. "what's wrong? not feeling up to it today? is it one of your off days?"

fuck you, fuck you, anti chanted in his head. the dishrag that had been shoved in his mouth stung the stub of his tongue that was left, causing more blood to well up down his throat. the makeshift gag was no more than a humiliation, obviously. and it hurt. not the kind of hurt anti ever inflicted on himself; this pain was constant. and not only that, but the withdrawl of his carbamazepine was starting to kick in, and red had taken great pleasure in mocking his constant seizures as a result.

"no biting remark?" red laughed. he slapped anti's face, gently but just hard enough that it stung. "come on, you're antisepticeye, the eternal puppetmaster, the ceo of glitches, the - what else did jack call you in that one video? the malicious gamer!" red cracked up, snorting into his palm. anti took the brief reprive to organize his thoughts, trying to keep a poker face while the bastard was still in the room.

red noticed. "oh, well. if you're gonna be boring, that's fine by me." he sat back on his heels, making a show of considering something. "so, anyway. i was talking to henrik this morning, about the weather actually, and i mentioned you. just casually. he joked that he hoped you'd get struck by lightning. well, that got me thinking. you're a computer glitch, right? or something? what would happen if you got struck by lightning, or something close to that?"

red pulled something out his hoodie pocket; a small black device with several switches on the side. "can you guess what this is, aiden?" again with the name. anti wished he knew how he'd gotten it. red suddenly slapped his face again to get his attention. "it's yet another updated prototype of that extremely powerful electrical shock device. the one i made myself, haven't tried or tested this version yet. i suppose you'll be my first and probably only subject, won't you anti?"

anti felt the haze of an oncoming seizure already, his head spinning in a cold daze. his arms, unnaturally tied back with zip ties all the way up to his elbows, screamed in agony as he tried to lean back, away from the pain he knew was coming. "cowering away so quickly?" red laughed. anti burned with hatred. "so eager to inflict pain on others, on my brothers, even, and you don't think you can take one little shock?"

red leaned in, suddenly very close. "you know, all the switches and dials on this thing are all for show," he grinned. "it only has one setting."

and fuck, fuck, the instant pain was so excruciating that anti almost passed out immediately.

fire. fucking red hot flames being injected into his bloodstream, his body heating up in an instant and jolting entirely out of his control. like a seizure, but worse, far worse, because his seizures were more predictable - he knew how long they lasted, knew how painful they usually were. this was just agony. his tied up limbs convulsed wildly, bashing against the wall and the pipe and the floor. he couldn't even scream. all he could do was make silent cries that tore up his throat, his vision blurring, stomach roiling with what would have been vomit if he had eaten at all in the past few days. as it was, bile rose in his throat, and he choked it back, letting the current pass as his body glitched to pieces.

"there," red said once it had passed. "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

anti was shaking so hard he couldn't even look straight at him, but he could hear the smug smirk in his voice. fuck, but he hated him, more than jinx, more than the doctor, more than jack, more than everyone. he'd never been this weak and humiliated and low in his entire life and even through his agony, he found the strength to glare at red, eyes black with rage and loathing, trembling as he heard the low rumble of -

- thunder, rolling across the sky like a blanket. the sound filled his ears, his head. he hadn't realized he'd stopped dead in his tracks, frozen, eyes wide with the fucking curse of remembering.

keep going, keep going. just walk, don't think, just walk. eyes facing forward. don't think. just walk.

he knew where he was going. he didn't realize he knew until he was there, right on the doorstep, right at the pale purple door that was identical to all the others on the street. soaked through, shaking for more reasons than one, mind so muddled he wasn't even sure of his own name. but he knew this door. he knew the sound of a knock, bloodied hands ruining the paint. and he knew thunder, blocking out the sound of everything but his heartbeat.

-

chase had felt warm all morning.

maybe it was because he'd been getting out a lot more lately. he'd been getting exercise, drinking water, even eating healthier. that was partially marvin's influence - chase knew how much he'd scared him with his gun, and was making an effort to push down his intrusive thoughts and appear better so no one would worry. in doing that, he had actually picked up better habits, which hadn't been intended but he supposed was definitely a bonus.

maybe it was the fact that he'd made another friend. chase was an extrovert, but didn't actively socialize with one person more than the others, usually. lucas was different. he was really sweet, really funny, and was genuinely super interesting to talk to. chase had been texting him all of last night, until almost four am. neither of them had even noticed the time. that was something chase had missed; the wanting to stay awake so he could continue a late night conversation, having someone to talk to when he couldn't get to sleep. it was a good feeling. he had missed that.

no matter what the reason was, chase was in a good mood the morning he heard someone at the door.

he fully expected it to be marvin and henrik. they had went shopping, which chase was sure was also an excuse for the two of them to talk privately about some of the current going ons they were involved in. he didn't mind. however, there had been a storm warning issued about half an hour ago, and chase was hoping to see them home soon.

he wasn't expecting to see a soaking wet, shivering anti at the door.

"oh, fuck, shit!" chase yelped, and slammed the door shut. he didn't know what else to do. anti had been missing for almost two weeks, what the fuck was he doing on their doorstep? a quick glance out the window told chase he was still there. anti noticed him looking and quirked an eyebrow at him, clutching his arms and smirking despite his disheveled demeanor. chase closed the curtains.

he immediately called marvin. "hey, chase," his brother said as soon as he called. chase could hear the faint pattering of rain. "we're just about to check out, we got the text from the council and we'll be home soon. strange storm, isn't it? is there anything you need? we've got fuckin', uhh, tissues, mac and cheese, handwash -"

"anti's here," chase blurted. "he's standing outside the door."

there was a pause. "i'm sorry, anti's what?" marvin shouted, loudly enough that chase had to pull the phone away from his ear. "that bastard, what is he doing? are you hurt? i'm gonna kill him. i'm gonna -"

"he's not hurt me, no," chase interrupted before marvin could contemplate murder any further. "he's just standing there. i kinda, uh, shut the door in his face before i could find out what was up."

marvin sighed deeply. chase could hear henrik yelling something in the background as marvin spoke again. "ok, well, he can't get in anyway. kazuki protected the place, but she gave me the key to her spell. basically, with protection spells, they can only be unlocked by another magician if given the - you don't need all the details. point is, we'll be back - henrik, quiet - we'll be back soon. is he… hurt or something?"

"can't tell," chase said. he paced the kitchen as he talked, tapping his thighs nervously. "i'll - try and talk to him. please come back soon." he paused. "also, get me an irn bru. i'll pay you back."

when marvin had hung up, chase slowly opened the door again and peeked outside. anti was leaning against the wall, hood yanked over his head, rubbing his arms to warm himself. he glanced round when chase stepped out, a look of slight surprise crossing his face as chase shut the door and stood next to him awkwardly.

he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he pulled out a lighter and a pack of sterling cigarettes, popping them open and putting one into his mouth. anti watched him light it, saying nothing, and chase silently tipped the packet towards him as an offering. anti paused before taking one, lighting it quickly and passing the lighter back to chase. chase took it, then flinched in shock when he saw the state of anti's hands.

"fucking hell, what did you do to yourself?" he exclaimed. anti quickly hid his bloodied hands back in his shirtsleeves, wrapping his arms back around himself with an eyeroll. he didn't give an answer. not that chase would have expected one even if anti could talk without using his hands. chase exhaled loudly, already regretting coming out here at all.

"so what are you here for?" chase asked. he plopped down on the steps, at the very top mostly out of the rain. anti slowly followed suit. "where have you been the past little bit anyway? everyone's been looking for you."

anti unfolded his left hand to sign with. "so they can lock me up again?" he said, shivering. "fuck off. i'm here cause it's raining and i'm barely coherent and this bloody sickness means that i experience temperatures much more extremely. i'm probably susceptible to a common cold now, actually."

chase frowned. "you've been living on the streets this whole time?"

"water works," he signed, as two separate words. it took chase a second to translate that in his head. "there's barbed wire on top. i'm not sure why i came here either, to be quite frank."

chase watched his hands, but barely took in anything he was saying. wordlessly, he stubbed out his cigarette, stood up and went inside. he came back out a couple minutes later with a bottle of water, a washcloth and some bandages. "for your hands," he said simply. he didn't look at anti's face as he went to grab his wrists and turn him towards him. anti yelped and pulled his right arm away, holding it against his chest. chase looked up again, confused.

"is there something else wrong with that arm?" he said. anti didn't answer, but pulled his other arm away too, glaring. chase sighed. "fine. if you're gonna be a bitch, treat your own wounds. or don't. i'm going back inside."

anti said nothing as chase did exactly as he said, shutting the door behind him. something darted past the kitchen door, making chase smile. "jaffa, jaffa," he called. the black cat stopped to come smell chase's hand before racing away again, leaving him alone.

it was ten minutes of internal debate before chase came to a decision as to what to do. in his mind, he knew anti was an awful person. abusive, manipulative, a man who thrived on schadenfreude, as henrik had said. and yet. and yet. there was a part of chase that could never stand to see others hurt. he was a high empathy person - always had been, even in the few memories he had from being a kid. it was why he was so determined to believe that jackie couldn't be too far gone, that chase had to be able to save him. he felt other's pain, and always wanted to be able to help. even anti. even anti, of all people.

all he could think of was connor and louise and their three weeks away from home while anti pretended to be him. they'd been in london the whole time. fucking london. like a fun little holiday while chase had a breakdown in a jail cell because he was a suspect for kidnapping. then anti had returned them, and chase still didn't understand why. they kids had been fine. chase had gone free. everything had gone relatively back to normal, except for the fact that the kids were going to private therapy in case there was any underlying trauma from the incident. none of it made any sense to him.

then there was henrik and his two months away. that time period had been hell for chase, and he knew it had obviously been a lot worse for his brother. henrik had never fully told him everything anti had done to him, but he knew it wasn't great. he'd seen henrik's reactions to nightmares and flashbacks. although, henrik had once joked that anti was the absolute worst at torturing people. he had laughed, and chase to this day had absolutely no clue if he was kidding or not.

on top of all that… jack. just jack. chase honestly didn't want to think about jack at all.

he went and sat back outside as far away from anti as he could while sitting on the same step. anti barely looked up. he seemed half asleep, the side of his face pressed against the fence leading up to the door. he had cleaned up his hands, but left the bandages unused. he was also still chewing on the end of his cigarette, which seemed to have somehow gone out.

"you know you don't eat the cig, right?" chase asked. "you smoke it. have you never smoked before?"

anti flipped him off. "i have. bitch. but it's fucking cold and i can't be bothered."

chase rolled his eyes. "well, then why did you accept it?"

"because it was free. i'm fucking poor, and cigs are hard to steal."

chase was about to ask something else when he glanced down the road and saw his brothers walking up, holding bags of shopping. he leapt to his feet and raced down the steps and the pavement, splashing through the puddles and grinning weakly at henrik and marvin as he approached. "heyyy, so. anti's at our door."

"he's not coming in," henrik said immediately. he was shaking with rage, eyes blazing. his fingers were white as he gripped the handles of the plastic bags. "that fucker is not getting anywhere near -"

"relax, hen, we know we're not letting him in," chase said. he turned to marvin, suddenly uncertain. "right?"

marvin had never been good at hiding how he was feeling. "uh, i," he articulated. chase took a bag from both him and henrik while marvin stammered, lifting them in his arms to carry. "i - well, we can't just -"

"are you fucking serious?" henrik spat, whirling on marvin. marvin's shoulders shot to his ears, eyes widening. henrik took a step away from him. "after all we've been talking about, this whole time we've been out -"

"i just feel it's inhumane!" marvin protested. his diamond shaped pupils had shrunk to thin slits, like a cat. "this storm is bad already and it's barely even started, i wouldn't want to just leave him -"

"well, he can drown for all i care," henrik snarled. they'd arrived at the base of the steps now, and henrik immediately stormed up, past anti and into the house. the door slammed shut behind him.

chase sighed. "that went well." he shot marvin an apologetic glance. "i should go talk to him. get inside quickly. storm's due to get worse."

marvin nodded. chase bounced up the steps, not looking at anti as he went by, and dropped the bags on the kitchen table. "henny!" he called. "are you ok?"

henrik was sitting on the living room couch, fuming. he had taken his wet jacket and shoes off, but hadn't changed anything else. his short hair dripped over his eyes. "you should get changed," chase said softly. "you'll catch a cold or something."

henrik yanked his hoodie over his head, angrily tossing it to the floor. "i cannot believe that bastard had the fucking gall to come here," he raged. "and marvin's on his side - do you know, while me and marvin were out, i practically poured my heart out to that fucker, i told him a ton of shit i haven't told anyone else - and he still - ugh!" he stood and paced round the room, kicking the leg of the table. "fuck, i don't know. anti can rot out there for all i care."

marvin came in a couple minutes later. "i'm sorry, hen," he said meekly. he ran his fingers through his hair. "i didn't think."

"whatever," henrik mumbled. "is he still outside?"

chase looked through the window. "yep," he confirmed. "he doesn't have anywhere else to go, apparently, so he came here."

"no doubt to piss us off." henrik went into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. even that one motion was somehow angry. "can we call someone from hecate or something to come take him back? kazuki, or someone else?"

"weather warning, remember," marvin reminded him. "it's too bad out for even magicians. well, i suppose not, there are weather related mages, and i suppose kazuki does have aerokinesis - still. i don't think they can."

they were all very quiet for a moment, listening to the booming drum of thunder outside. the dark room lit up with a flash of lightning, and the wind roared, knocking the trees against each other with piercing whistles. the rain pounded against the front of the house, and all three men looked at each other, thinking.

"i feel henrik should be the one to make this decision," chase said eventually. "he's the one who's been most badly hurt by anti."

henrik flashed him a quick, grateful smile, rubbing his shoulders unconsciously. "i don't think i want him here," he mumbled. "this is the one place we're safe. or… was, i guess. since jackie's boyfriend got in."

"no one will again," chase promised, patting his arm. he glanced at marvin as he spoke. "kazuki fixed this place herself. we're definitely protected."

both he and marvin knew that was a silent threat.

"we wouldn't want you to feel unsafe," marvin said softly. "i'm sorry if you feel that way." he let out a shuddering sigh, tapping his fingers against the table. "so… what do we do now?"

"i don't care," henrik said suddenly. he smacked the table and got up to march over to the fridge, throwing it open to look. "someone go tell anti to fuck off or something."

marvin bit his lip and looked to chase, who sighed and silently went to the outside door. the sheet of rain hit him in the face instantly, almost blinding him. "fuck," he spat, covering his eyes with his arm. anti was still sitting right where they'd left him, head in his arms. chase swallowed. "uh. henrik told you to fuck off."

anti lifted his head and shrugged.

chase tapped his socked foot against the doorway. "are you seriously gonna stay here?"

"well, what else do you want me to do?" anti said angrily. he was shaking, and chase could barely see his signs through the rain, but he got the general idea of what he was saying. "i can't go anywhere else. might as well stay here and piss off the doctor, if nothing else."

chase went back in and shut the door. "he says he's staying here cause he can't go anywhere else and also to piss off henrik," he announced. his brothers looked at chase, shirt soaked from just a minute or so outside. marvin made a face and left the room.

half an hour passed like this. they went into the living room and turned the tv on, flipping through the same shows and movies on netflix. marvin paced. henrik didn't eat the food he'd made. they were all very aware of anti outside, waiting for the storm to end.

"we might as well throw him to jackie," henrik mumbled at one point. this comment had been completely unprovoked, but they all knew what he meant. "maybe then he'll he satisfied and stop trying to kill people."

"i'm not giving anti over for my brother to torture," marvin snapped. "no matter what. i wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing i'd participated in helping him do that."

they went quiet. another ten minutes passed, and chase tried to calm the bouncing of his leg and think about anything else.

then he snapped. "ok, i don't know about you guys, and i - i know this might make me a horrible person, but i feel awful knowing he's just sitting out there looking like a kicked puppy."

marvin nodded, wringing his hands together. he'd changed into a baggy white tank top, his hair down around his face. "yeah. i - yeah."

henrik didn't answer for a bit. he was curled up in the corner of the couch, staring at the wall. eventually he turned to see chase and marvin looking at him. "what?" he snapped. "are you expecting me to change my mind?"

they both turned away again. the tv suddenly cut out without warning, and the rest of the lights in the house followed.

"great. an outage." chase flipped his torch on to see around the room. "well, that's fun."

they were definitely all thinking of anti now.

"he can't survive without electricity, can he?" marvin asked uncertainly. "that's why jackie kept him in that room."

chase hummed in agreement. he felt sick.

henrik suddenly let out a loud yell, and chase could see his silhouette leap up and march across the room. "fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck, i hate the lot of you! let's just get it over and done with, ok, because as much as i fucking hate the bastard i don't wanna go out in the morning and find a fucking corpse on my doorstep! fuck!"

marvin and chase stumbled to their feet. "we're - we're doing this?" marvin asked disbelievingly.

"apparently so." henrik walked purposefully towards the front door, chase and marvin in tow. he hesitated when he reached it and closed his eyes tight. "fuck, marvin, just let him in before i change my goddamn mind."

marvin opened the door once more. anti was curled up so close to the door that he almost fell inside, blocked only by kazuki's protection spell. chase watched, amazed, as marvin muttered a few words and then stepped outside, taking hold of anti's shoulders. "help me," he ordered chase, who obliged, trying to help lift him into marvin's arms. it seemed that anti had gone into some sort of shutdown, unmoving and limp but still breathing. henrik's breath hitched when marvin carried him inside, setting him on the floor with great difficulty. anti moaned softly, shivering and glitching out of place.

"oh god, oh mein gott, i can't do this," henrik fretted, and covered his face with his hands. chase got off the floor and pulled henrik into a soft, reassuring hug. he didn't need words to communicate what he was thinking.

"he's unconscious," marvin said. he sat anti up, pulling his sopping wet hoodie off over his head. "i'm, uh, not an expert on this stuff. but hen, i can absolutely understand not wanting anything more to do with this. i'm honestly not too pleased with it either. but, for what's it worth - thanks for letting him in."

henrik just nodded. "yes. hm. i'm going to - i think i am gonna go lay down. i don't feel great suddenly, how very odd…" he left the room, mumbling to himself.

anti coughed, trying to sit himself up with marvin helping him. "stay still, you bastard, god." then he frowned. "blinding christ, what is up with your wrist?

anti's right wrist was extremely bruised, jutting out at a slightly odd angle. "what the fuck?" chase murmured, bending down to look. "i thought he got the cast taken off cause it was healed, how could they have missed that?"

anti's eyes suddenly opened. for a moment he looked shocked, grabbing at his arms, looking back and forth across the room. marvin waved a hand in front of his face. "anti, hey. you're in here for the time being. i'm - chase, can you go get him some new clothes? he's soaked through."

anti shook his head rapidly. "no, no, i'm fine," he signed. "i'm fine, i'm fine…"

he clutched at his stomach, waving marvin off as he tried to help. "fine, fine, fine," he said frantically, looking like he was doing a repeated thumbs up. he was still shivering as chase left the room, wincing at the sudden pain in his temples. one of the signs of an oncoming migraine. how fantastic.

he got another alert on his phone. "all brighton residents to stay inside until further notice," it announced. and the storm didn't look like it was letting up anytime soon.

this was gonna be a long night.

[macwalden]

Birthday Chaos pt. 1

where: Brenton Avery’s house who: Brenton Avery ( @beeavery​ ), Rabastan Lestrange ( @diisgustednoiise​ ), Freya Avery ( @freyasavery​ ), and Walden Macnair.

BRENTON was feeling pretty pleased with himself. The mac and cheese in the oven was looking (and smelling) good and he had laid the table properly and managed to stop Ash trying to put his toys on said table for five minutes. Not only that, but he had managed to get Rabastan there although so far he had failed to mention who the fourth place setting was for. He wasn’t ready to see Walden again himself and the idea of him and Rabastan and Brenton all being in one room at the same time seemed like a pretty bad idea at the moment. But they would do it. For Freya’s birthday. The crack of apparition just outside the boundary of the house’s wards was what made Brenton think maybe Rabastan did deserve a bit of a heads up. “You know how it’s Freya’s evening?” But his own lack of privacy when it came to knocking meant that his house had something of an open door policy for family so there wasn’t enough time before the handle started to turn. He gripped onto Rabastan’s hand and dragged him along with him into the hallway, Ash bounding alongside them.

RABASTAN had nothing against freya, in fact, he considered her to be a close friend. he wanted to help her celebrate, but he'd be lying if he didn't feel out of place at an intimate family dinner. and that didn't even begin to cover his feelings towards birthdays as a whole. in general, birthdays, or at least, his birthday, weren't celebrated in the lestrange household. he was unfamiliar with the entire concept, but still he helped with the preparations, even going as far as arranging a bouquet for the table. of course, he was still nervous, especially at the sight of the unexplained fourth place setting. for their father perhaps? though he was sure brenton would've given him notice if his father was attending. freya's date? that made more sense, but again, why hadn't brenton mentioned it? that left him with a sickening feeling, but he chose to ignore it, instead forcing a smile across his face as he reluctantly followed the other into the hallway. "is there something you're trying to tell me?" he asked, eyebrow arched as he turned his head to look at brenton.

FREYA walked into Brenton's house confidently, after pausing just a moment for a polite knock.  She wasn't usually all that concerned about barging in, but he had gone through the trouble of making her a birthday dinner; she could pretend to have manners for the evening. She wasn't necessarily surprised to see Rabastan.  Brenton's reaction at the Quidditch match after Seb had died told her that something was going on there.  And did he brother do friendships without the added benefit of the occasional hook up?  She wasn't sure, nor did she blame him.  Sex was fun.  Rabastan was a good friend, but he was very boring.  Maybe Brenton was trying to corrupt him a bit?  She could see the appeal in that -- or maybe they were just buddies.  She truly doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

"It's my birthday," she announced with a casual shrug.  Just in case the near daily reminders and the plastic tiara she had worked into her hair weren't enough of an indication.  "so I brought the cake."  She didn't bother to hold it out for them to expected, stepping between them and leading the way into the kitchen.  "Where's --" she stopped at the sound of someone else entering the house.  "Nevermind!"

It was the week of WALDEN and Freya's birthday but the older man definitely did not feel like it. At his age, celebrating every birthday felt more like an obligation than a celebration. But somehow, always having them with Brenton and Freya helps make it a little more bearable. But Walden knew that this celebration was going to be a problem precisely because of that. Ever since, Walden's confrontation with Brenton, he's been in somewhat of a downward spiral filled with booze and men to occupy the time. Just last night he sought out a very eager gentleman who was more than willing to leave marks all over his body. Marks that he didn't even bother to remove. He hadn't seen Brenton since the incident so he was certain that there would still be tension in the air between them. But as much as he wanted to ditch his own birthday celebration, family is family. And it's not only his birthday they were sharing a dinner for. It's also Freya's. The day finally comes and Walden dons a coat over his usual set of clothes without even bothering to cover up a sweet red spot just beneath his jaw. He strolled right through the open door with a bottle of vodka in his hands and a swagger that screamed fuck all. "And I brought vodka." he added as he appeared in the hallway walking straight towards them.  His eyes caught Freya and flashed a brief smile. "So where's my tiara?"

Freya proved a good enough distraction for BRENTON to avoid Rabastan’s question again. At least she was there first, although Brenton was quickly running out of time to bring up Walden. He had mentioned before that they grew up together, immediately after returning from the proposition Walden had set up with Jasper, but the explanation had been rushed and confused and likely didn’t leave Rabastan with the full impression of what ‘growing up together’ meant. Especially given Brenton had said that they used to fuck. He reluctantly let go of Rabastan’s hand to let Freya pass and as he turned to follow immediately reached out again for his other hand, but his eyes were on Freya, a mixture of fondness and amusement on his face at her tiara and the fact she had known he wouldn’t bother with a cake and the fact she had barely batted an eyelid to Rabastan being there. “Happy birthday, wean,” he said, reaching out to mess up her hair. The arrival of the final guest had Brenton’s body language changing completely. He pulled Rabastan close, an arm going around his shoulders. It was in part a comfort to himself but it was also a strong message to Walden that this was a thing and he would just have to accept that. An added bonus was stopping Rabastan from being able to apparate without risking a splinching if Brenton was holding onto him. “Happy birthday,” he said to Walden, his voice chilly compared to the way he had said it to Freya. He forced a smile onto his face as he turned his attention back to Freya and Rabastan but it was tense. “So many options. What would you two like to drink?” Besides the vodka there was all the drink Brenton always had kicking around: a combination of dark liquors, beers and white wine as well as a handful of random soft drinks that were more for show than for drinking.

"happy birthday, freya," RABASTAN greeted his friend with a smile as he moved back to allow her room to pass. if she was surprised by his presence, she did a good job of hiding it. and for that he was beyond thankful, he already felt incredibly out of place, the last thing he needed was for it to be pointed out. and perhaps, he thought, this night might be alright after all. freya was alone, which was a good sign, brenton may have gotten the number of place settings wrong. his question for brenton all but forgotten, a smile on his face as he turned to follow after freya. the cake looked amazing, not that he had doubted freya's skills for one second, and the fragrant smell of pasta and cheese filled the air. but of course, he had been too optimistic, as the familiar pop of apparation filled the air. but still, folding on to what little hope he had left he once more turned around, a forced smile on his face as he cast a glance at brenton before turning towards the door. he found brenton's gesture to be a bit unsettling, such a display of affection was rather unusual for them, but he leaned in, even allowing his shoulders to drop as he stood facing the door. every thing clicked the second walden entered, and it took ever ounce of his self control not to turn around and say something he'd later regret. he remained silent, eyes narrowed, shoulders tensed as he reluctantly followed behind the rest of the group. he thought about apparating, but seeing as he had no where to go, he decided against it. for now. not waiting for anyone to make their drink order, he moved towards the bottle of scotch and poured himself a rather generous glass. and taking a large sip of it, he reluctantly turned back around, choosing to remain silent. perhaps if he didn't say anything, they would jsut forget that he was there.

FREYA didn't say anything, just offered a cheerful smile to her brother and Rabastan.  It wasn't that she was unbothered -- she didn't get it, not really.  Rabastan was vanilla and Brenton was one tiny spoonful of all the flavors in the ice cream shop mixed together.  She supposed Rabastan had a nice body; and maybe he saved all his chaos for his bed mate.  It was something that she could respect, if she were being honest.  But it wasn't her business -- she was making a lot of assumptions, but she knew her brother well enough to know that he wouldn't have invited a casual friend over for their birthday dinner.  But he could fuck anyone he wanted -- she'd mind her own business. But as Walden appeared she grew interested again, setting their cake on the table and lowering herself onto the chair.  She knew he was joking, but when he asked where his tiara was she pulled the second birthday crown she had bought over out of her bag and passed it to him with a grin.  "Happy birthday!"

But the tension in the room seemed thick and it was fantastic.  Something had happened here.  And Brenton's arm around Rabastan was far more funny than it was sweet.  He was being a jealous... boyfriend?  "Are you two fighting?"  She asked curiously, looking between Brenton and Walden.  "I've got to go get my camera if you're going to throw punches, so warn me first, at least."

WALDEN didn't show that Brenton's public display of affection affected him. Sure, it made him slightly throw up bile in his mouth but he kept it in. He wasn't willing to give Brenton the satisfaction. At both the Avery's greetings, Walden just smiled humorlessly. He didn't even thank Brenton.  All he did was accept Freya's extra tiara and place it on his forehead. "Happy Birthday, Freya." At least with her, Walden was genuine. He was greeted twice but as far as he was concerned, there was one person who didn't greet him. He looked straight at Rabastan, even thought the younger man wasn't looking at him. "So no greetings for me?" Walden simply rolled his eyes and ignored Freya's comment. Walden was never one to throw punches. That's what wands are for. Since she didn't answer Brenton's question, he took it upon himself to answer the other male's question. He can't help but notice that Rabastan refused to answer as well. In fact, the boy slipped away from Brenton's grasp. Huh. Lover's quarrel maybe? Merlin, he hopes so. "Something dark, please," he said, already walking past all of them to head towards the table. "Got any rum?" he cried out, clearly not intending to make his own drink.

BRENTON gave Freya his best attempt at an innocent, wide-eyed look. "I've never fought anyone in my life," he said, even though all of them knew that was a lie. Although, he had no plans whatsoever to fight Walden today. It was their birthdays and they were having family time. He wouldn't ruin it by starting a fight. However irritated he was already feeling just from the mere presence of his old friend. He was happy for Rabastan to help himself to the scotch, because in his mind that's how it should be. If there was anyone who should feel enough at home to help themselves it was Rabastan. All three of them, actually, but mostly Rabastan. "I'll have scotch, too, if you're pouring," he said, a smile on his face that disappeared when Brenton found himself staring at Walden's back, resolution not to start a fight quickly forgotten. "You're not having the vodka? Of course you're not. You only want to share your things when it's something I don't want." Still, he wasn't that bothered that pouring Walden's drink was left to him. It gave him the chance to turn to Rabastan and tilt his head to indicate he wanted to talk to him away from the other two as he opened his liquor cabinet to get out the dark rum.

while the thought to help himself to walden's bottle of vodka had crossed RABASTAN’s mind, it would have required interacting with the older male and that was something he was in no rush to do. he knew it would happen sooner or later, but hopefully, after he'd consumed a considerable amount of alcohol. so, eyes narrowed, he held his glass to his mouth as he took another long sip of his scotch. if he wasn't worried about putting on a good front for freya's sake, he would've opted to drink straight from the bottle. but, it was probably in his best interest to not end up blacked out. so instead he found himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and trying even harder to avoid brenton's gaze. he knew the second their eyes met, he'd be unable to hold back his emotions. it was already taking a considerable amount of self control for him not to scream at brenton, letting his feelings about being lied too known. but, he'd make sure the other go an earful later. he chose to ignore freya's comment about the fight, hoping that brenton and walden would do the same. it was bad enough, they didn't need to talk about it, though he was certain it would come up sooner or later. but rather than dwelling on it, he turned to pour brenton a glass of scotch, purposefully under pouring, whilst also topping off his own glass. "here you go," he responded, his tone just a bit too hostile as he pushed the glass across the counter, before turning around. he wasn't interested in talking to brenton, not now. so instead he turned his focus to freya, "tell me, how has your day been so far?" he asked, an eyebrow arched as he moved to take a seat next to her.

FREYA tilted her head to the side, trying to hide the amusement on her face.  She had always been far too entertained when there was unspoken tension in the room.  It was a fun little game, trying to figure out what had happened before someone spilled.  Someone always spilled.  "You too," she grinned at Walden.  "I made your favorite."  She gestured at the cake.  "Even though it's only the second best sort." She was tempted to reach for a drink, but there'd be time for that later -- her eyes flicked from Walden to Brenton and then to Rabastan, who looked somewhere  between angry and uncomfortable.  He was involved too?  It seemed like Rabastan was on Brenton's side, of course he was.  Just another bit of evidence in the her former betrothed and her brother were hooking up column.  But if Rabastan and Brenton were on each other's side she supposed she should secretly cheer Walden on. "More for me," she said cheerfully, reaching forward for the vodka -- which was a disgusting drink, but she was on Walden's side for now so she did it for the team spirit.  She pour just a tiny bit in the glass and swirled it a bit before grabbing the soda and dumping the rest in the glass.  She smirked at Walden, sure he'd have something to say about her defacing perfectly good vodka and sat back down. When Rabastan pointedly ignored Brenton's not so subtle signal she raised her eyebrows.  Maybe they weren't on each other's side?  But they were totally fucking.  That was confusing, but she'd get the whole story before the night was done, she was sure of it.  "It's been good!  I baked and I went to take my father his gift.  And I slept in before all of that.  Went a bit too hard at a pub last night.  Yours not going so good?"  She sort of wanted Walden and Brenton to go away so she could plan some kind of prank or mild to moderate chaos to liven up the evening with Rabastan.  Maybe if she pretended the mac and cheese was on fire.

"Well that's not very polite, is it?" WALDEN muttered. He made sure that it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. "Didn't you guys tell him this was a joint birthday celebration?" he asked Freya and Brenton while deliberately ignoring Rabastan. He's very much disappointed at the Avery's for ignoring the fact that Rabastan didn't greet him as well. "Second best?" Walden asked Freya. "Are you trying to tell me that you hate me?" he joked. At the rate that the party is going, he wasn't even sure if they'll ever reach dessert. Walden kept his indecipherable mask on as Brenton questioned him not drinking the very drink he brought. Brenton's comment actually left something in him a little bruised. Just one little spat. One twat named Rabstan caught in between them. Now, Brenton's acting like Walden has never done anything for him that he actually wanted or needed.  Well two could play at that game. "Just wanted to start with something dark is all. Didn't know you don't like Vodka. I assumed something as tasteless like vodka would be up your alley." His eyebrow shot up when Rabastan slid the glass of scotch towards Brenton with hostility? Was there trouble in paradise? If so, then maybe the night might prove itself to be enjoyable after all.  Brenton clearly wanted some time alone with Rab but the other was clearly not having it so Walden took it upon himself to join Brenton while he made his drink. In a voice low enough so that the others won't hear, he asked Brenton, "So is this you making things official with dear Rabastan over there? You're really doing this on Freya's birthday?"

[notfckincool]

Dirty Girl

CH 1 - IM NEGAN

Negan x Ana (OC)

A collection of short smutty stories. Strong sexual content.

Ana embarks on a casual, and obviously filthy affair with Negan, accidentally falling for the man, knowing he will never love her, Angst and kinkyfuckery.

CHAPTER 1 - I'M NEGAN 

Negan X Ana (OC)

Ana meets the charismatic and dangerous leader of The Saviors

WARNINGS: mild swearing and violence, smut by chap 3

I came across the community a couple of days ago, a stranger, a weary traveller, surviving alone in the woods, wandering from place to place.

That's how I like it to be honest, no ties, no responsibilities. I come and go as I please, no one to answer to, no one but myself to rely on.

I had no real intention of staying for long, I never did. The high walls and strict rules, these places always ended up feeling like a prison. I would trade my finds, enjoy the little luxuries like showers, clean clothes, mattresses, and a no strings fuck, and then be on my way.

I stopped getting too close or emotionally attached to anyone a long time ago.

People will do whatever the fuck they need to do to survive. It's that simple, and it's surprising how quickly you can change and adapt, what you can become comfortable with.

I live with the knowledge that each day could very well be my last, and being the impulsive passionate gal that I am, I might as well make the most of any opportunities that come my way.

Which brings me to my main point

The tall, rugged, incredibly handsome, leather jacket clad Alpha that's just come swaggering in through the gates.

Clutching a baseball bat slung casually over his shoulder, he stands with the confidence of a man who always gets what he wants. 'Big dick energy' they say. My mind wanders briefly.

The people around me are visually terrified as his band of roguish looking soldiers rally around gathering everybody together. I hover at the back of the crowd intrigued. As the leaders of the community step to the front everyone suddenly drops to their knees.

The fuck?

He turns and looks directly at me, we are now the only ones still standing. He waits. Someone tugs at my trouser leg. I take the hint and kneel.

Pacing slowly up and down, he oozes authority and power. The community leaders shake in his presence. Some of them are sweating and sobbing quietly. I on the other hand am mesmerised by his larger than life personality.

He likes to liberally sprinkle 'fuck', and all it's variations in almost every sentence. At some point shitting pants are mentioned, and there are a lot of dick references. I laugh out loud at his jokes, earning some angry glances from the residents.

What? Come on, the guy's funny!

At the end of his speech he shows off his bat, it appears to be wrapped in barbed wire and he calls it Lucille. OK. A little weird. I like weird.

He swings Lucille suggestively, shoving it in the faces of those kneeling in front of him. My mind wanders again, I squirm a little.

After toying with his prey for a while he gets down to business and bludgeons one of the leaders to death with his bat. Huh! I wasn't expecting that. I like this guys style though.

He cracks another inappropriate joke and that's it, the show's over. The residents heads hang low. I smile at him and fight the urge to give him a round of applause.

As people disperse and comfort each other, I stand and walk over to a nearby truck. Sitting myself on the bonnet I light a cigarette and observe the man.

His jacket is unzipped and there is fresh blood splattered across his white tshirt.

Damn!

He seems extraordinarily calm as he looks down at the battered body of...well...I can't tell who it is now.

He rallies his people back to work and glances in my direction. Oh shit! He is striding towards me.

I probably should be scared but I'm too busy being aroused by his long legs, belt casually sitting on his hips, and the still wet blood glistening across his prominent cheekbones and greying beard.

He stops in front of me his large hazel eyes meeting mine, his stare unwavering, penetrating, yes I'm sure that's the right word. He's big. Intimidatingly so. His slim toned figure is deceptively large as he looms over me.

He takes the cigarette and throws it aside. What an asshole! Putting a gloved finger under my chin, he tilts my face upwards. Fuck! No escaping those eyes.

He's a lunatic, I remind myself, a dangerous psycho. I love him already. He moves too close into my personal space and I squeeze my thighs together. I'm sure though I'm still coming off as cool and nonchalant, until he speaks in a deep low voice that makes me catch my breath.

" Hi, I'm Negan"

Continue reading. Chap 2 - Door Number 1

DIRTY GIRL MASTERLIST

[dancingwithdylan21]

Puppy Love

Summary: The reader’s dog wanders off and she finds him inside of a Jeep that belongs to her gorgeous new neighbor. 

Pairing: cop!Stiles x Reader

Prompt: “Are you seriously interrogating me right now?”

~

“Murphy!”

You swear to god your dog is a ninja. He’s constantly sneaking off and getting his fluffy ass into trouble. He’s a 100lb German Shepherd and he’s worse than a little kid for Christ’s sake. You really should be able to keep track of him by now.

“Murphy! Come here, buddy!”

The beautiful beast is too smart for his own good. Murphy’s a troublemaker for sure, he always needs to know what’s happening at all times. You have a slight suspicion that he thinks he’s a police dog.

“Murphy! Playtime’s over. Let’s go!” You hear a quick bark and your eyes land on a familiar blue Jeep that’s always parked across the street from you. Oh shit.

Murphy is sprawled out on the black back seat of your neighbor Stiles’ pristine looking car. He’s new to the neighborhood so you don’t know him that well. You do know that he’s insanely good looking and that he really loves this Jeep. Wonderful. Your foolish dog is lounging inside of Stiles’ pride and joy.

You run across the street and immediately lean over into the backseat, you try to coax Murphy out but he’s being a stubborn fucker. You’re practically crawling across the seat to grab his collar, your ass is sticking up in the air and of course you’re wearing your pajamas. You’re pretty sure you look freaking ridiculous.

Next thing you know, someone is loudly clearing their throat and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. You reluctantly spin around and there he is, the delicious man known as Stiles Stilinski. Wearing a tight grey Henley and ripped dark wash jeans with combat boots only laced up half way.

Damn does he look good.

You’re suddenly very aware that your pajama pants are covered in purple cats and that you have an over-sized Family Guy t-shirt on as well. Awesome.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

Stiles doesn’t even speak, his eyes just slowly rake over you before he focuses his attention back on the large intruder in his backseat. You snap out of your awkwardness (barely) and jump into a rushed explanation.

“I'm so sorry! Murphy likes to slip out of the house and explore without my knowledge. I came out and noticed that he climbed into your car. I’m trying to get him out now.” You finally take a breath, silently telling yourself to just relax for the love of god.

Stiles bends over a bit and watches as Murphy rests adorably in his backseat. A warm smile appears like he’s remembering a happy memory, “He seems pretty cool. I love Shepherds. I had one growing up named Bullet.” Stiles finishes with a chuckle and it makes you do the same.

“Besides it’s kinda my fault, I just ran inside to get some paper towels.” Your neighbor holds up the roll in his hand. “I left the doors open cause I’m cleaning out the Jeep.”

“This dog is just very nosy.” You add shyly. “Nothing looks ruined but I want to pay to get it detailed just in case.”

“No it’s ok, Y/N. I mean if this happened after I cleaned out my car then I would’ve reacted differently.” He glares playfully at you.

“Oh ok. Thanks for not freaking out.” You grin feeling relieved.

Stiles gives a quick nod then pats his leg as he calls Murphy’s name, the dog automatically jumps up and out of the car without any effort. “Seriously?” You laugh softly. “At least you listen to someone, Murphy.”

Stiles gestures to your cozy pajamas, “Having a lazy Sunday, huh?”

“It’s only like Noon, dude. Don’t judge. I was up late binge watching Shameless.” You mention slightly insecure.

With an amused expression Stiles pops the hood of his car, “No judgement here, Y/N. I’m just used to girls who won’t leave the house unless their hair and makeup is done.” He shrugs at you. That’s weird. He doesn’t seem like the type who’d want to deal with a high maintenance chick.

“Huh. Let me guess…they wear their makeup to bed too?” You giggle while Stiles tilts his head with a knowing smile.

“Are you speaking from experience, Y/N?” He says in a teasing voice.

“Who me? Nah…ok maybe.” You admit sheepishly. “I didn’t wear my makeup to bed though! I just always wanted to be made up when I left the house.”

Stiles hums and squints his eyes like he’s trying to figure you out. He’s too gorgeous. You almost feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to look directly at him.

The brown eyed ruiner closes the hood and all the doors on his car, now giving you his full attention, “So what changed?”

“Oh, that’s a story for another day.” You smirk at him.

“Well…” Stiles crouches down in front of Murphy and holds his face, “I think you and mom should join me for lunch. How does that sound, buddy?” He then glances up at you and you freeze. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks and you decide to just nod in response.

“Sweet. Do you like hot dogs? I was gonna grill some and I have pasta salad and corn on the cob too.”

A sexy man that cooks? Hell yeah. “Sure, sounds good. I’m gonna go change then I’ll be over.” You tell him already walking away.

“Make sure you bring Murphy!” Stiles shouts as you’re about to enter your house. Son of a bitch. He probably likes the dog more than you. That would be your luck.

You quickly change into faded jean shorts and a hot pink tank top, opting out of doing your hair and makeup. You decide that you don’t need to impress Stiles, even if he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. After one last nervous check in the mirror, you grab Murphy and his favorite tennis ball then make your way back across the street.

~

Stiles’ front door flies open seconds after your hand hits the wood, it catches you off guard and it makes Murphy bark with excitement. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was anxiously waiting for your arrival.

The brown eyed stunner ushers you through his surprisingly homey living room and brings you into the kitchen. The smell of vanilla hits your senses as you move around his house and it thankfully calms your nerves a bit.

“Want a beer, Y/N? I have this new pumpkin ale stuff. I don’t know if it’s any good though.” Stiles asks opening his refrigerator.

You saunter over and peek your head in, “Oh! I’ve had that before. It’s pretty good.”

Stiles hands you one with a wink, “Here ya go, sweetheart.” He grins then moves towards the back door. “The pasta salad is done. I just need to grill the hot dogs and the corn on the cob.”

You and the pup follow your new neighbor outside into his backyard and you can’t keep your eyes off of his effortless swagger, every move the man makes is just sexy.

“Need any help?” You take a seat on the nearby patio and watch as he starts up the grill.

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty, hun.” Stiles smirks your way. You roll your eyes but can’t stop yourself from smiling at the compliment.

“So I’ve only lived here for a few weeks, Y/N. Give me some dirt. The neighbors I’ve met so far seem nice but things are never what they seem.”

“Hm let’s see. Have you met Al yet? He lives a few doors down in the green house?” Stiles shakes his head no and waits for you to continue.

“Well…he suspiciously looks like Santa Clause. And he weirdly disappears around Christmas time.” You try to stifle a laugh.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the grill and shoots you a funny look, “Are you fucking with me?”

“No actually I’m not.” You chuckle. “It’s strange as fuck but he’s definitely a nice guy. Doesn’t bother anyone.”

“So I may or may not live near Santa. I can work with that.” Stiles snickers before taking a swig of his beer.

Murphy stops exploring the yard and comes running over with his tennis ball but instead of bringing it to you, he drops it in front of Stiles.

“Wow Murphy actually likes you.” You say without thinking.

Stiles pretends to be offended, “Gee, thanks!”

“Oh no! I just mean that Murphy doesn’t usually warm up to guys so easily. He’s always been that way. Not sure why, maybe a protective thing?” You shrug your shoulders.

“Murphy’s a smart boy. He can tell I’m awesome.”  Stiles adds with a crooked smile.

“Or maybe he’s just having an off day.” You sass with a straight face. Stiles breaks out into a full body laugh and it’s literally the best sound you’ve ever heard

“I’m just kidding!” You giggle at him. “Murphy likes you and you like him. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I definitely like him.” Stiles licks his lips as he walks towards you. “But I have to admit, I like his mom a lot more.”

As if that admission didn’t make you completely melt inside, you give Stiles a quick smile and then pop up, “ Yeah I’m pretty awesome myself.”

~

With the yummy food grilled and the patio table set, you and Stiles finally sit down to eat while Murphy lounges in the shade. Part of you is thrilled because you’re starving, the other part is bummed you can no longer admire his muscles while he mans the grill.

“So what do you do for work, Y/N?” Stiles questions before taking a big bite of his mustard covered hot dog.

“I’m an event planner.” “Oh nice.” He delivers a cute smile. “That sounds fun.” “Yeah it is. What about you?” You attractively mumble with a mouth full of corn on the cob.

“I’m a cop.” Stiles tells you with a confident expression. No fucking way. You didn’t think it was possible for this man to get any hotter. You’re now on the verge of drooling because the sexy as hell image of him in a uniform appears in your head.

“Y/N?” Stiles’ deep voice yanks you back to reality. “Earth to Y/N.” “Oh! Uh that’s cool.” You answer sheepishly, tucking a few strands behind your ear which is a nervous habit of yours. With a squint of his eyes and a purse of his lips, Stiles’ curious side is now making an appearance, “What were you thinking about?” He stares intently at you.

Fuck it. “That you probably look really good in your uniform.” You mention casually.

An amused expression overtakes his handsome face, he leans over the table and whispers, “I’ll show you sometime if you want. I even have a gun to go with it.” You don’t trust yourself to speak, so instead your dorky self just looks down and starts giggling. Your reaction causes Stiles to laugh and sit back in his chair, he’s getting a kick out of making you blush. An enticing thought pops into your head, naturally you blurt it out before you can catch yourself, “So that means you have handcuffs.” You must be bright red right now as you lock eyes with your surprised neighbor.

“I mean…well…”  Shit. Did you really just say that out loud?! Stiles recovers quickly, instead of shock there’s now a smirk on his face, “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that, sweetheart.” He shakes his head looking visibly affected by your words. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.” You rush out before chugging down the rest of your beer. You really need something stronger. “Don’t be sorry.” Stiles chuckles at you. “It’s taking everything in me not to handcuff you to my bed right now.” Holy shit. Now it’s your turn to look fucking shocked. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Y/N.” Stiles flashes a crooked smile. “I really like you so I need to do this right. You’re not some random chick that I met at a bar, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.” He finishes and it makes your body freeze up. Stiles quirks an eyebrow, “You gonna say anything back…” He notices you seem a bit flustered and is unsure on how to proceed from here.

Snapping out of your dumb ass stupor, you successfully come up with a plan within seconds, “Actually can I borrow them?” You say nonchalantly.

“What?” Stiles furrows his brows. “My handcuffs?” “Yeah. I have a date tonight.” You narrow your eyes. “He’s not a pussy so I’m pretty sure he’ll want to use them.” Stiles fails to hold back a strangled growl, “Don’t play games, baby girl.” He challenges with a tilt of his head.

Wow, that didn’t take much. You try not to but you burst out laughing, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” You tease now pinching his cheek. He crumbles his napkin up and throws it at you with a pout on his lips.

You hesitate but then decide to just roll with it, “So do you always use handcuffs in the bedroom, Stilinski?”

Stiles ponders for a second, “It depends on the girl. I definitely don’t break them out with hookups. My real ones anyway. I’ll use the fake plastic ones whenever.”

“Why’s that?” “Because it’s never been a good experience with the real ones. The last girl I used them with started crying.” Stiles replies exasperated. “No she didn’t!” You gasp loudly then erupt into laughter. The police officer shakes his head, “If you pull on the handcuffs too much then they get tighter. I warned her so she wouldn’t hurt her wrists. Of course she didn’t listen and freaked out.”

“Wow. I bet that was fun.” You say sarcastically. “Based on her personality…I shouldn’t have done it. My gut said she wouldn’t like it but she promised she’d be fine.” Stiles lets out a sigh. “She must be so traumatized.” You feign sympathy making your neighbor snicker. Stiles suddenly turns serious, “Do you really have a date tonight, Y/N?” “Yes.” “With who?” He asks with his eyes boring into you. “Jeff.” “How did you meet him?” You raise your eyebrows, “The gym.” “Is it a first date?” “It’s the 4th date.” Stiles scoffs, “What does the guy do?” “Are you seriously interrogating me right now?” You question with wide eyes. “No.” He answers unconvincingly. “How about I take you out tonight instead? We can do whatever you want.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, “I can’t break a date last minute like that. Not unless there’s an emergency or something.” Stiles waves you off, “Just tell him you’re sick. We can try the new Italian place that opened downtown. Or there’s a..” “Wait you’re dead serious?” You cut him off. He just nods. “Stiles, he’s a nice guy. I’d feel bad blowing him off like that. We can pick another day.” You wonder why he’s pushing this. “4th date.” Stiles mutters himself. “So you’ve had sex with him?“ “Really, dude?” You crack a smile at him. This man is really something else. “You didn’t answer the question, Y/N.” “I’m not in custody, officer. So I don’t have to.” You sass back. “I can arrange that ya know.” Stiles crosses his arms and it accentuates his muscles even more, you do your best not to gawk at him. “You’re ridiculous.” You add matter-of-factly. “And you’re sexy.” He grins mischievously. You giggle softly and it makes Stiles’ face light up, it should be illegal the way his eyes are drinking you in right now. The feelings it conjures up makes you feel flushed and fidgety, it’s the perfect time for more alcohol. You spring out of your seat and make your way back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen.

Is it bad that you actually want to cancel tonight? That would be such an asshole move. You do actually like Jeff, he’s a decent guy who’s treated you well so far. But then there’s Stiles, the Adonis that moved in right across the street from you and there’s no denying that there’s an immediate connection.

Lost in your thoughts, you grab a couple of beers out of the fridge then twirl around right into Stiles, you didn’t even hear him follow you in.

“Are you a fucking ninja too? I swear you and Murphy should be best friends.”

Stiles barely reacts, he’s too busy blocking your way so you’re stuck between him and the refrigerator. His delicious scent is starting to fill the small space and you’re trying your hardest to not be affected by it.

“I say we have two options, beautiful.” Stiles leans in closer. “I ask you to be my girlfriend right now and you say yes.” Well this is unexpected.

“Um Stiles…”

“Or you reschedule with Jeff and let me take you out tonight. After that if you still like him then I’ll back off.” “Your crazy is showing, Stilinski.” You try to stifle a laugh, getting a dramatic grunt in return.

“Are you gonna make me beg, woman? Cause I will!” Stiles runs his hand through his messy hair, clearly not used to being in this position. “Why can’t we go out tomorrow? It’s just one more day.” You search his face for the answer, unfortunately your attention focuses in on his gorgeous eyes. “You obviously like Jeff enough to keep going out on dates, Y/N. He will probably make things official soon and with my luck it will be tonight.”

“Ok but I…”

Stiles continues on, “We don’t know each other that well but trust me…I’ve never put this much effort into getting a date. At the very least I want a chance. A real chance.”

The man in front of you is so annoyingly cute. You’re beyond torn on how to respond to him, your heart and your head are at odds right now. Before your brain can even register it, you’re sauntering away from Stiles and his intense stare.

You pause at the door way of the kitchen, “Come on.” You wave for the troublemaker to follow you, he hesitates at first but then catches up with you.

“Where do you keep your uniform? Bedroom?” You ask with a glance to Stiles, as you both walk down his long hallway.

“Uh yeah. Next door on the right.” Stiles tells you wearily, he slows down a bit and trails behind as you stroll on into his room.

You immediately notice the clean yet simple looking room and start to search around for what you have in mind. Without turning around, you can feel Stiles’ eyes on your form as he leans against the door frame. Your face brightens once you spot his police uniform draped on a blue lazy boy in the corner of the room.

There’s a dark wooden end table where Stiles’ shiny badge, gun holster and duty belt are all resting on top of it. Your nosy self finds his handcuffs tucked neatly in the cuff case attached to his leather belt. The cop they belong to is now standing closer, he looks very entertained by your sudden interest in his job.

You steal the handcuffs and examine them, subconsciously biting your lower lip while you do, “Get on the bed.” You speak firmly, pointing in the direction that Stiles should start moving in.

“…uh Y/N, what are y…”

“Shut up and get on the bed, Stilinski.” You command sternly.

~

Masterlist 

[weirdochick56]

Troublemaker- John Shelby Imagine

John Shelby x Reader 

Warnings: Explicit Language. 

Disclaimers: I don’t own any PB characters/plots mentioned. 

Word Count: 1,985 words

Summary: The reader is new to Small Heath but is already brewing up trouble. She heads to the Garrison afterward and there she catches John boy’s eye. She’s fiery and brave and against every word of caution can’t help but fall for those deep blue eyes as well. 

A/N: I’ve been watching Peaky Blinders obsessively and can’t seem to stop, so I did what I always do when I join a new fandom. I wrote a fanfic. I’m also thinking about writing a Michael and Tommy one. 

The thick smoke of Small Heath filled your lungs as you took huge gulps of air through parted ruby red lips which were probably smudged by now. The wide smile on your face was starting to induce a barely-noticeable ache on your cheeks. 

“Bloody hell, Y/n, you’re fucking insane!” Your best friend, Y/b/f’s, strides slow down to a speed-walk as she laughs loudly. 

You grin mischievously at her, trouble sparkling clearly in your youthful y/e/c eyes. “Am I?” You shrug, walking proudly through the murky streets. “I don’t think it’s all that crazy. That bitch was talking shite about me.” 

Y/b/f raises an unconvinced brow. “So you decided the best option to put that to a screeching halt to that was to beat her to a pulp?” 

You look down at your bloodied knuckles with a slight wince, a dark, twisted part of you enjoying the pain burning through your bruised hand. “Yes.” 

She throws her head back, laughs bubbling from her throat and infectious enough to erupt some from you too. You giggle, bumping your hips with her as your heels dig into the wet ground. 

“You totally fucked that shit-eating, smug smirk off her hideous face. I loved when you brought your fist down on her throat!” She squeals. “You are a true savage my friend!” She pats your back with pride. 

And it was true. You’d always been a troublemaker. A true rebel at heart. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be or act like a proper lady, you just...couldn’t. It wasn’t your nature to abide by the rules, much less the ones are written down for women, no matter how hard you tried. 

When you and your single mother moved to Birmingham a few weeks ago, you were hoping for a fresh start from the gossiping small town you’d originated from. Spewed lies of the nature of your father’s death had been the main reason behind the move, but alongside it was your behavior. Your mom had it stuck in her head that you were out of control. The fighting, the rioting, the snarky remarks to anyone who attempted to be nice...you always managed to find a way to get in trouble. 

So when you’d gotten here and met someone who understood your madness, or at least supported it, Y/b/f, you were thrilled. It was no surprise that you’d already gotten into a fight with someone within just a few weeks. But the girl deserved it. 

You’d been enjoying your day at the bullring with your friend when suddenly, the girl hurled some disgusting, misguided comment at you as you walked past then began giggling with her friends. It was the most offensive thing anyone had ever said to you, so after getting over your initial shock at her mere audacity, you clench your fists and turn back around, running full force at her and tackling her the ground. 

She let’s out a loud yelp, attempting to fight off your iron-grip on her hair, all the while screaming even more prejudiced comments against “your kind” (whatever that meant). People quickly gathered around as you both fought, with your fury easily overpowering her weak attempts to defend herself. 

So long story short, she probably wouldn’t be eating dinner that day from all the dirt she had filling up her stomach.

Walking slowly, suddenly, you get a brilliant idea. Smirking, you turn to your friend and wiggle your brows. “Wanna go to the Garrison to celebrate my victory?” 

Your friend’s joyful face immediately falls. “W-what?” 

It was no secret the Garrison was the spot where the infamous Shelby clan often went for a drink or two. In fact, they owned it. The kings of Small Heath, the gangster leaders of the terribly dangerous Peaky Blinders, the scariest gang of them all. 

Y/b/f had warned you about them, advising you to stay far away from them and the Garrison. To be honest, you couldn’t really see what the big deal with them was. They were rarely around you.

But you’d also been curious about them the moment you got here, so it wasn’t really a matter of whether you’d see them or not, but when. 

She shakes her head furiously. “No. W-we can’t.”

You roll your eyes at her, walking closer to the famous pub, heart racing. “Says who?” 

She gulps audibly, gripping your arm tightly in order to halt your progressive movements to the business. “I do.”

You scoff at her, looking evenly into her eyes. “Would you calm down? It’s not that big a deal. I just want a drink.”

She shakes her head insistingly. “What if one of them takes a liking to you and then-“

You cut her off abruptly. “Y/b/f, no one’s gonna take a liking to me.” You gesture to yourself. “I literally look like I just rolled around in the fucking dirt willingly.” You tug her as she stumbles along hesitatingly. “Plus, even if one of them did, what makes it think I’d ever let them touch me?”

She releases a shuddering breath. “You don’t get much of a choice in the matter.”

“We’ll see.”

*

The Garrison was more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined this place to be. Gold was the color that stuck out the most to you amongst the wooden, dark background and flailing drunks.

They were boisterous as they chattered and laughed, clashing their cups and chugging their designated alcoholic beverages down like it was water.

You smile brightly, immediately going for the bar.

The bartender, an older man, eyes you with quirked brows, the fact that he suspected you a newcomer clear as day to you.

You ignore his questioning gaze and sit on a stool, your friend following suit with a nervous glance around.

“Dark rum for me and my friend please.” You smile politely at the man.

He shakes his head at himself but nods at you, turning around to retrieve the glasses. He places them both in front of you with a light slam. You feel y/b/f jump slightly at the noise and scoff at her jumpiness.

As he pours the amber liquid into the glass, her hand suddenly grips your arm tightly, fingernails digging into your skin urgently.

You frown, looking up at her. “Jesus fuck Y/b/f! What-“ your eyes follow her trail of view and you immediately stop talking.

Men, tall and handsome and sporting flat caps, and expensive fabrics for their coats stand near the doorway of the pub, surveying it slightly.

They emitted an intense aura of dominance and people in the pub immediately quieted down once made aware of their presence.

It was eerily silent.

You turn to your friend with raised brows, whispering under your breath. “And who the bloody hell are they?”

She looks frightful. “The Shelby brothers.”

You snort at the breathiness of her voice, turning back to face them confidently. These were the Shelby’s? The so-called kings of Birmingham? The ones to be feared? They didn’t scare you all that much.

They looked menacing as hell, you weren’t gonna lie. Probably were too. But...you liked it. Something about the swagger in their step ignited a big fire in your belly. Excitement, exhilaration.

As they walk further in, you notice the one on the left with a toothpick in his mouth. He was clearly the youngest out of the three, what with his youthful handsome face. He was absolutely gorgeous with those plump pink lips and high cheeks bones, a trait seemingly running in the family. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes due to the shadow cast over them by the flat cap, you were convinced they were breath-taking.

Suddenly, almost as if he felt you looking, his gaze snaps to yours, head tilting up and dimmed light hitting his striking features, as your eyes clash. Your breath hitches and your diaphragm doesn’t expand. They were even more breathtaking than you’d ever suspected.

They were the color of a clear blue sky. Of a vast, beautiful glistening ocean. One you were more than willing to drown in.

The toothpick swirled around in his mouth as his eyes flashed with confusion then surprise then curiosity at you.

You snap back to reality and blush, looking away from him. Your heart felt like it was about to fall out of your chest with how fast it was beating, and for the first time, your hands get clammy and a shaking breath leaves you.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and pick up the dark rum, downing it with a throw back of your head and clicking of your tongue at the bitter aftertaste.

“You go,” you motion to your friend, you purses her lips in hesitation, eyes still set behind you. 

You can feel their presence next to you as the chatter revives in the pub and they slide onto the bar but you try to ignore them. 

“Oh for fuck’s-“ you sigh in exasperation, throwing your hands up and twirling around on your heels.

They were facing the bar until they hear your little outburst and now their eyes are set on you.

You smirk a little and swat your friend’s hand on your elbow attempting to convince you to turn away. “Are you going to kill us?”

“ ‘At the bloody fook?” The eldest mutters at you and you raise a brow.

“You heard me. Are you going to kill us for drinking here?” You lean casually against the bar, voice challenging.

The middle one, but seemingly the leader, steps in, raised brows. He speaks in a teasing manner, but with a cautious tongue. They’re all clearly equal parts amused and cautious at your tone with them. 

“That wouldn’t be good for business would it, miss?” His voice is soft and elegant and it makes you a little disappointed. 

Where was the rugged edge? The rasp of a criminal?

You smirk at them unblushingly. “No, it would not Mr. Shelby.”

Then you turn to Y/b/f. “See? Now drink the fucking rum or I’ll do it for you.”

She gives you a ‘did you really just fucking do that?’ look, and you just shrug. So she nervously rolls her eyes and drinks the entire thing in one gulp.

“What’s your name if you don’t mind me asking love?” The voice, this time, is deep but youthful and definitely has the criminal rasp. It’s Toothpick boy.

You turn to face him again, brows raised. “It does bother me actually.”

He raises a shocked brow at you. “You aren’t from ‘round here are you?”

“Why would you say that?” You thumb your chin, leaning into him.

He smirks and your heart leaps into your throat. “I’m sure I would’ve remembered if you were.”

You’re shocked at his shameless flirting but conceal it nicely. “I suppose so.” You shrug nonchalantly.

He motions to your bedraggled appearance. “What happened to you then?”

You grin innocently. “A dog-faced bitch looked at me wrong so I had to teach her a lesson.”

He chuckles and the sound makes you feel warm. Then he gives you a sultry look. “You’re a feisty one, eh?”

You eye him up and down with indifference, your unimpressed gaze landing on his crotch area. “Probably more feisty than you can handle, big boy. So don’t get any ideas.”

His brothers muffle snickers behind him. He forces himself to scoff out a laugh, clearly taken aback by your brazen response.

You don’t give him the time to respond, tugging a few quid from your purse and slamming it down on the counter. You loop your arm through Y/b/f’s and smile up at the Shelby’s. 

“Let’s go Y/b/f.” Then you nod at them in acknowledgment and make your way to the exit. 

Toothpick boy calls after you. “The name’s John by the way love!” 

You don’t stop on his account, calling over your shoulder. “I didn’t ask, love!” 

His brother’s snickers and the eldest’s approving “I like her” is the last thing you hear before stepping back out to the cold Small Heath air. 

***

Hey guys!! My first Peaky Blinders Imagine and it’s sort of short, but I like it short and sweet! 

I hope you enjoyed, lovelies. 

Please, please leave feedback. Messages, asks, replies, I see them all!! 

Tell me if you wanna be tagged in any shape or form. Now that Peaky Blinders is a fandom I’m more than happy to write, you can ask to be tagged in that too. 

A Special Thanks To: 

@sherlockedtash88

@jessikared97

@lilypalmer1987

@mogaruke - My MAGNIFICENT forevers.

[doublerumnukacola]

Why don’t you do right

Week 11 in the Waste Land

It was a quiet night at the Third Rail. In the small hours after midnight, only the most dedicated drunks hung around. Magnolia was resting her voice at the bar, sipping a foggy glass of water. Whitechapel Charlie was wearily polishing the bar, the filthy rag held in clamped appendage. As for the rest, the usual rabble of drifters were too high or drunk to do more than murmur to one another.

A ways off from the rest of the bar, the Sole Survivor sat in the V.I.P. lounge, drinking her troubles away. It was about time she indulged in a cliché. All of this sober nonsense hadn’t brought her any closer to a solution, maybe the alternative would solve things.

She had a sick sort of fun ordering drinks to measure what she had lost; A glass of whiskey for Nate (his Favorite drink) Bottle of Wine for her friends and family (a glass for each), A nuka-cola for her baby (cut with vodka because even if he couldn’t drink, that shouldn’t stop her),

And finally, the drink in her hand was for him, the final loss. The one that had her drinking herself to death on a dirty lounge sofa. Sole held the drink to her lips, glancing down at the foggy liquid sloshing against the glass. She wasn’t actually sure what what she was drinking, she just asked Charlie to give her something that would fuck her over royally.

It tasted rank, pretty fitting considering who the drink was modeled after. This one’s for you, you cap-loving bastard. She thought bitterly, swigging back the drink. She could already feel it curdling her insides. And after everything we went through. After we delved into the heart of that feral infested lab. Guess you were only interested in helping your own kid. Screw everyone else, and their missing children, huh? She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. Guess this was her life now….

The bar continued on without her, the drunks kept murmuring, Magnolia was getting ready to get back on stage, and Charlie was getting Sole’s next round ready. The Mr. Handy was happy enough to let her pickle her insides with swill, as long as she had the caps. But there was one person in Goodneighbor who wouldn't stand to watch her rot away from drink and sorrow.

From the murmured hush of the Third Rail, came the sound of boots descending the stairs,like a slow and methodical rhythm, growing louder with every beat. The soft swish of coat tails were like a accompaniment to the music of their entrance. Magnolia took her cue, stepping on to the stage with practiced grace. She cleared her throat, and music started to play. She’d been meaning to try out a new set, and what better audience than the mayor himself?

“You had plenty money, 1922, You let other women make a fool of you… Why don’t you do right, Like some other men do? Get out of here, and get me some money too.”

Hancock reached the final step, landing with his usual swagger and panache. The whole bar livened up in the presence of their fearless Mayor and lovable junkie; partly because of his charm, but mostly since he usually paid for a free round of drinks and daytripper. They would be disappointed tonight. He was here on business.

“You’re sitting here wondering What it’s all about, You ain't got no money, They will put you out. Why don't you do right, Like some other men do? Get outta here, And get me some money too.”

He was grinning as he strode to the bar, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached the worn wooden counter, leaning casually upon it. Or at least it would have looked casual, if his eyes weren’t darting over to the VIP lounge every few minutes. Charlie already had Hancock’s usual ready; Double rum and nuka cola, garnished with a small pharmacy of chems. On the house. But the ghoul didn’t touch it.

“She still…?” Hancock asked, his voice lowered. Charlie hovered a little closer, nearly resting a metal arm on the counter.

“Been there all day and all night, four days running. Only leaves when nature calls, or at least I hope.” The Mr. Handy replied, narrowing his ocular lenses at the ghoul. “I’d say something, but she’s the only one that pays their tab in caps. Takes more than good will to keep the lights on in this place.”

“What’s the word on Mac-, uh, ‘ the sniper’.” Hancock started to ask, tripping over the last words. He gave a cautious look to the lounge. In the neon light he could just make out her silhouette. Could she hear him from there? It wouldn’t surprise him. He’d need watch what he said...

“If you had prepared 20 years ago, You wouldn't be a-wanderin’ out from door to door. Why don't you do right, Like some other men do. Get out of here, And get me some money too…”

“Nothing new, last person to see him was Daisy two weeks back. Since then he’s probably been laying low in the Capital Wastes.” Charlie answered, Hovering back up, and grabbing a foggy glass and bar rag. He started polishing it needlessly, a habit he’d had since he was built. “Can't blame Daisy though, she thought he’d have told you-know-who he was leaving. Poor girl.”

“Well the pity party's over.” Hancock muttered, turning towards the V.I.P. lounge. “Time someone snapped her out of her funk.” Charlie gave a skeptical look, somehow, and continued polishing glasses.

Hancock strode towards the lounge, slowing his pace as he approached. He hesitated at the doorway. His insides started to turn the closer he came. The confidant resolve he’d descended the stairs with was now shrinking before the light of the neon sign. Maybe he should leave her alone after all, he reasoned with himself. Everyone dealt with a broken heart differently, maybe killing her liver was her way. Yeah, he was down with that. He did it all the time. He would just leave her-

“God, you’re like a cat. Come in or stay out. And bring a drink.” A voice called from the lounge. He’d been caught. Regardless, he knocked on the frame, and swaggered in as if nothing happened. She barely looked up from from her drink.

“Sister, you are a mean drunk.” He chided, plopping down on the opposite couch, kicking his boots up onto the table with a thud. He snapped open a tin of mentats and popped a couple into his mouth. “If you’re not careful, I’ll tell Charlie to cut you off.”

“Thought Goodneighbor was all ‘bout freedom.” She noted bitterly, focusing on every syllable too much, careful not to slur. Which meant she was completely hammered. Hancock chuckled, despite himself. Even as a drunken mess she could call his bluff. She looked up at him now, putting her drink down. “So, what do ya need, Mayor?”

I fell for your jivin' and I took you in Now all you got to offer me's a drink of gin Why don't you do right, like some other men do? Get out of here and get me some money too... Why don't you do right, like some other men do….

What did he need? He crossed his arms, feeling the mentats working their way through his system. The fog in his head cleared and his natural charm kicked into full gear.

“Gotta job for you, need you sober. Well, sober-ish.” Hancock replied, grinning wide. “Super Mutants are getting a little too comfortable around Good Neighbor for everyone's liking. I’d appreciate it if you gave ‘em a good old fashioned eviction.” She was silent for a moment, picking her drink up once more, staring down at it with a dour expression. The drink looked like rot-gut, something that made even Hancock’s stomach turn.

“You know I hate it when you do that.” Sole muttered, swigging back her drink, slamming the glass on the table with a sharp clunk. “Taking that shit before you say something clever. It's not even you talking, it's those shitty mints.”

“And I’ll just pretend that’s the drink talking.” Hancock shot back. “Besides, these aren’t ‘shitty’. They came from straight from Fred Allen! Guy puts a lot of love into his work.” He took a breath and regained his composure. “Anyway, the job. You in?”

“Did the mentats tell you to change the subject?” She asked, leaning back and resting her eyes. “Or are you just that eager to get me outta here?”

“Can't it be both?” Hancock joked. She didn't smile. He sighed. “Look, Sole… You know you got friends here. Right?”

“Name three,” Sole demanded, holding up three fingers. “And Kent doesn't count, because he's everyone's friend.” Hancock rested his hand on the back of his neck, looking up at the smoke stained ceiling.

“Do I really-” He tried, but a look from Sole said everything. He sighed.

“Daisy-” He started but she cut him off quickly.

“Strike one, she’s the reason I’m in this mess.” She countered sharply.

“Don't hang this on Daisy.” He growled, “She didn't know he was leaving you high and dry, well. Clearly not dry.” She gave a rueful laugh at that, a hollow chuckle that made his skin crawl. “OK I’ll try again. How about…” He had to really think, he could already feel the mentats wearing off and she’d throw a fit if he popped a few more. “Uh… Kent?”

“Strike two.” She mumbled, “Kents a sweetheart…”

“That ain't fair.” Hancock pointed out. “Being too nice ain't his fault.”

“Fine, whatever. That’s one.” She gave in. “Good luck with two and three.”

Hancock thought hard, he knew every face in town, lots of decent folks, this shouldn't be too hard. Except that since Sole had made waves since she blew into town.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t made many friends since he met her either. A lot of people took exception to him killing Finn, not that they'd say it to his face. Not to mention having Sole do his dirty work taking out Sinjin. At least Bobbi no-nose brought it on herself, or so he tried to tell himself.

“Kleo?” He tried again.

“Strike two for real now,” She replied tiredly, leaning back against the couch. “In her terminal she has at least three accounts of how she would kill me. Plus, she’s the most reliable vendor for oil in the commonwealth, and she knows it. Jacks up the price as soon as I walk in.” She rested her eyes for a moment.

“You’re paranoid, sister. Why are you snooping on her terminal anyway?” Hancock asked, arching what would have been an eyebrow, suspiciously.

“Because everyone's out to get me…” Sole answered, opening her eyes just a crack to look at Hancock with bloodshot eyes. He held his breath, unsure of what to say, until a weak smile graced her lips and she gave a soft chuckle. “Just kidding.” He laughed in relief, letting out the breath. She closed her eyes again. “So, who’s next?”

“Ain't it obvious, sister?” Hancock asked with a sly smile. She couldn’t see it, but the smile somehow shone in his voice.

“Not to me.” She sighed. He found himself hesitating. What the hell was he afraid of?

“Well… It's Charlie, obviously.” He finally added, lamely. She nodded quietly. He’d gotten another one at least. Only now he had to say the last one, then he’d win whatever game they were playing and she could get her act together. He’d even saved the best for last…. But he was silent. She looked up at him.

“So, Mr. Mayor, who’s lucky contestant number three?” She asked, a faint smile returning. This was the easiest part, so why couldn’t he say it?

“Irma…” He answered, he words didn't even feel like his own. The faint smile on her lips melted away. She sighed, pulling herself off the couch, swaying dangerously as she stood.

“Strike Three.” She muttered, putting a hand on the peeling wall paper to support herself.

“Oh c’mon I was just kidding…” Hancock tried, but even he wasn't convinced. She started towards the lounge doorway, each step heavier than the last. “Hey, let me give you a hand.”

“Don't need… Your help…” She managed between footfalls. She made it to the doorway, pausing there. “Not looking forward… To those stairs…” Hancock watched her teeter towards the exit. He exchanged concerned looks with Charlie before going after her. He stayed a few steps behind her, trying to look casual, just helping a drunk get some fresh air… Not worried about her at all.

-------------------------

They emerged from the Third Rail, the air was chill and fresh, The faintest trails of sunrise tainted the night sky. It’d be morning soon, much to Hancock’s disgust. Sole leant into an alley and heaved up a volley of Rot-gut and whatever else she’d been swilling for the last few hours. Best way to sober up.

Hancock lit up as he waited for her to finish. He took a drag on his stale cigarette, what he wouldn't give to taste what one of these was like fresh out of the packet. Smoke curled through the air like a ribbon, illuminated by the waning lamplight.

Finally the heaving subsided and the last bit was spat out like an afterthought. Sole coughed, trying to get ahold of herself. Hancock reached into a coat pocket and grabbed a can of purified water he kept for occasions like this. He cracked it open and bent down beside Sole, who was on their knees shaking.

“Here, just what the Doctor ordered.” He said, handing it over to Soles trembling fingers. She took a mouthful, washed out her mouth with a swish, and spat it out with relief, before taking a drink. She sighed, the tremors subsiding.

“Thanks…” She said gratefully, taking another sip. Hancock shook his head, breathing out a stream of smoke into the cool air.

“You can thank me by clearing out the mutant nests.” He answered, looking out at the few stars not snuffed out by sunrise. “And by pulling yourself together. The broken mess trademark belongs to me.” She laughed, the first real laugh he’d heard all night.

“I don't mind paying the royalties on it.” She countered playfully, wiping her mouth and smiling up at him weakly.

“No chance, this look aint cheap.” Hancock replied, smiling himself. “Get your own style.”

“How about, ‘Lovable Loser’?” She asked.

“That’s Fred’s, and Maybe Kent’s too. They got joint custody on it.” Hancock replied, taking another drag, burning the cigarette right down to the filter.

“Mysterious Seductress?” She asked, trying to wink, but it looked more like she was having a stroke. She laughed at her own attempt. “Maybe not right now, though.”

“Sorry, that’s Magnolia’s schtick.” He chuckled. “And mine back in my touring days…”

“You were a seductress?” Sole asked, catching him off guard. She didn't think ghouls could blush, but the faint flush of purple on Hancock cheeks proved her wrong.

“Sister, I could’ve been anyone to the right someone.” He recovered, a sly grin covering for the flush in his face. “But this ghoul’s tours of the town are suspended until further notice.” Hancock ground out his cigarette on the brick wall beside him.

“That's a damn shame.” Sole sighed, only half-jokingly. She looked up at the lilac clouds starting to drift into the dark sky from the sunrise. “What made you hang up that snazzy hat?” There was a silence. Hancock hands were itching to go for the tin of mentats again. He sighed.

“Just not my scene anymore.” He lied. She wasn't expecting a lie. Neither had he to be honest. He took a breath. “You better get back to the Rex, get a bit of shut eye. Otherwise you’re spending 10 caps a night for nothing.” He stood up, brushing the ash and dirt off his coat. Sole pulled herself up and nodded.

“Can't have that now.” She muttered under her breath. “10 caps is almost four shells. That's at least three dead raiders on a good day.” Hancock smirked, he liked the way she thought.

---------------------------

“There, got you here in one piece.” Hancock grunted, struggling under Soles weight as she leant on him for support. They had made it outside her hotel room, but only barely. Hancock had come across many things back in his youth exploring the Commonwealth. One of those things was that where ever you needed a working elevator, there just wasn’t one. But lo and behold, the one being used as a shitter in nearly every raider den seemed to work just fine.

Sole slid her arm off the ghoul and went to her room key, fumbling with the lock. Hancock rolled his eyes and gently guided her hand to the lock. She turned it and stumbled through the door, the momentum carrying her until she tumbled onto the bed.

Hancock watched her for a moment, concerned she might forget where she was and roll off the side. After a few moments it wasn’t a concern since she was already out cold on the bed, snoring softly. He rolled her on to her side side gently, so she was safe if her drink snuck up on her again in her sleep. He’d seen it happen a couple times, and it didn’t leave a pretty corpse.

The sun was starting to peek through the dilapidated curtains. Beams of light drifted onto her sleeping figure, causing her brow to furrow, and her body shift uncomfortably in her sleep. He went to the window and covered it up with a dust sheet from the armchair beside it. The cool darkness settled on the room, and so Sole settled as well.

For the third time, Hancock hesitated. He wanted to stay, make sure she wasn't going to drown in vomit, or strangled in her own bedsheets… And a part of him just wanted to stay and watch how peaceful she was. He shook his head, it wasn't his place to stay.

He took one last look around. He could see why she didn't want to spend her nights here sober. The room was dotted with the snipers odd and ends. On the dresser sat a couple old comics, worn and faded from overuse. On the table were souvenirs of their adventures; the Silver Shroud’s scarf and calling cards, A bloodied knife from Pickman's gallery, and… A microscope? Hancock scratched his head. It was hard to make out in the dark, but it looked pretty ordinary to him. Daisy said something about a cure for Macready’s kid… Was it from that? Hancock shook his head. Only Sole knew.

He was turning to leave when something on the side table caught his eye. His stomach turned at the sight of the wooden soldier.

[theonyxpath]

Hi all! Matthew Dawkins here, the developer and one of the co-authors of Chicago by Night. I thought it’d be a nice treat to drop some of the fiction from the book on the blog, for those of you who haven’t seen it in the Kickstarter updates. Here, without further ado, is Jiba Molei Anderson’s Red Nº 5:

Red Nº 5

A Night to Remember that you’ll probably Forget

Oh, my god! What a fantastic night!

Okay, so my girlfriend Krissie and I are from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. We came to Chicago for a girls’ weekend and were having a little pre-game wine drinking session at Zed451 when Jason invited us out to meet a couple of his buddies at this place called Red Nº 5. We were like “sure!” We were two girls out, looking cute, ready to mingle and, perhaps, get into a little trouble. Besides, Sho-Lo Fidelity was supposed to be playing tonight and I love his sets because I’m a big house music fan, right? I mean, don’t let my “becky-ish” looks fool you. I love getting my groove on and getting down with the “brothers,” if you know what I mean.

We got to the club, which is a couple of doors south right past the six corners of Milwaukee, Grand and Halsted around 10:30. Now, you wouldn’t think a place like this would really start jumping until, like, midnight. But, there was already a line at the door filled with people wanting to get in. It was crazy! It felt like that movie about that club in New York that was real big during the disco era. Anyway, the bouncers looked really rough. I mean they looked professional, all clean-shaven and wearing black suits, the kinda doormen you’d probably see at any classy spot. But, it was clear that they were definitely not to be fucked with. They just had that vibe about them, y’know?

There was this one group of girls who looked like the just stepped off of an episode of “Real Housewives of Chicago” who looked like they were almost about to start a scene because the bouncers wouldn’t let them in. I don’t know why they wouldn’t. They definitely looked like the kind of ladies guys would want in the club. They were looking like those ghetto models with their weaves, all squeezed into their tight dresses, which barely covered their asses or their tits and shivering in the cold because they left their coats in the car and didn’t want to pay a coat check fee. I mean, it’s the frickin’ middle of March! You know Chicago doesn’t decide to get warm until, maybe, late May!

Anyway, just as they were about to really turn up and act rachet for not being able to get in the club, one of the bouncers (a big, pale white guy about 6’3, 350 pounds with a spider web tattoo that began on the top of his head and trailed down to his neck with a spider at the end of it) lowered his head, tipped his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose (so pretentious with the sunglasses at night, right?) and stared right into the lead chick’s eyes. Then, he says real calm and cool, “I’m sorry, but you ladies are not allowed in Red Nº 5 this evening.”

I don’t know, but it looked like the lead girl almost wet her pants. She was so scared, she quickly went to her girlfriends and announced they were leaving that very second. The other girls were so shaken up by the look on their friend’s face they left the line without hesitation. I looked at the group I came here with and got extremely nervous.

Don’t get me wrong. I mean, Krissie and I are, like, super-cute girls. We’re both blonde and we both work out. Krissie is a little thinner and, like, two inches taller than me, but I’ve got the bigger rack and, a little “junk in my trunk,” which the “brothers” like. I totally get called a “snowbunny” all of the time. But, we definitely weren’t “model-chick, hoochie-fabulous” like those girls who were kicked out of line. On top of that, we had three guys with us, in untucked shirts, blue jeans and regular shoes. If those girls couldn’t get in, what chance would our grubby little crew have getting past the velvet rope.

I was kind of shocked when “Charlotte’s Web” (my nickname for the bouncer) let us into the club with a smile and a friendly “Enjoy your evening.”

Now, what I didn’t mention earlier was that Krissie and I were ready to party. By that I mean, we were smoking a little reefer in the car, which accentuated a really lovely merlot buzz. Then, Jason’s buddy Trevor “surprises” us with a couple of pills of pure MDMA, not that corny “Molly” shit. Obviously, Trevor was hoping a couple of happy pills would get him some lovin’ from either Krissie or me… A blowjob at the very least. It was obvious he wasn’t picky. But, what he didn’t know was that Krissie and I were old pros in this game and, we were in full TLC mode that night AKA “No Scrubs.”

We paid our entry fee and got our hands stamped. By now, the pills started kicking in, a little hard, but manageable as we started walking down this black corridor into the club. The red lights made it feel a little mysterious, like “Eyes Wide Shut,” but less cheesy. It was kinda sexy.

We enter the main room and, it was pretty big, but not crowded. It wasn’t empty. I mean, there were plenty of people there, but it was easy to walk around without bumping into anybody unless they were really sloppy. It wasn’t your usual Friday night crowd. Sure, there were a couple of people in suits and fancy dresses in the club looking like they’re playing a role, but this didn’t feel like the usual “Let’s go out because it’s Friday” type of crowd. They were dressed nice, but there was a casual vibe, like they all knew each other or something.

The red lights hit the mahogany walls and chrome railings real nice (I’m studying interior design so I pay attention to these things). The DJ had his own platform above the dance floor. It was a small, circular perch that was large enough to fit the turntables, a small couch and a circular table to set your drinks down. DJ jazintellect (I love jazintellect!) was playing some old-school Hip Hop from the 90s. The initial rush eased into the smooth groove of some really good shit. We walked past the first bar through a doorway that didn’t have a bouncer with a rope in front… Free access!

There was another bar behind the main floor! So cool! There were these black leather couches with mahogany tables. People were hanging out and having drinks so, I thought we should get started with another drink before heading downstairs to hear Sho-Lo’s set. Those couches were so soft and buttery, I felt we were in the coolest music video ever!

So here I was, feeling good and rubbing this leather couch. Trevor thinks that this is a sign that he should make his move. Krissie, being the baddest bitch ever, slides between me and Jason like a good cock blocker should. Unfortunately, Trevor doesn’t get the hint and starts trying to push up on the both of us… the creep! It’s about this close to getting ugly and harshing my roll when the waitress comes to our table for our drink order.

Oh, what I forgot to say is that all of the waitresses are hot. I mean, “Off the cover of Vogue and what the hell are you doing working here?” hot. Our waitress was this tall, light-skinned Black girl with green eyes and a close-cropped haircut dyed blonde wearing a tight-fitting black scoop-neck cocktail dress. I don’t if it was the mix of weed, ecstasy and alcohol, but I was seriously questioning my orientation with this girl.

So, she gives a menu. And, I’m looking at the specials and I say out loud, “Excuse me, what’s in a Winter Rosebud?” Her eyes get a little big and she quickly snatches the menu from my hand and gives me another one. “I’m so, so sorry! I gave you the wrong menu! That was… um… last night’s specials. Here’s tonight’s menu.”

I thought that her reaction was a little over-the-top. I mean, so what if it was last night’s menu? What’s the big deal? I didn’t know that alcohol went bad a day later. Whatever. I’m rolling and it’s not even that deep. So, I kept my thoughts to myself and order my drink.

Then, I saw him.

Now, remember when I said that this felt like the coolest music video ever? Ok, imagine you’re moving in slow motion. The music is thumping 96 beats per minute in sync with your heartbeat. The lights dissolve from red to purple to blue and back again. People from all races and backgrounds are around you looking cool and ethnic and different and sexy…

And then, the crowd of beautiful dancing people parts revealing the sexiest man God Almighty ever made.

He walked into the room talking to a waitress on his left giving him some receipts for him took look over with some corporate-looking douche bag in a suit walking on his right side. He was 6ft tall with milk chocolate skin. His hair was cut real low, had a goatee and he wore simple metal loops in his ears. He was chill, but had a little swagger youknowutI’msayin’? He wore a crisp pair of blue jeans, black shell-toe sneakers and a black t-shirt with a logo that read “Good For Party” that hugged his muscular shoulders and arms, but hung loose untucked over his jeans. I mean, his outfit shouldn’t have stood out like that. On anyone else, especially the guys Krissie and I were stuck with, you wouldn’t give that guy a second look. But this guy… His look was super-crisp and he wore it with such confidence. He totally owned it. Like I said, mama likes a little hot chocolate in her milk and this guy was looking very yummy.

I was thinking about the butterscotch babies “Special Dark” (my name for Mr. Yummy) and I were gonna have and being totally comfortable with my parents disowning me when Krissie bumped my shoulder and said that we should go downstairs to hear Sho-Lo’s set and to get away from Trevor’s clammy mitts. I totally was down for that since “Special Dark” looked like he was heading that way too. We told the boys we were heading downstairs and that they should hold down the table until we get back because we weren’t gonna be down there long (total lies). They were busy making plans to try and mack on some of the girls they’ve been seeing in the club since it was obvious that they were getting nowhere with us. Krissie managed to get another pill from Trevor. We split it, popped the respective halves into our mouths washing the bitter taste down with our extremely well-made cocktails and made our way to the basement.

The basement. Oh. My. God. It was amazing. It had a similar layout to the top floor, but didn’t have the second bar in the back. The black leather couches and tables were on an upper landing that flanked the dance floor. Sho-Lo was in full effect. He was laying down some super-funky Afro House like Black Coffee mixed with some Femi Kuti. It felt like we were at an Afropunk festival. It was all natural hair and face paint. Some people had nose piercings and tribal tattoos, but some people dressed… older? I mean, I saw some people our age dressed like they the 70s fashions from Soul Train were new. But, it didn’t matter because Sho-Lo got them all into the same groove and everybody was dancing like it was some tribal ceremony invoking the ancestors.

And, before you ask how do I know about that tribal / ancestor stuff, I’ve taken some Pan-African studies’ classes, too. I’m, like, totally woke.

Now, the second half roll is kicking right when Sho-Lo drops my favorite new track from the Black 80s. Krissie and I get on the dance floor and just start getting into the whole groove. So, we’re dancing and I see “Special Dark” in the left corner table sitting with this tall, lanky, super-dark bald Black guy in a, I think it was wine-colored, three-quarter length suit with a yellow tie. He was kind of creepy-looking.

And, no! It’s not because he was really dark that I thought he was creepy! I’m not a racist! I’m just saying that he just sat there like some sort of African statue, barely nodding his heading to the music while “Special Dark” was trying to say something to the “Statue”, which seemed kind of important.

I get really focused on details when I roll. It’s kinda my thing.

Next to the “Statue” was this Puerto-Rican woman with this big, curly hair in a yellow 30s-style “Flapper” dress. She was gorgeous and she had her arm wrapped in the “Statue’s” while they sat. They were obviously a couple. They almost looked like they could be “Special Dark’s” parents based on the vibes they gave off from their body language. I saw “Special Dark” get up from the table and was making his way to the dance floor. I started dancing as seductively as possible to get “Special Dark’s” attention. Unfortunately, the only attention I attracted was some greasy drunk guy trying to grind all on my booty. He was grabbing my waist trying to pull me close and I could smell a mixture of menthol cigarettes and Jack Daniel’s on his breath. Ugh! He was gross! Even worse, I could see that “Special Dark” started dancing with Krissie… That bitch! While she was getting swept off of her feet by my future baby daddy, I was stuck under the bridge with this troll who could not take a fucking hint!

Krissie whispered something in “Special Dark’s” ear. I think she wanted to check on Jason and Trevor (since they were our ride) and left “Special Dark” on the dance floor as she headed upstairs. There he was, my dark prince alone while I’m stuck with this basic bro trying to publicly get into my pants while we’re dancing.

Then, “Special Dark” turned his head and our eyes locked. He studied the situation for a moment and obviously saw a damsel in distress. What happened next is probably the sexiest thing that happened to anyone. He smiled and held out his hand, which I took immediately, and pulled me away from “Captain Newport.” I wrapped my arms around “Special Dark’s” neck and we started dancing as if we’d known each other for years. I barely noticed “Captain Newport” as he attempted to make me the ham in his freak-down sandwich. He must’ve finally gotten the hint, because “Captain Newport” finally left me and “Special Dark” alone so that we could get to know each other a little better.

As we danced, “Special Dark” told me his name was Bennett and he was the host for tonight’s party. I also think he said he was a co-owner of Red Nº 5 as well. All I could pay attention to was rubbing his strong milk chocolate arms as he held me close while we swayed to the beat. I looked into his light brown eyes and couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted this man and, it wasn’t the drugs that prompted my next course of action. I mashed my face against his, feeling his soft, pillowy lips against mine. Man, could he kiss. He took my breath away! This was it. In my mind, we were gonna run away together, get married and have a couple of beautiful mop haired café au lait children. I was so lost in the moment, I didn’t notice Krissie coming back downstairs until she broke up my potential romantic love scene with “Special Dark.”

Now, here’s where the story gets really crazy.

Krissie joins us, wraps her arms around the both of us and we all start dancing together. Bennett is in the middle of these two white girls like a reverse Oreo cookie. I know “Captain Newport” would have been extra-pissed if he saw this happening. Krissie and I were rolling really hard now. It got really hot as our hands were sliding up and down Bennett’s waist, arms and all over each other. Then, Krissie slides from behind Bennett to come in between us. She turns and plants a Bennett a long, soft wet kiss on his pillow lips. Normally, this would have pissed me off, but I was feeling so good I didn’t care. In fact, it was a huge turn-on. Then, Krissie turned to me with a look that I never saw before. I was like a deer in headlights as she started to kiss me! Next thing I know, we were all kissing each other becoming this sweaty, sexy heap of passion.

Oh, man. We needed to find a room and handle this before we really became “those people” at the club. Krissie and I were definitely letting our inner hoes out that night. But, I guess we had nothing to worry about since Bennett was the club owner, right?

The next few moments were a blur. Bennett’s strong hands are gripping my ass just right while Krissie is kissing and licking Bennett’s neck before returning to his lips. We’re still all moving to the beat of the music as Bennett breaks away and starts kissing my neck as Krissie licks his ear… Ow! Did Bennett just bite me on my neck? That was kind of hard, but hot at the same time. Oh, now Krissie is licking my neck where Bennett just gave me a hickey. She pulls away with her tongue sticking out before shoving it down Bennett’s throat. Wait. Was that blood on her tongue? Wait. Was that MY blood on her tongue?

Jason and Trevor ruined our love fest by coming downstairs and ripping Krissie and I away from our new favorite candy bar. They pushed Bennett toward the bar. The boys were really pissed and tried to start a fight with Bennett probably because Bennett got farther with us then they ever could, or ever will. They got all up in his face while Bennett stood there cool as a cucumber. I don’t know why the bouncers didn’t get involved, but Bennett just shot them a “I got this” look and these three big, scary guys, including “Charlotte’s Web” from earlier in the night backed away.

Now, during this whole time, the music kept going and the people kept dancing. It’s like it was no big deal. Even the “Statue” and “Flapper” just sat there like this was nothing, just another Friday night at Red Nº 5…

Until Trevor broke a beer bottle on the edge of the bar and lunged at Bennett. What transpired next happened so fast, and I was so fucked up, I know I’m making this up. But, I thought Bennett grabbed Trevor, spun him around into a chokehold and sunk his teeth into Trevor’s neck. He threw Trevor down like a used napkin, grabbed Jason by the neck and body-slammed him to the ground…

With one hand.

The last thing I remember was Bennett’s light brown eyes staring at me while his mouth was stained with Trevor’s blood. Then, everything got very hazy…

I woke up the next morning in my hotel room. Krissie was lying next to me in the bed, we were still fully clothed. She woke up about five minutes after me. We tried to clear our heads from the fog because we were both groggy as shit. The ecstasy we took last night was clean, but still. The after-roll leaves you in this half-floating state that could last the whole next day. We both were wondering what happened last night. It was a dream, right? Jason and Trevor were fine, right? Krissie went to get us some coffee while I tried to call Jason and see if he and Trevor were ok form the night before. The call went straight to voicemail. I tired calling again, same thing. I must have called at least 10 times before finally giving up.

Jason never called back.

A couple of months later, Krissie and I were back in Chicago for another night on the town. We decided to head back to Red Nº 5 since we had such a great time there before the weirdness. As we got to the front of the line, we saw that “Charlotte’s Web” was working the front door. However, he wasn’t so warm to us this time.

“I’m sorry, ladies, but I can’t let you in tonight,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked in my best little girl voice.

“Last time you were here, you caused problems. We can’t afford problems here.”

“That wasn’t us!” I pleaded. “We didn’t cause the problem, it was those two guys we came here with! You can’t blame us for something someone else…”

Before I could get the next words out, “Charlotte’s Web” lowered his head and tipped his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. I looked into his eyes and, at that moment, saw what happened to Jason and Trevor. They brought us into an environment we knew nothing about and they proceeded to shit all over the place and break the rules. They paid the price and it wasn’t pretty. It was only because of the “rules” that Krissie and I were able to walk out of the club. Now I know those hoochie mamas felt a couple of months past.

Krissie and I got out of the line and left. We never stepped foot into Red Nº 5 again.

We don’t know what happened to Jason and Trevor and we don’t wanna know.

We just knew that we didn’t belong there.

[kindofchaoticgood]

I Did Something Bad (Why Does it Feel Good?)

Nobody is actually sure whether Uma and Harry are together or not.

Sure, he flirts with her incessantly and sometimes she flirts back, but there's never any concrete proof that the two are actually in a relationship.

Evie sees Harry casually wrap his arm around Uma whenever they're walking out on the quad together, but the next day, she sees him hold out his arm for Claudine Frollo to take, and she's utterly confused.

Jane catches Uma running her fingers through Harry’s hair during lunch, but then the next minute, she’s ruffling Gil’s hair, so she supposes that doing things with someone’s hair is just a sign of friendship with Uma.

All of the teachers know that Harry insists on walking Uma to class everywhere, but some of them swear that they’ve seen Harry escorting Gil and Sierra around as well. None of them know what to make of it.

And then there’s the singing.

The first time is during a regular Monday lunch, and the students have decided to take their lunch outside today. Even King Ben has decided to take a break from his work and take lunch with his girlfriend and their friends. The birds are chirping and the sky is blue, and everything is peaceful.

Until Harry Hook swaggers up with a boombox and a microphone and plonks it right next to the table where he, Uma, and the rest of the crew eat. Uma has an eyebrow raised and Claudine looks confused, but Ashe is hiding a smirk and Gil looks on the edge of his seat with anticipation.

“You may be wondering what this is,” Harry begins, looking around the courtyard. Everyone is staring at him, and from across the courtyard, Mal has her eyes narrowed.

“What’s he doing?” Evie hisses, but Harry continues before anyone can answer.

“Well, as a thank you to the king for being so gracious and allowing us to come to Auradon, I’ve decided to pay a little tribute to him,” Harry says with an evil smile as he presses a button on the boombox.

An eerily familiar beat begins to play and Mal grips the edge of the table, looking haunted. “Oh fuck.”

“Oh no,” Ben chokes out, sinking down on the bench. “He wouldn’t . . .”

“He would,” Carlos says, watching with wide eyes, as Harry brandishes the microphone and starts singing.

“Did I mention, that I’m in love with you. And did I mention, there’s nothing I can’t do. And did I happen to say, I dream of you every day?”

Jay’s mouth is open, Evie looks utterly horrified, and Carlos’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. Mal is looking green and Ben looks like he can’t figure out the fastest way to kill himself.

Uma is laughing at first, but then her eyes go absolutely wide when Harry falls to his knees in front of her and starts singing directly at her.

“I met this girl that rocked my world like it's never been rocked. And now I'm living just for her and I won't ever stop. I never thought that it can happen to a guy like me. But now look at what you've done, you got me down on my knees.”

With that last line, he jerks his hips lewdly and Ashe bursts out laughing, getting up to join him. Gil follows her, grinning sheepishly at Uma when she glares at him. She turns her glare to Harry, who has the nerve to smirk at her and keep eye contact the entire time he sings at her.

“I do not remember this many pelvic thrusts in the song,” Evie says hoarsely as Harry does a move that would make a stripper jealous.

“Or this much sexual innuendo,” Carlos mutters.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Ben says, looking queasy.

Funnily enough, the other students don’t seem nearly as shocked as them. In fact, most of them are singing along. Jordan and Lonnie are wolf-whistling and Audrey is openly laughing and cheering Harry on. Unlike the last time that this song was sung, she isn’t the one who’s getting dumped in front of the entire school, and it’s Mal who looks like she’s been punched in the stomach. (Oh give her a break, she’s only human after all.)

Not to mention, the horror on Uma’s face is priceless, and the amount of teasing she can take out of this moment will be treasured forever and brought up at every possible opportunity.

Harry finishes off his song with a large flourish and falls to the ground dramatically. The students break into applause and hollers as Gil and Ashe bow, grinning wildly. Next to Uma, Marya Rasputin is doubled over with laughter and Claudine is trying hard not to smile.

“Is it done?” Ben asks, his voice muffled. He slid down to the grass after Harry had sung the entire ‘Ridiculous’ phrase directly at him, and had remained there ever since, contemplating existence.

“I think so,” Jay says, looking vaguely shell-shocked. “If it’s any consolation, Uma looks ready to murder him.”

“This, I gotta see,” Mal laser-focuses her gaze on the other side of the courtyard, green eyes glimmering murderously. She may hate Shrimpy, but right now, she hates Harry a bit more, and watching him get killed will only be what he deserves after that performance.

The ‘Rotten’ Four and Ben turn their attention with bated breath to the other side of the courtyard, where Uma is glaring at Harry so hard that it’s a miracle he isn’t dead yet from the force of her glare.

To their disappointment, Uma merely gets up, takes Harry by the ear (“Bloody hell, lass, easy!”) and storms off, ignoring everyone’s protests as she drags Harry away.

“Goddamn it,” Jay groans, eyeing the way Uma’s beads are flashing in the sunlight (they’re so shiny . . . ) as the pair continue striding up to the castle. “I really wanted to see her unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole.”

“Someone’s been doing the English homework,” Carlos says approvingly, holding up his hand for a high five. When Mal gives him a deadly look, he tries not to gulp too audibly. “Not relevant, okay,” he mumbles, looking embarrassed.

“I can never go outside again,” Ben groans, looking utterly mortified.

For the next few days, all eyes are on Uma and Harry, in order to see what exactly has transpired between the two. Uma doesn’t seem at all fazed by the extra attention, she just holds her head up high and scowls at anyone who gets in her way, as per usual. Harry, on the other hand, absolutely revels in the attention. His usual swagger gets even more exaggerated, and he preens like a peacock whenever he catches someone staring at him.

“You’re such an embarrassment,” Claudine mutters, adjusting her headscarf nervously as a group of girls burst into giggles when she and Harry walk by, arms linked. She’s starting to regret taking his arm when he offered it to her, there are too many people staring at their arms and whispering.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry says innocently, winking at the girls, who scowl accusingly at Claudine for daring to be on his arm.

“I hope Uma wins,” she hisses at him, shooting a dagger-filled gaze at the girls, who pale and scatter in all directions.

Harry grins at her condescendingly. “In your dreams.”

Jay, Mal, Carlos, and Evie make sure to sit near Uma and her crew for the days following Harry’s performance, and Ben makes sure to join them for lunch each time. Mal is convinced that Uma is planning revenge on Harry and will take it out on him soon, but her cohorts aren’t so convinced.

“Can we please go back to our table?” Evie asks, looking disgusted as Ashe stuffs a handful of French fries into her mouth and downs an entire can of soda. “Nothing is going to happen. Uma’s probably already beaten Harry up, and then they got over it.”

“Lies,” Mal counters. “I remember how hard Uma hits. The bruises last forever, and even then, she’s wearing rings and her gloves have brass knuckles. There is no way that the bruises faded that fast.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Jay complains. “When I waved at Claudine, Marya flipped me off, and I’m pretty sure she cast a curse on me.” He scowls at Mal accusingly. “I came here to see Harry Hook get beaten up, not to get cursed.”

“Tough it out,” Mal replies dismissively.

“Honey, I don’t think anything’s going to happen,” Ben says gently, taking her hand.

“But - !” Mal looks at the rest of them for support, but Jay is already looking bored with the conversation, Evie is shaking her head, and Carlos isn’t even there, he gave up on them a while ago and went to sit with Jane.

“One more day,” she finally says, looking defeated.

Jay and Evie look at each other consideringly. “Fine, but you're buying the lattes,” Evie declares.

The next day, they take their seats at the table near Uma's crew, bearing lattes.

“I hate this,” Carlos mutters, taking a sulky sip of his large chocolate-raspberry latte (with an extra shot of confidence, he’s having dinner with Jane and her mom tonight). Uma's older cousins, Desiree and Jonas, are visiting, and they keep on staring at the five of them like they've sprouted pansies from their ears.

“Be quiet,” Mal commands, taking a bite of celery and making a face. (God, why are vegetables so terrible? They're the only thing about Auradon that's as bad as the Isle.)

“Come on, Mal! The only revenge thing that I’ve seen is when Bonnie punched Jonas in the arm after he gave her a hickey! And Uma isn't even here! Face it, nothing's going to-”

“Attention, losers and squares!” Uma’s voice booms across the courtyard.

“-Happen,” Carlos finishes weakly as Mal and Ben spin around and Jay and Evie exchange money, the latter scowling.

Uma, Harry, Gonzo, and Big Murph are standing on the other side of the courtyard. Uma’s holding a megaphone, and Big Murph and Gonzo are shirtless, their backs to large speakers. Harry's leaning against a table, looking amused.

“All of you were witness to a very special performance that Harry decided to perform for King Ben the other day,” Uma says, which draws cheers and applause from the crowd. Harry raises a hand in lazy acknowledgment, and Ben sighs tiredly. Mal bumps her shoulder with his in commiseration.

“Wait, was this the video you showed me the other day?” Desiree whispers to Marya, who snickers, but shushes her girlfriend.

“The performance . . . It was . . .”

Harry grins evilly at her, and she scowls at him for a minute before continuing. “Well, either way, it moved me a lot, and so I also decided to also make a performance dedicated to someone. Harry?”

The boy in question raises an eyebrow at her.

“This song is about you,” she nods at Gonzo, and he reaches around the side of the speaker and presses a button and a beat that Jay vaguely recognizes blares out, as Uma begins to sing.

“Sometimes, something beautiful happens in this world, and you don't know how to express yourself . . .”

“This isn't revenge,” Jay complains, looking disgusted. “It's a godddamn love song!”

“I'm sorry guys,” Mal sighs, just as Uma starts in on the chorus.

“I just had sex, and it felt so good!”

“-Sorry that you guys are dipshits and I'm right all the time!” Mal finishes, as the courtyard roars in approval.

“A woman let me put my penis inside her! I just had sex! And I’ll never go back, to the not-having-sex days of the past!”

Uma punctuates that statement with a triumphant smack to her inner thigh, Gonzo and Big Murph gyrating beside her. Harry is staring at Uma like he's never seen her before.

Marya and Desiree are clutching each other for support, Claudine is wiping her eyes with her headscarf, and Gil is pounding the table, doubled over with laughter at the look on Harry's face. Bonnie is trying to close Jonas's mouth, which is hanging open.

“This is the best thing ever,” Mal says with a dark grin, eyes sparkling with malice. Ben gives her a strange look, but decides to let it go. Jay cannot take his eyes off of the scene, because there is only a little space between where Uma’s grinding and Gonzo's hips are . . .

Goddamn, he’s lucky that Mal can't read minds, otherwise he’d be dead.

Meanwhile, Jonas has his head buried in his hands, and Desiree keeps laughing at him and telling him to calm down.

“It's a performance, big brother-”

“I'm gonna fucking kill Gonzo, that bitch is going down. Murph as well, who cares if he has a kid-”

Uma turns towards Harry with a wicked smile and sings the next line directly at Harry.

“She kept looking at her watch!”

“Doesn't matter had sex!” Gonzo and Big Murph join in, pointing at Harry, who gives them a look of betrayal.

“But I cried the whole time!” At that line, Sierra slides down from the bench, and Ashe lets out a gleeful laugh as she high-fives Bonnie.

“Doesn't matter, had sex!”

“I think she might have been a racist!”  Lonnie is trying to film the performance, but her hands are shaking too much from laughing, and Jane keeps trying to cover the phone, insisting, “No, this is wrong!”

“Doesn't matter, had sex!”

“She put a bag on my head!”

“STILL COUNTS!”  Uma, Gil, and Murph shout into the megaphone, simultaneously flipping Harry off.

Chad Charming has the flashlight on his phone on and is leading everyone in waving the lights back and forth.

Jonas is groaning into his hands as Bonnie rubs his back soothingly. “My baby cousin . . . I can never look her in the eye again, Bon, do you realize that?”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“NEVER!” Jonas wails, burying his head in Desiree's shoulder, who shoves him off with a disgusted look.

Uma throws down her megaphone at the end of the song, but luckily, Gonzo quickly switches off the speakers before she can deafen them all with feedback. She strides up to Harry, who has his face in his hands.

“So,” she says cheerily, voice saccharine-sweet. “What did you think, honey?”

Mal, Ben, and the rest of the courtyard are watching this with wide eyes, and half of them are fumbling with their phones to take videos.

Harry slowly raises his head, and Mal really hopes that tears of defeat are falling down his face so she can capture the moment and make it her home screen. (She's a petty bitch, but at least she admits it.)

But he's grinning widely, and his blue eyes are sparkling with a feverish energy, not tears, like she had hoped. “Bloody brilliant, love,” Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around Uma and lifting her off her feet. “You’ve outdone yourself with this one,”

“In your lowlife dreams, Hook,” Uma says smugly, tolerating Harry's affection for three seconds before shoving him out of the way and bowing at the crowd, all of whom are applauding enthusiastically. “I’ve just set a new standard. I’ll break it in no time.”

“Sure babe,” Harry turns to Gonzo and Murph, who are being swarmed by students. “You two might want to leave - Jonas is heading over here and he has Marya’s baseball bat.”

“Well that was traumatizing,” Evie says sourly as Jonas chases Gonzo and Murph past their table (“Dude, come on, she paid us!” “I'm gonna feed your dicks to my dog, you sons of bitches!”). “The only good thing to come out of this is that we finally have an answer to the question of whether or not Harry and Uma are dating.”

“What?” Mal asks distractedly, re-watching the performance on her phone with glee.

“Why else would he profess his love to her, and then why would she mock him through sex? They're obviously together-”

Evie's impassioned monologue is interrupted by Sierra's triumphant cackle. “I win! Pay up loser!”

“Fucking hell, I don't even know why I bet on that boy anymore,” Ashe grouses as she reluctantly hands over ten dollars to Sierra. “He has been a disappointment ever since the time we had sex, and he’s been letting me down ever since.”

“What?” Evie says, so loudly that Ashe and Sierra stare at her. But it's Claudine who answers her.

“Harry and Uma had a bet going all week over who could embarrass the other more,” she explains, a smile curling her lips up. “And as you can see, Uma clearly won.”

Evie stares into her latte as though she's considering drowning herself in it as Jay laughs at her. “Ha! I should've put money on you being dead wrong.”

From across the courtyard, Uma and Harry are watching the crowd and enjoying the chaos.

“Should we let them out of their misery?” Harry asks, smirking down at Uma.

“Not until Wednesday,” Uma replies nonchalantly, grinning evilly as Audrey and Jane begin arguing, gesturing furiously at her and Harry.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Rather specific.”

“Claudine has a bet going on with Jordan that you’ll turn her down if she asks you out. Claud promised to split the profits with us, and then you'll have enough to get new ink for your tattoo gun,” Uma says, a wicked grin in the corner of her mouth.

Harry grins and wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. “That's my girl,” he says admiringly as Uma smirks and laces her fingers with his.