#so that definitely threw a wrench in things. he’s taller than most all the other dancers and don’t even get started on the hair

[peapod20001]

"industry that wants to crush you under its heel" explain.

Sébastien is / was a professional ballet dancer. But we all know that ballet isn’t the most diverse or accepting field to go into, so he struggled A LOT to even get people to take him seriously

He sacrificed a lot to get where he is. He still has doubts on whether or not it was worth it

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 3

Hey there! Thank you for taking the time to read this

There are so many left out details here that I did on purpose for future explanation within the fic for the element of mystery I'm trying to brew . Hope you don't mind! Enjoy reading❤

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

1.7k words.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, injury and fighting.

*

Without thinking, I drove my fist towards the voice, regretting it the instant I recognized who it was.

Tai'chi.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found my fist encased in his hand. He seems unfazed by my reaction, seemingly expecting it.

“Oh shi— I’m so sorry!”

How the hell did he sneak up on me without making a sound??

“Feisty- I mean, I should be the one sorry, for startling you...And for following you. I just wanted to, make sure you were alright.”

I blinked. He was concerned?

He spoke up when I didn’t respond.

“So, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Just, disappointed.” I breathed in and sighed as he gently let go of my fist.

Oh, and his scent helps right now. He smells so...wonderful I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve been surrounded by disgusting odors my entire life. I swear I’ve inhaled appealing scents like lilac, sandalwood, cinnamon, even rain has its particular smell! But Tai'chi, he—he’s something else entirely.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else like, I don’t know, maybe getting lunch with some of your friends or in a classroom?” I asked. I wonder why he would even bother to be in my presence. Anyone should be creeped out by the way I spoke up earlier. I mean, who does that? Plus, I did throw a stranger down to the floor. But part of me knows he deserved that.

Definitely.

“Want to talk about it?” He ignored my question. Tai'chi was now sitting cross-legged beside me, the oak’s root in between us. His deep azure eyes studying, watching me carefully.

“What?”

“What you did back there, wasn’t something a plain, timid college girl would do.”

Wait. He knew I was pretending to be one?

“Yes, I knew.”

“You can read minds?!” I stammered out. He can read my mind this whole time?! Shit.

He held up for a second before a boisterous laugh broke out of him and echoed through the circling trees, scaring away some birds perched above. I don’t know if I should be offended or flustered by his guffaw. It was so, so deep and rich and —

What the hell Pearl? What if he's reading your mind??

Tai'chi faced me again, sighing once he calmed down.

“To answer your question, no, I can’t read minds. But like I stated before, your face gives it away. Or your brows since you’re wearing a mask, but I can imagine your expression.”

I let out an incomprehensible noise.

“How did you find out I was pretending to be…you know,” waving my hands around.

“The moment we made eye contact this morning when you entered. And the way you shifted your body at the last second to prevent yourself from plunging into the trash bin, I knew you were something more. Your eyes and your actions show your experience in combat. A skilled warrior would notice these little things right away.”

My jaw fell open, and I’m sure he knows. He left me speechless.

Should I tell him I am a trained martial artist and a weapon wielder?

But we just met like 5 hours ago!

He seems trustworthy. And he’s an orc, didn’t they have a code of honor or something?

My thoughts ran wild I swear Tai'chi could hear my mind, screaming.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t wish to. And I must’ve sounded, creepy when I admitted I’ve been observing you. But before anything else, will you allow me to introduce myself, for real this time?”

“You mean your name isn’t Tai'chi?”

Letting out a chuckle, he replied, “I swear to you, my name is Tai'chi. What I mean is, I want you to know my full name. Do you understand what this implies, Pearl?”

I racked my brain for a moment, trying to recall what my parents said about orc traditions when my uncle, papa’s brother, married the orcess he fell in love with. Something about an orc’s real name being reserved only to those they’re close to?

“I guess so? But what exactly?”

“I want to become your friend.”

I couldn’t help the slight warmth creeping into my cheeks behind my mask. He can’t see it, can he? A friend, he says. A friend!

“Oh,” was all that came out. A pause and;

“Uh, I mean, I’d love to be your friend! I never had an actual friend before. I mean, have cousins, but we aren’t acquainted enough to consider myself their friend— I mean— uh, what should I do?” I blurted out a little rapidly.

He smiled. He actually smiled! Oh, damn, it was adorable!

Tai'chi was about to say something, but he snapped his mouth shut and grimaced. I was confused by his sudden change of mood, along with his scent.

Then it struck me.

The two of us shot up when multiple smells filled the air, making my stomach clench.

We were followed, not just one but six individuals. One of them was the pretentious human from earlier.

My day can’t get any better. And is that a baseball bat? Great. Fucking great.

I swear. I’m cursed to find trouble anywhere I go.

“Hello, freaks.” The guy in the middle began. “Whatcha doin’ out here in the forest?”

The others began spreading out and surrounded us.

“Planning something nasty I bet.” A human to my right spat.

“You will pay for what you did to me, you bitch. Just so you know, my father is the dean of this university. No one will ever hear a word of what I did here and what we will do to you.

'Dean’s son, David Silverstone, assaulted by an insane student in the woods within campus grounds. His friends graciously helping him fight off the lunatic until she passed out and was carried to an isolation chamber for monitoring, later finding out about her severe psychological disorder.’ Now wouldn’t that be a hit in the papers!” The bastard and his companions cackled and snickered, some of them stealing glances between my legs and I felt my skin crawl.

Tai'chi growled lowly, silencing them for a brief moment. He was getting mad but held his ground.

“And you,” the human pointed, “you beast. It won’t be hard antagonizing you, people will no doubt believe you were the one who violated the schoolgirl and left her in the woods to die.”

This fucking—

I felt a hand on my shoulder just as I was about to start, gently gripping, in hopes of trying to calm me down. He knows they were baiting us on making the first move. He shook his head, and an idea popped up.

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to make my voice as girly as possible, sounding so hilarious, like those overdressed, flashy high school girls with flowery perfume so strong I wrenched every time I get a whiff of it.

Provoking them would do.

“Oh, I’m so scared! Should I get on my knees and beg for mercy? Oh please, great and noble one, have mercy on my poor soul.” My voice laced with mockery and sadness, with my legs fake trembling and my arms flailing.

And did Tai'chi just snort?

“If you beg nicely, I will perhaps give you a chance to— ”

My sudden wheezing interrupted him and I laughed. Hard. I can’t believe he bought my terrible acting! I expected him to straight-up be offended rather than actually bite the false bait. He is dumber than I thought.

I was holding my middle by the time I was done. Tai'chi’s shoulders were moving slightly, probably chuckling and trying to hold back his amusement.

“Did you honestly take it seriously??? I can't— oh my God!” I choked out once more before I went on.

“There’s no chance in hell I’m gonna bow to you, not even one degree of an angle, you foolish, idiotic, spoiled, bastardized son of a bitch.”

His face was turning red out of rage and oh! Wasn’t that a sight to behold?

“You brat!” Turning his head to the others, he yelled, “What are guys standing there for?! Get them!”

Good.

Perhaps they didn’t catch my hands slipping on my beloved crimson knuckle dusters out of the bag when I was laughing then, tugging down my hoodie’s sleeve to hide it.

“Don’t move.” I told the orc, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“But—”

“Just don’t.” I said with my voice firm. I will take them on my own. I can’t have him getting in trouble and people blaming him for being an orc. Imagine that. The ones who attacked him will be viewed as victims because they were up against him, an orc. Numerous humans will jump at the chance to throw dirt at their race, a single act of self-defense treated as a one-sided assault to humans, the thought of it being enough to somehow remove all of them from the city, but everyone knows it's not that simple. Dimwits.

I strode forward without earning his response, waiting for the first person to come at me.

I took my stance, although it was more of preparing half of my body since I was still hiding both of my hands.

They all seemed confused and hesitant, which was what I was going for. To me, and those with experience in hand-to-hand combat, this is one of the most basic stances, but fundamental, nonetheless. A simple form that can determine the outcome of a fight. With my right foot forward, left foot back, both firmly planted to the ground, and my dominant hand wearing my dusters. In their eyes, it was…wrong, foreign. Some may even say it’s an open vulnerability, showing how inexperienced the opponent is, but oh, it is the exact opposite.

I didn’t see Tai'chi’s expression, though. I was on alert and getting into my zone to peer at him, one motion that can put me in a compromising position. Did he notice my brass knuckles? Likely.

“Scared to hurt a little girl like me?” I enticed.

Finally, the one beside their alleged leader charged at me.

A typical amateur approach.

The guy, about two inches taller than me, threw a right punch, which was a huge mistake.

Predictable.

I smirked under my mask and dodged it not a second before it connected. Making him falter as I grabbed his arm and brought it down to my knee, dislodging his joints.

A high-pitched scream of pain broke out of him as he dropped down on the forest ground, gripping his bent-off arm, cursing, but refused to rise and fight me again.

I gave him one last glance before I looked back at the others.

“Who’s next?”

****************************************

Those human shits just can't leave them alone! Interrupting their supposed-to-be official introduction! There's more to the orc that meets the eye *wink* Who is he exactly? Why was he so... observant?

Part 4 is actually on its third revising— and I'm still trying to come up on HOW to phrase my next words to lead to part 5. I let me brain take a break from spewing senseless words for now so I'll probably post the next part of this later or tomorrow

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And I'd appreciate it if you have some advice for me, or just point out some mistakes I made! Thank you

Ps. This is really not perfect formal writing if you're wondering. I just type away whatever comes into my mind, and then proofread it to the best I can. And I hope you don't mind me using a lot of spaces. It... sort of makes my mind clear and continue moving forward, and it helps me when I'm reading it again, mentally taking note that with every line between spaces there's a slight pause and again, read it clearly like you were the one thinking it. I don't know how to explain how my own brain works but I guess that's that?

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[gryphonablaze]

multiverse mozara (and the other two hunters) meeting: 

amara’s on the anonymous vigilanteism thing. zane is continuing his corporate contract killing thing. FL4K is the grand archivist. moze is an esteemed and decorated soldier. 

one day, a big showy public event of moze being granted a medal of super high honor or whatever. big. dramatic. she has to give a speech. 

some corporation, doesn’t really matter which, but tbh most likely dahl, wants to strike a blow and weaken Vladof, both in their leadership and their morale. that’s why mister contract killer is stealthily weaving his way past security. The digi-clone is on a nearby rooftop, ready for him to swap with so he can snipe if a close-up kill doesn’t work out, but he’s found a decent hiding spot. He’s good at his job, after all. And it’s on outdoor venue. Those are always easier.

Any logical bounty hunter, vigilante or criminal, military mastermind, whatever--knows this is a big deal. High-value person at a big public event. Security is through the fucking roof. Minor setback for one particular sneaky fucker. Big setback for a particular faceless vigilante who (ironically) isn’t as good at sneaking around... but who knows that no amount of guns and security can save anyone from a well-enough-prepared assassin. 

A large, potentially historically significant event. Nice to have a firsthand account. The Grand Archivist, after a shitload of security screenings, is given a prime spot in a special journalist’s booth. 

.

.

.

There was no way to know where an assassin would post themself. It would all depend on their skillset, and logic could only bring Amara so far as to assume that there would be an assassin lurking around, but not who it would be. She was standing relatively far from the heavily-secured venue. It would be difficult for someone in a dramatic masked getup to get in legally without raising an alarm. Other options included punching, which she was good at, but... Depending on the assassin’s technique, alarms going off could be either very good or very bad. The target would be rushed off the stage, away from a close-range killer, but easily into the sights of a sniper. Or toward a close-range killer, if they set themselves up to where she would be ushered near them if alarms went off. Perhaps they were counting on triggering security? 

Ugh, to hell with it. No way was it possible to know what the assassin was planning. It was possible to assume that as soon as a wrench was thrown into whatever the hell their plan was, they’d rush. Strike prematurely. If she forced their hand, she could react appropriately. But that meant she’d have to get to the target quickly after alarms were raised. She was very good at punching, but it still would take too long. But what if... oh, perfect! 

Amara cracked her knuckles and ran out of the alleyway she’d been hiding in. The line of security soldiers immediately, predictably, raised their guns at her when she came toward them. Screams. Yelling at her to halt. Security was up. Timer on. 

About four meters away from the line, Amara jumped into the air. And then she leaped again--beneath her feet had materialized a large spectral hand, and it launched her forward over the guards, and past most of the crowd. She landed with a clean tuck-and-roll only a few meters from the stage. 

.

.

Of course. They had more or less just been waiting for something like this to happen. Three soldiers put themselves between Moze and whoever this breach of security was. Her hand went to her knife. An electrical explosion threw the soldiers away to either side, and before she had a chance to move, Moze was caught in a flying tackle by someone in a carved tiger mask--a--a Siren? Oh, well now she was definitely fucked. A Siren. A gunshot rang out above her on their way to the ground. The Siren growled when she stood up, looming over Moze like a tiger. She threw a punch into the empty air above the gunner, and like a shadow a larger, spectral fist tore down the flags and curtains behind the stage. A quick shout and a zap of light followed. Moze finally got air back into her lungs and stood up, knife ready.

Standing before her and the Siren was... a ghost? A ghost who flipped them off before disappearing. 

‘Shit!’ The Siren hissed. Blood streaked her left arm. It gave the tattoos it was running over a weird purplish glow. ‘WHERE DID HE GO?’ She spun around to scan the crowd. Her face wasn’t visible, but it didn’t need to be; Moze could hear the rage in the woman’s voice. She was then shot three times in her right leg by security. She collapsed onto her knee, and two soldiers hurried over to restrain her. Moze would have thought it was effortless, the way she took the person behind her with one hand and threw them over her head into the other, had it not been for the roar the siren let out as she did it. 

‘HOLD IT!’ Moze yelled and put an arm out to block the next approaching soldier. Surely enough, they all stopped. She put away her knife. ‘Get this woman some medical attention.’ There was a long moment of confused silence. ‘Right now, dammit!’ A couple of the soldiers gave her hesitant salutes, still eyeing the woman on the ground, before moving into action. One ran off, and the others flanked Moze protectively. The siren was trying to struggle to her feet, so Moze nudged past one soldier and offered her a hand, which she took. The masked woman was almost a whole head taller than her, so it was a little awkward for her to lean on Moze’s shoulder, and one of the soldiers stepped in to support her other side. ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

.

.

Bullshite. Bloody motherfuckin’ bullshite. Zane watched from the distant roof as his digi-clone flickered away.  What the absolute bloody fuck was that? Looking through the scope of the sniper rifle he had left here to wait for him, he saw it was a Siren. A Siren? As in one of the six superpowered women gallivanting across the bloody universe, capable of leaving ruin in their wake with nothing but a snap of their fingers? Fuckin’ hell. Zane had heard a story once of two sirens, the Firehawk and the Guardian of Athenas, on that hellplanet Pandora effortlessly obliterating five dozen bandits in five minutes. Man, if it wasn’t for the backdoor he’d set up, by now he’d be crispier than a forgotten rotisserie ratch.  Bloody fuckin’ hell.

.

.

Oh, this turned out to be so much more significant than FL4K could have ever predicted. Stories of Sirens had their own special, if small, corner of the archive, but almost all of those tales had endless seas of citations tying them into other planet-rendingly extraordinary events.  And he got it all on video. Amazing. 

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

What We Have (1)

Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter

Summary: Reader is Adonis’ adopted sister, she and Viktor falls for one another.

A/N: This was a request from @rochyu. I used some stuff from the movie with changes and twists of course. In this version Apollo died after the kids were born. Also, as to not completely butcher the Russian language, everything in bold italics is Russian. Hope you guys enjoy!!

Word Count: 3,187

********

You were on your way to Adrian's with Rocky. You'd been visiting Philly after Adonis told you about his engagement to Bianca. After spending a few days with them, you'd gone to see the old man and of course grab some food at the best Italian spot in the city. When you walked in, the hostess told him a man was waiting for him. When you both looked up you saw Ivan Drago sitting at a table.

"Stay back," he said to you, before walking over and pulling out a chair to sit with the other man.

You walked past Ivan, taking a good look at him before standing off to the side. You listened to their conversation and when Ivan mentioned his son breaking Adonis, Rocky stood from his seat and so did he. Viktor pulled the door open and walked inside with the most menacing scowl on his face and you stepped forward to stand beside Rocky.

You looked Viktor up and down before making eye contact with him. He was huge. Had a few inches over Adonis and a bit of weight, but you saw your brother beat down guys just as big as him in Mexico. He could take him. 

You were sitting at the table having dinner with your family. You were so excited that your brother and future sister-in-law had moved back to LA.

Bianca was telling Mary Anne about being signed to a record label, but you could tell by the look on Adonis' face that he was nervous about something. When you made eye contact, no words needed to be said. He was taking the fight and tonight was about breaking the news to your mother. He was getting ready to spill the beans when your mom threw a monkey wrench in the mix thinking they were announcing a pregnancy.

Your eyes darted from Adonis to Bianca.

"Wait, what?" You leaned in.

"No, nuh un, no," Bianca denied as she picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

All four of you were silent for a moment and then she spit the wine back into the glass.

"I have a test in my bathroom, I'll go get it." You scooted your chair back and started jogging off.

"Aye, woah, hold up," Adonis stopped you. "Why you got a test in your room?"

"I'm grown," you said and left the dining room.

"Momma..."

"She's an adult. Just like you're an adult." Your mother told him.

When you came back down with the test Bianca had to practically drag him to the bathroom. Once they were gone your mother turned to you.

"You had a pregnancy scare and you didn't tell me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I was a few days late a couple of months ago and I bought it. Started my period the same night." You explained.

"And what happened to being safe to start with?"

"The condom broke."

She gave you the side eye and looked as if she was about to ask another question, but Adonis walked into the room and you both turned your attention to him.

"Well?!" You asked when he didn't say anything.

"I'ma be a dad," he smiled.

You screamed and ran to jump into his arms. You were more excited than he was. He put you down and you ran to Bianca, who was in tears, to give her a hug.

You put your hand on her still flat belly and whispered over and over again.

"Please, be a girl. Please, be a girl."

Once the excitement of the pregnancy died down a bit. You could hear Adonis telling your mother about taking the fight with Drago. You knew she was pissed when you heard her tell him he didn't need her blessing. You walked all the way into the kitchen when she said she hoped he'd be there for his child. She looked up at you and stormed out.

"Rocky isn't training you?" You asked.

"Nah," he paused, "he don't think I can beat him."

"Or maybe the guilt of what happened to dad still eats at him," you shrugged.

"He should be able to let it go."

"Oh, so, you're allowed to have your feelings about it, but he isn't?"

"You gon lecture me too?" He huffed.

"No, I have no interest in wasting my time, because you've already made a decision. I do, however, have a favor to ask."

"And what's that?"

"I want to do the interviews. It'll be great for my career and —"

"No," he immediately shut you down.

"Come on, Donnie, why not?" You put your hands on your hips.

"I don't want you alone in a room with him. I'm not risking your life."

"I won't be alone. I'll have a camera man with me and I can do this. We'll make it a whole Creed thing." You smiled.

He was quiet for a second and then he laughed a little.

"What's so funny?"

"That's gon be an awkward ass post fight interview if I lose," he said.

"Well then, I guess you can't lose."

You flew to the Ukraine with your camera man, Dennis. Over the next few weeks before the fight, you watched on the sidelines as Viktor trained. The only verbal communication the two of you had were simple greetings and every now and then you'd exchanged looks that were far too long to be classified as a glance. You took photos and short video clips of him and Ivan doing drills.

He really was a beast. Powerful, focused hits with every jab, but he was slower than your brother and that's what Adonis had to use against him in order to win.

Today was your last day in Kiev, so you showed up to the gym a little late and waited until the two men were finished. Ivan was heading out of the ring and you walked up the stairs to get in. 

"Hey Dennis, can you get some shots of me in here for the cover photo?" You called out to him.

You did a few different poses and then he came over and showed you what he'd done so far. He swiped through the photos and Viktor was behind you in some of them.

He was still in his hand wraps and his body was drenched in sweat. He looked good and he wasn't even trying.

"Damn," you whispered. "Hey, Viktor come here and look at these," you waved him over.

He looked over your shoulder while you scrolled through the photos. The corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin, but it disappeared almost instantly. He stepped away and moved to the ropes to leave.

"I think we can work with what we have," you informed Dennis and followed Viktor.

He held the ropes open for you and jumped down once you were almost out. One of your heels got caught in the process and when you tried lifting your foot you lost your balance. Viktor reached out and caught you before you could hit the ground.

His arms cupped you close to him in the bridal position. You opened your eyes and looked up at him. His bright hazel eyes stared back at you.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks," you said.

"Viktor!" Ivan yelled from the door. "Let's go."

You snapped out of it and wiggled from his arms. He set you gently on your feet and walked towards his father. You cleared your throat and turned to Dennis, who was looking at you quizzically.

"What?" You asked.

"What was that?" He inquired.

"What was what?"

"That moment between you and little Drago."

"There was no moment, Dennis. Grab your stuff and let's go. We've got an early flight in the morning." You grabbed your bag and stomped away. 

You sat in the front row for the weigh in. You could obviously see that Viktor was taller and larger than Adonis, but while they were face to face it made you nervous.

You saw your brother look over at Ivan and within a split second all hell started breaking loose. You jumped from your seat, but Dennis held on to your arm.

"It'll look unprofessional and you do not need to jump in between two angry tanks," he advised.

Each team had separated the guys and you looked for Bianca to make sure she was a safe distance away.

"Let's go," you told Dennis. You walked to the locker room to set up for your interview with Viktor. After putting some finishing touches on your makeup, the men finally walked in.

Viktor paused when he laid his eyes on you and then quickly averted his gaze.

"This guy is terrifying, why did you want to do this?" Dennis whispered.

"He's not that scary, Dennis," you rolled your eyes.

Viktor and Ivan had turned their backs to you and were completely ignoring your presence. You tried to be polite and wait for him to finish up whatever it was that he was doing, but it was becoming obvious that they were being rude on purpose.

"Hey, we're on a schedule here, so Viktor, if you wouldn't mind coming over here, so I can get you mic'd up..." You smiled. The annoyed tone of your voice definitely didn't match the look on your face.

"Hello," Viktor said just above a whisper.

"Sit here, please," you ignored his greeting and grabbed the mic and handed it to him. "Put this under your shirt and clip it to your collar."

Ivan was standing so close that you bumped into him when you moved to adjust the position of the mic.

"Would you mind giving us a little space?" You asked him.

"Do I get one?" He countered.

"I'm not interviewing you."

"His English is not too good."

"I guess it's a good thing I've stayed on top of my Russian?"

Both men looked at you in shock. Dennis smiled behind the camera. He knew you couldn't wait to pull that little jaw dropper out of your pocket. You'd spent almost three weeks in Kiev and never let on that you could speak a different language. And since you barely talked to them, there was no reason to.

"Ready for check?" You asked, Dennis.

"Loud and clear," he replied referring to your sound.

"Please state your name, weight and height," you said to Viktor.

"I am Viktor Drago, my weight is 111kg and I am 193 centimeters tall." He replied.

"All good," Dennis confirmed. "Rolling in 3...2...1."

"Hi, Viktor..."

"Hello," he nodded.

"So tonight was your final weigh in and it seems like things got a little bit heated out there. Is that more fuel for your fire?"

"It is..." He stated, but didn't say anything else.

"Okay.... Why is this fight so important to you?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. You saw his face soften just a little bit before he spoke.

"To restore honor to my family name. To prove to the people of Russia and the world that I am worthy. That my father is worthy."

A beat of silence passed between you before you continued asking questions. The further into the interview you got, he seemed to loosen up a bit.

He told you that he's been training all of his life and that he loved fighting, despite it being tiring at times.

"So after this, whether it's a win, lose or draw, what's next for you? Any plans for a family or a life outside of boxing?"

"I have never really thought about it." He shrugged, "This moment has been my entire life and I will not fail."

His voice was heavy. You could tell that this meant everything to him. More than Drago's revenge as you once thought. You ended the interview with that question. 

"We're good Dennis, let's pack up and get to editing, so this will be ready tomorrow morning." You said pulling your mic off.

Ivan told Viktor that he'd meet him in the car and he left. You were seriously having a hard time understanding that man, but you had to remind yourself that he isn't the one you needed to communicate with.

Victor was removing his mic and somehow got twisted up in the cords. You went over to help him while Dennis packed everything else.

"Here, let me. Snatching on it isn't gonna get you anywhere."

Without thinking, you lifted his shirt and put your hand under it to pull the cords. Your fingers grazed his abs and suddenly you were very aware of what you were doing.

"Oh, sorry," your face was scorching from embarrassment.

"It is okay. Thank you for helping," he said softly.

You were finally able to get him untangled and put everything away. You helped Dennis carry some of his equipment and you headed out to his truck.

"Oh shoot, I think I left my phone," you ruffled through your bag. "Go ahead, I'll catch up," you turned around and headed back inside to the locker room.

You were in such a hurry that you didn't even see Victor standing on the other side of the door when you snatched it open. You crashed into his solid frame. Just like the last time, he reached out to catch you.

"Oh my goodness, thank you," you said as he stood you back upright.

He didn't say anything back. He just stood there and watched you.

"I, um, I think I left my phone in here," you pushed past him. 

His staring was making you uncomfortable and not in a bad way, which made you even more uncomfortable.

You searched around the areas where the phone should have been. You could see Victor from the corner of your eye just standing there.

"Well, if you're gonna stay, can you at least help me out?"

"How did you know I would understand you?" He asked.

"Because I knew your dad was lying and just wanted to hover over you during the interview. Can I see your phone, so I can call mine?" You walked over to him.

He handed you the phone, "He means well, my father. He's very protective. I am his only son."

When you unlocked the screen you froze to stare at the wallpaper. A picture of Ivan after his win against your father.

He noticed your hesitation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"

"No, it's fine," you said and dialed your number.

You saw the light from the screen across the room and went over to grab it. You handed Victor his phone and was on your way out when you felt his large hand grab yours.

"I know being around us must be hard for you, but you have been kind the whole time. Thank you."

"I wanted to get to know who you were on my own. And you're actually not so bad." You reached up and cupped his face.

He leaned into your touch. It wasn't everyday that someone showed him sincere affection. He couldn't stop himself, he lifted your chin and pressed his lips to yours.

He gave you the softest most gentle kiss you'd ever received. You pushed your tongue into his mouth. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it as he pulled you close.

You heard a noise behind you and pulled back. You looked down the hall, but didn't see anyone.

"Uh, I should go," you hurried away.

"What kept you?" Dennis asked, when you finally made it back outside. 

"Couldn't find the phone, Viktor helped me look for it."

"Viktor, huh?" He raised a brow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means your lipstick is smudged," he pointed.

"What?!" You hurried to look at your reflection, but your makeup was intact. "Very funny! Get that stuff over to editing for me and make sure Oliver reads all of my notes, please?"

"You got it, I'll see you tomorrow."

You got in your vehicles and left. You were exhausted, confused and... horny. You knew kissing Victor was wrong and you should've stopped it, but you didn't. You shook it off. It was just a kiss. It would never happen again.

You were awakened by your phone vibrating, you looked over at your clock and then back at your phone. What could Dennis possibly want at this hour?

"Somebody had better be dying," you answered.

"Are you kidding right now?" He started, "did you approve this final edit?"

"What? No, I didn't post anything."

"Well someone did and I have a feeling that you aren't gonna like it."

You grabbed your tablet and pulled up the Instagram page for your station. Sure enough the interview you'd done with Viktor had been posted. You watched the video in horror. Even though he was your family's sworn enemy, this was not the side of Victor that you wanted to show the world.

They'd only posted the parts of the interview when he was being snippy. Then you read the comments.

"It's funny how she tries to make him look bad on camera, but had no problems kissing him when she thought no one was looking 🙄"

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Someone saw you and took pictures. That must've been the noise you'd heard. You hurried through blogs to see who had it posted. Everyone. Everyone had a photo of you kissing Victor Drago in a dark locker room.

"We can get in front of this, don't panic." He advised.

"Adonis is gonna kill me. My brother will never speak to me again." Your breath caught in your throat.

"No, honey, you can't help who you have feelings for."

"Victor's gonna think I sabotaged him on purpose. Who posted this? Why would they do this?" You choked.

"People are evil and will do anything for a dollar," he sighed. "I'm sorry I had to tell you like this, but I didn't want you to be caught off guard in the morning."

"Thank you, Dennis. I'll see you tomorrow." You hung up and headed to your mother's room.

You knocked softly before entering and then crawled into bed with her.

"Well, you haven't done this in a while. What's wrong?" She asked.

You just showed her the photo. Mary Anne was usually pretty good about holding it together, but you heard the gasp leave her mouth.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't..."

"You've never done anything this reckless before. You're risking everything you've worked for." She scolded.

"Momma, I don't care about that. Adonis is gonna be so pissed." You swiped your tears.

"Adonis? Oh my sweet girl," she wrapped her arms around you. "Your brother will get over it. You worry about your career and what you've built."

You laid in your mother's arms. Your mind was racing with thoughts of how you could fix this. You couldn't lie and say the picture was photoshopped, but you could explain to Viktor that editors had screwed you royally. After an hour you drifted off to sleep. You'd figure out in the morning.

********

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@literaturefeen

@rochyu

[lilhemmo]

9+12 from the list as a Sweet Pea / Reader just cause your writing is bomb and I can’t wait to see this 😭💕

send me two au’s from THIS list + a ship/character

a/n: thank you so much!! i was so worried that no one would like my sweet pea stuff because i’ve never written it before, but thank you!!! this is a long one… read more under the cut!!

-

After you were marked as a sacrifice by the Gargoyle King, the Northside threw you to the wayside, unwilling to stand by you as your life hangs in the balance.

You found yourself wading into the Southside. No matter how much they cleaned it up, there were still Serpents and Ghoulies, and even some of the Poisons. You hear knives unsheathing and guns cocking as you wrap your arms further around yourself for some kind of safety.

You aren’t truly helpless. Before you were purged from the Northside, Betty Cooper gave you a few knives of your own and some mace. The bottle of spray weighs heavy in your bag, one of the knives feeling like a rock in your pocket.

“Hey, you!”

You try your hardest not to turn and look at them. You’ve heard that if you acknowledge them, it’s worse. Instead, you push on down the dirt road towards an abandoned building with enough space for you to call it home.

“Little miss,” a deep voice curdles from the shadows. Your head jerks towards the sound and that’s when you realize you’re done for.

A few Ghoulies are banded with a couple of the Gargoyle Gang, and they’re headed straight for you.

As you begin to sprint, you wrench the knife out of your pocket and try your hardest to bring the mace spray to your aide as well. Tears are streaming down your face but you don’t let the sobs escape as you realize your fate is sealed.

You trip over a root in the pathway and find your chin in the dirt, hands unable to assist you in your fall. The dirt mixes with your tears and you feel grimy, but you won’t let them have you. You wave the knife around and finally grasp the mace out of your bag.

“Get back!” you shout, your voice hysterical. You glare at them the best you can given the circumstances, “I swear to God I will knife you.”

They obviously don’t take you seriously, because they begin to cackle as they close in on you. The taller one, one not wearing a mask, raises a brow and smirks at your small frame, “Honey, I’m into that sort of thing, so go right on ahead.”

You spray the mace in every direction, praying that you can wound even one of them. That would even your odds.

The ones wearing masks aren’t fazed by your attack and instead come onto you stronger, one holding your shoulders while the other loots your pockets and bag. You can tell they’re smirking through their masks as they speak, “We’re gonna have fun with you, little lady. Not too many Northsiders we get around here.”

“Hey!”

Everyone’s heads snap in the direction of the voice. Gathered around it, or him, rather, are a lot of Serpents and Poisons. Most of them are holding bats and crow bars and other various weapons, and they definitely outnumber the attackers that are circled around you.

You recognize Jughead stepping forward, “I don’t think anyone invited you to the party. Now go, before I let the Serpents have their fun.”

The one holding your shoulders viciously throws you to the ground and you’re sure that you will have bruises. You cry out and one of the older boys clothed in a Serpent jacket steps forward immediately to try and help you to your feet.

“S’okay,” he says quietly, and much more tenderly than you would expect from a Serpent. He smiles down at you and you can’t help it when you swallow thickly, trying your hardest to stutter out an apology.

“Pea,” Jughead approaches, “do you mind giving her a place to stay tonight? My trailer is full of the runaway Ghoulies and a couple of the younger Serpents.”

“Yeah, it’s just me and Fangs,” the guy hovering over you - Pea? - speaks. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady, “If that’s okay with you?”

“I wanna be as far away from those guys as possible,” you manage. You’re still holding the mace and knife like your life depends on it, your knuckles turning white as he walks you to a trailer up the hill.

“S’all right,” Pea speaks softly as he guides you through the door of the trailer. Inside it smells like boy and pizza, but you don’t mind because at least it doesn’t smell like death. You swallow thickly, “T-Thank you.”

He notices the cuts on your arms from your fall and leads you to the bathroom, “I’m gonna clean up your cuts, all right?”

You nod wordlessly, unable to formulate speech. You follow him blindly, knowing that if Jughead trusts him then you should too. He sets you on the bathroom counter, peeling your cardigan off your shoulders. He tries to get your sleeves over your fists and he chuckles at the sight of the knife in your hand.

“C’mon, give me that,” he says jokingly. His fingers wrap around the blade and you resist the urge to shove it through his hand just on instinct and adrenaline alone. Pea shakes his head, “I’m not gonna hurt you. But I gotta clean you up, c’mon. Hand me the knife.”

You unfold your palm and he takes the blade before you have the chance to shiv him with it. He also manages to wrench the mace out of your hand, placing both on the countertop beside you.

The alcohol hurts as it cleanses your wounds, but you try your hardest not to complain. Pea has to plant a few butterfly stitches on your arm and leg, but other than that you’re patched up quickly.

He makes you a palette on the couch, finding as many blankets as he has and stacking them on top of one another to make it a little more comfortable.

It isn’t until your bruised backside makes contact with the couch do you begin to cry.

Tears leak from your eyes, blurring your vision. The tiniest of sobs splits your lip and Pea materializes in front of you, bent down in front of your knees. He’s speaking to you, but you can’t hear him as the panic builds in your throat and expels through your tears.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he comes to sit next to you on the couch, wrapping you up in his arms - this stranger, this new girl who may as well be a Ghoulie in disguise. Pea swallows and his throat bobs at your closeness. Instead of focusing on it, he holds you closer and tighter, trying to pull your demons out of you, “I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you. I promise.”

And that’s the story of how you and Sweet Pea of the Southside Serpents became roommates.

You wake up early to make breakfast, and he and Fangs are grateful every day. There’s hot toast, eggs just how they like, and pancakes if they’re lucky. You keep the trailer clean and you learn how to help Pea out with the repair garage he spends most of his time at. You and Fangs help out at the Wyrm, trying your hardest to send Sweets up the line so maybe he can own it one day. Jughead and FP make being a Serpent easy.

-

“I’m just saying, it’s weird,” Cheryl Blossom speaks from over her martini glass. She sighs, “Sweet Pea can’t stand people, and yet he can’t bear to be separated from the little twit.”

Toni smacks Cheryl’s arm with the towel she uses to mop up the bar. The redhead’s jaw drops at the gesture, but Toni just continues pouring drinks.

Fangs raises his beer bottle, “I, for one, am glad that he found someone that could get rid of his scary bits.”

“Scary bits aren’t just gone, Fogarty,” Toni nods in another direction. Sweet Pea has a man by the collar, his feet dangling off the ground. “They’re just not there all the time now, is all.”

It’s been years since you all graduated from Riverdale, years since the Black Hood and the Gargoyle King and Serpents vs. Ghoulies. You live in some semblance of peace now, even if the Southside is still in ruins.

You and Pea are going to make it better, though, you vow. You’re going to work with the Northside to try and employ the Southside in order to help clean it up. You’re going to fix it.

-

“I’m just saying, Toni has the pizazz,” you gesture to the pink-haired girl tending the bar one night. You nudge Pea’s arm, “She could be a real estate agent! She could do it. And the Serpents could team up with Andrews Construction and work on building some new houses, remodel a few. It would help everybody.”

“I s’pose you could help with the finance side of that, huh?” Sweet Pea smirks, loving it when he gets to tease you for your smarts. He would never blatantly tell anyone, but he finds your intelligence and your drive inspiring and exciting. How you managed to become a Serpent accountant, he’ll never know.

“I suppose,” you shrug, fighting a smirk.

-

Every night you end up back in your bed, some nights later than others, but still always in the bed that Sweet Pea built for you when he decided you weren’t getting out of his sight ever again.

The nightmare plagues you on this night, though, and you wake up screaming. Sweet Pea comes running to your side, as always, sliding under the covers and holding your head tightly against his chest as he tries to pry the demons from your mind. He’s whispering in your ear but all you focus on is the steady beat of his heart.

You pull yourself closer to him, entwining your legs and wrapping your arms around his midsection. You cry into his skin, wishing that this wasn’t the only way you could get him in your bed, holding you like his life depends on it.

-

“Josie?!” you squeak, slamming your hands on the bar. You hide your face to hopefully keep your blushing to yourself. You shake your head, “No, there’s no way. Sweets would never take Archie’s leftovers!”

“Just because he hates Archie doesn’t mean he hates affection,” Toni snorts, pouring another beer on tap and sliding it across the bar with a wink. She shakes her head, “If you’d just tell him how you feel, maybe he wouldn’t go looking for you in other people.”

“I don’t like Pea, don’t be ridiculous,” you down your shot in one gulp, trying your hardest to put Pea and Josie out of your mind. You take a deep breath and push your shot glass towards Toni, “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“You can’t expect him to go through life with just you, babe,” Toni smiles sadly. “And if you’re not going to tell him how great he is, someone else will.”

She leans over the bar, the shot glass still in her clutches, “Besides, don’t you want to know just how good of a kisser he is?”

Your face goes red, and you snatch the shot out of her hands, letting the alcohol burn your throat as it goes down smooth.

-

Does it make your heart ache when Sweet Pea walks out of the Wyrm with Josie? Yes.

You have to see him every day, at his best and at his worst, and yet she gets to be the one who lays claim to him. 

You and Pea have always been a team, so it’s strange seeing him with someone else

It hurts more to make breakfast, and so you stop. It hurts to watch him wander around the house with only a towel around his waist as he searches for his favorite flannel and his Serpent jacket, so you hide in your room. It hurts to see him downing beers with the Northside, the place you were born, and so you stop going to the Wyrm.

It takes six months before he says anything.

“Hey, we need to talk,” he corners you as you slip through the trailer door.

You raise your brow, alcohol still sitting on your lips from your evening at Toni and Cheryl’s. “Talk about what? Don’t you talk everything out with Josie now?”

“I knew it,” Pea smirks. “I knew it bothered you.”

“Congrats, you’re clairvoyant.” You deadpan before slamming the door closed behind you and trudging to your room. You wipe at your face, trying your hardest to keep a mellow look about you.

“If it bothered you, why didn’t you say something to me?” Sweet Pea follows you into your bedroom. He glances at the bed he remembers building you years ago, and he smiles.

You shrug, “You don’t need me telling you that she doesn’t deserve you. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“She doesn’t deserve me? Josie?” Sweet Pea scoffs, “I don’t get you. If sweet, pretty, smart Josie doesn’t deserve me, then who does?!”

Your words are cotton in your throat, unable to spring forward and tell him the truth.

Sweets shakes his head, his eyes glassy, “You can’t have it both ways, sweetheart. You don’t get to keep me chained to you and also keep me at arms length. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” your voice breaks as the first tear streams down your cheek. “I just-”

“You just what?!” he snaps, taking a step back from you so he’s stood in the doorway. “You just thought it would be me and you against the world forever? That I would forget about everyone else and just be okay with whatever the hell it is that we are?”

Sweet Pea licks his lips and rubs at his cheeks before he can show you he’s crying. He sighs and closes his eyes, “I’m not some keychain you can keep in your pocket.”

He walks out, slamming the door to the trailer, and you allow yourself to crumble.

-

It’s months before you visit the Wyrm again.

You temporarily moved in with Toni and Cheryl, staying in the extra suite in the back of Thistlehouse.

You take a deep breath and step through the wood doors, your second home taking you in and pushing a warmth into your chest that you can’t find anywhere else.

Toni waves at you from the bar, a martini already made with your name on it. You make your way to the bar when you see him - Sweet Pea is sitting in a corner booth with a couple other Serpents, brooding as they watch over the Wyrm, keeping it safe.

Your mouth grows dry, but you sit at the bar anyway and sip on the martini to try and quench the thirst that crawls into your throat.

“He misses you,” she blurts. Toni looks up at you with wide eyes, “He does.”

“I know,” you swirl your martini in the fancy glass, “I miss him too.”

A few songs play out and then you find your way to the dance floor, a few of your friends from high school dancing around you. You sway to the music, whether its fast or slow, and lose yourself in the heat and lights of the Whyte Wyrm. You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself as the song shifts to another.

Your name is spoken a few feet away and it snaps you out of your trance. You gulp, opening your eyes to see him towering over everyone else, staring straight into your soul.

You smile sadly, approaching him. He does the unexpected and grabs you around the waist, pulling you close as the music slows. His cheek rests on the crown of your head and you find yourself fitting back together like it should be, like it was.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, hands heavy against your waist.

You shake your head and fumble your fingers against the nape of his neck. You swallow, “I-I was asking too much and you were right. I can’t expect you to be exclusive to me.”

Sweet Pea maneuvers a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the bone there, trailing down to your lips to trace them. You purse your lips and kiss the pad of his finger, closing your eyes.

He drops his forehead to yours, bending down to be on your level, “I’ve missed you.”

“You missed your eggs and toast,” you swat at his chest. He laughs but never falters in his hold on you. Sweet Pea kisses your forehead, “I miss so much more than eggs and toast, sweetheart.”

You look into his eyes and the overwhelming desire to kiss him senseless, until you can’t breathe, takes over until you’re threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him as close as you can before your lips touch. Then, you remember.

“Josie-”

He shakes his head, his nose bumping into yours. “I couldn’t be all in with her, and that wasn’t fair. I was too in love with someone else.”

You lick your lips and go to argue with him, but he quiets you with his mouth on yours. He’s warm, soft, and everything you imagined and more. You smile against his lips, pushing yourself up on your toes to give him more.

“I-” You’re breathless as he parts from you, “I’m so sorry.”

Sweet Pea chuckles, “Only you could apologize for kissing me like that.”

“I’ve been screwing this up for years,” you tell him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing over his tattoo with your thumb. “I should’ve just told you, then maybe things would be different.”

“That’s over now,” he shrugs, pushing a lock of hair from your face. “We don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

He brings you in for another kiss and the spotlights from above center on your two bodies intertwined together. Whoops and hollers echo throughout the Wyrm, Serpents cheering you two on as you kiss. You laugh against Pea’s lips and press your palms to his chest.

“I love you,” he pants as you break apart. “I think I’ve always loved you.”

You look up into his eyes as everyone quiets down. Your hands are on his cheeks, making sure that this is real and not just another dream. You smile, “It’s always been you, Sweets. Just you.”

Sweet Pea picks you up by your hips and you wrap your legs around him as he makes his way to the back of the bar. You’re laughing hysterically as he holds onto you tightly, pushing the double doors open and stashing you both in a supply closet.

“This is so typical of a Serpent,” you wink at him.

He rolls his eyes, “You love it.”

“I do, Sweets,” you bite your lip as you look up at him through thick lashes. He pushes you against the wall, hands all over you like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. Pea understands what you mean without you having to explain further.

You smirk, “So, you going to give me a good Serpent’s welcome?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t even know,” he says before he dives in to kiss your neck, the mirror of the spot where his snake tattoo takes up space on his own skin.

It takes a little while before you have your own tattoo and jacket, but everyone knows that even without the labels, Sweet Pea would kill anyone who touched you. That’s just how it goes.

[boygirlbowie]

Red and Black Bruised (pt. 2)

Summary: (it’s changed a little sorry) A group of homophobes notice Klaus flirting with a waiter at a family outing and one of them recognizes him- and not in a pleasant way. When they see him heading outside to grab Vanya’s wallet from her car, they follow him out.

basically some angsty Klaus-centric writing with Diego and Vanya being good!characters and Luther being a notsogood!character

Word Count: ~1110

I don’t really know how to do warnings, but there is violence, angst, and homophobic language.

Two

Klaus awoke to a pounding in his head and hushed voices hissing at each other from behind him. He opened his eyes slowly but quickly scrunched them closed again with a moan when he was met with a blindingly bright flashlight.

“I don’t know what to tell you. This is the guy, I’m sure of it.”

“But Mandy-

“I know what Mandy said, but I know this is the guy who was with him!”

Klaus squeezed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on what they were saying, but pain tugged at the edges of his brain, making clear thinking harder. Cold metal cuffs held his hands above his head, and they dug fiercely into his wrists. The first voice was definitely Rick. He could tell that much. The second voice, however, could have been either of the other two men.

“We can’t very well just let him go now. He’s seen our faces, we got to do something.” This was a third voice. Klaus recognized it as the man who had stood off to the left side. That meant the second voice belonged to the man with greasy hair.

There was a brief quiet as the three men all realized the truth of that statement and mulled over possibilities. Suddenly, the man with the greasy hair spoke up again.

“Guys. He’s awake.”

Klaus felt a sharp tug on his hair as his chin was wrenched up off of where it lay on his chest. He winced and finally forced his eyes to stay open. The flashlight that had been resting facing him was now in the hand of the man with the greasy hair, as he held Klaus’ head up at a not quite natural angle.

“Hello boys,” Klaus smiled.

The man with the greasy hair pealed his lips back and turned to Rick. “I vote we just shoot him here and get it over with. Leave him tied up for the rats.”

“Hey! A tad dramatic there, bun!”

“Oh, shut up” he fisted his hand tighter in Klaus’ hair, forcing his head even further back, exposing his neck entirely.

Klaus let out a sharp, high pitched laugh, “Kinky!”.

He growled and pulled his gun from his waistband, bringing it up harshly to Klaus’ neck. Klaus’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as the circle of cold metal pressed up against before his Rick stepped forwards, intervening. He placed his hand on the gun and pulled it away from Klaus’ neck.

“We gotta decide what to do together.”

The man with the greasy hair went to protest but stopped quickly at the authoritative look on Rick’s face.

“Fine. What options do we have?”

He and Rick took a step back from Klaus where they were joined by the quiet man, and Klaus breathed a sigh of relief. He shook his head to clear it and took advantage of the space to appraise the situation.

The room he was in was decidedly not a room. It looked like the inside of a box truck; white walls on all four sides and black cloth taped over windows the back. It was taller than any box truck he’d been in though- the ceiling was high enough that the cuffs on a hook from the ceiling held him on his tippy-toes. He tried to twist around, but the cuffs dug into his already bruised wrists and he hissed lightly.

“Are you ok?” Ben asked.

Klaus looked over at Ben where he leaned against the wall, looking guilty and worried.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fantastic,” Klaus muttered, flashing him a fake grin.

The quiet man glanced over his shoulder at Klaus, giving him an odd look. Klaus turned his grin to the man and he hurriedly turned away, tugging at the edges of his suit and stiffening his back as if he’d been caught looking at porn.

Klaus rolled his eyes over to Ben, who shrugged.

“Look, we were supposed to just beat him up. You know, teach him a lesson. But genius here decided we should go without masks on, and now we have to dispose of him.”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Oh yeah, well who’s fault is it then?”

“Let’s just shoot him.”

Klaus’ eyes went wide.

“Well you might just want him out of the way, but I want to make him pay.”

“Pay for what?” Klaus spoke up.

Rick turned. “A couple of months ago you were low on cash, and you needed a place to stay.”

“Sounds like me.”

“And my brother, Mandy, let you stay at his house. For about a week. You two were… close.”

“Oh.” Klaus remembered Mandy.

Mandy was strong and hot and sweet, but very very closeted. After about a month of hiding from Mandy’s brother (who was apparently Rick) whenever he came over, Klaus lost his temper, smashed a bottle of wine on the door and left. Probably not the most gentlemanly move, but he was high, and drunk, and had been pushed into the closet and told to stay quiet one too many times. Apparently, Rick thought he had only been there for a week.

“You turned him, and you gotta pay for that.”

“I didn’t turn him into anything! Let me tell you, he was way too good at… things for me to be his first-

Rick growled and threw a punch. Klaus’s head whipped to the side and he tasted the metallic taste of blood. He swung his head back forward and was met with the base of Rick’s, catching his nose and throwing his head back. Rick’s hand slammed into his throat, wrapping around it and squeezing hard enough to make Klaus choke, cutting off his air supply.

“Don’t you talk about him, you fag!”

Klaus tried to nod, frantically pulling away from his hand.

“You don’t get to talk about him.”

Klaus thrashed, but he only gripped his neck harder.

Rick leaned into his ear and hissed, “You ain’t worth anything. You ruined him.”

Just as Klaus started to lose consciousness, the edges of his vision blurring and darkening, Rick let go of his neck and took a step back. Klaus’ head fell down and he gasped, sucking as much air as he could.

His chest heaved and he looked up slowly, breathlessly apologizing, “I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll leave him alone.”

Rick sneered and punched his stomach, pushing out all the air that he had been able to regain.

“I don’t believe you. But I do believe that after I’m done with you, you will be sorry. When I’m done with you, you’ll leave us well alone. Or next time I see you, I won’t let you leave alive.”

Ok, so more angst. :) Sorry about the change in the description- as I’ve been thinking more about it I decided to change that part.

If you have any thoughts feel free to send me an ask, anon or not. Constructive criticism welcomed! (just keep in mind that I’m only 14). Let me know if you have any ideas/suggestions. I’d appreciate likes or rb’s, but really just reads :)

I know I said there would be one or two more chapters last time, but upon finishing this one, there will be at least two more after this one- sorry

Tag list:

@itsthemoooooooooon @redlikedragons @emounicorn2006

(please let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off the tag list)

(previous chapter)

[themightyzan]

A Terrible Idea, Part 9

(Zevran x Mahariel)

(Masterpost)

Zevran raised his arms just in time to block the downward swing of the sword that was headed towards him with the metal of his vambraces.  Grunting under the force of it, he managed to push the man away, and take a swipe with his dagger.  He watched as the leather of the man’s jerkin split slightly, but knew that he had not been close enough to do any real damage, or even to get the poison from his dagger into a cut.  There wasn’t time to try for another swipe though, a lean figure was coming up on his side, and he had to skip sideways to stop from being caught between the two. 

This had been a mistake.  He and Cara had made plans to stop the assassination of a merchant prince’s son, an easy job in theory, there were only supposed to be two Crows going after him, but apparently their information had been wrong.

They had watched as two Crows stopped the man’s carriage, though man might not be the best word to use for the fuzzy lipped youth that poked his head out of the window to see what was going on, and even stayed back as the horses were cut free and the youth was told to come out and meet his death like a man.  It had all seemed wrong.  There should have been a half dozen guards between the carriage and the attackers, not just the one who held his sword as if he had never used it, his horse dancing under him restlessly, and the Crows should have been much more circumspect.  Zevran couldn’t think of a time that they had ever simply gone after a Merchant Prince, or someone of their household so openly.  It was true that the son was set to inherit from his dying father, and time was most definitely of the essence, but it still rang… wrong.  But then there had been no more time to worry about it, the guard was put down with a well-placed arrow, and he and Cara were running in before they could open the door to the carriage and kill off their mark just as easily.

That’s when things had gone into chaos.  More Crows had poured out of the shadows, armed and more than ready to overwhelm them.  He hadn’t been able to get a count, but he had put down at least 3 since it had started, and he could still hear Cara as she fought somewhere behind him, knowing that she had probably put down just as many.  He didn’t know how long they had been fighting, using their enemies’ bodies as shields and dancing their way just out of reach of seeking weapons, but he knew they couldn’t keep it up.

There were to many.  

It had been a trap, one to draw him out unprepared no doubt, and it had worked because he had gotten cocky and hadn’t thought to triple check his information.

Stupid.

Hadn’t he told Cara just the other day that she needed to make sure to cover all her angles, to not get complacent just because things had been going well?  In fact, that was when he had told her to be the most vigilant, advice he clearly hadn’t thought applied to himself.

Stupid.  He could already picture Nico leaning over his lifeless form and calling him an idiot.

“I rather thought to wake up dead, or not wake up at all as the case may be.  But I see you haven’t killed me yet.”

“That can be easily rectified.”  The reply was casual and accompanied by a carefully blank blue gaze in a line marked face.

He gritted his teeth and forced the memory aside before darting between his two attackers, causing them to stumble together as they tried to follow his movement.  Using the moment of confusion to his advantage, he stabbed at the closest leg and smiled in grim satisfaction as he heard a yelp of pain and the man fell back, leaving him facing only the other, who he saw now was a woman with a hard face and shadowed eyes.

“Zevran!  Down!”  The words rang out over the street, clear and familiar, and Zevran found himself dropping to his knees more out of reflex than actual processing of the command.  He had heard those words before, often enough that he didn’t need to be told twice.  He could feel the pass of the arrow over his head, and heard it thump dully into the woman who was still standing before him.  He looked up in time to see her grasp at the shaft sticking out of her chest before stumbling back.

He didn’t bother looking for the source of the arrow, instead he stepped over the prone and still half alive form of his attacker so he could get to Cara’s side and help her fend off the two she was fighting.  He could see Nico out of the corner of his eye, his long sword flashing as he engaged someone, arrows flying around them in waves.

It was quick work after that.  Zevran counted 15 bodies after all their attackers had been put down or fled, but he didn’t stop to check any of them, instead he made his way to the carriage and wrenched open the door.  The prince’s son sat huddled in the floor, his arms looped over his head.  It took several seconds before he moved enough to look up, his eyes wide and fear blurred in his too pale face.  Zevran spared him no pity, reaching in and hauling the trembling boy out of the carriage and into the carnage around them.

“Does your father think so little of you that he threw you willingly into a trap, or are you really so stupid as to go traipsing through the city with one guard and no weapons of your own?”  His usually charismatic tone was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere along with his belief that this would be an easy mission.

The young man stared at him wide eyed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to process what was being asked of him.  Zevran tightened his grip on the son’s arm and gave it a shake, causing him to stumble.  “Answer me.  Did you know what was coming?”

“N-No!  My- My father didn’t even know I was g-going out tonight.”  The words fell stuttering from his mouth, and his eyes left Zevran’s face to dart around him, probably in hopes that he could find help.  Instead his gaze found death, and Zevran watched as the youth turned an interesting shade of green.

Making a disgusted noise, Zevran dropped his hand.  “So, a pawn then.  You’re lucky to still have your head.”

“Zevran,” a voice said from behind him.  He looked this time, steeling himself for the sight of her.  She was much the same as she normally was, brow damp with sweat and hair falling from its tie, but her vallaslin was darker than it had been when she left, and her expression was neutral.  “Silvano and I can take him home if you like.  Perhaps once he calms down some he will remember more of what happened.”

He knew what she wasn’t saying, that he might remember more when he was away from all the bodies, and away from the man currently yelling at him.  He glanced to where Silvano stood a few feet behind her his gaze resolutely on an arrow in his hand, then back before shaking his head.  She would be good at getting information out of a scared almost child, she had a way of putting people at ease, but… no.  He needed her to come with him so they could talk about plans.

“No… No, let Silvano take him, but you and I have things to discuss.”

“Do we,” she asked, but then shrugged off the question before he could answer.  “If you say so.”

Silvano and the prince’s son left soon after, and the rest of them made quick work of stripping the bodies of anything important.  Zevran made a comment about heading back to base so they could all be checked by Tomasso, and the others readily agreed, Nico falling into step beside him while Cara and Lyna took up the rear.

“How did you all know to look for us,” he asked Nico.

The taller man smiled slightly.  “It was Carman actually.  He and Lyna got back late this afternoon and I had mentioned that you and Cara were out on business.  I had made a point of saying that it was an easy enough job, so when you still hadn’t come back hours later the boy began to worry.  Silvano, Lyna, and I finally agreed to go look for you just to appease him.  A good thing we did too, it seems.”

“Very good.  I’ll have to thank him.”

“You could thank us too, we did the saving after all,” Nico replied casually, and Zevran turned his head to smile at him.

“That goes without saying, my friend.  No doubt Cara and I both would have been nothing but fond memories by now if you had not.”

“More like disappointing ones,” Cara put in from behind him.  “We should have known better.”

“Anyone can get caught unawares, Cara,” Lyna put in, and Zevran could practically feel Cara’s scowl against his back.

“We were overconfident, and we should have seen the signs that were obviously there that something wasn’t right.”

“If you hadn’t gone in then that man would have died.”

“Better him than us.”

Lyna gave no reply to that, and he knew it was because she didn’t agree.  She never thought someone else’s life was worth less than her own.

Nico shrugged a shoulder, since he had no hands free, in dismissal of the statement.  “Regardless of what you should have done, or what you missed, it all worked out in the end.  We saved you, like the heroes we clearly are, and all’s well that ends well.”

They made it the rest of the way to their base in silence, the four of them descended upon by Esta, Armond, and Tomasso as soon as the door had shut behind them.  Tomasso took one look at their sweat and blood-stained faces, and ordered Zevran and Cara both into seats so that he could fuss over them while Nico explained what had happened, and Esta and Roland helped Lyna sort through what they had brought back with them.

Carman came to sit at Zevran’s feet, his dark eyes worried as he watched Tomasso clean a cut on his arm.  “Was I right?  Did you need help?”

The earnest question made Zevran smile, and he reached out his free hand to smooth over the boy’s hair.  “You were and we did, my friend.  Cara and I owe you our lives, yes?”  He glanced to Cara as he spoke, and she nodded gravely, her usually frowning mouth tilting into a smile for the boy.

“It’s true.  We wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

“So, I helped.”  He seemed satisfied with that as he continued to watch Tomasso work.  “I’m glad we came back when we did.  The clan was trying to get Lyna to stay longer, but she told them we were needed.”

“It ended up being true enough,” Lyna said from where she stood by the table before turning her attention to Zevran.  “You needed to speak with me?”

He did, and while it wasn’t ideal to do so with so many people around them, he couldn’t think of a better time, and the others would need to learn about it at some point anyway.

“I do, I had time to make a plan while you were gone, but it requires quite a bit of assistance from you.”  He laughed and would have shaken his head if Tomasso wasn’t currently holding it.  “Actually, it requires quite a bit of assistance from you.”

“I’m here to serve,” she replied lightly, testing the weight of a dagger in her hand.

“I need us to have a falling out.”

She stopped looking at the dagger, her gaze shooting to his in surprise.  Whatever she had been expecting, it was not that.  “What?”

“A falling out, between you and me specifically, and then I need you to go to the Crows and tell them you want to join.”

The others were staring at him, but he kept his attention on Lyna, watching as she carefully set the dagger on the table and folded her arms across her chest.  She stared at him a long time, gaze searching.  Finally, a small smile played over her lips.  “Are you finally planning on getting rid of me?”

“What would be the point, you would just find me again, yes?”

“Not if you didn’t want me to.”

He was acutely aware of the glazes burning into him from those around them, and the almost physical air of confusion that came with them.  This was not the time for that conversation, most especially because he honestly didn’t know anymore.  But this plan had nothing to do with them, at least not directly, and he couldn’t let emotions come into it, just like he couldn’t stop to answer the questions that he knew the others had.

“My wanting you around or not has nothing to do with it.  The Crows want you, they have since Ignacio offered you a job, though you thought it a joke at the time.  Alistair’s letter confirmed that they still want you.  You must have thought so yourself or you wouldn’t have shown it to me.”

She had begun chewing on her lip as he spoke, her head already beginning to shake.  “They have fighters a plenty, and I am no assassin.  They want me for what they think it would do to you, not for… help.”

“So, let them think it works.  Tell them that you have given up, that I have broken your heart for the last time.  We are Antivan, yes?  A broken heart is more than enough reason to seek revenge.”

“They will never believe me.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know your own strengths. You could convince them that Andraste herself is returning if you put your mind to it.”

Lynda scoffed at the notion, and dropped her arms before moving to slump into a chair.  “And you, what?  How does me having a broken heart help them, besides getting my bow on their side?”

“I would realize that I had made a mistake. I would be lost without you.  The others would start to question my leadership and my ideas.”

“And then?”

“And then,” he smiled, “then, they would meet with me.”

She scoffed again, and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees.  “You really believe that?”

“I believe I have been going about this the wrong way.  We have been too good, to efficient in disrupting their plans and contracts.  I think, if they think I am broken they will agree to the meeting I have been trying to get because they will think they can finally kill me, or turn me back to them.”

There was a commotion to the side as Cara jumped up from her seat, causing Tomasso to stumble back from her, and almost run into Armond.  “Would anyone care to fill the rest of us in on what you two are talking about?”

When Zevran looked over, Cara pinned her scowl onto him. “Why are you trying to get Lyna to infiltrate the Crows, and why would they want her, and if you want them to believe you broken, why not send Nico?”

Zevran smiled wryly and glanced back to Lyna, noting her raised brow and questioning look.  She wasn’t going to help him with the answer.  If he wanted them to know the whole truth, he would have to be the one to tell it.

“Because,” he began and pushed himself from his chair, pacing a moment to steel himself.  “As fond as I am of Nico, and as open as I am about that, he isn’t the reason I left the Crows, or broke my ties to them.”

“What does that mean?”  It was asked by Esta, and was a said in a much kinder tone than Cara probably would have had.

“Lyna was a mark, a very large one.  I didn’t succeed in killing her, obviously, and instead I joined her.”  He glanced over to the warden, remembering the moment he had offered a pledge to help her, and her surprising agreement.

“A long story, for another time, yes?”

She merely shrugged and leaned back in her chair again.

“So, I broke from the Crows, and killed those that came after me…”  He paused for a moment with that.  They all knew the bare bones of that story, and he had no desire to repeat it.  “And when all was said and done, I traveled with Lyna for a time, then left her when she had duties I wanted no part of… And then she came after me.  So, no, I think they would believe no less than losing her again, and her joining those that I fought to escape, could break me.”

“So, she’s the Warden then,” Nico said quietly. Zevran had told him the whole story one night after drinking too much, and becoming too sentimental.  Now, he just nodded in response.

“Well, that explains a great deal.”

“Does it,” Cara burst in angrily, but a look from Nico had her pinching her lips together, and glaring at the whole group.

When the room lapsed into silence, Lyna stood and took a step towards him, her eyes searching his face.  “Are you sure about this, Zev?  Really sure? I’m going to have to actually work with them… tell them things, if I want them to believe me.  And we are both going to have to lie a great deal if we are going to play spurned lovers.”

“You haven’t been happy with me since I left Fereldan.  Use that.”

“We both have reasons to be unhappy with each other, but I wasn’t planning on using it against you.  I don’t know if I have it in me to act like I would.”

“You do.  Just remember that I didn’t actually follow you to the Black City, that should help, yes?”

She frowned at the memory he knew his words would bring.

She brought her arms up, encompassing the room they were in.  “This is a far cry from the Black City, Zevran.”

He sent her a false smile, closing off the bag he had been packing.  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have made it so difficult to follow you, or made me want it more.”

“You want me to act like everything is your fault?”

“If needed.  I know this is asking a lot of you.  I know this is going to be hard, and most likely dangerous, but I can’t think of another way.  I would choose something else if I could.”

“Fine.”  She looked down with the word, studying her feet a moment before looking up at him again, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit sick at the resolve he saw there.  “We all need to sit down and make sure we have a plan.  A good plan. I won’t go into this with no end game, and no way to reach one of you if I need to.”

He forced himself to smile, and purposefully relaxed his posture.  “Of course,” he said gesturing to the chairs that sat around the table.  “Best to begin right away.”

[southwestblonde-blog]

All You Have to Do.  Part 2

Let me know what you think! 

Warnings: A LOT of dirty talk - smutty as you like   NSFW the whole shebang 

Here’s a link to part one...

https://southwestblonde.tumblr.com/post/180771629606/all-you-have-to-do-the-first-act

The first thought that Rose was aware of was that he was taller than she expected - she guessed that was because she was used to seeing him sitting at a drum kit or standing next to Brian. Sure he was as rail thin as she’d always thought but definitely not a short man. 

She gave herself some thinking time by giving him a slow look up and down- tight, low slung black trousers and a pale shirt that clung  around his arms and waist and was also mostly undone. An unholy amount of golden skin on show - she could almost see his navel. 

“You can give it your best shot.” She replied with a smile. His grin was wolffish and he joined her in leaning against the bar. 

“Please tell me you fancy him because he’s musical, british and is a bachelor of science,” he said, “if it’s because he’s tall, curly and unhealthily obsessed with space, I’m screwed.” She couldn’t help but laugh, his honesty was disarming. 

“Maybe it’s all of those things.” She replied, looking back at the guitarist. 

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t win you over?” he asked, topping up her glass of champagne. She turned her gaze back on to the man in front of her;  she’d never really considered him before, Brian was so much her type she looked no further when it came to Queen. Her mental image of Roger was that he was good looking (she figured that was generally accepted by the whole population) but not really what she found most attractive.  She took the time now to really look at him.  

His blonde hair grazed his collar bones, its colour, coupled with the high cheekbones and delicate jaw, lent him an angelic look. His mouth and eyes were almost obscenely sensual and his hands rivalled Brian’s in their slender strength. She had to admit it - he was beautiful- and he was smiling at her in a way that left her in no doubt that he knew exactly what effect he had on people. 

It helped her regain a little professionalism- there was no way she could succumb to one of the band’s advances the first time she met them. But- she could certainly enjoy Roger’s company for a while; it would be great to begin getting to know her journalistic subjects a little better. 

“Ok, you have my attention, why not tell me all about the plans for the tour?” She said, taking a long sip of champagne. He obliged, detailing their plans with many witty asides - and she was, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, utterly charmed by him. It was obvious how he had managed to claim the playboy tag.

“Now it’s your turn,” Roger smirked, “I want to know more about the girl who’s gonna be writing about me.” He asked all about her job, her hopes; how she had ended up with them  when she usually reported on politics. Rose was suddenly very aware of his focus on her - his body angled towards her and those twinkling eyes holding contact with hers. It felt almost intimate. 

“So how did you know who I was?” She asked him, “no one introduced us.” 

His smiled, “Freddie pointed you out.” he replied before leaning in closer and saying in a much softer voice, “Although he certainly didn’t mention beforehand that you were quite so beautiful.” She had had to lean in as well to catch this and they were now only inches from each other. 

“So how am I doing so far?” he asked softly, “You haven’t glanced at Legs Eleven over there for ages.” 

She had to agree - her attention was solely on the blonde in front of her and the chemistry he was stirring up between them. “Well Mr Taylor, you certainly know how to make a girl feel like the most important person in the room.” she replied.    

“But...?” he prompted, seeing that she was stepping away from the cosy bubble they were in.  

“Well, you see... I’m here in a professional capacity and I’m not really that ... “ she started but he interrupted;

“Kind of girl?” he closed the distance between them again, lowering his voice to a soft rasp that meant she had to stay close to him to hear. “But that’s not how this is going to go, this isn’t about me picking up a girl and screwing her in the toilets - I’m not gonna treat you like a groupie.” 

Rose’s breath caught in her throat at the image he conjured and he, the intuitive bastard, noticed; “Unless you want me to of course?” He waited for an answer.

“Roger, I really shouldn’t....” She didn’t know how to continue. He took charge again, “Hey, let me tell you how it’ll be yeah?” his mouth now right by her ear. She swallowed nervously and nodded, turning to stare into those wicked blue eyes. He smiled and shifted so his lips were hovering at the sensitive juncture of her earlobe and throat.

“You’ll kiss me first, cos you’ll want to know if you’ve picked a boy who can really get you off. And it’ll be slow and wet - it’ll make me moan into your mouth cos it really turns me on that you know what you want and you’re gonna take it from me.” His breath was hot on her neck before he moved away to look her in the eye again and the damp skin cooled tingling. His gaze followed her tongue as she ran it over dry lips. 

“When we’re finally alone, I’m gonna be so hard for you - just from your pretty pink tongue in my mouth.” he whispered in her other ear, “Just from knowing that you’re gonna use all of me to make yourself come.” He shifted again; moving to stand right in front of her, hands on the bar behind her - caging her in. The air was electric between them, Rose’s breath coming fast and shallow. She waited for him to continue, teeth pulling on her lower lip. 

“Eyes open Rosie.” he rasped, her eyes snapped open - she hadn’t really realised they were closed she was so involved in the fantasy he was describing. His clever mouth curved into that devilish grin once again. She knew he could tell exactly what he was doing to her but couldn’t bring herself to care. 

His mouth was back at her ear, “You can have me however you want me. Propped up against the headboard so that when you’re all up on me my mouth is on your beautiful breasts.” She gasped at that, feeling her nipples tighten, pressing against the thin fabric of her top. “You’ll be able to feel me everywhere you need me darling. My mouth on yours, my hands on your chest, teasing those sensitive nipples.” His voice dropped even lower, she could almost feel the vibrations on her skin, “My swollen, throbbing cock far enough inside you that you can feel it in your stomach.” Roger’s breath hitched as he said this last. Their eyes locked onto each other, breathing in tandem. 

It suddenly dawned on Rose that he wasn’t, and hadn’t, even touched her. Yet here they were, hopelessly turned on. Totally unaware of the party continuing around them. Jesus, what might happen if they actually acted on any of this? 

“Go on.” She managed in a voice made husky from desire. She watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He leaned in again, his breath on her over sensitive skin sending her nerves into overdrive. “It’ll feel so damn good baby, you impaled on my cock. We’ll be so wet where I’m stretching you wide open - fuck“ he couldn’t hold back a small moan. His beautiful face was flushed, eyes gone dark. Rose pressed her thighs together, feeling her pulse between her legs. 

“You’ll grind down on me, my whole cock up in you, your aching clit rubbing against me. I’m gonna want to hear you baby - when it gets so good you can’t ...”

“Roger! Please don’t fuck our new friend on her first night with us.” Freddie’s voice burst their private little bubble. Rose drew in what felt like the first proper breath she’d taken in hours. She watched helplessly as Freddie threw his arm round Roger and pulled him away, loudly berating the blonde for his ‘naughty, naughty’ behaviour. 

Uncomfortably aroused, she turned to pick up her forgotten champagne and downed the rest of it. She felt jittery, mind racing trying to wrench herself back to reality. 

“Hello,” said an impossibly smooth, calm voice, “you must be Rose. it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Brian.”

[elijahwoodnot]

guess who finally got around to filling this request!!! (i’m so sorry anon. i’m sorry i am so slow) anyway, if you’re still here and waiting, anon, here’s your prompt fill! thank you so much!! 💖 this one was incredibly fun to write. (i think i’m missing the point of these prompt fills because they keep getting um. longer. but whatever, y’know *shrug emoji*)

(*fyi warning: there is a small bit of “uninvited attention” that takes place at the bar, but nothing beyond that. just be aware!)

Thus far, the cases presented to Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency had delivered the (some unwilling) members of the agency itself into some particularly… interesting situations, Todd would not deny this fact.

He did, however, think that he might be somewhere close to finally putting his foot down (for good) and drawing the line when one of these destinations happened to be a gay bar at the end of West Seattle.

“Come on, Todd!” Dirk prompted eagerly, latching onto Todd’s elbow and beginning to drag him toward the worn looking, metal doored entrance to the club, the heavy bass from inside already noticeably pulsating out into the cool evening air.

Todd hesitated, glancing between Dirk and the door warily, before he dug his heels into the ground and wrenched his arm out of Dirk’s hold in order to cross his arms moodily. Dirk turned in confusion to discover the reason for their stopping, only to roll his eyes petulantly when he caught sight of Todd’s expression.

“Oh, come on, then!” He cried in exasperation, “Surely this isn’t the oddest place one of our cases has led us, you have to admit.”

“I don’t know, Dirk.” Todd argued, well aware of how petulant he sounded, his shoulders tensing slightly when a particularly enthusiastic shriek sounded from the open window of the building before them. “Are you sure our guy’s in there?”

Dirk made a face. “What’s to say he’s not?”

“Do you actually have any proof?” Todd accused, standing firm and forcing himself not to bend in the face of Dirk’s pout. “Besides this being a… Universe thing?”

“It’s more of a hunch, really.” Dirk replied with a shrug, then grinned widely, suddenly appearing a bit manic. “But just think! There’s nothing telling us that he’s not in here, either!” He turned again and began striding back toward the building.

“Are you sure there’s not like…” Todd trailed off when Dirk turned back to face him, his eyebrows rising in curiosity. Todd shrugged and winced a little. “Like. Another reason for this?”

Dirk blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘another reason’?”

Todd opened his mouth to reply, before letting is close again and frowning a bit. His previously intoned inquiries sounding, now that he considered it, a little lame. What was he supposed to say? We can go out some other time, some other place, if you want to go out. Or even, Is there any reason that you, particularly, might want to go to a gay club, Dirk?

There had to be more subtle ways of figuring things out for himself, Todd decided firmly, and he shrugged again. “Just… Nevermind.” He strode forward, firmly ignoring Dirk’s curious gaze following him as he passed and approached the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Dirk appeared at his side not a moment later and shot him a gleeful smile. “Excellent assisting, Todd.” He nodded approvingly. “I dig the enthusiasm.”

Todd rolled his eyes histrionically, but moved forward when Dirk threw the door open and entered the club, anyway.

Inside, the main room was dark, save for a handful of multicolored lights attached haphazardly along the ceiling, and scattered around what appeared to be the dance floor in the middle of the room.

Dirk grinned again before moving eagerly forward and toward a particularly large clump of individuals cluttered along the edge of the dance floor.

Todd watched him go, sighing and making to follow after when he caught sight of the bar (that had clearly seen better days) at the corner of the room. He hesitated, glancing at Dirk again and determining that the man was most definitely going to remain within his line of sight from the bar, before he began to wander in that direction.

“Todd?” Dirk called, turning back and frowning when he noticed Todd’s retreat. “Where are you going?”

Todd turned back and glanced at him over his shoulder, furrowing his brow before gesturing vaguely at the bar.

“Wait!” Dirk yelped, striding forward so he could continue to follow. “Don’t you think-- We’re on a case!”

“A case you determined would lead us to a gay bar.” Todd replied, trying to keep any unnecessary brashness from his tone. “I’m just trying to deal with the situation.”

“You!” Dirk gaped, drawing up to the bar alongside Todd. “You can’t just-- As your-- as your boss, I forbid it.”

Todd quirked a brow. “My boss?”

“Quite.” Dirk replied with a curt nod, all traces of a smile suddenly gone from his face.

Todd studied him another moment, before shaking his head and turning back to the bar, a mental list of drink options already running through his mind and leaving little room otherwise for considering the offended scoff Dirk let out not a moment later.

“Todd,” Dirk cautioned, leaning into his line of sight (Todd forced himself to keep his gaze trained firmly on the rack of liquor ahead, rather than becoming distracted by the way the hazy violet light of the club darkened the hollows beneath Dirk’s cheekbones, or elongated the shadows cast by his eyelashes…) “If you order even one drink I’ll be forced to-- to demote you.”

Todd snorted, finally allowing himself to shoot Dirk a wry glance from the corner of his eye. “I’m already a, what was it? A ward? How much worse could it get?”

Dirk gaped, and opened his mouth to reply when the bartender noticed them and strode over to their side. Todd watched as the man glanced at the both of them before letting his gaze linger approvingly on Dirk, his smile widening to the point of it appearing almost painful.

“What can I get you guys?” He inquired, his eyes flittering from Dirk only a moment as he spoke before they moved back as if drawn magnetically.

Todd tried not to bristle noticeably, and instead focused his attention on ordering a beer. (The darker the better, he thought, suddenly a little moody).

The man nodded distantly in reply, though he remained looking at Dirk. “And for you?”

Dirk, previously narrowing his eyes disapprovingly in Todd’s direction, glanced upward with a frown. “Pardon?” The man laughed (loudly and a bit over the top, Todd thought) and repeated the question. “Oh, I-- Um…” Dirk opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, before turning to peg Todd with a helpless, flabbergasted look.

“You may as well, while we’re here.” Todd commented with a shrug, before turning his attention back to the counter, studying the sticky stains on the surface with a newfound fascination.

“I’ll have a black opal.” Dirk finally piped up, with such confidence that Todd nearly spun around in surprise.

The bartender laughed again, though Todd couldn’t really understand why. “Coming right up.” He turned to fulfill the requests, calling over his shoulder. “My name’s Stephen, if you need anything. Love the accent, by the way.”

Todd felt his eyes widen, his nose crinkling in distaste. One glance at Dirk proved to only increase the feeling. The taller man’s cheeks were dusted a light pink, his eyebrows so high they almost reached his hairline, and his mouth hung slightly open.

When he noticed Todd watching from beneath a furrowed brow, Dirk attempted to school his expression. “Nice man.” He commented, coughing slightly.

Todd’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure about him.” He replied airily, giving Dirk another long look before turning back to the bar.

Their drinks arrived, along with another bright grin from Stephen, and Todd drank gratefully, firmly attempting to ignore the sinking feeling he could feel in the pit of his stomach when Dirk happily followed suit.

He wouldn’t necessarily call himself a man who experienced too many hunches on a daily basis (not nearly as many as Dirk seemed to, at any rate), but as Todd watched Dirk finishing his drink off happily before almost immediately ordering another, he could easily admit that he had a hunch that the rest of the evening was going to be a terrific disaster.

---

Three beers of his own later (and two drinks of Dirk’s own), Todd felt more or less the same about the entire situation.

After finishing his second drink, Dirk had glanced at Todd before announcing cheerfully that he was going to “investigate” the dance floor, and had flounced off, leaving Todd gaping at his retreating form before he had forced himself to turn firmly back to the bar and take a seat, reminding himself that he wasn’t Dirk Gently’s babysitter. The man was an adult, and could do whatever the hell he pleased, as far as Todd was concerned.

Whatever the hell he pleased, as it turned out, seemed to be dancing in the middle of a throng of sweaty strangers, and receiving plenty of attention in doing so.

He’d returned to the bar twice since the initial dancing had begun, both times to order another drink (Not his babysitter, Todd had reminded himself forcefully, and ordered another beer to keep up) and once to exclaim, breathlessly, “This is really quite a place, Todd! Why haven’t we been here before?”

Todd, neglecting to comment on just what visiting a place like…this together would have said about the two of them, had simply shrugged and torn his gaze roughly from the collar of Dirk’s powder pink shirt, now dampened slightly in perspiration, to stare at the various puddles surrounding the bar stools.

He watched now, far past caring how obvious his glances were becoming, as Dirk swayed on the dance floor, barely given a moment to himself before another patron of the bar would sidle up next to him and place their hands wherever the hell they pleased, apparently.

(And each time it happened, Todd had to swallow past the sudden thickness in his throat, his cheeks suddenly flaming and his frown deepening.)

Multiple times he’d had to stop himself from lurching upright from his barstool and striding across the room until he was at Dirk’s side, pulling each new dance partner firmly away and--

And what? Todd groaned slightly and took another long swig of his beer, frowning in disappointment at the now empty glass in his hand and, with one last glance at where Dirk was dancing (another man’s hands gripping almost dangerously low at his hips), turned to signal the bartender again.

“Ready for round five?” The bartender (Stephen, Todd reminded himself, ignoring the bubbling irritation he could feel pulsing along with the heavy bass from the club’s shitty speakers.)

“What?” He inquired, blinking at the man blearily.

Stephen’s sunny grin faltered, but held firm in the end. “Round five?” He repeated, before leaning close, his elbows on the bar now and his face far closer than Todd would have appreciated. “Listen, buddy. You don’t look so good. Are you sure you shouldn’t call it quits? Get your boyfriend home?”

Todd blinked, suddenly a little unsure of just how much of an effect the four beers had had on him. “What?” He repeated. “No, I, uh. Boyfriend?”

“I mean, I’m not saying he’s not having a good time.” Stephen commented, smiling a little in the direction of the dance floor. “But he’s getting a little close to his limit now, too, I think. Why don’t you pack it up? I can get your check right now.”

“I’m fine.” Todd replied immediately, feeling suddenly a little defensive. “Dirk’s fine. And we’re-- we’re not…”

Stephen furrowed his brow, looking a little confused before apprehension suddenly dawned on his face. “Oh, my bad.” He replied and drew back a little, dropping his gaze and beginning to scrub at one of the stains on the bar with a rag produced from the pocket of his apron. “I just assumed. The way he looked at you, I thought--”

“What?” Todd repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “No, we’re not-- He’s just like that. He’s just Dirk.”

“Whatever you say.” Stephen agreed, scoffing a laugh, before his smile disappeared and he glanced over Todd’s shoulder with a frown. “Though I meant what I said. Your boyfriend-- friend. Just Dirk, whatever. He looks like he might not be enjoying himself quite as much, now.”

Todd blinked and frowned before the words caught up with him and he turned, just in time to catch one of the men on the dance floor elbow his way past Dirk’s current dance partner and, before either Dirk or Todd could react, reach out and grab at Dirk’s ass roughly.

Todd caught one look at the appalled and somewhat horrified expression crossing Dirk’s face, and jumped up from his bar stool before he could rethink the reaction, his affronted cry of, “Hey!” matching Dirk’s own.

The man, who stood taller than Dirk (and a good deal meatier), didn’t seem to take the hint. With a quirked smile he moved forward so that he was pressed almost entirely up against Dirk’s side, ignoring Dirk batting at his hands, and tightened his hold.

“Stop,” Dirk cried, struggling slightly against the hold. “Stop!”

Todd felt his blood begin to boil in fury, and before he could stop himself was striding across the dance floor until he was able to draw directly up to the man’s side. He forced himself between the two of them, ignoring Dirk’s surprised expression and shoving at the larger man’s chest with a strength that surprised even himself, forcing him to take a stumbling step backward.

“Hey, man!” Todd cried, standing as tall as he could physically make himself and jutting his chin out defiantly. “Fuck off!”

The moment was over far quicker than Todd expected. One second he was stood resolutely between the man and Dirk, and the next the man was lashing out, his fist striking the side of Todd’s face with a disheartening thud.

Todd dropped like a stone. His back hit the floor and he curled instantly inward, bracing himself for another blow that never came. A muted hush fell over the group surrounding them, the music cutting out not a moment later.

Todd hazarded a glance upward just in time to see the man glaring balefully down at him, before he turned and began striding hastily toward the exit; probably before he was forced to face any consequences.

“Todd.” Dirk murmured, appearing in Todd’s line of vision with a horrified expression scrunching his face. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live.” Todd grunted, and with Dirk’s assistance propped himself up so that he was leaning back with one arm bracing him, with the other he reached up to prod tentatively at the side of his face, which already felt slightly swollen. “Are you okay?” He inquired, the reason for his sudden injury catching up with him. He turned to face Dirk, worry furrowing his brow.

“I--” Dirk trailed off, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he nodded. “I’ll live.”

Todd huffed a weary smile. “Let’s get out of here.” He groaned, allowing Dirk to help him to his feet.

After stopping to pay their check (Todd making sure to pause and give Stephen a weak smile of thanks), they did as suggested and retreated quickly out into the brisk evening air.

Todd sucked in a breath, watching his exhale cloud before his face, and turned to give Dirk an appraising look. The man was stood a few feet from Todd himself, his hands gripping the bottom of his red jacket and his gaze trained listlessly ahead.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Todd asked, not liking the way Dirk’s gaze snapped almost frantically to meet his. “That asshole didn’t do anything else, did he?”

“No.” Dirk replied, immediately, his tone reassuringly steady. “We hadn’t interacted, before that.” He paused, his eyebrows knitting together as he seemed to study Todd. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Todd replied, following Dirk’s gaze to where it rested on his hands-- his hands, which were trembling faintly at his sides. He quickly stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans and shot Dirk a small smile. “I will be, anyway.”

Dirk nodded, though he didn’t return the smile. “What you did, Todd. It was-- Well, it was really--”

“Don’t.” Todd interrupted, frowning. “I should have been paying more attention.” He glanced away, studying the toes of his sneakers. “I shouldn’t have let it happen at all.”

“You weren’t the one being somewhat… outrageous on the dance floor.” Dirk commented drily. He seemed to hesitate a moment before he moved forward, stopping only when Todd could see the toe of one of his oxfords out of the corner of his eye. “It isn’t your fault. What you did was very much appreciated.”

Todd scoffed, raising his eyes to meet Dirk’s. “I’m sure you would have had plenty of other worthy defenders, in there.” He replied, before he could stop the comment from escaping, feeling a small shred of his earlier irritation flare up.

(He frowned at his own openness not a moment later, wondering if maybe the previous drinks hadn’t worn off as much as he’d originally assumed.)

“I’d much prefer it to be you, actually.” Dirk responded casually, the words hanging on the air a long moment before they seemed to catch up with him, and his eyes widened fractionally as the comment registered.

Todd’s own brain seemed to have come to a screeching halt. He felt his brow wrinkle in confusion, and his mouth gaping open entirely unattractively at the admission. “You-- What, Dirk?” He exclaimed.

Dirk took a long, deep breath, seeming to be working himself up to something before he turned his gaze slowly back to meet Todd’s. “I’d rather it be you.” He repeated, though much slower this time, and with much more significance placed on each word.

Todd inhaled a steadying breath of his own, releasing it on a shaky exhale, and before he could stop himself was moving forward and approaching Dirk slowly. The other man watched him approach, his gaze wide and aware, and took a few steps back to match Todd’s own forward, until his back was brushing the bricks of the building behind them.

“You--” Todd glanced down, his eyes resting listlessly on the loosened knot of Dirk’s tie for a long moment. “You don’t mean what you think you mean.”

“I obviously do.” Dirk argued, a touch of irritation coloring his tone. “I’m not a child, Todd.”

“You’re drunk, Dirk.” Todd pointed out at once. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Todd.” Dirk cut in impatiently. “You’re quite sloshed, yourself.”

Todd decided to ignore the jab. He blinked, and met Dirk’s eyes hesitantly. “If you’re saying what-- what I think…” He trailed off. “I can’t promise that I’ll be able to stop once I start, Dirk.”

Dirk scoffed, though an almost gleeful smile was beginning to spread across his face. “Well, get started, then!”

Todd frowned determinedly, nodding once (just as much a reminder to himself as it was to Dirk) before he propelled himself forward and sealed his lips firmly over Dirk’s.

Dirk let out a joyful noise, opening his mouth eagerly beneath Todd’s ministrations, and raising his hands so that he could tangle them tightly in the fabric of Todd’s flannel at his waist.

Waiting for no further invitation, Todd pushed forward enthusiastically, his hands gripping at the lapels of Dirk’s jacket as he pressed Dirk firmly back against the brick wall.

Dirk made a noise of approval, and allowed Todd to explore his lips hungrily for a moment, before he tilted his head and began nibbling, experimentally and haltingly, at Todd’s bottom lip.

Todd let out a strangled keening noise at the attention, pulling away a moment later and gasping for air. “Fuck!” He cried, his pulse racing when he caught sight of Dirk’s elated grin. “Shit!”

“Indeed.” Dirk agreed, though the cool demeanor was somewhat discredited by the breathlessness of his own tone. He glanced at Todd’s face questioningly. “Can we-- I mean. This isn’t a... one time thing, is it?”

“God, no.” Todd replied immediately, barely restraining himself from lurching forward and wrapping his arms giddily around Dirk’s shoulders. “This isn’t a one time thing.”

“Good.” Dirk nodded approvingly. “Does that mean that I can do it again?”

“Fuck yes.” Todd breathed, moving forward as Dirk did the same and crushing their lips together with a groan.

They remained like that for a long moment, taking turns exploring and cataloging each other’s various reactions, before Dirk drew back slightly, his nose bumping Todd’s as they both panted heavily. “I want to…” He trailed off, before clearing his throat and attempting again, “Can I try something?”

“Anything.” Todd whispered.

Dirk nodded, glancing up to meet his eyes briefly before he leaned down (stopping briefly to brush his lips softly against the swollen bruise at Todd’s cheekbone) and pressed a long, sloppy kiss to the pulse point just beneath Todd’s jaw.

“Fuck!” Todd yelped, his hands rising to grip at Dirk’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ, Dirk.”

Dirk hummed approvingly against the skin, kissing the same spot again almost reverently before he opened his mouth and, before Todd could react, sucked sharply, his teeth nipping at the skin.

“Ah,” Todd whimpered, biting sharply down on his own lip (which was trembling almost embarrassingly) to keep himself from crying out again. “Dirk! Holy shit, Dirk. Stop! Stop stop stop.” He skittered away, feeling a little guilty when Dirk looked almost crestfallen at the lack of contact.

“You didn’t like it?” Dirk murmured, pouting a bit.

Todd bit back a groan at the sight. “No,” He insisted, immediately, feeling a little better about his own reaction when Dirk looked a little less distraught, and instead tilted his head in confusion. “I-- Um. I liked it. A lot.” He flushed at his own openness, but forced himself to maintain eye contact.

Dirk quirked a brow. “Then what’s wrong?”

Todd paused, before shaking his head slightly and stepping forward again to place a long, chaste kiss against Dirk’s lips. “I think I’d rather be home for this, if you’re gonna keep surprising me like that.” He murmured, when they drew apart.

Dirk blinked, before his eyes widened, and grinned approvingly. “Excellent suggestion, Todd.” He nodded eagerly. “Let’s go at once.”

Todd nodded in agreement, and hesitated, glancing down briefly, before reaching forward and tangling their hands together.

If Dirk’s wildly gleeful smile was anything to go by, he’d made the right decision.

Maybe, Todd thought as they turned in unison and began striding back toward home, the evening wasn’t going to end quite as disastrously as he’d originally anticipated.

When Dirk tightened his grip on Todd’s hand slightly, and turned to offer him a small, private grin, Todd knew without a doubt that he was right.