#sure this can go on the Saint blog

[giamee]

🌺 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘!

STARRING. ノ dan heng

request. ノ anon: helloo if it's right up your alley, could you do a danheng x reader hanahaki au? one where the reader thinks he and someone else have something going on given how caring danheng is through that stoic face of his! but really, danheng is just too kind and you're much too caught up with your own feelings

word count. ノ 3.4k

contains. ノ hanahaki!reader, u and dan heng r both kinda dumb, angst pertaining to the hanahaki trope, you can tell how old this fic is because it's set during the jarilo-vi story quest, some unfounded jealousy of march 7th?, mentions of death and injury and some graphic descriptions of blood and illness

gia's notes. ノ this was the very first request that i ever received on this blog. over a year ago. i drafted this fic and wrote out about 70% of it then let it rot at the bottom of my drafts. anon, you have the patience of a saint if you're still here.

THE MOMENT THAT YOU STEPPED FOOT ONTO THE ASTRAL EXPRESS, you had the sneaking suspicion that you were doomed. Your fate was set in stone as soon as you felt the hard encasing of a seed clutch the walls of your heart in a vice grip when you first laid eyes upon him.

Dan Heng was elusive. The others had been warm in their welcome, but it took the combined efforts of yourself and March 7th to find him hidden in the recesses of the train’s records room. His greeting was a mere nod in your direction before Welt required your presence again, but that’s all you needed.

His eyes were cool, practically piercing through your skin as March 7th ushered you pack to the parlour car, and you felt yourself shiver as his intense stare burned itself into the back of your head.

And while he’s intimidating, sure, that’s not why you stayed away from Dan Heng. He had a cold and callous exterior that you had never seen crack, yet all the same you had felt the start of a crush start to take root.

And this may not have been a problem at all if it weren’t for two details that were like a slap to the face for you.

One, you were fairly certain that Dan Heng had his eyes for March 7th.

And two, if your crush didn’t return your feelings, you would die.

It wasn’t a case of exaggeration, either. You had been aware of the fact that to develop feelings for someone was dangerous, as it had been drilled into you from a young age by your parents. They had gripped your hands, steering you away from other children with little more explanation than that, always chastised you for wanting to forge a human connection, keeping you isolated from the world around you, better safe than sorry.

And you had felt so alone.

Being forced to live a life in confinement was not an easy one, and despite your parents’ wishes, you had told them of your plan to to finally go out into the world, to live a life from experience and not watching it unfold as an impassive reader of a book or on your phone screen, danger be damned.

So it wasn’t really your fault that you had been so quick to develop those feelings that had been so often described in the books you read, as an explosion of butterflies erupted within you upon meeting someone else, another person for the first time.

And yet you found yourself in the same predicament- a watcher from afar. The heart wants what it wants was a bitter mantra that seemed to enjoy your misery as you watched March 7th excitedly chatter with Dan Heng, and you could have sworn the man even cracked the smallest of smiles at whatever she was saying. And really, could you blame him for it? March was kind, bubbly, outgoing- a perfect match for the stoic and seeming immovable Dan Heng.

It was more common sense than pessimism that had you concluding that you didn’t really stand a chance for his affections against someone like her. You doubt that Dan Heng even looked at you more than he had to. You, so secretive and elusive that you gave him a run for his money; and two similar poles never attracted each other. It was a funny hand that fate had dealt you, but you had to play with those cards regardless.

As if to mock you, you ducked away from the outskirts of the room, feeling a coughing fit coming. You had barely made it to your room before you doubled over, feeling your insides run ragged by the prickly thorns of the rose bush that grew inside you.

A single bloodstained petal fell into your palm.

Besides the quickly growing issue that you refused to acknowledge, life on the Astral Express wasn’t awful. You hadn’t yet confided in anyone about your condition, so to speak, and not entirely because you didn’t want to. To be completely honest with yourself, there was much that you didn’t know about it.

And so you timed it well- you waited for the subject of your affliction- for Dan Heng to leave his unofficial bedroom before you slipped through the door into the records room, desperate to find any sort of information that might help you find some sort of cure.

There was a small computer in the corner that you quickly typed your symptoms into- flower. unrequited love. coughing fits. You didn’t know if the single digit of entries was a cause for concern or not, but your brows furrowed as you began to scan through them. The number of obituary entries that were listed on this one document alone was making you shiver. You clicked out of it, about to open the next one before the door sliding open had you starting like a frightened animal.

Dan Heng strolled in, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he registered that you were in the room, in his room. He spoke your name, softly, as if trying not to scare you further. You would have said something, honestly, if it weren’t for the sudden explosive coughing fit that came on a lot quicker than usual.

You could barely get a word out before you were bent over from the force of your coughs, tears pricking your eyes from the newfound intensity of the pain coming from inside you. Despite your hands clasped over your mouth, a couple of petals escaped and fluttered down to the floor, some distance between you and the horrified Dan Heng.

He was frozen in place, fingers itching to reach out to you and comfort you, but with the way you practically flinched away from him, he wasn’t sure if his presence was wanted. He barely caught a glimpse of your pained face before you darted around him and back to your own room on the train.

Dan Heng scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration at his inability to act, before his attention diverted once again to the bloody petals on the floor, and the files on the record searcher that you hadn’t completely closed. He cast one last guilty glance back in your direction before heading closer to the screen and beginning to read.

The Trailblazers’ journey must progress, and your heart hammered for another reason other than a sighting of the raven-haired male who you still harboured feelings for. You had ultimately left your home to explore the world, and with the Express finally stopping at the planet Belobog- your promise to yourself was a step closer to being fulfilled. You disembarked alongside Stelle and March, doing your best to avoid Dan Heng like the plague ever since that fated day. You didn’t know how much he exactly knew, but you had no intentions of finding out.

Your plans of peaceful exploration, however, were short lived with the arrival of Silvermane guards to greet you. In the chaos of the smoke, it was not lost on you that Dan Heng had instinctively protected March, practically shielding her with his body. As Stelle dragged you along some backway path in pursuit of some mystery saviour, you felt the excruciating addition of a new thorn in your heart.

The adrenaline of the escape had worn off by now, and you could feel your secret threatening to spill over any second now. You could barely warn Stelle to let you move off to the side before you were keeled over, closer to gagging than coughing as a large ball of petals and dark, dark blood forced its way through your throat. You felt faint, barely registering the panicked calls of your name as you felt your world turn sideways, Stelle’s face and voice being quickly replaced by another deeper one, with fear in their eyes and a certain desperate edge as you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness.

It's a dreamless sleep, yet it isn't restful, judging by how you feel like you've been hit by a bus when you sit up. Every fibre of your being aches, and there's a harsh overhead light that dazzles you as you blink awake.

As your eyes grow accustomed to it, there's a surge of panic as you don't recognise your surroundings. It looks like a clinic of some sorts- and there was the cloying smell of chemicals that invaded your nostrils. You struggled to sit up, until you felt a hand place itself gently against your chest.

A dark-haired woman with a doctor's coat smiles down at you warmly, and you eye her warily.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Natasha, I'm a doctor in the Underworld. Try not to move around too much, dear. You've been unconscious for quite some time and your condition is unstable, you still need rest."

"Where's the people that I was with?"

"They've all awoken a few hours before you." She casts a quick glance at the clipboard in her hands, as if to fact check herself, giving herself a quick satisfactory nod. "Don't worry, you haven't been abandoned. They should be just outside. The young man sat by your bedside while you were unconscious only left a few minutes ago- he got whisked away by one of my... colleagues."

Your mind's racing now, wondering who she could be talking about. Hoping that it was who you thought it was. But she reiterates her request to lie back down, and you comply begrudgingly. You start to settle down, until you catch a glimpse of the mess lying atop your blankets. A visceral combination of blood and crumpled petals rest upon the fabric, and you watch the doctor's expression become grave.

"That is the unstable part of your condition that I wanted to discuss." She pulls up a chair besides you, settling neatly, hands folded in her lap. "How long have these symptoms been ailing you?"

You furrow your brows, recalling how they started a mere month or two ago, after you joined the Astral Express. After you met him.

"A couple of months." Natasha nods, a frown forming on her face again.

"Considering how quickly it has developed, I imagine that your case is rather severe." You shrug, a humourless smile on your face.

"There's not much that I can do about it, Doc."

"I'm sure that you're aware of the risks that come with a confession, but as a bystander rather than a doctor, I think that you should talk to him."

"Who?"

"The man who refused to leave your side for all of these hours."

You hoped that Natasha was right. Deciding to ignore her advice of continued bed rest, you force yourself up, walking out of the clinic in search of him. Welt was no young man, and there wasn't anyone else that came to mind based off of Natasha's description. It couldn't be anyone else than him, right?

You stumble out onto the streets of the Underworld, garnering a few odd looks from passerbys as you wander around, looking for not just Dan Heng but anyone that you recognised.

You round a corner, seeing the back of a head and clothing that looks an awful lot like him. Who you're planning to confess to. You call his name, out loud, voice a little hoarse.

And he turns, beautiful crystalline eyes meeting yours. Call it a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that they shone a tad lighter when he saw you. But your gaze drifted past him, and all bubbling hope was quelled once again in your heart as you recognised the figure of March 7th stood with him.

Of course he would be with her.

If you looked closer at the pair of them, all signs indicated an intimacy to them that made you feel sick. There was a serious look on her face, one of her hands rested against his arm, but she soon recognised you too, her face instantly perking up as she began to ran towards you, calling your name.

"You're finally awake, you're OK!" she calls out in delight, her arms wrapping around you as she practically barrels into you, threatening to knock you off balance. You stumble, returning the hug, the nausea turning to guilt as you remember how the girl has been nothing but good to you. Of course Dan Heng would harbour feelings for her, not you.

The Doctor's order was wrong.

You sigh to yourself in defeat, unwinding your arms and shooting March 7th the best smile that you could muster in the moment.

"I feel better, but I'm still feeling weak so I might go back to the clinic."

March 7th frowns, eyes scanning your figure in concern.

"Are you OK, Y/N?"

"Do you want me to walk you back?" You twitched, not even realising that Dan Heng had caught up to the pair of you. He was also looking at you with concern, and you could feel an onslaught of petals coming.

"No, it's fine, I'll go back on my own." You don't really give either of them the chance to respond, spinning on your heel and trying not to run back from where you came.

You felt... worse. Before, you had at least been able to function, but now you felt so much limper, and weaker. You cursed at yourself for allowing false hope to be instilled, just as the coughing begins. It wracks through you, so hard that you almost dry heave as you keel over, and you watch in horror as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and see it come back crimson.

At least the clinic was around the corner.

You barely make it inside, unable to stand up straight by this point. Natasha springs to action, helping you back into a bed, helping you through the worst of the coughing. It's so much more draining than before, and you're quick to fall into a fitful sleep.

Even unconscious, you don't get a reprieve. Even in your dreams, he's all you can think of. There's a spitting image of him stood before you, eyes soft and voice like honey as he calls out to you, hands outstretched. And you try to join him, fingers straining to touch his before you watch them turn into branches and flower before your very eyes. You look down, and it hurts, with brambles wrapping themselves around your middle. And just as fast as they grow, your new floral appendages wilt before your very eyes. Branches drooping, flowers losing their hue, and you feel yourself start to fade, his name one last desperate cry from your lips.

You wake up, tears staining your cheeks and you trembling. For a few panicked seconds, you think you're still dreaming because he is here, sat by your bed, and as he stands up to wipe your tears you shrink back in fear of turning back to branches again.

But his warm palm cups your face, solid against your trembling state, deft thumbs wiping away your tears, an uncharacteristically soft hushing and cooing coming from Dan Heng as he promises you that everything is okay now.

It's easy to believe him, with the way he moves even closer to hold you, cradle your form against his warmth, patting your hair and letting you cry until you can't any more amidst the petals on your bedsheets.

You don't know how long the pair of you stay like this, your face pressed into his chest, his heartbeat leading yours back into the range of one at rest rather than its prior pounding against your ribcage. You would stay there for the rest of time, if you had a choice, but you had to admit that the oxidation of blood and its drying against your skin was making you feel ever so slightly uncomfortable.

You clear your throat, as best as you can in your hoarse state, and Dan Heng picks up on your withdrawal as he all but flinches away from you, returning the distance that usually lies between your two bodies. But his eyes still scour your figure, your face, for any and all signs of discomfort. Like a lover would. The thought melds with the already-bitter taste of blood residing against your tongue, and you frown down at your lap. At the petals. At your pathetic form lying beneath the blanket, obscured from view.

“How long has this been happening for?” Dan Heng sounds so timid, as if he were walking on glass sheets around you. Ever since that fateful day in the records room, it felt like he had done nothing but tiptoe and tread around you, a careful dance of avoidance that you were forced to be his partner in. You sigh deeply, a hand gingerly beginning to gather the gorey sight of such beautiful pink marred by the visceral crimson that remained, not yet dried.

“I’ve had it all my life, apparently, but it only started making itself known once I joined the Astral Express.” Once I met you.

“I, um- I looked into it more. In the records.” His admission made you snap your head up to face him, cautious of his next words, whatever they may be. He looked nervous himself, with eyes that refused to meet yours and fingers that twisted into his clothes, toying with the hem of his jacket.

“I read of many such cases where people were able to make a full recovery.” He sounds so hopeful, even daring to meet your eyes, that you almost feel bad for him. It was like looking back at a past version of yourself, so hopeful for a happy ending that once sparkled in your eyes, now a dull flicker you can see when the lighting is just right.

“It’s not that simple, Dan Heng.”

“What do you mean, it said that there weren’t any later cases of symptoms returning-”

“That’s because it’s not an illness from the body.” You’re snappier than you intend to be, you see it in the way his mouth snaps shut and his throat bobs against his collar, as he sits up straighter, waiting for you to continue. “The only cure is to confess to the person that I love.”

“And why haven’t you?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and even from his place in the seat next to our bed, you hear him just fine.

“Because I’m sure that he has eyes for another.” You’ve collected all the petals in your palm by now, observing them with a dry humour as you notice that they’ve begun to wither, much like yourself. You doubt that you could go on much longer after this conversation. Part of you urges to get it over with, to confess now and let yourself bloom with one last glance upon his face.

Dan Heng must have scoured each and every record, because you didn’t need to offer an explanation of what would happen with such unrequited feelings. He’s silent again, an awkward and palpable tension as you can feel his confliction from here.

He finally manages a lame “you never know” that has you laughing, a brief reprieve before you dissolve into another coughing fit. It’s hardly something to worry about, but Dan Heng is by your side again, palm smoothing over your shoulder blades as you are wracked with coughs. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“What would happen if someone else confesses to you?” You shoot him a sideways glance, confusion written all over your features, urging him to elaborate. “What if you held no feelings for them, but they confessed to you all the same. Would that cure you?” He’s earnest now, hands scooping up your dirtied ones, clasping them in his grasp as he looked at you with stars in his eyes.

Your shrivelled heart begins to beat again.

“What- what do you mean?” Play dumb. Don’t mistake curiosity for what you desire most.

“What if I told you right here and now that I love you?” His eyes are searching yours, pleading with you for an answer that you’ve been screaming at him for so long. One that he does not have to search for, because it’s been laid there at his feet this whole time.

“I would tell you, Dan Heng, that such a confession is not unrequited.” You’re grinning now, the smile on your face growing wider and wider as you watch recognition flood his features.

And then he’s smiling too, laughing, holding you ever closer to him before he pulls away again, just to cup your face now. It’s only natural to close the distance between the two of you, lips touching his for a kiss that quickly becomes searing, welcoming a new season of heat into your body.

The thorns in your heart reside. Spring begins to bloom.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... enjoy the silence

roommate!dan heng x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my hsr masterlist here!

[saintslewis]

𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

- drabble.

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black! fem reader

summary: reader will never let the paddock forget who Lewis Hamilton is.

warnings: cussing.

saint’s team radio 🪩: this is just a lil something. I was pissed tf off yesterday because of some lewis “fans” and i will never miss an opportunity to let ppl know who my goat is 🫦. enjoy

ps, i’m not adding actual reporter’s names for this so i made up random names.

taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @emjayewrites @purplelewlew @hopefulromantic1 @motheroffae @exotic-iris13 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen

-

The tag from your denim jacket had been irritating you since the second you put it on but you chose to forget about it, often adjusting it with your nails or a little shimmy of your shoulders.

Holding the mic from Sky Sports F1 wasn’t all too odd for you, the broadcast team only handing it to you when talking about Lewis and his achievements. Your support for the Stevenage driver was strong, often being as labelled as biased but you couldn’t care less. The support was mutual between the two of you, usually lingering on the line of friendship but doubt and time was always against you.

Your sunglasses sat on your braided head with a bored expression on your face, just wanting to get this segment over with so that you could go back to your individual blogging and interviews. Standing patiently in front of the cameras while other reporters ran around unorganised, you played with your beaded ‘44’ bracelet.

“My goodness, Y/n! I have no clue how you are so calm, this is always so hard!” One of them exclaimed, laughing in the process. “Not to mention the outfit! You look like you could go to a party!” Another laughed, her smile faltering when your eyes snapped to her, expression never changing.

After a while, the segment began and off the reporters went on a scripted tangent about other teams before getting to the main topic; Lewis. “Now, onto a different subject, Lewis Hamilton’s performance in that car has been nothing short of a…disaster if I could say.” Jimmy said, deciding to look at you as he spoke. Almost as if he was challenging you.

“For a specific race weekend or overall? His teammate, George is doing significantly better. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like he doesn’t know how to drive.” Jennifer spoke, poorly making an attempt of a joke.

“I’m not too sure why you’re speaking as if he is a rookie. You lot can see that Mercedes hasn’t been doing well as a collective yet you’re targeting one driver who has brought then 8 constructer titles rather than the other who has one win.” Lifting your mic, you spoke with a clear voice, never stuttering.

Frank shook his head and tried to chuckle. “Look Y/n. We understand he’s your boyfriend or whatever but we need to be factual here. What Ferrari has done is a mistake by signing him. I mean, there needs to be more space for others and he’s taking up space.”

“And Alonso’s dusty ass doesn’t need to leave? Using my support for Lewis to try and justify your dislike for him is unprofessional. I have no clue how you have the gumption to say all this.” You responded, still not moving from your spot.

The other 4 reporters stared at you in shock along with other people stopping in the paddock, surrounding the space just in front of the official f1 hospitality suite.

“There’s no need to use aggressive language, Y/n.” Jennifer lifted her hand to place on your shoulder but you moved away in time. “Aggressive for who?” You challenged, tilting your head.

It had gotten quite. “The viewers. It’s not a lie, Lewis is just not good anymore. He needs to make space.” One of them spoke up but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to anyone else other than Frank, your eyes trained on him.

“What? We need to speak with the producers, having an independent journalist was a mistake.” Frank smirked.

“You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. Thanks for having me, Sky Sports F1.” You turned to the camera to blow a kiss then you gave the mic you were holding to whoever would catch it.

Walking away from the set, you knew what you did was undeniably unprofessional but those people had always had a vendetta against Lewis and any reporter/journalist who support him. Breathing out, you sashayed your way through the paddock with people staring as your braids glided in the slight breeze.

The buzz of your phone shook you out of your racing mind, a little gasp escaping your mouth as you read the notification from instagram.

lewishamilton no joke, that was the best thing i’ve ever seen. glad we have that interview together in 5 minutes :)

You first looked around the paddock after reading that message but you figured that he watched it live just like everyone else did. Your anger for that segment had clouded your thoughts so much, you forgot about the interview you were supposed to have with the champion.

Rushing to the large luxurious paddock club, you received all types of looks from those who either clearly watched the broadcast live or they’re looking at your outfit, although the latter was made up in your mind.

Luckily, he hadn’t arrived to the designated room you booked to have the interview with him but as soon as you got your phone out to record and your notes, the screams and excitement were heard from outside the door and a smile couldn’t help but sneak on your face.

You have only interviewed him three times in your entire career but every time you did so, he never wanted it to end, always trying to make it longer by asking his own questions to you or just sharing a laugh.

With security opening the door for him, he entered the room and spotted you with a smile on his face. He entered alone in the mercedes shirt already on. No words needed to spoken by either of you, Lewis opening his arms for a hug to greet you. Once in his embrace, you thought it’d be quick but to your surprise, it lasted a few moments longer.

“Hi Y/n.” Lewis spoke, a hand still on your shoulder. You took a quick breath and immediately relaxed on the spot. “Hey Lewis.”

“Your response to Sky was insane but I liked it.” He chuckled, sitting across from you with his legs open and a ring clad hand sat comfortably on his lap.

You didn’t want to show him how the sight affected you especially when your emotions are sky high so you remained calm on the outside. “It’s just…I’m pretty sure I lost my job just now because of how I reacted.” You sighed out, flicking a few braids back.

“Some of them had said worse things so you’re okay.” Lewis responded, his tone wasn’t all too sure but he just wanted to lift your mood. “Yeah but I’m black. They used micro aggressions too.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at everything once recalling back to that moment.

“I heard. I’ll have a word with Sky.” He reassured you. “Oooh okay, Sir.” You joked, masking how the reassurance made your stomach flutter. You’d like to think he was openly flirting with you but you quickly put that thought at the back of your mind.

“I just don’t want those people to forget who you are, you know? I’m sure you hear this all the time. You know what you’re doing and you’re the best at it. I wanna remind the people who the goat is.” You rambled a bit, noticing his smile growing as he listened to you.

“You’re too kind, really. I know what I am, it’s just a little tough right now.” He shrugged as he fully leaned back into his seat. “If you need me to fight anybody in your team, let me know.” You winked, flashing a comical smile that made Lewis laugh.

Giving you a once over, Lewis leaned forward and rested his tatted arms on his knees. “You look good today. You always do but today…phenomenal.” He spoke, his voice noticeably relaxed. “Don’t make me blush, Sir.” You smiled, failing terribly at hiding your feeling.

“That nickname, Y/n,” He chuckled. “Is that door locked?” He asked. All you had to do was nod at the man and Lewis smirked, licking his lips in the process.

“C’mere.”

saint’s notes 🪩: slightly rushed, george pissed me off, hope you enjoyed. bye. <3

[writers-potion]

Writing Magicians

If you are drafting or deepening a magician character, consider these personality traits and common characteristics of magicians. Your magician doesn't have to be set in stone or have all of these traits.

Intelligent

Magic requires a critical, quick, analytical mind to practice and implement. Must be capable of making difficult decisions.

Good Memory

For memorizing spells, potions ingredient lists, rituals and anatomy of magical creatures.

Creative

Magicians need to adapt existing spells and rituals to the situation

Self-disciplined and focused

Casting a spell or conducting a ritual requires the magicians to have unwavering focus and self-control.

Patient

Magic takes time to practice, especially if it's not a talent that you're born with. You also need patience to calm your human sacrifices down and make those stupider than you understand what's going on.

Highly trained

Mere talent is not enough. Practice - and pain - makes perfect.

Specialist

Magicians will have a spell/an element/a potion they are exceptionally good at

Musical

Many forms of magic involve drumming or chanting, or even singing.

Spiritual

Many forms of magic are linked with religious practices or concepts. Your magician might be heralded as a spiritual saint, or hunted for being a heathen.

Prayers are often a part of magic rituals.

Studious

Magicians are always keen to learn more, expanding their skills range, acquiring news spells, understanding different forms of magic and exploring scientific subjects.

Many magicians will amass books, or sign up for every available online class.

Well-orgnized and Methodical

The best magicians always have information and ingredients at hand and know where to find them.

They prepare thoroughly before rituals and have Plan B,C,D ready

Introvert

Many magicians like quietude and solitude in which they can recharge to practice a new spell in peace.

However, some magicians love social gatherings, maybe even showing off their power.

Ethical

Magic gives a person power, and requires moral judgements to apply this power wisely. You magician protagonist will be ethically challenged, but pull through difficult decisions guided by his good heart.

You magician villains, of course, will fall due to their unethical practice of power.

Sharp Sense

Your magician is likely to have a goos sense of smell/sight/sound, so that they can tell poisons part and catch the exact note of the chant.

Descended from Magicians

Magic is often portrayed as a talent that is passed down generations. It can be of blood (you must have "magical blood", so to speak), or it can be a guarded family secret.

On the flip side, your hero can be the only one with magical talent in a family with no such powers.

Psychic

Although magical and psychic gifts are separate matters, the power of foresight is often considered a branch of magic.

If your hero is a psychic, make sure it has limitations and consequences!

Day Job

Few magicians practice openly. Even if the magician earns money from her practice, she'd want to disguise her identity and pretend to work a more everyday job.

Many modern magicians work in the medical sector; other are employed in scientific, engineering or the arts field.

Pet

Magicians are known for thei close relationships with animals.

This can be a typical pet, or a mythical animal, or perhaps an incarnation of the devil, who knows?

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[gatheredfates]

WELCOME TO SEAFLOOR'S FFXIV ALL SAINTS WAKE GPOSE CHALLENGE!

The purpose of this challenge is simple: it's a fun excuse to do some Halloween-inspired GPOSES that will hopefully expand peoples' creativity, confidence and connections in the community! Be frightful, be fun, be quirky and esoteric!

Please use the tag #seafloor saints wake if you participate and consider joining our community!

FAQ

Is it mandatory to complete every prompt? Not in the slightest! Do as many or as few as you like; double up on prompts or do sixteen MAGIC SPELLS for all I mind! This is about you guys having fun. The challenge exists for people who like that kind of thing, but the prompts are meant to be fun and accessible.

Is the use of mods/shades/tools okay? Yes, of course! Whilst there'll be bonus kudos points if you structure a costume or scene using in game items/means, there's no penalty for going beyond it.

What about NSFW (gore, sexual or otherwise)? Use common sense and appropriate tags as necessary, especially for common fears and phobias. I obviously cannot control what Tumblr sees as being too much, but the general rules for SEAFLOOR apply where possible. Additionally, the prompts don't have to be scary or sexual at all! If you want to pose your OC as a Disney Princess seven times in a row, you can absolutely do that.

Where do I post works? Hopefully your Tumblr blog, silly, but you can also reblog them to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community or join us on Discord! If someone posts their work in either of those spaces, consider reacting with a piece of candy! 🍬 It's a fun, easy affirmation if you're not to sure how to tell them you like their work otherwise.

I've got no one to pose with for the couple's cosplay! NPC's are fine, or you can reach out and ask if anyone else participating in the challenge is willing to lend their oc. Always consent check the content/pose first before posting it publicly, but you can use this as an excuse to pose with people you might not have before.

Is there a prize? SEAFLOOR Discord members get a fancy, cosmetic role! Otherwise, no. Maybe I'll make up some candy and distribute it around Halloween, or we can all dress up and get together closer to the date. I'll keep you posted!

Anything else? If I think of it, I'll post it here!

[thefallennightmare]

The Coyotes Cry-Two

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: reverse harem/why chose in most parts of this story, violence, death, swearing, angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist, smut(very mature: P in V unprotected, masturbation, oral with male and female receiving, dry humping, knife play, blood play, period sex, Dom! Noah, mask play, choking, degradation, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, reverse harem which means one woman with multiple partners, sometimes together.)

Summary: Saoirse "Scar" McManus's life is turned upside down when her father and uncle marry her off to Noah Sebastian, the Ruler of The Concrete Jungle and Leader of OMNS, her old high school crush. A marriage based on secrets and lies comes back to destroy OMNS and The Concrete Jungle from within. When Scar has no choice but to step foot into the The Grey looking for help, she realizes the price of love comes in a nest full of darkness.

Authors Note: Well after four months, we FINALLY have an update! It is a very long one so buckle up. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning! This one probably wont be updated nearly as quick as JP will be. Maybe once JP is finished, I'll have more time to update this one!

*I do not own the rights/names of Connor and Murphy McManus. Or anyone mentioned to the Boondock Saints.

Tags[CLOSED]: @sammyjoeee @happi-goth @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @vinyardmauro @malice-ov-mercy @wheezybrenda @thisbicc @malerieee @mrs-zimmerman @srorgana1 @miserylovescompany1195-blog @embracethereaper42 @lizzieseveride @eclipseeetop @sundamariis @calleyx13 @krisslee18 @princessgh0st @aprosiacperson @xxrainstorm @ourdiabolikal-rapture @iamamatus @klutzy-kay24 @bngurngheart @idwt-money @rain-down-on-me @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715 @cncohshit @bleachampion @xserenax-13 @collidewiththesavannah @karenfranco @amelia-acero @tashka @themortaljessica @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @blueskylinesx @shadowseve @sorrowsofsilence @shilohrosechicken @flowery-mess @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @respectfulrebel @pathion @supersquirrel1996 @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelosmal @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @thatchickwiththecamera @whenthesummerdies @madomens

SCAR

Everything was so fucked. 

How was my life bartered for a way of peace without my consent? 

I understand it was something I had to do, for the family. But surely there had to be another way, right? 

Wrong, if there was you wouldn’t be standing next to Noah Sebastian in an elevator as he was about to show you your new home. Not to mention, sharing a bed with him. 

I nearly fell onto my ass when he told me that there was only one bedroom in his penthouse and we would be sharing a bed. I grumbled at my thoughts, crossing my arms over my chest; something Noah picked up on with a raised brow. 

“Everything alright?” 

“No,” I scoffed while facing him in the small elevator. “Everything is not alright. I have to get married to you without a choice, I have to share a bed with you, and not to mention, you just told me I have to work in your tattoo shop. In a matter of minutes, my entire life changed!” 

My screechy voice echoed in the small confines of the elevator and Noah leaned against the back wall with a smirk on his face. 

“You think this is funny?” I scoffed while crossing my arms over my chest. “My free will is gone and you’re laughing.” 

Suddenly, his face sobered as he stood tall, with dark eyes staring down at me through even darker tendrils of hair. 

“Let me make one thing clear, Scar. You have free will. You can come and go as you please but need to return. Just because we’re going to be married that doesn't mean you’re signing your life away.” 

I blinked, mouth agape. “Scar?” 

“I like it,” Noah shrugged as if he really didn’t see the problem with shortening my name. 

“And if I don’t like it?” I still had my arms crossed but now I had my left hip popped out, showcasing the attitude I’ve had since birth. 

Something flashed in his eyes just as the elevator doors behind me opened. 

“Too bad, it stays,” he muttered before grabbing my bags and walking past me. 

Turning slowly on my heels, I noticed that the elevator opened to a vast darkness, Noah’s footsteps echoing. I didn’t move, not even when he turned on the bright lights showcasing his large penthouse. 

Our large penthouse, I corrected myself. 

Slowly stepping off the elevator, I peered around my new surroundings. Currently, I was standing in the foyer, and to my left was a long hallway that I assumed led to the bedrooms. To my right was a wall that had two large bookcases built into it. I quickly made a mental note to browse Noah’s large collection and then took a few tentative steps into the open space before me. 

It was an open concept of a kitchen and living room combo. To the left was the kitchen and I sucked in a breath at the gorgeous design. Black cabinets with gold fixtures. A kitchen island in the middle big enough to fit two Thanksgiving dinner spreads. I noticed that he didn’t have a dining room table, only eight stools that lined the kitchen island. 

The living room was simple with a large forest green sectional couch, a fireplace, and a large television above it. Although it was still nicely decorated with fine things, there was still an empty feeling that crept over my bones. 

“I find it hard to believe that this huge place only has one bedroom,” I said with my hands on my hips. 

Noah, who was leaning his lower half onto the back of the couch with his arms over his chest, gave me a sly smirk. 

“I never said there was only one bedroom.” 

I stared at him with wide eyes. “So then why do I have to share a bed with you?” 

He pushed himself up so he could look down at me. “There are three rooms. Besides our bedroom, one is my office, and the other is locked up. No one goes in there.” 

“Are you hiding dead bodies in there?” I teased with a raised brow. 

“No, that's what the room underneath the shop is for,” Noah deadpanned. 

My lips parted, mimicking a fish, as the words died on my tongue. I knew given his line of work that Noah undoubtedly killed people. The rumors around town told me. I did my best to not be involved in my father's and uncle's nefarious dealings, but every so often my uncle would bring me in during one of their meetings, much to my father's dismay. My uncle thought I needed to know the inner workings of the Irish mob since I would take over one day. While my father didn’t want that for me. He wanted me to stay in the family home and continue to turn a blind eye to everything. 

In the meetings I was brought in on, many of the men who worked under the McManus twins would tell them everything they knew about OMNS; which wasn’t a lot. Noah had done a fantastic job of keeping his dealings quiet, that was until recently when his friend Vincent showed up on his doorstep dead. After that, Noah made it his mission to find out who killed him by kidnapping my family's level drug dealers for information. None gave anything up until recently when Barry somehow managed to get OMNS a meeting with my family. If it wasn’t for that kid, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

I never fucking liked that kid. 

Every time Noah’s name was brought up in those meetings, my stomach would flutter and my heart would hammer hard in my chest; exactly like in high school. From the moment my eyes landed on him freshman year, I knew that would sink his teeth in. We never ran in the same circles but when they did cross, I was rudely reminded by my mother of the reason why during graduation when she caught me staring at Noah from across the gym.

“Saorsie, stop ogling that boy. The Sebastian men are only trouble, he will hurt you the first chance he gets.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t ogling him, mom.” 

She grasped my chin, forcing me to look at her. “I’m serious, stay away from Noah Sebastian. You’re too good for him, he would only lower your stature.” 

I took those words my mom said to heart because I knew Noah didn’t feel the same. The only time he ever looked at me was with distaste because of our family's long-standing history. The McManus and Sebastian rivalry would be told in the history books one day but now it seemed as if the rivalry had ended with or upcoming unions. 

To keep the peace. 

“So the wedding.” 

My eyes snapped up from admiring Noah’s long legs. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I figured you’d want to plan it since you didn’t get a say in the groom,” he jeered while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

“Honestly, I’d be fine going to the courthouse and signing the needed paperwork. Get this over with,” I admitted. 

This made Noah’s usual stone face falter, his eyes softening. “If that’s what you want, Scar. I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

Clearing my throat, I stood up straighter after grabbing my bags. “Can you show me to our room? I’d like to unpack and go to sleep. It’s been a long day.” 

“Yeah-,” Noah’s words were cut off by his phone ringing which he pulled out of his pants pocket. 

His brows furrowed at the caller's I.D and when I peaked down at it, my heart dropped into my stomach. 

“Who’s Lana?” I asked, my voice thick with jealousy. 

His eyes flicked up from underneath his long lashes, a foxy smile playing on his lips. 

Those lips that I’d been craving to taste ever since freshman year. 

“She’s my assistant,” Noah informed. 

“Does your assistant always text you this late?” 

He brushed a loose strand of my fiery red hair behind my ear and chuckled. “Nothing is going on between Lana and I. She’s dating one of the artists in my shop. She was letting me know that my morning meeting was canceled.” 

My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and I suddenly threw a thumb over my shoulder. “I think I’m going to get my stuff unpacked and head to bed.” 

“Come on, I’ll show you-.” 

Suddenly the elevator to his penthouse made a loud ding before the doors opened, revealing a man I didn’t recognize.

Noah, who was still towering over me, snapped his head up and his shoulders fell. 

“Jesse? What’s going on?” 

The man, Jesse, brushed back the curls from his face and sighed. “We need you at Limits. There’s a problem.” 

My eyes bounced between the two men. “Limits?” 

Noah ran a hand over the few hairs that peppered his jawline. “My nightclub.” 

“I didn’t know you owned a nightclub,” I said. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Scar,” he shrugged with an indifferent look in his eyes before glancing back to Jesse. “Can you handle it? It’s why I made you the manager so you can deal with these kinds of things when I’m not there.” 

Jesse hesitated for a long beat, his gaze flicking to me before settling on Noah. “You know I usually do, Noah. But there’s someone that is refusing to leave unless they talk to you.” 

“Have Ash force them out,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes shut. 

“It’s Vincent’s sister. She wants an update.” 

His body went rigid, hands dropping to his sides, and I felt my heart drop slightly at that name.

Vincent. 

Noah’s friend who was murdered. 

“You should go,” I spoke softly after a few long moments of silence.

Eventually, Noah nodded and he caught the jacket Jesse threw him mid-air, slipping it over his thick shoulders. 

“I won’t be long, I promise,” he assured me. 

Suddenly, all of the anger I felt about my situation faded, knowing that there was someone somewhere else dealing with something worse; a murdered brother with no answers. 

“I’ll be fine,” I gave him a small nod.

“Bedroom is the last door on the left. Make yourself at home.” 

Noah and Jesse were gone in a flash, leaving me alone in the quiet penthouse. It was an eerie silence, the one that made your ears ring, and I let out a long steady breath. Even though this was my home now, it didn’t feel like it. Everything here felt like Noah, which wasn’t a bad thing. His scent lingered in the air and it brought a faint smile on my lips. 

Snap out of it, Scarlett! Noah doesn't think of you that way. 

My brain practically screamed at me and with a shake of my head, I gathered up my bags to find the last door on the left. My eyes darted into the open door of Noah’s office and briefly could see a large black desk, a computer set up that seemed to fit a gamer, and red neon lights. 

I came to a halt in front of the closed door and curiosity peaked in my mind so I tried the door knob. 

Locked. 

“What the hell are you hiding, Noah,” I muttered to myself before finally reaching the last door on the left. 

Now there was resistance filling my veins, making me unable to cross the threshold into the bedroom. While I was interested in seeing how Noah had decorated the bedroom, I was nervous because it would mean that everything was about to become real. 

The second I stepped into that room and unpacked my things, this marriage was going to happen. 

Before I could make my final decision on whether to run or stay, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

Noah Sebastian: Hi, it’s Noah. I wanted to let you know that I cleared out some space in the closet and the bathroom for your things. I mean it when I said make yourself at home, Scar. What’s mine is yours.

I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my lips while I replied. 

Me: I know it’s you, Noah. I’ve had your number saved since high school.

Before I could pocket my phone, a new text came through. 

Noah Sebastian: You had it saved? I thought for sure my number would have been blocked. 

Me: Tell me what’s in the locked room and I won’t consider blocking your number. 

Noah Sebastian: Not a chance, Scar.

Rolling my eyes, I pocketed my phone and gathered up all my courage with a deep breath before walking into the large bedroom. 

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Who needs this much space for one person?” 

The king size bed was directly in the middle of the room, up against a wall painted black. On either side of the bed were end tables, each with their own lamp. There were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle and now, with the late evening,  it casted the room in a glow of moonlight. 

There was a fireplace and what I thought was a picture above turned out to be one of those televisions that you were able to use like a picture frame. It was of some abstract colors, nothing that seemed to make sense to the human eye. 

The hardwood floors creaked as I walked farther into the bedroom, noticing that there were clear walls where the fireplace was, showing the bathroom on the other side. I could see straight into the shower and bathtub from my spot in the bedroom. 

On the other end of the room was a little sitting corner, made up of a long leather couch and two chairs. 

The walk in closet was behind the couch and when I stepped inside, I let out a choked gasp. 

“This closet is bigger than my bedroom at home,” I shook my head in disbelief. 

Noah was true to his word. 

There was more than half of the closet space empty, his clothes and shoes only taking up a small section of the closet. 

With a sigh, I went about unpacking all of my things, spending a few hours arranging my clothes by types of shirts and pants. Shoes by heels or flats. Jewelry by necklaces, bracelets, and rings. 

Rings. 

Glancing down at my bare left hand, I tried to envision how it would look with a wedding ring and I couldn’t help but shudder. Everything was happening so fast and I didn’t even get the chance to let the news settle in yet that this whole arrangement was made without my consent. 

Carrying my bag full of toiletries over to the even larger bathroom, I made a mental note to take a very long soak in the deep jacuzzi bathtub as I went about putting everything in its place. There were two sinks and with Noah already taking over the one on the left, I chose the one on the right. 

As I was about to leave the bathroom, I caught sight of Noah’s cologne and pursed my lips. 

Sauvage by Dior. 

After spraying a quick spritz on my sweater, I went back into the closet to put away my suitcases. There was a small area in the far back that took a few finessing to make them fit but it caused something to fall off of a shelf next to me. 

Miracle High School. 2013-2014.

It was Noah’s highschool yearbook. 

“I haven’t seen one of these in so long,” I said while kneeling on the floor of the closet, opening the book in my lap. 

Familiar faces stared back at me as I slowly flipped through it but came to a stop at one picture. 

Me. 

I was with my old group of friends, most of whom I didn’t talk to anymore, and the smile on my face was so fake. I thought I was happy back then, the facade I put on tricked even me. But after I graduated, I realized how much of a liar I had been. I had to put on this show of the privileged rich girl to appease my mother when in fact, I hated who I was. I despised being in the popular group and desperately wanted to hang out with the artsy kids because that's where I felt my heart deserved to be. 

Just as I was about to flip the page, something else caught my eye; a written note next to my picture. 

One look at your eyes and I cave in. One taste of the life now I crave it. So give me something beautiful. So give me something else. I need another miracle. I really need some help, I need a miracle.

I frowned, feeling my heart sink to the depths of my stomach, and looked for the picture on the next page. 

Noah Sebastian. 

Back in highschool, his hair was longer, down to the middle of his back. He did have tattoos, not as many as he did now, but the snake and apple tattoo on his neck poked out from the collar of his shirt. It was customary that all seniors took professional pictures for their yearbook photos but that wasn’t who Noah was. 

His senior picture was one of him sitting in a computer chair with a gaming headset on and those adorable gold round glasses while throwing up the peace sign; showcasing those hand tattoos I spent countless hours staring at during our history class together. 

Slowly closing the book, I set it back in its place on the highest self before leaving the closet. With a quick glance at my phone, I noticed it was nearing nine in the evening and even though I was exhausted, my stomach growling reminded me that I skipped dinner earlier.

Once back in the large kitchen, I found the remote for the television and turned it on. I had to flip through the channels until finally landing on The Crow and then went about searching the cabinets and fridge for food. 

“Does this man not eat?” I groaned when I saw how bare everything was. 

Me: You have nothing to eat in this big ass penthouse. 

I expected Noah not to text back right away, figuring he was busy dealing with what was happening over at Limits, so when my phone buzzed a few seconds after I sent the message, my heart fluttered. 

Noah Sebastian: What are you in the mood for? Indian? Italian? Greek? 

You. 

Shaking the thought from my head, I typed out my reply. 

Me: I’ll just run out and pick something up. 

Before I could even lock my phone, Noah’s response appeared on screen. 

Noah Sebastian: The Concrete Jungle is not safe at night. Please stay inside. I’ll order whatever you want. My treat.

Pursing my lips, I glanced up to the window, seeing the tall buildings outside, and thought about it for a moment. The Concrete Jungle was Noah’s domain, he created it. But if he said it was dangerous in the dark, I had to believe him.

Me: Greek. One gyro. Hold the veggies. Extra feta cheese and tzatziki sauce. 

Me: Large fries and a Dr. Pepper. 

Me: We also can’t live off of fast food every day. How can I cook something with one cracked egg, baking soda, and stale ass bread?

While I waited for his reply, I decided to snoop around the penthouse. Off of the kitchen was his laundry room and for a moment, I thought about switching his loads but decided that I should leave it. A guy like him had someone come clean and do his laundry. Just as I was about to take a shower, my phone went off from its spot on the bathroom counter. 

Noah Sebastian: I’ve made more with less. But we can go shopping tomorrow, you can get whatever you like.

I thought about replying with a witty remark but knowing that he was probably dealing with something deep at Limits, I decided against it. 

Me: You’re going to regret saying that. 

Noah Sebastian: So far, when it comes to you I haven’t regretted anything. 

My heart jumped in my throat as I read those words a few times over and with a sigh, I locked my phone. I didn’t bother asking him when he would get back because I had a feeling whatever was happening, it wasn’t something that was considered a quick chat. 

By the time I was dressed in my pajamas, there was a loud buzzing coming  from the elevator of the penthouse. For some reason, there was a fear that filled me from being here alone and not knowing who was slowly rising up the elevator. 

Me: Were you expecting company? I think someone rang the buzzer for the elevator. 

My bare feet padded down the long hallway and once I stood in front of the elevator, my heart began to beat wildly. I wasn’t exactly dressed for company, wearing a pair of white cotton shorts and a loose tank top. 

Noah Sebastian: It’s your food, Scar. 

Oh. 

Me: Oh, right.

I wasn’t sure why I was so on edge about the possibility of someone coming into Noah’s penthouse without me knowing. Maybe it was because no one knew about our arrangement so it could have been a late night fuck buddy? Maybe it was because Noah was one of the most feared mafia bosses and ruled the Concrete Jungle so someone was coming to get their revenge. 

Noah Sebastian: No one can come upstairs without the code. The delivery driver left your food with Gary, the doorman. He’s been working at OMNS Legacy Villas for years and he’s the only one with the code. You can trust him. 

I snorted at that word; trust. There were only two people in my life I could trust and they sold me off for a peace treaty. 

Me: Trust isn’t a word that’s in my vocabulary. 

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a paper bag in the middle of it. With a quick swipe, the scent of Greek food tickled my nostrils and my stomach grumbled to life. I spread everything out on the large kitchen island and went about eating in silence while watching the movie. It wasn’t until I noticed the time on the large clock on the far end of the wall that it was almost eleven in the evening and without a new text from Noah, I thought about texting him but figured I’d be bothering him. 

Once I cleaned up my mess from dinner, I stood in front of the large windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle. Bright lights bathed over the dirty streets, littered with not only trash but crime as well. On the far end of the corner, I watched as a drug deal went down followed by an attempt at a carjacking. With the angle of how high up the penthouse was, I could see down to Under The Right Lights Tattoo; closed up for the night.

“How did I go from studying animal biology to working in a tattoo shop?” I grumbled to myself while pushing off of the windows. 

“Talking to yourself?” 

Whirling around, I saw Noah standing in the middle of the living room with his hair a disheveled mess and blood splatter over his shirt. I blinked rapidly, trying to assess the situation in front of me. 

“I-,” I pointed to the elevator. “I didn't hear you come up.”

Noah had his hands hiding in the pockets of his black dress slacks and I couldn’t help but picture how they were covered in blood. 

“I took the back staircase,” he shrugged before gliding over to the kitchen and popping a few of my leftover fries in his mouth. 

I shifted on my feet, watching how unbothered he was. 

“You have a back staircase?” 

Noah’s eyes flashed to me. “We have a back staircase for times like this. I can’t exactly walk through the lobby looking like this.” 

“Right,” I pursed my lips while nodding. 

A weird silence fell between us, I was unsure what to do or say, so instead I continued to stand there watching him as he watched me with his nostrils flaring. 

“Why do I smell my cologne?”

With a red hue covering my pale skin tone, I cleared my throat. “How did it go at Limits? Get everything sorted out?” 

Something flashed in the darkness of his eyes as they flicked over my body. “Are you unpacked?” 

“No, we’re not doing that,” I said while stepping closer to the kitchen island so I could stand across from him. 

It created a barrier between us. 

“Do what?” Noah asked while leaning his long arms over the edge of it. 

I did my best not to gawk at his muscles as they rippled and the way the tattoos just seemed to fit him. 

“If we’re going to be married, you’re not going to hide anything from me. I grew up in this life, Noah. You don’t need to keep me away from it.”

A sly smile spread to his lips. “We are getting married, Scar. There’s no if.” 

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not asking to be a leader next to you but all I want is honesty.” 

Those almond eyes watched me for another long beat before he gave a curt nod. 

“Tonight went south; fast.” 

I pulled out a stool to take a seat, resting my elbows on the counter. “Were you able to give Vincent’s sister any answers?” 

“No,” Noah pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “When I told her the only information I have is that someone in the Irish mafia killed him, she wouldn’t listen. She’s insistent that it’s the Italians.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

I leaned back into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest which made my breasts perk up over the top of my shirt; something Noah tracked intently with his eyes. 

“The Italians haven't stepped foot in your or my territory in almost a decade. They know it would start a war,” I explained. 

“You seem to know a lot,” he raised a brow, still standing across from me. 

“While my father did his best to keep me out of it, my uncle constantly brought me into meetings. He wanted me to take over when they’re gone,” I said. 

“Well, Vincent’s sister surprised all of us when she told us she had some Italian tied up in her trunk,” Noah grabbed water from the fridge, popping it open with an attractive ease. 

My eyes doubled. “How did she manage that?” 

“No fucking idea. This guy had no ties to the mob, nothing. So I had to pay him a lot of money to keep quiet,” Noah said with a grimace on his face. 

“Where did the blood come from?” I pointed to his shirt. 

That earned a slight chuckle from him. “Fucker had a nose bleed when I tried to scare him off. All over my good shirt.”

Noah’s words prompted him to slip into the laundry room off the kitchen and return with a basket full of his clothes. As he spread them out on the large counter, I watched in surprise when he began folding them. 

“Is it the housekeepers' day off tomorrow?” I joked. 

“No housekeeper. I do all the cleaning and cooking,” he informed me.

Well don’t I feel like a judgemental asshole.  

Drumming my fingers along the marble, I motioned to the bedroom. “I’m going to head to bed, since we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” 

Noah paused the folding so he could gaze up at me through his long lashes. 

“Noon at the courthouse. Are you fine with going out to Limits for a small celebration? The guys were adamant on it.” 

I shrugged while hopping off the stool. “That’s fine, I guess. Gives me a reason to get all dolled up. 

“I’m going to finish up the laundry then go into the shower. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Noah smiled. 

My heart fluttered in my chest at the sight of it so all I did was nod before retreating down the long hallway towards the bedroom. 

Even though it was a comfortable bed, I found it hard to sink into the black sheets because of the new place. Any time I slept away from home, it was a restless night. My brain couldn’t calm down and tell myself that I was safe. So I lay there with the forest green blanket pulled to my chin and eyes screwed shut hoping it would help the sleep take me. 

Noah’s quiet footsteps echoed on the hardwood as he stalked inside of the bedroom. I watched as he disappeared into the closet and reemerged with a pair of pajama pants. The confidence that radiated off of him as he stepped inside the bathroom was one that made anyone envious. Due to the window that peered into the bathroom, I could see Noah beginning to strip out of his clothes, oh so slowly as if he knew I was watching him. He didn’t bother to turn on the bathroom light, the moonlight breaking through the windows casting him in an aura made for the Gods. 

I sucked in a breath when he stepped into the large shower, his large back and perk ass on display for my eyes to drink in. The large Jesus portrait tattoo that lined the entirety of his back glistened as the water droplets fell down to the swell of his ass. 

“A Thiarna cuidigh liom,” I groaned while dragging a hand down my face. 

I was supposed to be upset with this arrangement and I probably would have been if my future groom wasn’t built the way Noah Sebastian was. 

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve had a huge crush on him since freshman year. 

Grumbling at the voice in my head, I forced myself to face the other way in bed in an attempt to get some sleep. While floating in and out of consciousness, I swore I heard the softest melody emanating from the walls of the bedroom. It wrapped around me like a blanket, cradling me with endless comfort, and I felt every worry slip through my fingertips. The weight shifted slightly to pull me in closer but did nothing to disturb the comfort.

NOAH

My knee bounced with so much agitation, I feared it shook the entire penthouse. I sat in my computer chair with my fingers steepeled underneath my chin, memories of earlier replaying in my mind on a constant fucking loop. 

The slight hesitation in the ballpoint of the pen before she signed her name on the marriage certificate. 

I knew Scarlett wasn’t too fond of this arrangement but there was a part of me that wasn’t expecting the hesitation, especially after last night. 

“Scar?” I asked, just above a whisper. 

Her sleeping form held the pillow close to her chest but I frowned, not getting into bed yet. She was asleep in my spot. I chewed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not to wake her because I slept in that spot every single night for the last eight years of living in this penthouse. 

But standing there at the end of my bed, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath and the soft snores emanating from her plump lips made everything I’d formally known change. 

I slipped into bed behind her with every intention of lying opposite of her but almost immediately, her hand found my bicep in a soft embrace and I vowed not to move at all that night. It was a simple touch but enough to make my heart race. 

It was foolish to think that it meant something. Scarlett didn’t feel the same, she’d made it clear that she was here against her will. The first chance she had, she would take it to run off with someone more qualified for her love. It didn’t matter for me to try because I’d never been worthy of Saiorse Scarlett McManus. 

Saiorse Scarlett McManus-Sebastian.

I glanced down to my left hand, the black band a sight I was still getting used to. I wore rings all the time, just never on that finger. While she had been getting ready for tonight, I had Matt run to the best jewelry store in the Concrete Jungle to pick up the sets of rings I had put a rush order on. My ring wasn’t anything special, and to be honest neither was Scar’s. Due to the short time frame, I had to make due with what I could. A simple gold band with a small marquise diamond.  I knew it wasn’t her style but for now, until I could get her something better later on, this would be fine. 

The small velvet box weighed heavy in the pocket of my pants and I knew if I didn’t give it to her soon, it would burn a hole. 

A soft knock at my office door pulled me from my thoughts and when I peered over the computer at who stood in the doorway, my heart felt heavy in my chest. Scar stood there with her hands behind her back, almost shy as I drank in her appearance. 

Her red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing the sharpness of her cheekbones. 

Her make up was minimal but dark enough to make her green iris shine bright. 

The dress she wore managed to hug her figure perfectly. It was a deep olive color that stood out against the paleness of her freckles skin and cut low enough at her breasts that it didn’t leave too much to the imagination but somehow covered her modestly. My gaze traveled up the slit on the dress where her toned legs poked through. 

“Noah?” 

I snapped my eyes up to her face, a low hum rumbling in my chest. “Yea?” 

“Is this alright?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I frowned. 

Scar shrugged and in that moment, I could tell by the pain she held behind her smile that she was struggling with something internally. 

“It’s stupid,” she sighed, ready to leave the room until I grabbed her hand. 

“Hey,” my voice was soft. “Nothing you say is stupid, alright?” 

Those emerald eyes bounced between mine. “With Cory, he didn’t like me wearing things like this.”

The ex. 

“You can wear whatever you’re comfortable with,” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, electricity shooting through my system before reluctantly dropping it. 

Scar cleared her throat before rubbing her palms on the side of her silk dress and motioning to me. “Ready to go?” 

I peered down to my black pants and plain black shirt, suddenly self conscious I wasn’t dressed up enough for her. 

“I can change if it’s not-.” 

“No!” She said quickly before catching herself. “You look good.” 

A sly smirk came to my lips and with this sudden surge of confidence I pulled out the velvet box from my pocket and heard Scar suck in a breath. The prior nerves were back and I couldn’t stop the way my hands shook as I opened it. 

“It’s not much,” I sighed. “Given I had less than twenty four hours to get you a ring, this was the best I could do.”

Scar didn’t say anything as her bright eyes watched me slip the ring on her left hand. 

It may have been small but it fit her like a glove. 

“It’s fine, Noah,” she reassured me with a quick smile. “I’m not into gaudy and unnecessarily huge rings.” 

We stood there in the ever growing silence of my office, the roaring flames from the fireplace the only thing that eased my worries. The orange hues of the fire casted Scar in a golden halo, the sight of the angel in front of me enough to still my heart. 

Angel. 

“An-.” 

“Noah!” 

Both mine and Scar’s head snapped over to the hallway right outside the door to my office, seeing Matt standing there. 

“Everything alright?” I asked, knowing the panicked look in his eyes. 

They shifted to Scar’s where they lingered for a moment too long. 

“Matt,” I called his name softly but with enough force; a warning. 

“Sorry,” he shifted on his feet. “There’s an issue downstairs in the shop. A client that won’t leave.”

My shoulders fell with an exaggerated groan. “Can’t you handle it? 

He rolled his eyes, almost insulted that I doubted his ability. “You know I have no problem with that but they’re not here for us.” 

My brow peaked. “Then who are they here for?” 

Matt’s eyes darted to Scar who pointed at herself, dumbfounded. “Me?” 

“It’s your dad and Uncle. They’re here with some asshat named Cory, who is the one refusing to leave.”

The all too familiar feeling of anger and jealousy festered low in my gut at hearing not only where her father and uncle downstairs in my shop, but so was the asshole ex. 

“What are they doing here?” I asked her, trying hard to keep my voice calm. 

She shrugged. “I have no idea! I talked to my dad earlier and told him that the papers were signed. He said congratulations and he’ll send a gift at some point.” 

Rubbing a hand on my jaw, I gave a curt nod urging Matt to lead the way. The heels of Sacr’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she followed behind me. The ride down the elevator was quiet, filled with my deep and even breathing. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed a few things. 

Matt’s eyes darted over to Scar, lingering on the side of her face. 

Scar played with the new ring on her finger while she muttered something to herself. Something plagued her mind, it was clear in the way her shoulders were slumped and something continued to twitch in her cheek. 

“Did you want me to handle him?” I asked once the elevator stopped at my shop. 

Her head tilted up to me, my question lingering in her mind. I found myself getting lost in the greens of her eyes, swimming in the pool of the gold specks in them. 

“No. It’s probably better I do,” she sighed. 

When the elevator doors opened revealing the closed tattoo shop, I extended an arm to let her walk ahead. We walked down the back hallway, passing my office, the gym, and bathrooms before the sight of all of the closed down booths appeared. On the other side of the front counter stood the McManus brothers and Cory, who was red in the face due to screaming about something. 

“She was mine!” 

“Calm down, son,” Conner McManus lit a cigarette, puffing out the smoke. 

“You can’t smoke in here,” I said with a stern tone. 

His dark eyes snapped over to me before tossing down the cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot.

“Cory, what are you doing here?” Scar asked after her father left a soft kiss to the side of her head in greeting. 

“Your dad told me you’re married?” 

I took a deep breath, trying to let Scar handle this on her own, but both Matt and I flanked behind her; just in case. 

The McManus brothers shared a look before Conner threw a thumb over his shoulder. “He showed up at our place drunk rambling about wanting to see Saorise so we brought him here. He’s your problem now.” 

“Congratulations on your nuptials. Let’s hope for a time of peace,” Murphy reminded, giving a small smile to his daughter. 

With a nod, I dismissed them from my shop and soon it was Cory alone with the three of us. 

“I told you I was to be married off,” Scar’s brows furrowed. “I called you earlier this week to tell you and your exact words were,"What do you want me to do about it?””

Cory chuckled darkly. “I thought you were fucking with me to get back at me for Tory.”

She flinched. “Tory? What does Tory have to do with anything?”

Cory held a bottle of vodka loosely between his fingers before bringing it to his lips, downing the rest of it in one go. 

“Because I fucked her,” he replied while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

I took a large step towards him, not being able to hold back my anger any longer, but Scar’s soft gasp halted me. 

“Yo-You what?” 

Cory snorted when he took in the look of hurt on her face. “I mean, it wasn’t anything serious. Just a good fuck, something to pass the time while you were in school.”

My hands shook at my sides, something Matt noticed because he rested a hand on my shoulder. 

“She wants to handle it,” he uttered in my ear, reminding me. 

I snapped my eyes over to him but it did nothing to deter the hand on my shoulder. The gun in the holster of my pants began to get heavy. I kept a hard gaze over Scar’s head, directly at Cory, who seemed unphased by the scene he was beginning to create. 

“You fucked Tory?” 

Scar’s voice and face were unreadable which caused me great panic. I wasn’t sure how she would react or if this news even bothered her. I knew they didn’t date long and according to my intel it didn’t seem to mean much. But even so, finding out you’ve been cheated on during your relationship hurts. 

Cory snickered at the distressed look on Scar’s face. “You have no right to act like this, Saorise. You married another man.” 

Her eyes flicked over to me but mine never left his face, watching him through the thin slits. 

“I didn’t have a choice! My father and Uncle made me. If I did have a choice, I would have moved far away from here years ago,” she sneered. 

My heart sank low and my shoulders fell slightly when I gazed down at her. Deep down, I knew she still wasn’t happy about our situation but to hear her continue repeating it cut deep. It was like I was in highschool all over again, fawning over the popular girl who didn’t bat an eye. 

“I was going to marry you, Saorise. I had a ring picked out,” the bottle slipped from Cory’s fingers and clattered to the ground at our feet; the leftover alcohol splashing on my shoes. 

I grumbled in displeasure. 

“Was that before or after you fucked Tory?” Scar took a step towards him. 

“Scar,” I warned.

“Scar? What the fuck kind of name is that? Her name is Saoirse,” Cory laid a hand on my shoulder, trying to push me. 

Ultimately failing as I barely moved. My veins were filled with hurt from her constant reminders that she didn’t want to be married to me but now, I was filled with sheer anger.

“We call her Scar,” I informed him through gritted teeth. 

Cory rolled his eyes. “You guys are all fucked up. I’ve heard the rumors about OMNS. You think you can keep Saoirse safe from that?”

Matt took a large step toward him but was halted with my hand to his chest, both of us sharing a look; one that we’ve shared many times before. 

“Take Scar upstairs,” my voice was low and even. 

Some would say it even scared them. 

Matt gave a curt nod and gently grabbed her elbow but she ripped it from his grasp, those green eyes shooting daggers into me. 

“Excuse me? What happened to me handling it?” 

I ignored her, letting my stubborn side win, and motioned towards Cory all while keeping my hands in my pockets. “You can leave through the same door you stepped through.” 

“Fuck you!” He spat, now pushing me in my chest with both hands, causing me to stumble slightly. “Saoirse is mine! You can’t just fucking take her because you signed some bullshit paper agreement with her father.” 

My left brow raised. “Last time I checked, a marriage certificate isn’t a bull shit paper agreement.”

“Noah!” Scar stepped in front of me, blocking my path to Cory. “I told you I can handle this myself.” 

“Then why is he still here? Did you invite him?” I asked, eyes flicking down to her and doing my best to keep my composure.

“Fuck off!” She stomped her foot, showing how angry she was getting. 

I had to admit, it was kind of cute seeing her bratty side come out.

“You said it yourself you won’t dictate what I do in this marriage. I am my own person.” 

The way she said marriage caused something to stir low in my gut and I knew it wasn’t anything good. That all too familiar feeling of my hands shaking in my pockets and my heart beat wildly in my chest usually ended in one way. 

Death. 

Matt knew this. He’d been by my side since the early days and he’d seen first hand what happened to the people that were on the receiving end of it. 

“Alright, time to go,” Matt said before picking up Scar, tossing her over his shoulder. 

“You mother fucker! Put me down!” She thrashed in his arm, her no match for his strength. 

As her screams faded down the hall towards the elevator, I looked over my shoulder to call back to them. 

“Keep it up, Scar. Matt has permission to smack that pretty little ass.” 

They stood in the middle of the elevator, her still thrashing about on his shoulder, so Matt gave a wicked smirk with a wink just before the doors shut. 

“It’s not even worth it, man. Her holes aren’t even that fuckable.” 

My eye snapped back to Cory, who was slightly swaying on his feet, and now one hand rested behind my back to graze over the handle of my gun. My voice wavered only slightly, going undetected by the drunk man in front of me. 

“What did you just say?” 

He hiccuped, the vodka now settling in his bloodstream. “Her cunt isn’t that great. She just lies there like a board. You’re better off fucking a pillow.” 

I swallowed thickly with a finger now on the trigger. All I could see was red. 

Blood. 

His blood staining the floor of the underground and hearing his pleas of sorrow as I dragged the knife across the flabby flesh of his throat. 

“You should have come to me to talk about marrying her!” He poked a weak finger to my chest. “She’s mine.” 

I blinked for a long moment, letting out an even longer deep breath in the exact exercises my therapist taught me. I couldn’t do anything up here due to the cameras I had littered throughout so instead, I cleared my throat while extending a hand behind me. 

“We’ll, why don’t we step into my office to work out a deal,” I suggested with a playful smirk. 

Cory smiled with triumph and straightened out his polo. “The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

The knife hidden in my sock itched with the need to slice flesh.

SCAR

“You mother fucker!” I pounded on Matt’s broad back as we rode the elevator back up to the penthouse. 

“Try all you want, Saoirse. But did you forget Noah’s warning?” He teased me. 

My face was directly in sight with his round ass and with a playful smirk, I pinched it, causing him to yelp out and dropping me to my feet. 

“Did you just pinch my ass?” He asked dumbfounded while rubbing the spot I pinched. 

I shrugged. “It was right in front of my face. I can't help it if you've got a nice ass.” 

His face flinched, not expecting my boldness. “Noah definitely has his hands full with you.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave him my back to finish the ride up in silence. I could feel him behind me, eyes burning over my entire body, and my tough resolve began to slowly slip away. The day had gone straight to hell the second I woke up and found myself wrapped in Noah’s warm embrace. I spent an excruciating long moment tracing over the tattoos on his chest with my eyes, burning them into memory. 

Ever since I watched him in the shower last night, I felt this undeniable burn between my legs that needed to be touched, licked, bite, and fucked. Not even the moment in the shower this afternoon while Noah was running a few errands before our courthouse appointment extinguished this burn. 

When I cried out his name as my orgasm engulfed me, it made the flames burn higher. 

“You seem on edge,” Matt’s deep voice pulled me from thoughts of Noah naked. 

“I wonder why,” I grumbled under my breath. 

He chuckled, the sound bringing an ease to the tension around us. 

“Noah will be fine,” he assured me. 

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” I admitted while stepping off the elevator when it opened to the penthouse. 

Turning on my heels, I noticed Matt still standing in the elevator, unmoving. 

“Are you not going to come inside and watch me?” I teased. 

His eyes raked over me from underneath his hat, a sly smirk playing on his lips. 

“Tempting. But I’ve got other things to do.”

I didn’t have time to think of what that other thing was before the doors shut, leaving me alone in the large penthouse. I continued to grumble obscenities under my breath as I stalked towards the bedroom, ready to change into a pair of sweats and spending the rest of this awful day on the couch reading a book. 

And not think of your husband’s ass in the shower. 

Groaning at the little voice in my head, I threw on a pair of sweats, not bothering to take my makeup off, and dragged my feet down the long hallway again to the large bookshelves that were right next to the elevator. Noah had a large collection, might as well help myself to one or two.

Black fingernails skimmed over the spines of the large collection, humming a soft tune to myself, until one caught my eye. 

A New World.

When I went to pull it out, excited to read my favorite book, it wouldn’t budge. Instead, the bookshelf began to creak and groan before slowly opening into the wall. 

“No fucking way,” I scoffed. “He would have a secret door that leads to a dark staircase.”

I thought about it for a moment; go down the stairs to see where it led or play dumb to the fact that I ever saw it. But suddenly, something from yesterday popped in my brain. 

“I took the back staircase.”

Noah made it a point to say that he takes this staircase when he’s unable to walk through the lobby of the penthouse. Meaning wherever his staircase led, it was meant to be hidden. 

“Fuck it,” I muttered with a shrug before taking the stairs, one step at a time. 

It was lit with a muted yellow glow so I had a hand on the wall to guide me in case I were to tumble down. With each tentative step, voices grew closer and closer until I heard what sounded like flesh on flesh and then pained cries. 

When my footsteps halted at the bottom of the staircase, I felt my heart jump into my throat and stomach fall out of my ass with the sight in front of me. 

“What the fuck!” 

NOAH

“Wait please!”

Ignoring the pathetic cries falling from Cory’s mouth, I sunk the knife deeper into the already gaping wound in his thigh, twisting and turning it in all different directions. The sound of blood squelching brought a sinister smile to my face as I watched the sheer pain on his face. Tendrils of my dark hair fell into my eyes but I didn’t dare brush them away. 

“You have a lot of nerve coming into my shop and talking about my wife that way,” I said. 

Cory did his best to thrash in the chair he was tied up in but ultimately failed. “Fuck you!” 

I cocked my head to the side, still having a tight grip on the knife in his thigh. I felt a presence behind me as I was crouched at the knees, knowing Matt was also watching with his own sinister smirk. I’d done a number on Cory already, his face barely recognizable from the blood that covered it and not only did he have a wound in his thigh, his arms and chest were littered with small yet painful slices from my blade. 

“I’m done with him,” I said while slowly rising to full height, aged knees popping in and out of place. 

Matt handed me a small handgun from one of my large collections and when I cocked it, Cory’s eyes went white as a ghost. 

“Wait!” He choked on his own blood. “I have information!” 

The grip on my gun never faltered but I did raise a brow at him. “What could you possibly know that would interest me?” 

Deep, uneven breaths fell from Cory’s lips and I knew that I only had a short window with him before he succumbed to the wounds; more importantly, the one on his side. Matt made a comment of how deep I went with the knife but all I saw was red, Cory’s comments from earlier urging the knife deeper. 

“The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

“Its-,” he coughed up blood, spewing it all over himself and at the ground near my shoes. “About Saoirse’s mom. Her death.”

That made my gun falter a bit but I kept my tough resolve apparent. “Her mom died years ago. Why do you think I would spare your life when it was already a solved case?”

Underneath the blood that pooled from Corey’s mouth was a sinister smirk as he leaned his head back. 

“That’s what they want you to think.” 

Matt, who had slowly slipped behind Cory, and I shared a look before he asked the next question. 

“Who’s they?” Matt wondered. 

Cory did his best to shrug due to being tied up. “The ones who did it.”

I let out an agitated groan before dropping the gun onto the metal table next to me, the noise caused Cory to jump. It had been an extremely long day and the last thing I wanted to do was stand here while he ran us in circles with this so-called information. There were many things I would much rather be doing. 

My wife. 

Shaking the thought from my head, I stalked over towards the far end of the underground to where I held all of my variety of tools; immediately reaching for the pair of rusty pliers. 

Twirling the tool in my hands, I noticed a look of fear flash in Cory’s eyes just before I flicked my own towards Matt, giving him a silent order. He wrenched Cory’s head back by the roots of his hair, keeping him in place, gloved fingers smearing his own blood all throughout. 

It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit to start wearing gloves during these kinds of meetings. Not only for the fear of leaving fingerprints behind but because blood was a bitch to wash off. 

“Cory,” I clicked my tongue against my teeth. “I’m getting really fucking tired of your voice.” 

He blinked, trying to fight against Matt’s grip on him. “Wh-what are you going to do?” 

I sinisterly looked at the old pliers in my hand and shivered with delight. “I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

Screams of pain echoed loudly in the underground, but never making past the concrete walls, as I yanked his tongue out of his mouth. Cory writhed in the chair as his words were muffled as I nearly clipped the pliers with his tongue. 

“One last question,” I said without an ounce of waver in my voice. “Does Vincent’s death have anything to do with Mrs. McManus’ death?”

The pupils of Cory’s eyes bled black and even with both mine and Matt’s grip on him, I felt the softest of nods. Something inside of me burned low with the revelation that my best friend was possibly killed by the same person that killed Scar’s mom. 

“This is for everything you said about my wife.” 

With the pliers clamped around Cory’s tongue, I ripped it with such force, blood spattered across my shirt, down to my shoes. His cries sounded like pure bliss to my ears as I let the limp muscle and pliers clatter to the dirty ground at my feet. 

Matt pushed himself away from Cory, wiping his hands on the back of his sweats, before tossing me a rag. 

“You got some blood on your face,” he pointed to his cheek. 

With a disgusted groan, I wiped the blood away and ripped away the destroyed shirt now. It would have to join the burn pile. As I discarded my gloves into the same pile, I continued to ignore the mess of a man in front of me. Blood pooled down Cory’s chin and over his bare chest. But the satisfaction I thought I would feel after causing him this much pain was non-existent. I wanted him to suffer for everything he said about Scar but mostly the fact he had the nerve to cheat on her. 

Matt immediately noticed the look in my eyes, having seen it one too many times before. 

“Noah, let’s end this. It’s not like he’s physically able to tell us anything else,” he suggested. 

I scratched at the tattoos on my chest absentmindedly, doing my best to calm the beast inside of me. I was alway calm with dealings like this, the more level headed one of our group. But Cory’s words about my wife continued to tease me and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Rage consumed me as I laid fist after fist into Cory’s flesh; anywhere I could. 

His stomach. 

His chest. 

His face, over and over again. 

It was as if the rage had blinded my vision, making the only thing I could see was pure darkness. His muffled groans and the sound of flesh on flesh was muted by the pounding of my heart in my ears. 

“What the fuck!”

Chest heaving, I whirled around on my heels to see Scar standing on the far end of the room where the hidden staircase led. The soft features of her face were contorted with agony as she took in the sight in front of her.

Cory’s near lifeless body at my feet, still tied to the chair. 

Matt sat on the metal table, dangling his legs in the air, as he browsed something on his phone. 

And me, standing above the mess I created with blood on my hands; literally. Scar’s lips were parted, the softest off breaths falling from them, and her pupils were dilated with sheer fear. 

No. 

Not fear.

Arousal. 

“Cory!” Scar bellowed before taking a step towards him, causing me to block her path. 

“Now you care for him?” I sneered, wiping his blood over my chest. 

“N-no,” she stammered while shifting on her feet. “I just-. I didn’t expect to see this when I came down here!” 

Matt snorted from his spot on the table. “What did you expect to see, Scar? Us having a picnic?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck off, Matthew.” 

“It’s Matt,” I corrected. “You need to go back upstairs.” 

Now her fury was directed towards me and she poked a nail into my bare chest, doing her best not to gawk at the tattoos and blood. 

Ultimately failing. 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Noah!” She poked me again. “You brought me into this fucked up world, the least you can do is let me see it!”

I cocked my head to the side, slowly licking my lips, and took a tentative step towards her. The chill of the underground brought goosebumps to my skin but the reminder of how her finger felt poking my skin bathed me in warmth. 

“Does this turn you on, Scar?” I teased with a low voice. 

There was a slight hesitation before she scoffed, locking her hands on her hips. “No!”

Her voice was high pitched, almost scratchy, and it was something I remembered from highschool she would do this exact thing when she was lying. I raised a finger to her, twirling a piece of auburn hair around it. 

“Admit it, Scar. Even you’ve thought about it. Dragging your knife across someone’s flesh. Their screams of despair and pain bring a sense of comfort, maybe even arousal,” I breathed into the crook of her neck. 

She swallowed thickly and I tracked the way her bottom lip caught between her teeth, desperately wanting to know how they tasted. 

“You’re sick!” her eyes snapped up towards mine. 

I grinned, dark tendrils of hair falling into my even darker eyes. “If I’m so sick, then how come your hand is reaching for my belt?” 

Scar cursed when she realized her fingers were brushing against the buckle of my belt and hurriedly jumped away from me. Her eyes darted back to the scene behind me, lingering on the slowly dying body at my feet. 

“Did you rip out his tongue?!” She gasped, covering her mouth. 

I kicked the limp muscle on the other side of the room carelessly. “Bastard kept talking about you. I needed to teach him a lesson.”

Matt slipped off of the table and reached for one of the smaller pocket knives we had hanging on the wall behind him. Twirling it between his fingers, he nodded towards Scar. 

“Do you want to finish him off? A little payback for him cheating on you?” 

For the briefest of moments, she thought about it with the way her gaze lingered on the sharp blade before falling down to Cory, who had passed out from the pain. Scar was facing an internal battle inside of her between what was right and wrong. Well, what she thought was wrong. Nothing I did in the undergrounds of the Concrete Jungle was wrong. I did it to protect what I’ve created here and to protect the ones I love. 

“What do you say? Or are you too much of a pussy to get the job done?” I taunted, hands buried deep into the pockets of my dress slacks.

Scar’s lips recoiled as she violently shook her head. “If I would have known you were like this, I wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage!” 

My heart sank to the depths of my stomach but I continued to hold my demeanor, not allowing her to know how her words continued to affect me. 

“Fine,” I shrugged with a sigh. “You have two choices. Stay here and watch or go upstairs and wait for me.”

“Wait for you? For what?” She blinked. 

Not uttering a word, I turned on my heels back towards Cory and kicked his abdomen, waking him from his slumber. Words were muffled as he tried to fight against the binds, weakly due to the blood loss, so Matt bent at the knees next to him.

“We’ll make it quick,” he shook the knife in front of Cory’s face, whose eyes flared with fear. 

I didn’t have to see if Scar went upstairs, I could feel her presence behind me as she stalked closer. The ghost brush of a hand on my lower back made my spine stiffen and when I glanced over my shoulder, I raised a brow at her. 

“Curious cat, eh?” 

“Fuck off, Sebastain!” She pushed away from me and I could hear her footsteps amcking against the concrete as she ran up the hidden staircase. 

“Did you want the honors, boss?” Matt’s voice caused me to turn my head back towards him. 

“He’s all yours,” I said, the urge to hurt him not present. “Have Ash help you clean up. But once you’re finished, do me a favor and look into what he was rambling on about earlier.”

Matt gave a quick two finger salute. My heart was no longer in this game of torture and mutalation. It was vying for the woman upstairs and wanting to make things right with her. The usual sick thrill I got from watching a kill meant nothing as I followed Scar’s footsteps. 

SCAR

I lay in bed with my back turned towards the door, trying my darndest to erase the image of Cory on the flood from my brain. While I never loved him, it still struck something inside of me to see him so broken on death's door. Yet, the way Noah looked towered over him, shirtless and the blue lights of the underground emanating him in neon glows now made something burn inside. My pussy ached as I remembered how the blood looked smeared across Noah’s tattooed chest and for the quickest of moments, I wanted to lick it off of him. 

“You’re so fucked up!” I groaned while pressing my palms into my eyes, hoping to rub away the vision from my mind. 

“Talking to yourself?” 

Snapping my eyes open, I saw Noah leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, thick arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a dream with the setting sun's rays blasting through the large windows and casting him in a peachy glow. His belt and button were undone, showcasing the hard V line of his hips as his pants hung low, and I found myself staring at the few dark hairs that peaked out from the waistband of his briefs. 

“If you want it, Scar. All you need to do is ask,” Noah teased while pushing himself off the door frame and stalked into the bedroom. 

Rolling my eyes, I sat up in bed and pulled my knees to my chest as I watched him walk towards the bathroom. 

“Did you kill him?” 

My words made Noah pause, the muscles in his back flexing, but he didn’t look towards me. “Will you cry if I tell you the truth?”

“I don’t love him. Never had. But that doesn't mean he deserved to die, Noah!” 

Now he whirled around on his feet, dark eyes staring daggers into me. 

“He cheated on you, Scar! Bragged about how the only good hole you had was your mouth. Claimed you would lie there stiff as a board,” Noah ran a hand through his hair. 

I pulled my lips in a tight light after I was about to say something but when he took a large step towards me, I realized he wasn't done yet.

“Did you really think I would let him get away with talking about you like that? My wife. In my shop?!” 

His eyes were wild as he loomed over me in the bed and my stomach flipped at his words. 

My wife. 

“I-,” my voice faltered, unsure what to say. 

Noah’s nostrils flared, his anger radiating off of him in droves, and he leaned farther over me causing my body to fall to the bed. Tattooed arms locked me in on both sides of my head and I felt his scorching breath fanning over my lips. We were so close that if I titled my head up just a tad, I would finally be able to figure out what he tasted like; a thought that had been plaguing my mind since highschool. 

“Let’s make one thing clear here. You’re mine, angel. Anyone who disrespects you will pay a price, regardless of who they are,” Noah pressed his hips against mine. 

I sucked in a breath when his cock brushed along my pussy, over the silk fabric of my pajama shorts. I’d change once I came back upstairs, ready for the day to be over, not caring it was just before six in the evening. My hands shook at my sides, unsure what to do with them, so Noah grabbed them and pinned both of them above my head; both wrists fitting in one of his hands. 

“Wh-what did you call me?” I choked out, suddenly realizing what he said. 

His nose brushed along my jawline, breathing me in. 

“Angel,” Noah almost purred. 

I swallowed thickly, doing my best to keep my strong hold against him even though it was faltering with every brush of his cock against me. He was slowly dry humping me and I was giving back to him with even strokes. There was still dried blood across the tattoos on his chest, painting them in crimson, and I could still smell the lingering copper scent. 

“What if I don’t like it?” I panted, nearly gone in bliss. 

He groaned while grazing his teeth along my jugular. “Too bad because it stays. Angel.”

With one of his hands still keeping mine locked about my head, his other slipped underneath my nightshirt to graze over my blazed skin. We were like a couple of horny teenagers that found their first moment alone with each other with how frenzied our movements were against each other. My orgasm was building slowly, the familiar tingling sensation in the base of my spine. It was so close, I could taste it on the tip of my tongue and I wanted nothing more than to scream out his name as I came undone underneath hNoah. 

“How wet are you, angel?” He flicked his tongue against my earlobe. “I bet you're soaked just from this.”

I nodded, too far gone now to try and fight against him. I needed this release more than oxygen and it was almost as if Noah understood because his hand slipped between us to tease my folds over my shorts. 

“I fucking knew it,” he chuckled darkly. “How bad do you want my cock, Scar?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to give away how bad I actually wanted or how I’ve wanted it since freshman year. Instead I raised my hips up towards his hands, a silent beg falling from my lips. 

“Use your words,” Noah demanded before smacking my pussy. 

“Shit!” I cried out. “Fuck you.”

He wrapped one of my legs around his back so he could press his clothed cock over my core at a different angle and it was everything I needed for the coil to snap. 

“Oh god,” my body convulsed underneath Noah as I let my orgasm overcome all of my senses. 

White hazy stars danced at the edges of my vision. 

I could taste the blood from Noah’s chest as I lapped at it, unknowingly. 

All the noises around me seemed to fade away. The only thing I could hear was Noah’s grunts as he continued to dry fuck me. 

At some point he let go of my hands and my nails scratched at the large Jesus portrait against Noah’s back, working myself through the aftershocks. 

The scent of his cologne hung along the edge of my nose as I breathed him in. 

“That’s such a good girl, Scar. You sound so pretty when you cum,” Noah praised while dragging his teeth along the side of my neck. 

My jaw fell slack when I finally came down from my high and Noah began rising the hem of my shirt up over my stomach. 

“You can lie all you want, Scar. But what you saw downstairs turned you on,” he flicked his eyes up at me from his new position over my belly. 

“You’re crazy,” I breathed, letting my eyes flutter shut. 

“For you-.”

“Am I interrupting something?” 

My head snapped over towards the doorway where I saw one of his men leaning against the same spot Noah had been minutes prior. I vaguely recognized him as one of the members of OMNS; his long hair down past his shoulders and the cross earring hanging from his ear. The accent immediately told me who it was. I tried to scurry away from Noah, only for him to hold onto my hips with a vice grip, him sitting up against the back of his calves. 

“Need something Joakim?” Noah made no effort to fix his pants or briefs as they were askew. I didn’t miss the agitation in his voice. 

Joakim's eyes lingered at us for a moment before he motioned towards me. “Her fathers estate has been calling the lobby of the apartments. Apparently, her uncle wants to have her over for dinner tonight to celebrate the nuptials.” 

Both Noah and I shared a look, knowing that it couldn’t be true because we saw my dad and uncle a few hours ago and neither of them made it known they wanted dinner tonight. Plus, if they did, they would call my cell phone, not the lobby. 

Smacking his leg, Noah reluctantly rolled off of me allowing me to sit up and fix my hair and hopefully cool down my heated cheeks. I wasn’t sure how long Joakim had been watching us but from the sly smirk on his lips, I had a feeling it was before my orgasm.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Scar,” Noah sat on the edge of the bed, hair a disheveled mess and pants still unbuttoned. 

While I expected to see his cock thick and hard, it nearly shocked me to see a faint wet spot staining the gray briefs; not from my arousal. 

“I’ll be fine. Maybe it was a last minute dinner he wanted to set up. I’m sure he’s curious about the Cory situation,” I said. 

Noah’s brows peaked. “What are you going to tell him?” 

I shrugged. “It was handled. They don’t need to know the details.” 

“Let me come with you. Since it is a dinner to celebrate us,” he spoke while rising from the bed, however Joakim shook his head. 

“You’re needed at the M.I.N.D Clinic. Something happened with one of our extended guests.” 

Noah sighed with even more agitation than before and pinched his eyes shut. “Fine. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you in the living room in ten minutes.”

“Wiat!” I grabbed his arm before he could retreat into the bathroom. “The M.I.N.D Clinic is real?”

“Yes,” his lips pulled down at my surprise. “It’s been a running establishment for the last three years. How have you not known about it?” 

I shrugged. “There were rumors in my neighborhood about what you do in the Concrete Jungle but none of us knew for sure. The M.I.N.D Clinic allows you to go through your memories, right? Relieve them?” 

Noah nodded but then his eyes widened when he realized what I was getting at and firmly shook his head. “Absolutely not, Scar. It can be a dangerous place there. We’ve had a resident with us for the last 118 days because he’s trying to remember his wife who is currently on her deathbed. The M.I.N.D program, while it is one I’ve programmed myself, still has its flaws. If you find yourself too deep, you won’t be able to pull yourself out.”

“But-!”

“No, Saoirse. Do not ask again,” Noah snapped, using my first name to let me know he meant what he said.

Holding up my hands, I nodded. “Fine. I’m going to change and head to my dad’s. I’ll be back later.” 

“Take Joakim with you,” Noah said as I walked away from him. “I’ll bring Nicholas with me.” 

Joakim nodded towards him but gave me a playful wink as I walked past him towards the walk in closet. “No offense, Joakim. But I can take care of myself. It’s just a dinner, no need for protection.”

Waving off Noah’s protests, I closed myself inside of the closet to get ready. 

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not bothering to get dressed up for this last minute dinner, and drove down the familiar but darkened roads back to my fathers estate. I tried calling him once I got in the car to confirm but got his voicemail after three rings. Even though I knew it was nothing, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart beat increased the closer I got, something not sitting well with me. I couldn’t even enjoy the earlier thought of me coming apart for Noah without the fear of what I was about to walk into looming. 

How could I allow myself to let Noah take that part of me? I had told myself over and over again before moving in that I would not fold that fast for him, yet there I was begging for his cock like a horny teeneager. 

I mean, you were horny. You did love what you saw in the underground. 

Grumbling at my thoughts, I took the familiar turn around the bend, my old neighborhood less than a mile away. Yet I was blinded when a pair of bright headlights came barreling towards me. 

“Shit!” I cursed before wrenching the steering wheel to the side, causing my car to skid close to the edge. 

Right in perfect sight of the car that t boned into me. All I could remember was the sound of metal on metal and glass breaking before being plunged into darkness.

JOAKIM

“Did she make it?” I asked Noah who had stepped inside of his office at the M.I.N.D Clinic. 

While he was busy tending to the resident and his wife, I’d been sitting at his desk, looking over the numbers in the books. We had made a decent increase in revenue the last six months, along with a lot of our other businesses. We no longer had to worry about where money was coming from to cover the expenses of the underground, yet it was still nice to be aware of where the money was going. 

Noah shook his head and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his black jacket. His black turtle neck had been pulled up high, covering the snake tattoo on his neck. 

“She didn’t make it. He claims he kept having visions of her dying over and over again while he was under,” Noah fell into the chair across from the desk with a deep sigh. 

“What happens now?” I wondered while leaning farther back into my own chair. 

“He paid out for 150 days, he’s going to honor the rest of his contract. To be honest, I don’t think we’d be able to make him leave,” he ran a hand through his locks, brushing them away from his face. 

We sat in silence for a moment until his deep voice reverberated in the air. 

“How much of that did you see? Back at the penthouse?” 

I gazed away from the computer screen to see a faint redness creeping along Noah’s defined cheekbones and snickered. 

“Enough to know why Scar has been on your mind since highschool,” I clicked off the program before shutting down the computer. 

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t expect to fall into her so quickly, Jolly. She has this way of pulling me in and I’m so afraid that I’ll fall even harder than the last time when she realizes I’m not what she wants.” 

I kicked my feet up on the desk, ignoring the way Noah glared at the action. 

“She doesn't have a choice, Noah. As long as both sides want to keep the peace and stop a war from breaking out, she has to remain married to you.” 

I could tell my words did nothing to ease the anxiety in his mind so I continued. “Plus from what I saw and heard, she’s into you more than you think.”

Noah’s lips parted to speak but was interrupted by the constant shrill of his phone ringing and he dug it out of his pants pocket. 

“It’s Scar,” he muttered before answering. “Hey, did you make it-.”

It was silent for an eerily amount of time and with the way his face changed from neutral to fear to pure anger made me sit straight up in the chair now. 

“Where are you?” Noah made a simple motion with his hand, one I understood, and quickly I made my way over to the other end of the office, yanking one of the books off of the book shelf. 

The shelf next to me creaked open from the middle, showcasing a large array of different kinds of weapons. After I grabbed one of the handguns, making sure it was loaded, I grabbed one of Noah’s favorites and tossed it to him. He caught it without even looking, still on the phone with Scar. 

“It’s alright, angel. Joakim and I can be there in ten minutes. Have you called the cops?” 

Angel? 

Cops?

What the fuck was going on?

“Don’t. I’ll call the guys to meet you there. Folio can get there in five with his bike. Just stay out of sight, alright?” Noah said while grabbing another gun, giving me a sideways glance. 

You can never be too safe. 

Once he hung up, he worked out a text message, no doubt to our group chat, and then slipped on his leather gloves. 

“Is she alright?” I asked as we made our way through the hidden door of the office that led to the back alley. 

“I don’t know,” he spat out through gritted teeth. 

Neither of us said a word as we slipped inside of the sleek black car, Noah speeding off before I even buckled my seat belt.

SCAR

The sound of metal scraping along the concrete was loud in my ears as I stood frozen, gazing at the sight in front of me. In an instant, everything changed and I couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if I didn't make it out. 

If I was at the bottom of the ocean with what was left of the crumpled piece of metal. The face behind the mask was the last thing I saw before swerving my car out of the way and tumbling over the edge. 

I let out a choked sob as the tears finally fell from my eyes and I didn't bother to wipe them away. Fear etched its way deep into my bones and my body shook uncontrollably. Until a faint shadow in the darkness appeared through the fog and the fear stilled, only for a moment. 

"I-I-I'm sorry," I sobbed, cradling my arms to my chest, hoping to hide the injuries from him. "I didn't know who else to call."

Noah stepped out of the thick fog and immediately cradled my face, eyes scanning for every visible injury he could see. 

“Are you alright, angel?” 

The tenderness in his voice did nothing to ease away the pain weighing my body down. I shook my head, tears still falling. 

“I should have called someone else. I know you’re busy and you wanted me to be with a guard but I didn’t want to be a bother,” I rambled on. 

Noah’s thumb grazed over a deep wound on my cheek, gathering up the blood. “You always call me, Scar. Always.”

I blinked through the tears but eventually nodded. 

“The car came out of nowhere! The only thing I could see was a masked person driving before it crashed into me,” I sobbed but then pointed a shaking finger towards the cliff edge twenty feet from us. “My car hung on the ledge for a few minutes and I climbed my way out, barely making it out before it fell into the water.”

Noah’s grip on my face tightened before he pulled me into his chest, large hands leaving soothing circles against my back as I cried. 

“It’s alright, angel. I’ve got you. You’re alright,” he cooed. 

“Everything hurts. I think my arm is broken,” I continued to sob. “I should go to a hospital.” 

“No,” he pulled away from me slightly so he could glance down at me through the darkness, only illuminated by the lights from his car. “Hospitals will ask questions. I’ve got a doctor on call that will meet us back at the penthouse to look at that arm and stitch up your wounds.” 

Suddenly exhausted from the aftermath of the crash, I numbly nodded before collapsing into his arms. Noah cursed before picking me up bridal style to carry me over to Nicholas’ SUV. He arrived seconds after Noah did. 

“How is she?” Nicholas wondered while Noah laid me down in the back seat. 

“We need to get her back to the penthouse, now. Have the doctor meet you guys there. I’m going to see what I can find,” Noah ordered. 

I reached for his hand, keeping him from leaving. He stood in the open doorway of the car and peered down at me with concern in his almond eyes. 

“Please don’t leave,” my voice shook. 

While I did grow up in the mob life, I never was exposed to it in this kind of magnitude. There wasn’t a doubt in any of our minds that this whole night had been a hit on me or Noah. But we weren't sure who had set it up. 

His clenched jaw eased before letting out a tender breath. “I need to figure out what happened. I won’t be long.” 

“Folio is already looking,” I explained while slowly sitting up, grimacing at the pain that shot through me. 

Just then, Folio popped up behind Noah, a cigar hanging loosely from his lips. 

“What did you find out?” He whirled around, fanning out the smoke. 

“The driver,” Folio adjusted his leather cut off. “Put up a nasty fight at first, damn near scratched my eyes out.” 

At the mention of the scuffle, I did notice three red marks down the side of his face and over the Jesus tattoo on the side of his neck. 

“So is he dead or alive?” Noah asked, aggravated. 

I could tell in the way his shoulders tensed underneath his jacket that he was ready to take care of this by himself. 

Folio smirked before pulling the cigar from his mouth. “She is alive. Got her in the trunk of your car.”

Very quickly, Noah barked out orders to all of his men before they all piled into their respective cars. He motioned for me to lay down again, resting my head in his lap as Nicholas drove us away from the scene. I could hear the rumble of Folio’s bike next to us while Joakim and Matt rode in Noah’s car that had the culprit tied up in the trunk. I knew that there were other cars behind us but I couldn’t care at that moment because Noah’s fingers worked through the blood matted knots of my hair. 

“We’ll get you cleaned up and looked at. I’m going to have a conversation with this driver,” he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the car in front of him. 

“I want to be the one to do it.” 

Noah’s eyes fell down to mine, heavy with exhaustion, but I forced them open. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

It nearly took me off guard that he didn’t argue with me but I recovered quickly. 

“She nearly killed me, Noah,” I squeezed his knee, adjusting myself so I could take a small nap. “I’m going to find out why.”

SCAR

I stood in front of the woman who lay slumped in front of me, her words replaying in my mind over and over again. None of it could be true. There was no way; not possible. 

We all arrived to the penthouse about an hour ago and while Noah brought me upstairs to get checked out and cleaned up, the rest of OMNS were busy dealing with her. I had a broken arm that was currently being held up by a sling and a wound on my forehead that needed to be stitched up, covered with a bandage. Besides those and a few bumps and bruises, I would live; much to the dismay of the woman at my feet. 

It wasn't easy for me to shower by myself but I made due, not wanting Noah’s help. Even with our moment earlier this evening in bed, I wasn’t ready for him to see me naked yet. 

The doctor prescribed me some meds for the pain but I declined, never liking the idea of pain meds after seeing my friends in high school abuse their parents. I’d gladly suffer for a few weeks rather than get addicted. As soon as I was dressed in a pair of leggings and a tank top, I had Noah help me back into the sling before both of us took the hidden staircase down to the underground where my prey sat waiting for me. 

Nicholas and Folio had already roughed her up a bit for me and I couldn’t ignore the way it brought a giddy smile to my face seeing the woman a bloody mess. When she saw both Noah and I descended the stairs, pure ice cold fear filled her pupils and began rambling off nonsense. 

Nonsense about my mother. 

Once we arrived, Noah dismissed Nicholas and Folio, leaving just us three alone. 

"Pl-please," she blabbered while spitting out blood. "You have to believe me! I saw it!" 

“That’s not possible. She’s been dead for years. You saw her doppelganger or some shit,” I sneered while kicking her in her face, watching her rear back against the chilled concrete floor. 

Thankfully I remembered to slip on my black boots before coming down here. 

“I know what I saw! She was seen with Vincent!” The woman continued to spew bullshit. 

According to Nicholas, he found out some details about this woman. She worked for the Italians and was set out to veer my car off of the road because they were upset that the deal for my hand in marriage was made with Noah and not one of their prospective sons. 

As if I would ever get in bed with the Italians. 

“You’re saying whatever you can think of to prolong you walking out of here alive,” I rolled my eyes before reaching for the knife that Noah had laid out prior to us coming down here. 

I told him that I wanted to be the one to integrate her, he could hang back and watch in case things got out of hand. But before we came down here, he showed me how to properly use a knife. 

“Keep a light grip on the handle but firm with the blade against their skin,” he breathed against the back of my neck as he stood behind me in our bedroom. 

He held the blade against the sensitive skin of my neck and I held my breath, not due to fear but arousal. The scene also had an effect on him because I could feel Noah’s cock against the swell of my ass. 

“It’s all true! Two weeks before Vincent showed up on OMNS doorstep, I saw him with your mother! At some sleazy German bar, they wanted to meet on neutral ground to discuss something.” 

I paused twirling the knife in my hand and watched as the woman rose to her knees, holding out her hands. 

“Discuss what?” I questioned, absitmindly playing with my wedding ring. 

I couldn’t believe that it was still the same day that Noah and I signed the marriage certificate. It felt like days ago. 

The woman hesitated before wiping the blood away from her broken nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t exactly know.” 

Sighing, I yanked her head back by her hair, exposing her neck to the neon lights adorning the ceiling. I had no plans on killing her, that wasn’t me. Yet again, this whole torturing of a victim wasn’t me either, but given the circumstances I allowed myself this. 

But realizing I could only hold her head back with my good arm, unable to hold the knife against her throat, I groaned before pushing her down the ground again. 

My eyes snapped over to Noah leaning against the concrete wall, the bottom half of his face covered in the black mask. Dark tendrils of hair fell into his face but his hands were covered in blood so he refused to push them away. 

“I’m suddenly bored. There’s no need to question you any longer. Have fun with her, Noah. I’m going to bed,” I grumbled, slamming the knife on the table as I walked past him, who still hadn’t uttered a word or moved a muscle. 

“Noah looked into your mothers death! He sent Matt to find out more information,” the woman called after me, halting my footsteps. “It’s all over the Concrete Jungle that your mother was seen with Vincent. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift. 

My head snapped over to Noah, ignoring the suddenly sinister laugh falling from the woman's mouth. 

"Is it true?" I asked him, venom in my voice. 

All he did was blink once but that was answer enough. 

Yes.

I scoffed. “Were you planning on telling me?” 

One blink. 

Yes. 

I pointed to the woman. “Does she have anything to do with my mother?”

This time, Noah didn’t blink which again told me his answer. 

He didn’t know.

The woman watched the interaction between Noah and I, shaking her head wildly. "You can't believe him! He's lying!" 

I cocked my head at her with narrowed eyes. There was a large and warm presence behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder, Noah was now standing behind me; physically and metaphorically. 

"Noah's my husband. He has no reason to,” I said. 

The woman's face was covered in blood, her right eye swollen shut but I wasn’t sure if it was from our beatings or from the car accident she caused. But I could see the briefest hint of fear in them when my fingers grazed over the handle of the gun Noah extended towards me. 

"No, you're not like him. Please!” She begged while wrapping her arms around my hips, holding onto me. 

The part of me that didn’t like the dark side of the mob life called to me, overpowering the thrill of seeing her weep at my feet and gently, I removed her grasp around me. 

“I’m done,” I spoke flatly, pushing her away from me. 

Mentally, I was exhausted from the everlasting day and was ready to call it a night when dark laughter pulled me back to the pathetic excuse of a woman. 

“Your mother was right. You never could hack it in this business. I’m shocked your father signed you over to Noah Sebastian. He needs someone that can get their hands dirty. Maybe he’d be better off with me-.” 

It all happened so quickly, barely having time to actually register what happened until it was too late. Me scurrying back over towards Noah, who still held the gun outstretched and my finger on the trigger, firing off two rounds directly into the woman's skull; right between the eyes.

The ringing in my ear due to the gunshot was deafening as I stood there motionless, unable to process any coherent thought or word. It wasn’t until I felt callused fingers around my wrist, pulling my attention away from the dead body at my feet and to the dark eyes of Matt, filled with concern. 

“Let’s get you upstairs, Scar,” he gingerly led me back towards the hidden staircase, too far gone in a state of shock to realize Noah had begun cleaning up my mess.

NOAH

“Scar?” I called out into the dark penthouse. 

After I finished cleaning up the mess in the underground thanks to help from Ash and Bryan, I made my way upstairs to check on Scar. Matt had taken her upstairs over an hour ago but I hadn’t heard how she was doing. It’s never easy, your first kill, so I knew the feeling of disgust and dread she had to have been feeling. 

As I walked down the long hallway towards our bedroom, ignoring the one room that always remained locked, I paused momentarily just past the doorway of the bedroom when I heard soft cries echoing from the shower. 

“Scar?” I called out again, this time with more fever as I ran into the bathroom, the sight stalling my heart. 

She was curled up in a ball, still in her clothes and sling, soaked to the bone as she cried out. There was a frigid chill in the air, indicating she’d run through all of the hot water, but that didn’t stop me from kicking off my boots and stepping into the shower with her; clothes and all. 

“Noah!” She cried, immediately pulling me into her, burying her face in my soaked black shirt. 

“Shh,” I brushed my lips across her forehead, the bandage covering her stitches barely hanging on. “I’ve got you.” 

“Am I?” Scar choked out, fisting at the fabric. “Am I a monster now?” 

My heart shattered, pieces falling into the depths of my abdomen but I shook my head. Cupping her cheek, I forced her to look up at me, water droplets hanging onto her long lashes. 

“No, angel. You’re a fighter. You did what needed to be done,” I held her closer to me, allowing her to cry out the guilt and anguish she felt. 

She might have felt like a monster right now but I knew that she would evolve into something greater, far exceeding the expectations her family set against her. They were right when they thought she couldn’t run the McManus empire. Because she was made to run OMNS with me by her side. 

First things first, however, we needed to have a talk with Matt and figure out what he found out about her mother's death.

[watership-clown]

Debunking Lily's "Behavioural Psychology Degree" with facts and logic (and a two minute google search)

First of all, big ups to @skrinkskronk (EDIT: ammended the screenshot credit :) thank you to skrinkskronk for both the picture and the clarification!) as, without their keen screenshot button, this post could not and would not exist. You can check for yourself - the original ask no longer lives on Lily's blog (a fact that I'm sure many Lily defenders will have quite the opinion about - please see the questions section below! <3) Second of all: who the fuck am I?

Someone who attended university in Canada, that's who!

For real though: I have a bachelor's degree from the University of British Columbia, double majoring in English Literature and History. Does this mean I know anything at all about getting a behavioural psych degree?

No!

But I do know how attending university in Canada works. It is not at all as Lily describes. I'm going to largely avoid talking about the degree itself in this post - CrimsonEnder has already done the research on that and I highly recommend checking out his post for more information on why Lily couldn't even get the degree she claims to have studied for. Instead, I'm going to go forward as if we are in an alternate dimension where Lily made the far more believable claim that she was working towards a Bachelor of Science degree with a focus on Psychology.

Let's do a close reading, shall we?

And barely graduating is still graduating.

Starting off strong: this is a true statement! She's right, to get your high school diploma in the province of Nova Scotia, one must:

Meet the minimum number of credits requited for graduation, which is 18 (source: creditsforgraduationdiplomaen.pdf (ednet.ns.ca) )

That's it! (in my province we also had to pass a literacy assessment and do some 30 odd hours of community service. no, I'm not still salty about it 10 years later.)

However, passing is not succeeding. Lily has stated that she barely passed high school, did the bare minimum to get it over and done with. This is fine in and of itself. I attach no moral or intellectual weight to not caring about high school as it is by no means set up to let every child succeed. However, doing the "bare minimum" to pass does not open many doors for further schooling down the road. So, in order to pass a class, one must achieve a minimum of 60% - otherwise known as a grade of C. Assuming that for her 12th grade year Lily took a full load of 4 courses over two semesters, achieving the minimum grade that would allow her to walk the stage and get her diploma, she would leave high school with a 2.0 gpa.

Remember this score. 2.0. We will come back to this.

This is in Canada, there's no SAT's to take.

Look at that! 2 for 2 true statements. Canada has no SAT or nation-wide equivalent. Understanding this, in order to meet the minimum requirements for admission into university, one's GPA plays an extremely large role. For example, in order to even be considered for admission into McGill, one of Canada's top universities, one must have a 3-year minimum grade range of 85% (an A) and a final GPA of 4.0. Grades equal to or above this minimum do not guarantee admission (NO, I'm NOT still salty that I didn't get admitted). With a 2.0 GPA, Lily's application would have been tossed after a glance. "BUT BUT BUT!" I hear you say, "this is from one of Canada's most selective institutions! In a province Lily doesn't even live in! You're holding her to an improbable standard!" And you would be right! But this was just an example to showcase how university admissions function. Let's look at a uni a little closer to home. Let's even look at four:

Dalhousie University Undergrad minimum requirements: 75% or 3.0 (source: General admission requirements | Dalhousie University) )

Mount Saint Vincent University: 70% or 2.70 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Admissions (msvu.ca) )

Saint Mary's University: 70% or 2.70 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Canadian High School Curriculum Requirements | Future Students | Saint Mary's University (smu.ca) )

University of King's College: 75% or 2.0 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Undergraduate Admission Requirements | University of King's College (ukings.ca) )

She doesn't meet the minimum requirements for any local Halifax university or college with a psych program. However, if we are to be charitable, (and believe that Lily scored slightly above the true minimum of 60%) MSVU could have admitted her based on individual merit. From their mature students policy, we can read:

Applicants who present overall grade XII averages between 65 and 69 percent will be reviewed for admission on an individual basis. (source: Admissions (msvu.ca) )

I'm not going to pretend this isn't the case or couldn't be true or try to obfuscate it from her and her defenders.

... But if the rebuttal is so easy, why doesn't she say that?

You either graduated High School or you didn't.

I'm sure Lily did graduate high school. I'm certain she did so after putting in the minimum amount of required work. I do not believe that she has or ever intends to attend university in Canada.

Objections I'm sure this post will spark:

"skrinkskronk's screenshot could be faked!"

And I could have blue skin, but that is not reality. Rather than taking my word for the fact that this ask was real, the answer Lily gave was as shown above, and many people saw it before it went MIA, I instead invite you to consider something: asking Lily yourself. Go on! Ask her! In whatever way you find most comfortable, ask how she went to university for a) a degree that doesn't exist b) with a below-requirement gpa and c) paid for it with money she doesn't have. When she deletes your ask, ignores your superchat, or approaches your honest and genuine thirst for truth with hostility, I then want you to ask yourself why that is.

"Lily could have upgraded her scores at a local college before applying to university!"

Did she say that? Has she ever claimed to have done that? Or are you putting the right words into her mouth so she can easily go "Yup! that's what I did! Obviously!"

If she had done this (or had at least thought of this herself), why didn't she claim to have done this in the original ask? Wouldn't it be easier to just say "I upgraded later" than pretend that a measly 2.0 could get you into an advanced degree program? I have no doubt that Lily is going to recount her story and claim the above statement was true all along. "[She] just upgraded!" But I ask you to think on this, to really consider it: why is the story only changing after confrontation? If the answer is so simple and so obvious... why was it not always true?

"You say at multiple points that Lily could easily provide a rebuttal but she doesn't owe you or any of her critics a response!"

This is true! However, she responds to criticism all the time.

Her taking down Sai's streams is her responding to Sai's criticism. Her snarkily talking around Ant and his content in her videos is her responding to his criticism. Her answering asks from her fans (despite in her "rules" stating that she will not) filling her in on the goings on of her critics is a response to their criticism. A response isn't always the literal "and to that I say: blah blah blah".

If Crimson, I, or anyone else who thought twice about this situation were wrong: could we not be easily disproved? She is the one who (supposedly) attempted the degree. The records would exist. She would have access to them. She would not run away when challenged with a very easily disprovable argument. As much as Lily loves to protest that she ignores the haters and refuses to respond to criticism, that claim is demonstrably false. She responds to criticism all the time - she can't keep Sai, Crimson, or Ant's names out of her mouth while on stream, in her videos, or on her blog. If she had an easy win, she would take it. She has before. She will again.

Closing Arguments

I feel like I have adequately demonstrated that, even if Lily did apply for an undergraduate degree, if not the flashy shiny

Behavioural Psychology

that she claims, she likely wouldn't have even made it past the admissions stage. I don't want to say that it's completely impossible for her to have attempted post-secondary education. As stated above: MSVU could have admitted her based on individual merit.

What I do hope is that this post invites people think more critically about her claims.

What do I think happened with the original ask? I think some anon, the original question asker or otherwise, challenged her before I or CrimsonEnder did. This scared her and, realizing she'd been caught, tried to wash away the evidence before anyone else could trip on the lie. Sadly, that's not what happened.

If she did attend university, how did she pay for it? Is a 2.0 GPA enough to qualify her for a scholarship, grant, or bursary? A 4 year degree in Canada can easily run a person $6,463 per year, not including textbooks or other fees. Where did she suddenly get that much money? These claims are so easily questioned and disproven because Lily Orchard thinks her audience is too whipped and fundamentally too stupid to ever seek the information for themselves.

She does not respect you. She does not respect your intelligence as a human being.

You deserve better.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED:  Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

[megalony]

Annual Party

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine requested by Anon, I hope you like it. I'm loving all the Dad! Eddie and family Eddie requests coming through and I'm trying to work my way through them all. Enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

911 Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is worried when Eddie invites her and Chris to the summer party to meet the 118 for the first time. But her worries are all for nothing.

Enjoy.

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

"…Hey, it'll be Eddie's first one."

Eddie paused in the doorway to the gym, letting the towel hang around his neck and catch the droplets of sweat trickling down the side of his face and neck. He had been in the gym for the last half an hour in between callouts but now he wished he hadn't since he had missed out on most of whatever conversation Buck and Chimney were having.

He had been with the 118 for around five months now and it was the quickest that he had ever felt like he fit in with the people he worked with who he could now call his friends. Eddie had never felt so at home with his workmates, not even when he was back in the army. But there were some things that never changed, like Eddie's unease whenever he heard his name being spoken.

It felt like they were unsure about him whenever he heard them mention his name, even just in a passing conversation. Eddie wanted so badly to fit in and feel like this was his family, a safe group of people to work with and get along with and call his friends. He couldn't stop himself from panicking though, little nagging thoughts that he would be the odd one out.

"My first what?" He leaned against the doorframe and looked over at the pair of them.

The way Buck was smiling and how chimney cocked a brow made Eddie relax in himself and manage a smile. Clearly it wasn't anything bad or awkward that they were talking about.

"You sir, are in luck. We were just talking about the annual summer party the station has every year."

"You guys sure do have a lot of parties,"

Removing the towel from around his neck, Eddie threw it in the hamper beside the door before he walked over to them. They had all invited him to a BBQ only a month after he arrived but he had to turn it down, Christopher hadn't been well that week. Buck had been talking about halloween already and how he thought it was mystical and special. Now a summer party was being planned and Eddie knew they were already getting things in motion for Christmas.

Bobby had talked about them always doing a Christmas party and finding a few extra people to cover the shifts so the 118 could go all out and enjoy the festivities.

"That we do, and this year it's my turn to host." Chimney placed a hand on his chest and smiled proudly. He had never hosted one of the station parties before. It was usually Bobby who hosted them or they had the parties here at the station for family and friends to attend.

But a summer party was different, they couldn't have the pinnical of summer inside the station, hidden away from the sun and the sweltering heat.

It was more of an occasion when a party was at someone's house and Chimney had offered to host this one since he hadn't had the chance before.

"You're coming, right?" A smile lit up Buck's face as he tucked his hands into his back pockets. So far everyone had said they were turning up and it looked like it was going to be a big day, they couldn't have a party without the newest member of the team there.

"I guess I could swing by."

"You can bring your family, you know. Parties are for everyone, we're one big family here and that includes you now."

"You have a wife and boy, right?" Buck grinned over at Eddie when he saw the smile start to spread across his face as he looked down at his hands for a moment before he nodded.

"I think they'd love to come along,"

Eddie knew for a fact (Y/n) would be happy to join him at the party, she could see the way he talked about the team and how close he felt to them. She wanted to meet the people who Eddie had grown so fond of and who he spent half his life around now. And he was sure Chris would enjoy a party, he always loved a party whenever someone had a birthday or they went to visit family for Christmas.

This would be a bit different because it would be a new place and new people, it would take Chris a little while to get used to everyone and get to know them. But wherever there was a good atmosphere and a lot of energy, Chris always hyped up and got excited.

"Great! Next Saturday at two o'clock. Cap's already made sure we all have the afternoon off so no excuses."

Looks like Eddie and (Y/n) now had plans for next weekend.

***

"I'm ready," Christopher shuffled into the kitchen and leaned his arms on the kitchen counter next to (Y/n), letting his body fall forward into the counter that kept him upright. His fingers tapped and itched against the counter and he dropped his chin onto (Y/n)'s arm, looking over her to see what she was doing.

"Good, I think I've got everything," (Y/n) leaned down to kiss his forehead as she put the box into Chris's backpack she was getting ready.

She could barely breathe now from the nerves.

All morning (Y/n) had been planning what to take and rethinking how to be ready for any kind of situation or emergency. It felt more like she was going on shift at the fire station rather than out to a festive party to meet the team for the first time.

The backpack was full. (Y/n) had packed Chris's favourite toy monkey, just in case he started to panic and needed something to cuddle. She had his new favourite sensory toy which was a plastic snake that rattled and made a very satisfying clicking sound whenever it was shook.

His noise-cancelling headphones were folded up and packed so if the music or the raised voices got too much, Chris could still stay with everyone and just wear his headphones.

She had a bag of sweets crammed in as well; Eddie had told her that there would be a lot of food and sweets and treats out and they both knew Chris would get upset at that. He was allergic to a lot of things; nuts, milk, latex to name a few and there were only a certain few brands of sweets Chris could tolerate, others he loved but they made him sick.

So (Y/n) thought it was best to bring along a lot of treats so Chris could still enjoy himself. And because he was such a picky eater and had allergies, she had done him a pack up. Save asking Chimney what was in each food and have Chris go into a meltdown when the food didn't taste the same as the brand he always got from the same shop each week. He could always tell the difference.

Then there was his mini-medic kit in the bag too with his EpiPens, painkillers and stomach meds in case he got hold of something he shouldn't and made himself feel sick.

"Come on then, off we go," (Y/n) looped his backpack on her shoulder and hooked her bag on her other shoulder before she reached out to take Chris's hand. His crutches were already in the car from yesterday, he didn't like to use them in the house, only when they went out.

"Daddy?" Chris tilted his head up and leaned his cheek on (Y/n)'s arm as they walked out towards the car.

They had only told Chris yesterday about the party today in case Chris got too overwhelmed or panicked about going or in case he got sick and couldn't go. If he knew in advance, it would be the only thing he would focus on and if for some reason he didn't end up going, he would have a meltdown because of changed or ruined plans. Telling him at the last second was always the easiest way to go.

"He's meeting us there, don't worry," (Y/n) put the bags in the car and lifted Chris up to strap him in his car seat.

Eddie had picked up a shift with Hen at the last minute to cover this morning so the plan was for him to do his shift until dinner time, go wash and change at the station and then Hen would drive them to Chimney's house for the party.

He should be there by now, (Y/n) was praying Eddie was there before she and Chris arrived. She didn't want to walk into a stranger's home and be introduced without Eddie. Chris would be panicked enough and if (Y/n) started to panic too, it wouldn't end well.

Unease washed through (Y/n) in waves when she began to drive. Despite Chris singing and babbling along to the Disney CD in the car, she could feel the panic welling up inside her.

What if Eddie's colleagues didn't like her?

From the way Eddie spoke so highly of everyone he worked with, it would be awful if they didn't like (Y/n). They were practically part of the family now, they worked so closely with Eddie and (Y/n) wanted them to know her and like her and be friends. It would mean she and Eddie could go out with them if they were all close, since they moved here they didn't know many people and the only people Eddie knew well or close were the guys he worked with.

(Y/n) didn't know what Eddie had told them about Chris- or if he had told them anything at all about their son.

It was always a shock when (Y/n) used to introduce her friends to Chris and she could always see their expressions change and their words get stuck in their throat when they realised he had special needs. They didn't know what to say to him or how to act around him.

Some people tried to talk to him as if he was a baby, others ignored him completely and then a few people just tried to ask what was wrong with him and venture into every aspect of their lives.

(Y/n) would hate for Eddie's new colleagues to be like that; they had both lost enough friends back in Texas for how they acted or treated Chris. It would be awful if this new job that Eddie loved and thoroughly enjoyed turned sour if his colleagues didn't take to Chris.

Would they look at (Y/n) differently if they knew she was a stay at home mum and a part-time book editor- which meant she could always work from home and be there for Chris. Would they judge her or laugh at her or think she was silly or lazy?

She didn't have to check the address when she pulled up in the street. The music could be heard from the end of the street and there were at least five cars rammed near the third house on the left. At least she had found the right address and wasn't lost, that was another worry (Y/n) had thought of late last night when she wondered what could and would go wrong. It wasn't very often that (Y/n) got to know and interact with new people and she knew they were all close to her husband. She wanted to be close to them too.

"I think we're here, are you ready?"

"Yep!"

(Y/n) got out and smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles in her dress; it was Eddie's favourite. A strapless white dress with a low cut towards the cleavage, tight at the hips and crinkled and fanned out towards her knees. And it had little strawberries printed all across; the picture of summer.

She had pinned her hair back and matched the outfit with white sandals, whereas Chris had chosen to wear a white pair of shorts and a lime green button up, sleeveless shirt. He even tucked the shirt into his shorts to try and look smart.

(Y/n) looped her bag around her neck and shoulder but when she opened the back door for Chris to hop out, he shook his head. A cheeky grin lit up his face as his eyes creased at the corners and he stretched his arms out towards her while he tilted his head from side to side.

He wanted to be carried.

With a roll of her eyes, (Y/n) held out his backpack towards him, she would carry him but she couldn't hold everything.

He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and held his arms out, giggly madly when (Y/n) leaned in and picked him up to sit him high on her left hip. He was getting a bit big for her to carry him around, but he was her baby boy and they both knew she could never say no to carrying him around.

Chris nuzzled his face into her cheek and loosely draped his arms around her neck while (Y/n) shut the door with her bum and held him tightly, pinning his crutches underneath her right arm. He would need them when she eventually had to put him down and they both knew he wouldn't sit still for long, he would be snooping and adventuring round soon enough.

"Let's go find daddy," She leaned her cheek on top of Chris's head when he snuggled down against her.

The front door was closed but the back gate at the left side of the house was wide open, connecting the front to the back garden. (Y/n) followed the path and the sound of music round the side of the house towards the voices and the laughter that was drawing them closer.

There were balloons taped to each end of the few tables set out near the fence and there was a BBQ going near the back door.

Quite a lot of people were scattered around the large garden and (Y/n) could see at least three children which made her more relieved than she could comprehend. It would have been awkward if she and Eddie were the only ones to bring their kid along.

"There you are," Eddie's voice was like a Godsend and (Y/n) managed a more relaxed smile when her eyes fell on him and watched him head towards her.

Reaching over, Eddie set down his beer on the table next to Chimney and patted his shoulder before he bypassed him when his eyes set on his girl. They had agreed that (Y/n) would turn up about half two or after so everyone had chance to turn up and be rowdy and catch up before she brought Chris. (Y/n) didn't like being first to parties and Chris would be more settled if everything was in full swing by the time he arrived.

Eddie ran his tongue along his lips and dug his nails into his palms for a second when his eyes latched onto what (Y/n) was wearing. She had done that on purpose.

She had chosen the dress she knew always drove him mad. The one that hugged every curve she had and stopped short of her knees. The dress that looked like summer itself and made everyone's eyes always fall on her whenever she wore it. It was going to prove hard for Eddie to stay away from her when she looked like that.

When he reached them, he curved an arm around Chris's back and moved his other hand to cup the back of (Y/n)'s neck. His thumb brushed up and down her skin, ruffling her hair in the process and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

He loved the radiant smile she gave him when she looked up at him and he just had to kiss those painted red lips that matched the strawberries on her dress.

"Hi," (Y/n) whispered quietly against his lips, grinning at the slight tint of red on Eddie's already pink lips where her lipstick had smudged onto him a little.

"Hey," He kissed her again, biting her lower lip just a pinch before a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and he heard Chris squealing 'daddy' loudly into his ear. Chris eagerly clambered from (Y/n) over to Eddie who lifted him up for a cuddle and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "I've been waiting for you; God, you can tell you're mine." Eddie grinned and kissed his nose when he looked down at what Chris had decided to wear.

The shorts matched Eddie's light auburn cargo pants and the lime green top looked just like the mint blue t-shirt Eddie had picked for today. If Eddie's hair was slightly more curled, they would be twins.

"Come on, everyone is dying to meet you,"

He swung Chris round before he set him down to his feet and (Y/n) handed over his crutches so he could actually walk for himself for a while.

A tepid smile reached (Y/n)'s eyes when Eddie hooked his arm around her waist and reeled her into his side, where she belonged. She moved her hand up to rest on his chest while his other hand grabbed the handle of Chris's backpack so he didn't stray the wrong way or try and speed off without them.

"(Y/n)," Eddie kissed her temple when they reached the BBQ and glanced his eyes over at a few members of his team. "This is my captain, Bobby and his wife Sargent Athena Grant. And this is Chimney. This is my wife (Y/n) and our boy Christopher."

He let go of Chris's backpack so he could reach over and take back his beer bottle he put down earlier. Eddie could feel himself relaxing already, he could feel the tension melting away when he saw the way the team looked at his family. They didn't frown or look at Chris in pity, they didn't look away or seem unnerved or anxious. Bobby was grinning, Athena had that glint in her narrowed eyes and a wicked smile on her lips and Chimney just looked dazed in a good sort of way.

"Lovely to meet you (Y/n),"

(Y/n) kept her arm curved tight around Eddie's back but happily reached her free hand out to shake Bobby's hand. "And you, Eddie talks very highly of you."

"You know, my son Harry is making some water balloons and I bet he could use some help. What do you think?" Athena looked over at Chris who smiled and lazily tilted his head back until he was looking up at Eddie, silently checking it was alright. And silently making sure both parents would keep an eye on him and not lose him at any point.

"Go ahead," Eddie ruffled his hair as he grinned and walked over to Athena who placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to Harry Hen's boy Denny.

Chris loved anything sensory like water or sand or play dough- which was something he always tried to eat. (Y/n) was pleased how sensory Chris was and how relaxed he was with different textures and feels and play toys. Whereas he was sensitive to smells and tastes, it was hard getting him to try new food or watch different movies, visually he was very sensory and didn't like new or different shows or movies.

"Do you want a drink?" Eddie mumbled against (Y/n)'s forehead, smiling and pecking her forehead when she nodded.

She could feel the anxiety bubbling up inside of her when he wandered across the garden to the drinks table. Her eyes flitted between her two boys, smiling shyly when she looked over at Chris. He was sat on the grass, splashing the water and slowly placing the water balloons into the big bowl next to Athena who was introducing and overseeing the job the boys were doing.

"So, what do you do (Y/n)?"

Her gaze fell back on Chimney who started to turn over the burgers on the grill whole Bobby gave him a somewhat disapproving look as he looked between him and the food. Bobby looked at him as if he could do a better job and it made (Y/n) relax, although she wasn't sure why.

"I, I'm a part-time editor for a literacy company so I can work from home and be with Chris,"

"I bet you have to have a good attention span for that,"

"It helps," She smiled up at Bobby, feeling herself relax more and more in their presence.

"Hen's wife works from home, I don't know what she does though, some sort of science shit," Chimney waved the spatula in his hand and shook his head with a smile. He didn't know the specifics of what Rachel did, he just knew she worked from home to be with Denny and she didn't often talk about her work, unless she was drunk. It usually washed over his head.

Maybe her worries had all been for nothing.

Spinning on her heels, (Y/n) held her glass tighter to her chest and smiled shyly up at the man in front of her. She didn't recognise him, Eddie hadn't introduced her to everyone here yet and he had wandered off to check on Chris and see how he was doing.

The man in front of her had a rather cheesy smile, sort of like he was a young boy at heart, a Peter Pan of sorts. He grinned at her and clasped his hands together in front of him, rubbing his knuckles in a way (Y/n) recognised as an anxious movement.

"Hi, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck."

"Oh, you're Buck, I've heard a lot about you. I'm (Y/n)," She held her hand out for him to shake, smiling a little wider when his eyes narrowed and his head ticked to the side like he somehow didn't believe she was who she said she was.

"You're Eddie's wife?"

"Yeah,"

"Damn, he never said you were beautiful,"

(Y/n) laughed and brushed her hair behind her ear, unsure how to take that comment. It was either him being very sweet or a jibe that Eddie either didn't talk about her at work or said she was something other than pretty. But (Y/n) chose to take it as a compliment.

"Mummy…" Chris let go of one of his crutches so he could reach up and grab (Y/n)'s hand when he walked up behind her. He started to swing their hands between them, smiling gently but saying nothing when she whispered 'what's up baby'. He leaned his temple against her arm and kept pulling on her hand but it was when he started to hum that (Y/n) got the hint.

She bent down beside him and unzipped the bag he had been carrying around dutifully, unable to set it down because he knew all of his things, especially his meds, were inside.

Rattling around, (Y/n) found the dark purple dinosaur toy wedged down beside his lunch box and held it out in front of him. Watching as he started to nod and coiled it quickly to his chest. He wasn't unhappy but he was getting a little anxious, his favourite teddy would calm him down and give him something to concentrate on and ground him.

"This is daddy's friend Buck, wanna say hi?" (Y/n) kissed his temple as she stood up just as Buck bent down to be level with him.

"Don't tell me that's a dinosaur?"

"You like them?"

"I love them! He's impressive, look at those claws, wow." Buck reached a careful hand out to brush the pale yellow claws before he tilted his head to the side. "Do you want a drink? I saw someone make a milkshake for Denny earlier."

"No milk." Chris shook his head and pressed the toy against his mouth, starting to tap the dino head against his lips a few times as both a sign and a stim for the sensation. It was a panic action at first, it was drilled into Chris what he couldn't drink or have and all he could remember all his allergies, they made sure he knew them if he was ever away from them and uncertain or confused.

But the more he tapped the toy against his lips, the more he started to nod his head and hum. Chris was very sensory, he liked the feel of things like water or fluffy blankets or texture books. And his new stimming technique was tapping toys against his lips for the vibrations and tingling sensations it created.

"Oh, he's allergic to milk but he's preferable to cola,"

"Oh, sorry. I'm sure Chimney has a lot of soda here, why don't we go find some? Can he eat stuff from the barbeque?"

Chris pushed forward and took Buck's hand and reached up to hand him the dino toy so he could look at it. He grinned when Buck placed his hand over his heart before he took the toy from him to inspect and marvel at it. Chris had found a true friend here.

"He won't eat anything new, he's brought a pack up. Drinks other than milk are fine… thank you for this," She whispered the last part, watching them head off towards the drinks table while her heart soared. No one usually bothered to try and understand Chris's interests or get to know him or be around him. People thought he was cute and sweet but didn't know how to act around him.

Everyone here was taking an interest in him and treating him like he was already one of them and had been all his life.

A gasp left her lips and her knees buckled when a pair of strong arms bolted around her waist and reeled her into a hard chest. She tilted her head back and tried to catch a proper breath when she felt Eddie grazing his lips against her neck. His fingers dug lovingly into her hips and he growled into her neck and sent shockwaves coursing through her nerves making her grin.

"I see Buck's found a friend," Eddie let his eyes glance over at Buck who was holding a plastic cup out but letting Chris pour his own drink, something not many people did with him. "Means I can have you to myself for a few minutes."

"Oh really?"

(Y/n) gripped Eddie's wrists and turned her head to kiss the top of his hair but she was finding it hard not to close her eyes and melt against him. And when she felt his teeth grazing and nipping at her skin, she knew there would be a bruise there later that she would have to hide from Chris.

"Hmm."

"Everyone seems lovely, Eddie. I can see why you speak to highly of them," She could understand how attached Eddie was to each of his colleagues and she could see why he felt they were part of a new family together. This was much more than co-workers getting along, this was a close knit family that was hard to break.

She tilted her head to the side when Eddie kissed his way up her neck and over her jaw, pecking and nipping at her skin until he finally had her lower lip pulled tight between his teeth.

(Y/n) couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be.

[voxtechemployee]

Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, Saint Peter c*ckwarming headcanons?

absolutely !! loooooove it !! also, no need to censor the requests. i am indeed an adult, and minors shouldn't be on this blog haha -- also, i tried to make it as gender-neutral as possible (:

☄. *. ⋆ ALASTOR ☄ this is a fairly regular occurrence with alastor - he'll sit down and read or review notes for his broadcast often, sometimes for a few hours at a time, so when you want to have sex but he's busy, that's a happy medium; plus it serves as extended foreplay! ☄ "oh, don't whine, dear," he'd say as he turns another page in the novel he holds, "i have another thirty-two pages of this chapter. behave, and you'll get what you want after this." ༊*·˚ LUCIFER ༊ his favorite time for cockwarming is in the early hours of the morning, when it's too early to be awake ༊ he'll wake you up with kisses along your neck and shoulders, slotting his cock against the cleft of your ass ༊ you'll both make such quiet, almost dazed noises as he adjusts his cock to slip against you from behind, wetting your entrance with the head of his cock ༊ and then slowly but surely, he'll slide home and wrap his arm around your waist firmly - you're not going anywhere, but honestly, you don't want to ༊ chances are, you'll both fall back asleep until a more acceptable hour to wake up (and once you do wake up, you'll have plenty of fun) : ̗̀➛ VOX ➛ another character that this happens often with - vox is a busy man with very little downtime between meetings ➛ which means he often brings you to the meetings, making sure you're sitting right on his lap and impaled on his cock in front of a dozen or so voxtech employees ➛ he expects you to not make any noise and to hold it together, which is difficult because when his hands are below the table, there's definitely at least one of them playing with your anatomy ➛ the second the room clears out? he's folding you over the table and fucking you absolutely stupid to reward your good behavior ➛ and if you were a brat? scratch fucking you after the meeting; he's slamming you right down onto the table in the middle of the meeting and fucking you... absolutely stupid LMAO

༉‧₊˚. SAINT PETER ₊˚. you're definitely the one who even told peter about cockwarming in the first place, and he... really likes it a lot ₊˚. it toes the line between sex and just intimacy, especially if you're laying in bed - both of you are a mess of tangled limbs and his cock is inside of you ₊˚. though a few clenches from your body and playful words and he's probably going to give in to having sex - as long as you two can keep cockwarming after the fact as well ₊˚. he loves how close you can get to him when he's inside of you (or you're inside of him)

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Thanks for all your hard work.

I have a character who lives through a war and experiences a traumatic head/facial injury that leaves him with asymmetrical features. Before discovering this blog, I wrote him as being a little insecure about it even years later (the main story takes place long after that), but have since retconned that as I realized writing it that way was the result of ingrained disfiguresmia, which I don’t want to perpetuate. As it currently stands, he does not have any particular feelings about his appearance itself/the visible remnants of the injury, nor is he treated differently for it. It’s just a thing, and not the focus of his character. Recently, however, as I was working on more of his background, I realized he ended up bearing a strong resemblance to one of his parents, who harmed him quite badly as a child.

So, my question is this: While nobody would be happy to experience a traumatic injury, would it be in bad taste for him to eventually end up being pleased that he no longer looks so much like his parent? Not that the genetic resemblance has somehow disappeared as a result of an injury, but rather that when he looks in the mirror, he sees himself instead of someone who hurt him?

I want to be careful to portray facial difference respectfully. I thought that maybe associating the visible result of something traumatic (cranio-facial injury) with gaining a stronger sense of identity (in a positive way) might be alright. But I wanted to check, because I don’t want to go too far the opposite direction and romanticize it.

(I’m using this emoji combination so I can find my ask later:🪞💙💥)

Hi!

My original note when drafting this was "This is genuinely a rare and interesting take on a character's feelings after getting a facial difference and it goes hard as fuck", which is a Way to say that I like it.

I don't think it's in bad taste at all, it's more of a breath of fresh air with interesting characterization mixed in. Has the character's backstory influencing his feelings on a current event. I get to mildly see myself in this kind of experience as I'm also glad to no longer be told I look really similar to a family member since my partial paralysis got more obvious. Cool as hell.

I really love that you figured out something positive that makes sense for your character to take out of an acquired facial difference. I mean, this is what people do in real life; try to find positives. It looks like your character managed to do that and that's awesome.

I wouldn't consider this romanticization at all, but even if it slightly was then I think we can have a bit of it as a treat after decades of hearing how looking different makes us fundamentally worse. It's not like you're doing some inspiration porn shtick about how an acquired disability suddenly made him into a saint who no longer has a single mean thought in his head.

If this worries you though, try to keep in mind the negative symptoms that he almost surely has - does he have nerve damage, migraines, problems with speaking, fear of loud noises? These things don't go away if you feel positive about something, though it might make it easier to mentally deal with. Show the parts he's more glad about, and the ones that make his life more difficult, days that are better and days that kinda suck. Make him struggle in areas of life unrelated to his disability, and have joys that are unrelated to it too. The usual advice.

This was probably my favorite synopsis of a character with a facial difference I read in a long time, so thank you for sending this. I'd love to see more characters as carefully thought out as this one.

mod Sasza

[druidrot]

so i was looking at the other parts of the ways to show emotion prompt list and part 3 has some great lists so i was hoping you could do “opening mouth slightly” pupils dilating” and “licking lips” with Gale from the how to show desire prompts 👀👀 no worries if not, congrats on the new blog!

thanks so much! and thanks for being my first requester! i’m happy to oblige. now i’m posting on mobile so i apologize if the formatting is wonky. with that being said, enjoy!

just a short little drabble, unsure of word count

pairing: gale dekarios x reader

rating: mature - more suggestive than anything else;)

he’s allowed to have fun at the tiefling party okay?? just let me have this. i get it’s canon divergent just shut up and let me be horny

It was here Gale felt his resolve crumble.

He prides himself on his self-control. In fact, he thinks he’s been a saint since he joined your adventuring party, since this painfully slow dance started between you both.

But he feels his patience waring thin. The tiefling party at the camp has no doubt been a success. He waited patiently as you did your rounds accepting their gifts and thanks so very graciously. He bid his time as you danced and sung and drank with everybody else, working your sweet charm on them.

He knows better, though. He thinks you are a different person under the cover of moonlight, here where you stare up at him with half-lidded, glassy eyes, lips pulled up in the sweetest little smile. You still hold your chalice of wine but your free hand has taken to his, twirling your fingers around his long, narrow digits. He feels his mouth drop open as you take a step closer, your pupils dilating until the beautiful color of your iris is all but hidden.

Around you, the little celebration rages on. In the distance, you can hear Karlach whooping over some drinking game the rowdier of the bunch had taken to playing. Just down the camp from you, Alfira sings a lovely ballad of lover’s lost, Lakrissa bobbing her head from a few paces down.

Gale should be excited about the festivities, elated with the things your party accomplished, ready to drink his troubles away for the night. Instead, he finds himself totally enamored with you., eyes locked on your every movement. He doesn’t know when you became so intoxicating to him, but in this moment, he finds he can’t complain.

“You look like the tressym got your tongue,” you whisper, sidling even closer. “My my, have you been brooding here because I’ve not paid you any attention? Or is saving poor helpless refugees not really your speed?”

You bump your nose against his as your tongue wets your lips. His eyes are immediately drawn to the action and he has to physically fight the urge to rush forward and kiss you. Instead, he grins roguishly at you.

“Quite the rotten little minx, you are,” he teases. taking a step back to cool his body. “Go enjoy yourself, darling. Besides, I’m sure there’s quite the line to get a dance with you tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to harass me later.”

“What if I want to harass you right now? What if I want to spend all night harassing you?”

Gale feels like he’s on fire. Before either of you can really process, he pulls you into a slow, heady kiss.

“You will be the death of me,” he pants between desperate kisses. “You will be the death of us all.”

He is quick to escalate, despite his warning and his lips grow frenetic as he chases your tongue with his, pushing into your mouth with a sense of urgency you didn’t think him capable of. He pulls your body close, impossibly so, and you can do nothing but moan as he continues to kiss you.

“The orb,” Gale tries, whimpering between consuming kisses.

“Don’t blow up on me,” is your only retort, happily losing yourself to the weight of his kiss.

[topherwrites]

SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE'RE KISSING

summary - spending the holidays with jake's family isn't always smooth sailing, but little else matters when you're grossly in love. (also - jake dresses up as santa for his nieces and nephews, you're real into it.) pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader word count - 2.7k rating - nsfw content, 18+, mdni! content warnings & tags - no use of (y/n) / mostly fluff / jake being super in love / jake's family celebrates christmas / very brief angst / me being incapable of giving jake a good childhood / brief mention of childhood abuse / swearing / alcohol consumption / dash of smut / fingering / lmk if i missed anything! a/n: a little belated christmas one shot for you all. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated! TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Heat audibly blasts through the vents, the entire house sweltering. A solid summer day indoors. His mother won’t even let anyone touch the thermostat. In her defense, she grew up without a lick of snow on the ground and now it’s fifteen degrees in December, a real white Christmas.

Which isn’t exactly ideal for Jake considering he’s been roped into wearing a Santa suit for his young nieces and nephews. The suit is all red polyester—the least breathable material known to man—and thick faux fur cuffs. It’s causing him to start perspiring where sweat simply shouldn't be, his white undershirt clinging to his back and his crack.

“It’s too goddamn hot in this thing.”

Unbuttoning the jacket, he airs it out, the relief near immediate. 

Over his shoulder, he catches sight of you lounging on the guest bed—the one his mother oddly insisted that you could share—odd because that’s been a hard and fast rule for all the non-married seresin kids since his older sister began dating.

When she’d pointed him to the room, he’d paused, waiting for her to tell him which room would be yours, separately. Exactly like the sole previous time a girlfriend had stayed the night, way back in college, he figured you’d be placed in the room past his parents so no premarital shenanigans would occur. When that moment didn’t come, he’d stood there stupefied till you bumped his hip, nodding in the direction of the room.

Then he found out that with his brother and sister, their spouses and kids, and a few stray cousins and aunts staying, every other room was already occupied tenfold when he showed up with you in tow. 

He wasn’t sure if he would actually come down until a few days before, on the fence about spending so much time packed together with his family. But you’d volunteered to go along with him, meeting everyone besides his mother for the first time. Offering yourself up as a buffer.

It gives him pause less and less, just how much you care about him. Warmth spreads through him at the memory.

He was thankful that you had a bunch of airline credit banked, otherwise booking so late during the peak holiday season flights would’ve cost an arm and a leg.

Your feet kick back and forth as your eyes drag up his back, not put off in the slightest by his melting-like-frosty-the-snowman state, meeting his gaze with a heat you don’t attempt to hide. His irritation at the outfit dispels at your attention, melting away into something far sweeter.

“Is this doing it for you?”

“Oh,” your voice strained, “yeah, absolutely.”

And while there’s a bit of humor to the whole situation, what with the whole ‘being dressed as Old Saint Nick’ thing, your attraction to him isn’t a joke in the slightest. Sweaty, sunburned, exhausted. You seem to take a liking to any form Jake comes in. 

You continue, twirling your finger in a slow, instructive circle, humor alighting in your eyes, “Do a little twirl for me, baby.”

He laughs but gives in to your borderline indecent direction, turning steadily on his heel. He does a slow three-sixty, letting the jacket fall to his waist so your eyes can freely roam. Turning back to you, he takes you in the sight of you before he closes the gap, crawling over you to give you a kiss.

Things are so simple with you, you never make him work for your affection, it’s always present, even in your teasing. He doesn’t feel that pang of being inadequate that his father instilled in him when he was young—the pang that he let drive him for far too long into his adulthood. He can breathe right around you, loosen his tongue, soften his words. He can be a good man, not just a good pilot.

He loves you. You love him. Everything is right in the world.

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The kids love the whole theatrics of him dressing up like Santa, faux beard, and all. He answers their inquiries into whether or not he’s their uncle Jake with a falsely grandiose tone, handing them their presents—you’re not sure if they fully buy into it, but they all seem to be having fun.

Sipping on a mug of coffee, warm in your palms, you watch him from afar as he juggles holding two of his nieces, one dangling off of his arm like it's a monkey bar and the other calmly being held on his hip.

Ainsley and Avery—without judgment, you wonder what the reasoning is to name all your kids with the same first letter, like Pokemon evolutions.

“He’s always been good with them. Kids.”

Ah, the dreaded (potential) future mother-in-law ambushing you about kids part of the day. You had that penciled in for sometime around… now, generally. You look over at her. She looks back at you with a familiar glint in her eye. God, Jake looks just like her, same straight nose and dimpled smile and hooded eyes.

Mae doesn’t mean any ill will. You’re aware. But it all still settles ominously on your shoulders. The breadth of the unknown, what the future could hold, kids or not—whether or not you and Jake will even get that far, you hope so.

You nod slowly, calmly noting, “That’s not surprising.”

You see the way he is with them, how much they adore him. It’s a nice picture. But you're both still undecided on whether that’s one that you want of your own.

She seems to detect that you’re not going to humor her about the subject, dropping it. She looks at your empty mug, “Do you want a refill?”

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You casually gesture to the sprig taped to the doorjamb above you, “Is that what you were up to earlier?”

You note the little red berries, the toothed leaves, and the bush-like appearance.

“Maybe.” With a self-satisfied smile, he shrugs. His large palms grip at your waist, gently pushing you against the doorway.

You scratch at your cheek. “You know that’s not mistletoe, right?”

Holly. It's a frequent mistake, mostly from movies that wanted something to hang with a little more visual pop than actual mistletoe. He sighs, head falling back as he glares up at the traitorous plant. You’d never pass up the chance to poke a little fun at him, but now you want to bring the smile back to his face.

You poke at his side, bringing those pretty green eyes back to you, “But I suppose I can spare a kiss regardless.”

A smile creeps onto his face, warmth clear in his gaze. He leans his weight into you, not enough to crush but enough to let you feel all of him. Tilting his head, his voice drops as he questions, “Oh, will you make an exception? Bend the rules? For little ‘ol me?”

Breathing the same air, his nose nearly brushes yours. Everything but him, every sound and sight is extraneous—it all just turns to static.

You hum in agreement, “For you.” You brush the pads of your fingers along his cheekbone,  intentionally gentle, enjoying the way his lashes flutter at the gesture. “Now give me a kiss.”

Like the ever-dutiful soldier he is, he dips his head in assent, “Yes, ma’am.”

He takes the green light, gently molding his mouth to yours.

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His sixteen-year-old nephew, Sam, heckles him across the dinner table, quietly calling him a “fucking simp” as he hands you a refill of eggnog with a quick peck—that becomes two or three at his insistence, his lips chasing yours. His tone isn’t cruel, just an attempt at embarrassing his uncle.

He gets a smack upside the head from his dad—Jake’s older brother, Matt—for the language at the table, quick and sharp. Recycled material from their own childhoods. He tries to suppress the instinctual flinch, annoyance burning in his chest at how years later his heart is still sent racing. Jake wonders if he too, will become like their father. If it’s unavoidable. Something built into him. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with his brother.

He knows that he has the capacity for cruelty in him and though it doesn't come as quickly these days, he still has to make an active effort to not be a dick sometimes, especially with Bradshaw.

And then, a hand, warm and stabilizing, slides across his thigh, squeezing tenderly. His eyes bounce around the table, everyone pointedly looking at their plates, just like when they were young and his father thought that one of them needed corporal punishment for acting like a kid. 

Except for you, whose eyes are focused on Jake with so much understanding that he can’t help but knock his boot into his brothers.

“Don't do that shit.”

A tense moment follows. The clatter of forks stop, drinks pause at lips, and everyone’s eyes plant on him, perplexed that it’s been acknowledged in the slightest. Matt levels a stare back at him, and he wonders if he’s going to hear their dad’s signature line come out of his brother’s mouth—don’t tell me how to discipline my kids—leveled at anyone who ever expressed concern for the way their father treated them, teachers, other parents, their own mom.

His brother is the one to blink first, dropping his eyes down to his plate as he stabs at a piece of asparagus. The festivities resume around them. Quieter. 

It’s not a real acknowledgment. But he’s drawn a line in the sand.

Sam continues looking at him for a few more moments. He wonders if his nephew knows just how similar their childhoods were, why his father is the way that he is. Not that it would make it better, but it might help him to know that it’s not him, some fault of his own. 

Jake always thought that it was him. He knows a little better now.

────────────────────────

After all the kids have been bundled up in beds and the adults break out the liquor, it doesn't take long for Jake to crash. Sprawled on the couch next to you, his arm draped around your shoulder becomes less of a pleasant weight and more of a log hanging around your neck. 

You tap his stomach, softer and less-toned after the holidays—at your insistence that he actually eats some sugar for once and doesn’t, under any circumstances, wake you up at five am during your vacation so he can go for a run. You’re glad that he’s taken the threat seriously, that he’s taking it easy and actually relaxing while you’re here. He grumbles at your touch but barely stirs, about eighty percent tired, twenty-percent drunk.

“Christ, when did he become such a lightweight?” His brother directs his jibe disguised as a question to you.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, standing up. You pat his thigh, holding your hands out. “Up and at ‘em, lieutenant.”

His eyes peel open at the use of his rank. Blinking awake, he flops his hands into yours, not taking a strong grip. You're thankful for the fact that he barely relies on you to help himself stand, swaying minorly as he does so. You’re not particularly eager to see what’d happen if you had to haul all two hundred pounds of Jake upright on your own.

You both trod up the stairs. His hand caressing the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister as you go, the Christmas lights hung from it setting the staircase in a warm glow. With your arm looped around his waist and his looped around yours, you make slow progress towards the room at the end of the hall.

He toes off his boots as you shut the door to the bedroom, flopping backward onto the bed. Eyes fluttering sleepily, a hint of a smile on his face, he sighs out a breath. Voicing his inner thoughts aloud, his voice is gentle, “I'm so happy.”

The statement settles sweetly in the air.

Taking hold of your hand, he pulls you on top of him. His eyes heavy, he isn’t particularly conscientious about where you’re going to land, so you have to catch yourself before you knee him in the dick. Straddling him, you find your place in his lap. Affection, as it always does, blooms in your chest at the sight of him.

“Are you as happy as I am?” His question is gently curious, none of his old insecurity laced through.

You slowly nod, hands smoothing over his chest as you lean over him. “Yeah, I really am.”

Under your palms, you can feel him huff a pleased sigh.

Large hands land on your thighs, smoothing up and down the bare skin under the hem of your skirt. His eyes roam over your figure, from your legs, your waist, your chest, finally landing on your face, “You look so pretty. Have I told you that?”

Suppressing your smile, you squint as you tilt your head, imitating deep thought. You hum, “Mm, about twenty times today.”

“I think you could stand to hear it one more time.” He sits up on his elbows with surprising swiftness, his nose brushing along your cheek before his lips settle next to your ear, “You are so pretty.”

He pulls back just enough to kiss you, lips gliding softly over yours. He tastes like rum and vanilla. Under you, you feel him grow half hard. It’s one of the things that you never really expected from him, just how needy of a drunk he is.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, large palms squeezing at your hips as he guides you to rock over him. His breaths mingle with your own as he pulls back, panting, “You wet for me?”

Rucking up your skirt past your hips, his hand slips into your underwear and he swipes two fingers through the wetness collected there before you can—for the sake of his sleep schedule—gently turn him down. You fold over him, smothering your moan into his shoulder as he pushes in, his palm immediately harshly grinding against your clit. With your own buzz sliding through your body, you melt into the pleasure, task entirely forgotten. 

Burning heat spreads through your core, your cunt clamping down around his fingers. It’s so good—it’s always this way, like he’s read the manual on your body.  Slick sounds echo in the otherwise quiet room; your gut twists, high building.

Just as you're about to fall over the edge his movements slow, and the peak he was working you to begins to dissipate. But you're left on the edge as his brain seems to intermittently connect to its previous task, working over your pulsing clit. Your hips kick into his palm, the not quite enough stimulation tortuous. You try to roll off of him, but the arm around your back stays put. He grumbles for a moment. You nearly yelp at a shift of his palm shoots electricity up your spine.

You shake his shoulder, “Jake, Jake.”

“Mm,” he hums, “no, no.” He blinks himself only half-awake, eyes still drooping, “Second wind.”

You reach behind your back, sliding his arm from around you, pressing it to his chest. You draw his hand out from under you, the drag of his fingers sending waves of heat through you. Pressing a kiss under his jaw, you whisper, “Go to sleep.”

Eyes still closed he slides the fingers that were just inside you past his lips, casually cleaning your arousal off them. You have to pretend like that doesn't make your cunt pulse with need. He rolls onto his side, then mumbles into the pillow, “Fine, but I’m going to rock your world in the morning.”

You pat his stomach, placating him—sure that in the morning he’ll remember that he’s surrounded by his parents, siblings, and their offspring, that the walls are a little too thin for what he wants to do to you.

You collapse on the bed beside him, already nodding off.

You're proven wrong in the morning. He sends you over the edge twice with his head trapped between your thighs and his palm sealed over your mouth. And at breakfast, you have to play off the flush he carries as the AC putting out too much heat, smiles barely suppressed.

e/n: thank you for reading!

tagging those who liked the teaser: @mamachasesmayhem @pricelessemotion @sorchathered @dizzybee03 @always-and-forever-at @ofstoriesandstardust @sunlightmurdock @withahappyrefrain @aworldwideapart @shamelessghostwagonwobbler

[megamindsecretlair]

Megamind's Secret Files

Formally posted on MegamindsLair.

All fics are Black/Fem coded. All fics are consensual.

Rules and Navigation:

Welcome! Thank you so much for being interested in my blog! I want to make this a safe space for everyone. Please heed all warnings on all my posts. Consider changing your icon and header to prove you're human. Add ages so I can be sure minors are not interacting with my blog.

Anon asks are turned on but don't abuse it with slurs, insults, or demands. Don't make me act out character because you have a stick up your butt. Scroll, move on, or block me. Simple as that. This is where I go to act up and I will not be bullied in my own safe space.

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No Big Deal Original Writing

Fic Front Covers (aka Mega's Self-Rec list)

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Behind the Megadome

How to get on my taglist!

The Secret Loki Files

The Secret Bucky Files

The Secret Nomad Steve Files

The Secret Sam Wilson Files

WARNING: multiple uses of the n-word. Coded for Tyrone/Los Angeles

The Secret Tyrone Files

The Secret Isaac Files

WARNING: multiple uses of the n-word

The Secret Franklin Saint Files

The Secret Kane Files

Warning - can turn dark but always consensual. When not stated otherwise, Ghostface is usually anonymous and coded Black.

The Secret Ghostface Files

The Secret King Ghezo Files

The Secret Tre Files

The Secret Javier Pena Files

The Secret Big Stunna Files

The Secret Kevin Atwater Files

The Secret Lamont Files

The Secret David Kane Files

The Secret Jatemme Files

The Secret Zyair Malloy Files

The Secret Frankie Morales Files

The Secret Choso Files

The Secret Gojo Files

The Secret Sukuna Files

The Secret Qimir Files

The Secret Black Noir Files

The Secret Mother's Milk Files

(all my white boys with too many fandoms to list)

The Secret Grey McConnell Files

The Secret Reacher Files

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

The Secret Alex Cross Files

Thank you so much for being interested. Happy reading!

How to get on my taglist!

[saintobio]

Hi saint! God you have no idea how much I wanted to go home after seeing you updated. You’re basically the only one with notifs on bc I cant, CANT, miss an update from my fave fic of all time (fears for my life bc you said it doesnt get better til chapter 14)

Anyway, this is not really a theory, but im curious as to what transpired between mc and toru the morning after their confrontation. Why did gojo leave? Did they fight? Did mc force him to leave to go to akemi to lessen her feelings of guilt?

Anyway, why do i have a feeling that akemi could, COULD, be 🤰? bc if my memory is correct, I recalled one scene where they woohooed with akemi saying she wanted no protection on? And since i do work on a medical field, it is possible for cramps when implantation happens (mc will have the heart attack of her lifetime istg). Although it could also be bc of her condition bc it wasnt really really explicitly stated in one chapter they woohooed without protection on (my memory is foggy bc i never reread chapters where they woohooed. I feel mc’s pain 🥲🥲) but why do i also have a feeling mc could be pregnant too

👁️👄👁️ bc they did have sachiro after woohooing in the first few chapters of SN (theyre both so fertile skdhjssk). Also, I feel like mc’s heart condition is coming back :((( after chapter 10 where she was pounding her heart to stop the pain, I can only imagine her angina waiting in the corner ;((

There’s only a few remaining chapters left (💔) but theres still so much drama and tension left unresolved (Gem still doesnt know they 👉🏽👌🏽) I thank you from the bottom of my heart that you continuously grace us with your writing. There are only a few fics that really made me feel the pain and surely your writing will always be at the top of a godtier list when it comes to giving heavy angst (i can only hope they have a HEA and have a new kid bc i really wanna see satoru redeem himself as a father 🥲🥲) I will surely miss this series when it ends and I will surely reread this when I am feeling the blues and just want to cry. Your brain and hands work wonders and I hope people here would also learn that waiting for the next update is definitely worth it (please stop pressuring her for new updates :(( saint gives her entire heart writing this. The wait is so so worth it).

And before this ends I would like to ask mc and satoru what are their current thoughts are after their 😏 hot steamy confrontation (I WAS SO HAPPY THEY FCKED TBH) no pressure if they wont answer hehe. Thank you for giving us SN and SY, Saint! I will look forward to future fics from you. Sending you much love and I hope and pray that you get all your heart’s desire 💛💛💛💛

hello loveee!! those are really good questions and thank you so much for ur kind words 🥹 i recognize ur blog bc you’ve been a longtime reader of mine, so happy to still see u here <3 anyway, your theories:

1. the morning after, gojo and yn are already having an emotional exchange (kinda) thats why yn was already crying when akemi caught them!

2. what i can only say is akemi’s pelvic pain situation is there for a specific reason :)

3. their families (gen, momjo, etc) will be back soon, it’s total chaos

4. while doing it? they’re definitely going crazy for each other. next morning is all guilt !!

[buckrecs]

You are literally doing god work thank you so much for this blog

I kinda have a request if that's okay. Can you please give us some Mob Bucky recs . Series or one shots

Thank you so much

Mob!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

Thank you so much:) Here are some Mob!Bucky fics!

* = contains smut

ONESHOT

Kiss it Better by @straywords

You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.

little lilly. by @raysheart

you unknowingly bring out a side of bucky he never knew was there.

*Come Home. by @sinner-as-saint

Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you... 

That I What? by @itsthewritergal

Y/N’s ex seems to have more of a hold on Y/N than Bucky realised.

Never Giving Up by @itsthewritergal

Reader is ill on the one day Bucky said no interruptions... 

*the proposition of a lifetime by @tee-swizzle

mafia!bucky teaches his best friend how to please a man.

Put My Mind At Ease by @slyyywriting

You married the head of the mob in payment for your father’s debt. The contract includes that you must give whatever Bucky wants. And what Bucky wants is for you to be jealous.

protector by @vxntagedior

the moment bucky fell in love with you

Kerosene by @metalbuckaroo

“You took my heaven away and didn’t think that I wouldn’t go looking for revenge?”

Black Card by @jelsasnowflakes1

When Bucky finds out you finally used the card he gave you he was confused why you only spend 15 dollars with it.

third date rule by @classylo

you had a rule, the third date rule, you had never reached it so perhaps that’s why you were still a virgin...that is until you meet the infamous sweet mob boss.

I Am Your Fall by @sinner-as-saint

You’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because... he would find you and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. 

A Simple Housewife by @beyondspaceandstars

A new member starts getting too friendly with you one night, forcing Bucky to show a side of himself you’ve never seen before. And possibly never want to see again.

Could It Be Fate? by @bxcketbarnes

taken. by @wintersldr1

when you are captured by Bucky’s enemy, he will stop at nothing to get you back, and remind everyone the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

a wolf in man’s clothing by @witchywithwhiskey

you walk into a bar owned by the Russian mob, and Bucky just has to swoop in to save you—and claim you.

Protector by @cherryrogers

Ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with.

*My Devotion by @cryptidcasanova

The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.

SERIES

A Business Deal by @ezm-imagines

Mafia Boss Bucky and Stark Reader agree on a deal to improve their businesses. A deal which will unite them together forever, whether they like it or not. Well, that is if they go through with the deal…

*A Moment of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate?

*Deception by @avecra

Growing up in the dark business your father ran, violence wasn’t new to you. Rivalries and bloodbaths were something you unfortunately were used to. And in order to save your father from an unnecessary fight, you force yourself into an arranged marriage with Brock Rumlow. But when he threatens your father over a small mistake on your part, you find yourself in front of your husband’s biggest rival and your old friend, Bucky Barnes. With the shared history between the two of you, Bucky finds himself drawn to you once again, and will risk everything he has just to keep you safe.

Gunslinger by @ghostofskywalker

The bitter reality was this: you did what you had to do to survive. And if that meant going head to head with the most feared mob boss of the city, so be it.

*honey, there is no right way by @bonky-n-steeb

when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him.

*Hostage Of Your Eyes by @sinner-as-saint

You accept an unusual offer made by a very familiar, but dangerous mob boss. And despite the rather bizarre situation and all the troubles which come along the way; old flames rekindle – and you find love again, where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Invisible String by @oitommothetease

James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

*Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight

Soft Mob Bucky Series

Missing by @buckyalpine

Bucky’s baby is missing and he will not stop until he finds her.

Run to Me by @sgtjbuccky

In where you’ve always had a habit of ending up in situations you shouldn’t, and when you caught the eye of the man who ran New York, Bucky Barnes, your life changed. They warned you about him, but the one thing they never warned you about was how you’d always want to run to him. 

*Run To You by @bestofbucky

Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard.

The Light We Lost by @world-of-aus

James Buchanan Barnes had been it for you, and you wanted to believe that what the two of you had, was you making it. You wanted to be the other side of the statistics that actually made it, but your marriage wasn’t meant for this life. You fought hard to make your way back to him, to get him to see you, but life had a funny way of kicking you down when you were already down.

*wrong choice, right places by @mvtthewmurdvck

never wanting to work for him or protect his fiancé, falling for you was the last thing he should do—especially when his boss was zemo, who now ran most of the city.

The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

Icarus by @marvellous1917

it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

[wildemaven]

caught kissing santa | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 1586

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; established relationship/reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

-> note: this literally came to me this morning and i whipped it up during nap time. Not beta’d, so all mistakes and misspelling are my own fault!! -> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“So let me get this straight. You saw Santa last night. In the flesh. Just standing in our living room?” 

You hear Dave ask Alice to retell her story again from where you’re standing at the kitchen counter, pouring steamed milk into your coffee. Except this time, he encourages her to tell it at a slower pace  so you both could catch every word of it. 

“Yeah!! I was thirsty and wanted to get some water. So I got up to go downstairs, but when I got to the stairs I could see him in the living room.” Alice says, sitting across from Dave at the kitchen table where there’s a huge breakfast of pancakes, waffles and all the sweet toppings laid out. Her excitement is infectious. Her innocence is still palpable and going strong, as she states she saw Santa with her own eyes. 

“And what was he doing?” Dave encourages Alice to share more as he spoons several helpings of  mini chocolate chips onto his stack of pancakes with a hearty serving of peanut butter melting over the top. 

“Putting our presents under the tree.” Her words were muffled by a mouth full of sliced strawberries. 

“Hmm. I guess that makes sense. Where were you Molly, when all this excitement was going down?” Dave looks over to the youngest of his two girls, who’s been enjoying her own helping of pancakes with a mixture of berries and chocolate chips piled on top. 

“Sleeping.” You snicker into your cup at Molly’s blunt response. Her mild temperament was proof enough that the apple doesn’t fall far from the Dave York tree. 

You turn and lean against the kitchen counter, so you can watch the rest of their conversation unfold. 

It took some convincing to get Dave to go along with your idea of dressing up as the Jolly Man in Red this year. Knowing that Alice gets up every night to get herself a glass of water, it was the perfect set up for her to happen upon. Thankfully Dave folds easy to your convincing pleas and a good make out session on the couch late into the night seals the deal. 

Alice had come to you a few weeks ago about the matter. Asking about the validity of whether or not Santa was real. She had heard her friends talking about how they were getting too old to believe in such a silly thing and how it was their parents all along. You could sense the turmoil of her wanting to still believe in the idea of Santa, but also wanting to feel a part of her friend group who seem to be eagerly growing into their not quite pre-teen selves. 

As her stepmom, you didn’t feel like it was your place to have such a turning point conversation with her. Wanting to leave that for Dave and Carol to broach the topic with her if it were to come up again, supporting whatever their approach would be. You told Alice that Santa is real and he makes sure to bring a little holiday magic each year to everyone, no matter how old they are. Your answer seemed to satisfy her inquisitive mind and gave you an idea to give her a little extra Christmas gift in case this would be her last year believing in Saint Nick. 

“What was Santa doing?” Dave sits back into the chair to take in the rest of what Alice had to say. His arms crossed over his broad chest. Your attention is briefly drawn to the way his gray nightshirt pulls tight over his shoulders and back, then quickly refocusing back to Dave and the girls. 

“Putting all the presents under the tree. He had a big bag of them, too.” Her arms stretched out to give him an idea of how big the bag was. 

You smile at the way Dave is giving her his full attention. Never letting on that he was the one wearing the suit late into the night as he placed each present under the tree in the living room, while you watched him from where you sat under a blanket on the couch. Snapping a few photos of him as he really got into character with each gift. Pausing every so often, his hands on his waist, complaining how miserable and hot it would be to actually be Santa in the thick red suit and beard for an entire evening. He even warned that your gifts would be lost if you continued to laugh at his misery. 

Pushing off the counter, you join the three of them at the table. Settling into the open chair next to Dave, as you continue to sip from the warm coffee in your mug. 

“So did you say anything to him? Ask him if he brought you anything special this year?” You ask Alice. 

“No! I was worried I would scare him away and that he’d take our presents with him.” Her eyes widened as shakes her head no. It warms your heart hearing her response to this whole situation, the exact reaction you were hoping for. 

“Oh! I didn’t even think of that. We wouldn’t want him to take everything away that he brought for us.” You say looking over to Dave who’s smiling into his own cup of coffee. 

“He also seemed a little busy once he was done putting all the presents out. So I just went back to bed. Wanted to be surprised when I woke up this morning.” You’re confused by what she means when she said he was busy.

“Busy? How so?” You ask before taking another drink. 

“Well—“ She pauses and looks at Dave, as if to search for the right words before continuing, then back to you. “I saw something else before I went back to bed.” 

“What would that be?” Dave’s gaze shifts over to you momentarily when he inquires about what exactly Alice saw. Clearing his throat as he adjusts his position in the wooden chair and grabbing for his mug to keep his hands busy, his grip on it tightened and his knee bouncing at a steady pace. His fidgety movements are a telltale sign that he’s anxious— valid, given the way Alice has you all hanging by her every word at the moment. 

“I saw you kissing Santa under the mistletoe that’s hanging over the fireplace.” Alice looks you straight in the face when she says it. 

Dave nearly spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken. Coughing into his napkin as silence takes over the entire room. Molly halts her pancake devouring to stare at you with a shocked expression. 

“Oh! Umm, well—“ You fumble over your words. Sheer panic runs through your body as you try to come up with something quickly as to why Alice would have seen you kissing “Santa”. 

“Hey, girls look at what time it is. Your mom is going to be here in 20 minutes to pick you up. How about you go on upstairs to get your stuff together. Brush those sticky teeth and get dressed so you’re ready to go when she gets here.” The girls cheer in unison as they both hop off their chairs and run in the direction of the stairs that lead to their rooms. The bombshell revelation is long forgotten now. 

“Oh my god!” You let out a big sigh and slump down in your chair, your head turning to see Dave silently laughing to himself. “She’s going to ask me again why I was kissing him— but I think you bought me enough time until they’re back from Carol’s.” 

Dave reaches over and grabs your hand, pulling you from your chair and into his lap. Your arms drape around his shoulders, your temple resting against his forehead. His hand smooths over your pajama clad thighs, the other resting at your hip where he gives you a few gentle squeezes. 

“Thank you for doing that for her. She might not believe in him next year, but she’ll have this Christmas as a fun memory to tell her kids when they’re asking whether or not Santa is real.”

“Thankfully all she saw was the kissing— or she would have been scarred for life.” Dave says between the soft kisses he’s giving to your neck. 

“You’re the worst!” Playfully hitting his shoulder. 

“That’s not what you were saying when Santa was showering you with all those gifts last night.” His eyebrows waggle as he looks at you, rolling your eyes back at him. Your face heats up at remembering just how many gifts you were given.

“How about when the girls leave, you slip back into that red suit— forget the beard. And you can give me some more of those wonderful gifts.” You whisper, as if your suggestion might be heard by two sets of small ears. “I might be in the giving mood and have a few for you as well.”

“I don’t know. Have you been a good girl this year?” Dave asks in a low sensuous tone. 

“The best!” You manage to say before his hand is pulling your face to his, kissing you with earnestness. 

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs cuts the kiss short. Alice and Molly making their way back into the living room to pick up where they left off with their new toys. 

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” Dave places the softest kiss to your lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Dave.”